Miranda's Demons

by Ian Miller

  "Max, you should have let me know you were coming. Sit down." The last offer was rather late; Reiner had planted himself in a chair and had ignored the hand offered by Munro. "Well?" Harvey enquired with controlled politeness, "what's the problem?"

  "We seem to have a rebellion on Mars," Reiner said coldly, his eyes boring into Munro, "together with another irritation."

  "The rebellion happened some time ago," Harvey reminded him.

  "And it appears that the all-powerful aliens have more or less let it happen." He paused and added, "Since you seem to be the local authority on them, I wonder if you could enlighten me as to why not?"

  "They still control ninety-nine per cent of Mars," Harvey reminded him. Inwardly, he was furious, but he had to control himself. Nobody answered back to Harvey Munro, except, it appeared, Max Reiner, and Harvey realized that if it came to a stoush, it was far from clear who would win. A moment of further reflection, and he realized that the betting men would back Reiner.

  "Seemingly because the rebels are not, for the moment, contesting the issue."

  "Now, why not? Why would they bolt themselves up in some hole in the ground in the middle of a maze?" Harvey taunted.

  "Perhaps because the settlers are effectively unarmed?" Reiner pointed out.

  "And that means they've no choice, that's why. They know they can't win a battle on the open ground, so our guys still control Mars. We've still got the exploration teams out, or had you forgotten that?"

  "No, I hadn't. That's why I'm here. I've lost one."

  "For goodness sake, Max," Harvey groaned, "nobody said exploring Mars was easy."

  "The mining team are all dead."

  "Well, if you can't organize your methods better . . ."

  "A fragment of an emergency message got through. Not much, but enough to tell us they'd been killed by other corporates."

  "Do you know who did it? Perhaps you had a rebel spy?" Harvey asked in amazement.

  "The message clearly stated that it was a corporate hit," Reiner said in an emotionless tone. "Now, I wonder which other corporation it could have been?"

  The blood rose to Munro's forehead. "Are you accusing me, you snivelling half baked apology for a rat!" he roared, as he smashed his hand onto the pile of files.

  "Why not? Who haven't you double-crossed sooner or later," Reiner retorted in a cold tone, "and more to the point, who else could it have been?"

  "It could have been anybody . . ."

  "Harvey, take a grip," Reiner said coldly. "We both know you're the only one with weapons on Mars, and you're the only one who knew where the MinCorp team were going. That team was thousands of kilometers from any other settlement. So, let me summarize what's happened so far. For the better interests of the Martian settlers, you persuaded me to get our men to offer our full cooperation in exploring Mars. At the same time GenCorp did nothing. Then comes the rebellion. For the life of me, I can't work out how, but it seems you knew all along the M'starn weren't even going to contest the situation. Now the MinCorp men I've put on Mars have been identified and killed, which leaves you in a rather superior position. Now, is any part of that analysis factually incorrect?"

  "Look Max, I had no idea that rebellion was going to happen, and –"

  "And you know the most important thing to me was, did you kill my men, but it was far from the first thing that came to you then because when I asked you to deny anything, you denied the one thing you could truthfully." Max leaned back and added, "You're an open book now, Harvey, and let me tell you something. If I'm going down, I've put in motion all that's required to take you with me."

  "What do you mean by that?" Harvey went distinctly white-faced, and his hands began to shake.

  "Quite simply you're going to find out what pissing me around means."

  "Max! I just don't know what to say," Harvey sank back in his chair.

  "Try the truth."

  "You got to believe me," Harvey said, as he leaned forward, half clenching a fist in front of his face. "I have no idea what happened to that exploration team."

  "Then who?" Reiner laughed. "Come on, Harvey, don't insult me as well."

  "What about the rebels?"

  "Don't be a smart arse!" Reiner snarled. "You know why my men lost?"

  "How would I know that, for God's sake?"

