Storm Force: Book Three of the Last Legion Series

by Chris Bunch

  “Shit, I need a drink. I hope I like what Yohns drank. And, come to think, Njangu ol’ buddy, you better start worrying about talking to yourself when you’ve only been by yourself for an hour.”

  • • •

  Dill hadn’t needed to point out the problems with Yoshitaro playing Yohns. First was the assumption that just because Yohns had never met Redruth, there wasn’t a handy photo somewhere in Larix’s files that’d doom Njangu. Second, Yoshitaro knew almost nothing about the spy, so any bio data Larix had could be equally deadly.

  Even if he carried off his deception, he wasn’t exactly the best-equipped spy in history. Just for openers, there’d be a problem, if he got in place, in reporting.

  The only reason Angara approved the mission was the assumption that Larix/Kura probably had Confederation coms, as did Cumbre. So all, in theory, that was necessary was for Njangu to acquire one and make slight modifications with one of the four carefully hidden chips he carried. In theory.

  But brooding wouldn’t accomplish much, any more than drinking. Yoshitaro looked for something to fill the hours, found a dozen holos, mostly the basic tracts of various religious sects. He wondered how Yohns had managed to reconcile his profession with these tracts, most of which were somewhat opposed to dishonesty and treason.

  Maybe the spy had been curious about how the other half thought. Or maybe he believed in some hereafter, and was trying to get in the good graces of somebody, everybody.

  In any event, the holos weren’t to Yoshitaro’s taste, although he read them carefully, and found a measure of delight in tracking the myriad contradictions.

  He worked out hard, remembering every kata he’d been taught, developed a few sequences of his own.

  Fighting, you idiot? he thought. Better you think about zen running.

  Njangu didn’t suit up and explore the asteroid, for fear he’d miss an incoming signal from his rescuers, or that he’d manage to lock himself out as well.

  Deep down, he wasn’t sure if he didn’t hope Redruth would abandon him to the “enemy,” so he could just go back home and figure out something a deal safer.

  Time, more time passed.

  Finally, his com beeped. Yoshitaro touched a sensor, responding in the same code he’d asked for extraction on.

  “Stand by,” the return came, automatically decoded by his com. “You’re located. Pickup in twenty-three E-hours.”

  The com went dead.

  Less than a dozen minutes from the ETA, a warship closed on the asteroid. Njangu’s Jane’s identified it as the old Corfe, a Confederation destroyer leader that had been Redruth’s flagship when he attempted to take over Cumbre. Two Nana-boats gave “high” cover to the Corfe. Its missile tubes and close-range chainguns were unmasked, ready.

  A hangar port yawned, and a small ship darted out, grounding on the asteroid. Five suited men came out. Two took defensive positions close to the yacht, the other three approached the ship’s lock, blasters ready.

  The outer door buzzed open, closed, and pumps let air into the airlock.

  Yoshitaro touched an intercom sensor. “Come on in.”

  “Stand clear of the door,” a metallic voice answered. “Do not move when we enter.”

  Yoshitaro spun in his control chair, his hands in plain view as the airlock door opened. One man came in quickly, looked back and forth, said something into his suit mike, and a second entered. The first cleared the yacht’s other compartments, came back, and a third man entered the compartment. The first two kept their weapons on Njangu.

  The third man opened his faceplate, and Yoshitaro recognized him.

  “Ab Yohns, I might assume,” the man said. “My name is Celidon. I command Larix and Kura’s armed forces.”

  Celidon was an officer with a reputation for efficient brutality. Cashiered from the Confederation, he’d ended up working for Redruth as a mercenary. He was tall, with a scarred forehead. His expression was coldly amused.

  “I’m very damned glad to see you,” Njangu said. “I’d clap hands, but I don’t want to get shot by your cronies.”

  “I’ll take the welcome as having been expressed,” Celidon said. “Get your possessions and come with me. I want to be out of the Cumbre system this E-day.”

  “I don’t have much of anything,” Yoshitaro said. “That bag there, no more. I left in a bit of a hurry.”

  “Suit up then,” Celidon ordered. “Suit frequency thirty-six. My man will carry your things.” Yoshitaro obeyed, noticing that one of Celidon’s men searched the inside of his suit before letting him put it on.

  The man escorted Njangu into the lock and cycled them out onto the asteroid. Moments later, the second man came out, then, after a bit, Celidon. He cycled the airlock door shut.

  “Are you going to destroy my ship?” Yoshitaro asked.

  “No,” Celidon said. “The blast might attract attention, and you’ve set enough wasps buzzing already. But I did leave a little present for anyone who discovers the boat and opens the lock.”

  Njangu hoped no one decided to recover the yacht anytime soon, at least not anyone he knew.

  They transited to the Corfe, and Njangu was told to unsuit, then led to a bare room, efficiently searched by a crew member, and left alone.

  The Corfe’s drive activated, then, sometime later, the ship made its first N-space jump. Njangu, having nothing else to do, lay down and tried to sleep.

  An unknown time later, an armed man and woman took him to a large, spartanly equipped stateroom. Celidon sat behind a desk and motioned Yoshitaro to a seat. On the desk were Yoshitaro’s bag and a heavy, rather old-fashioned blaster.

  “Is this the only weapon you brought?” Celidon asked.

  “No,” Yoshitaro said. “May I?”

  Celidon nodded.

  Njangu slid one hand inside his belt, down behind his scrotum, and took out a small, flat pistol, a projectile weapon firing explosive charges.

  “My men didn’t find that, obviously.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Protector Redruth is very particular about those whom he allows to carry weapons,” Celidon said. “But since you’ll almost certainly be invited to join our government, there should be no problem. Thank you for your honesty.”

  Yoshitaro held out his hands. “I haven’t forgotten whom I work for.”

  “Good,” Celidon said. “I’ll have the louts who failed to find that weapon punished. One thing I might suggest. Don’t carry any weapons, not even a knife, into the Protector’s presence. He becomes … nervous.”

  “Thank you for the warning.”

  Celidon went to a sideboard, slid it open.

  “A drink?”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  “This is a triple-herbed tea,” Celidon said, pouring two glasses from a metal pot. “I find it improves my thinking.” He handed one glass to Yoshitaro.

  “You’ve certainly served the Protector … and his worlds … well, over the years.”

  “And I’ve been rewarded,” Yoshitaro said.

  “Your payment awaits you on Larix, in our most secure repository,” Celidon said. He sipped, looked at Njangu curiously. “You must have taken up your … craft at an early age. I wasn’t expecting someone as young as you appear.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m somewhat older than I look,” Yoshitaro replied smoothly.

  Celidon waited for details, then realized none would be forthcoming.

  “I decided to come along on the pickup,” he said, “