  "Because the killers got right up close, and mixed with my men. They came as allies. My men were ready for a standoff fight, but not for outright treachery. So you win one pathetic little round. Now, get ready for what's coming back."

  "Max," Harvey snarled back. "I've just about had enough of this from you. You come bursting into my office with about as much finesse as a rhinoceros. You've threatened me and you've insulted me! So you're under stress. We both are, but let's not panic. Pull yourself together. I don't know what you've done, but now's not the time to set off some doomsday weapon."

  "I've been lied to," Reiner said calmly, "So there's a price. You have two choices, Harvey. Pay it now, or try to redeem yourself."

  "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Harvey spat back. "You threatening me?"

  "I never threaten," Reiner replied calmly, "and I don't like being cheated."

  "Look, Max, honest, I've no idea what happened to your mining team –"

  "I have no interest whatsoever in the deficiencies of your reporting system," Reiner interrupted. "What I wish to know is what you are going to do now on Mars."

  "Max, we've got to keep going. The game isn't over yet. In fact, it's hardly started."

  "We do?" Reiner frowned slightly, almost taunting Munro. "The M'starn were beaten by a bunch of half-baked rebels who were largely unarmed. They were beaten at Columbus by Defence, who had only weeks to prepare for it. Are you that sure we should take sides?"

  "They weren't beaten on Mars. They lost a small skirmish to some third party who's a scout for some other civilization . . ."

  "You mean there's another lot? If reinforcements –"

  "Reinforcements from there are impossible for nearly two thousand years. I don't think that need bother us, do you?"

  "And what about Columbus?"

  "It appears Defence has developed a shielding technology for Columbus. The M'starn have said it's obvious, although they hadn't expected Earth to have it yet. Now look at it from the other point of view. Nobody's made any move against the M'starn, and why not? Because they can't."

  "So we have a stalemate."

  "No we don't. Do you know why the M'starn had only one vessel over Mars?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Because that was the only one serviceable. "

  "Only one serviceable?" cried an amazed Reiner. "You seem strangely well-informed?"

  "I've got my sources," Munro said proudly.

  "So it seems, and I suppose I can safely assume you will not divulge the sources, or share any of the output unless I wring it out of you?"

  "Look, Max, I –"

  "I understand," Reiner dismissed the protest. He was beginning to understand only too well.

  "Max," Harvey started, as he seemed to have come to a decision. "This is not over. What do you think the M'starn want all that labour for? And why do you think the Mars colonists are digging into the depths? Since they've had their surprise triumph, their entire effort's been to strengthen their defensive position. Nobody can attack the M'starn, so only one side can win."

  "You might be right," Reiner remarked doubtfully.

  "Of course I'm right. As long as we don't panic, nothing can go wrong."

  "Nobody's panicking!"

  "A couple of minutes ago, you could've fooled me," Harvey remarked sourly. "And don't worry about the Mars minerals. If it makes you feel any better, I'll sign an agreement that GenCorp will not, under any circumstances, open mines on Mars."

  "I couldn't care less whether you want to or not. You'd never get away with it. It's not you I'm worried about."

  "Then what's wrong?"

  "I don't know, and that's what worries me."
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  "I know," Harvey said quietly. "It's always what you don't know that gives you headaches. Just forget it. We've still got the field covered, as long as nobody blows it. And remember, Max, more than ever now, we need each other. You're quite right. Either one of us could sink the other without trace. But wouldn't that be a kinda stupid thing to do? Just when we're ready to start winning, we blow ourselves out of the water."

  "I hear you," Reiner said, in the doubtful tone of someone who has no idea what to do next.

  "And you'll fight on?"

  "Of course, but whom?" Max remarked as he left the office.

  Harvey shook his head sadly as he sat back into his chair. This was a crisis that needed thought. He flicked a paper clip across the table, and thought he heard a crackle. He sat there very silently. There it was again. He looked down at his desk, and realization suddenly dawned. When he banged his fist down on the pile of paper, the shock had pressed the button below the pile that turned on the intercom system. If any of the assistants were working in the office outside, they would have heard most of that conversation. Very quietly, he opened a drawer, and pulled out a gun. He quietly got to his feet and tiptoed towards the outer office.

  * * *

  Beth Hanson was working late in the filing area when she heard the intercom come alive. In utter amazement, she crept out towards the outer office. She shook as she heard and understood the fact that two of the most powerful men on the planet appeared to be dealing with the aliens. She realized that she had heard enough. Safety first! She took off her shoes, and crept as quietly as she could towards the stairs.

  She had the sense to avoid the elevators; these were computer controlled, and the frequency of use was monitored. At this time of night, any use was alerted. There were no lights on in the stairwell, and she had enough further sense not to turn them on.

  She had got down two levels when she heard the elevator going down. Then she remembered the scanners. She abandoned her plan, and entered a storage room on the stairwell, where the cleaning equipment for the stairs was kept. As she closed the door behind her, she saw, below the door, lights come on.

  She realized Munro knew the intercom had been turned on. Strictly speaking, everybody should have checked out of the building. Beth had not, but Beth had not checked in; when she had met a friend outside, she had entered with her, without using her passkey. Since she was on the London payroll, she did not check in to record her hourly work, since her work could be anywhere. Since there was no record of her being in the building, she had to make sure there was no record of her leaving.

  She stood in the cupboard, barely daring to breathe until six thirty next morning, when the lights finally went out. In the very dull light, she made her way down to ground level, and entered the ladies' toilet. There she sat, until seven fifteen in the morning, when the first of the new day's shift came to use it. She emerged, and walked as calmly as she could past the reception area where, as she expected, nobody noticed her, and then she was out onto the street.

  She returned to her apartment, and lay down. Many times while working for Munro she had felt frightened. This time she knew fear. If Munro found out, there would be no simple beating; she would be tortured sadistically then killed. What could she do? Nothing, with safety! Again, she made copious notes to be secreted away, but that would not suffice. Unless Defence was told, those two would sell the planet. But just going to Defence was not enough. Defence had a number of corporation spies; men who Munro would pay very well to bury this information, as well as the informer.

  So what could she do? Only one person in Defence was above suspicion, but there was no way to reach the Commissioner. Or was there? She was coming to New York for the next Federation Council meeting. That still did not answer how to do it, but at least it was a start. Apart from getting past the security to the most singularly well-protected person on the planet, without giving any reason, there was no problem. She did not know what to do. What she did know was that she was very tired. She had a very long bath, and went to bed.

  Chapter 9

  The first rounds of the combat trials were underway. These were carried out in ancient single-seater aircraft that had special electronic equipment to detect the other craft, to employ stealth and subterfuges such as chaff, to determine weapons locks and the outcomes of firing, as well as navigational equipment.

  Most of the candidates had previously ignored this topic, and even though they were going to war, there had been no courses on this topic. The reason was simple: it was unclear how they were going to fight, but employing fixed wing aircraft in an atmosphere was unlikely to be one of their methods. The mechanics of space combat were somewhat different, and in any case single craft would not be used. This contest had been retained simply as a tradition, to give the military candidates something of an edge over those aiming at a commercial future.

  Almost a half of the candidates dropped out immediately, as they did not have the required experience on fixed wing aircraft, and they had not bothered to acquire more. Accordingly, one of the first contests, Lansfeld versus Robeiro, came as a surprise. Harry was unaware that Marisa could fly fixed wing aircraft, and secondly, it was most unusual for two candidates from the same squad to be in an early contest, as one objective was to build squad spirit. Nevertheless, the draw was the draw. The rules were simple. The two craft would take off, one from Tashkent, one from Samarkand, at the same time. They would try to find and electronically destroy each other.

  Harry had drawn the Samarkand departure, and he was quickly in the air. He circled the city for a few minutes, as he took in what he could of the sights of this ancient city from a jet fighter, then he headed off in the direction of Bokhara and began climbing. When he reached 25000 meters, he closed back on the motors, turned towards Tashkent, and employed full stealth technology, and began passive searching.

  He found Marisa's craft without difficulty, as in electronic terms it was lit up like a Christmas tree. Something was wrong, and Harry began wondering what her plan was. The last thing he wanted to do was lose to someone who was not very good, but had devised one cunning plan.

  He kept at some distance, and as expected, Marisa turned. She would have expected to have found him by then, which should have meant that they had passed each other. Accordingly she began flying back towards Tashkent, but she was still well lit. Harry could not understand this, but try as he could, he could see no sign of any trap. So he took a breath, climbed gently to be above her, then he closed from the rear without excess speed, so she could not try some last minute corkscrew and have him overshoot. Her craft was still hardly manoeuvring at all, and for the life of him, he could not understand her tactics. He had now closed sufficiently that there was no real hope of escape, so he locked his weapons system and fired. The electronics announced a clear kill, and, to Harry's surprise, it was then that Marisa's craft ceased being well lit.

  Harry had won that round, however most considered this a slow 'nothing' match between two incompetents. It seemed that Marisa Robeiro would be rejected from the academy.

  * * *

  Later, Harry marched into the Commissioner's room with a feeling of trepidation. This summons was unlikely to be friendly. The Commissioner looked at him with a totally expressionless face, and said, without any hint of feeling, "Lansfeld! I must say I'm highly disappointed in you."

  "Why, Commissioner?" Harry probed in a defensive tone.

  "Robeiro claims her aircraft was sabotaged, and I can verify that the electronics were in more of an anti-stealth mode than a stealth mode, and furthermore, the craft could barely turn above five thousand meters. Couldn't you do better than that?"

  "Commissioner! I didn't sabotage anything!" Harry protested. He was almost about to add that he had no need, but he bit his tongue.

  "And of course you have no idea who did?" A cold, emotionless statement.

  "No, Commissioner."

  "And, of course, you're the only beneficiary. Doesn't that strike you as odd?"<
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  "Commissioner, I didn't do it! I didn't need to! I'd have won that fight no matter what."

  "You're very confident." This was a flat statement that gave no clue as to where this interview was going.

  "Commissioner, you know I've had more practice at combat than Robeiro. I was always going to win, and if you like, I'll put as much as you like on a bet at a rematch, the bet being void if either aircraft doesn't work."

  "That won't be necessary," the Commissioner said quietly.

  For the first time Harry sensed that the Commissioner was uncertain, although of what? "I can confirm that Robeiro's craft was not performing very sensibly," he ventured carefully, "and I can confirm that at least part of what was wrong ceased to be wrong the instant she lost. This would be consistent with the electronic 'kill' turning off some form of programmed sabotage, and I would like to think that her performance was poor because her equipment wouldn't work properly."

  "You'd like to think that would you?" the Commissioner mused. Her voice still gave no clue as to whether she had really suspected Harry of tampering with the aircraft. "I suppose it might interest you to know I want Robeiro to pass this course, and I can't see it happening now, can you?"

  "There's still more of the course."

  "So there is. Now, I wonder what you are going to do about that, Lansfeld?"

  "What do you want, Commissioner?" Harry asked cautiously. He had finally realized that the Commissioner had never thought he had cheated, but rather that she wanted something.

  "The maze simulator. I want you to take her as a navigator. If you can avoid crashing into the walls, you might just get her through. That might be considered as carrying out a useful duty."

  "Yes, Commissioner."

  * * *

  So Harry entered the maze, with the Brazilian beside him in the dual simulator. He looked down at the roll map at the side of the simulator, but suddenly it went dead.

  "Damn!" Harry muttered.

  "It's like what happened to me in the combat," Marisa replied with a sad tone.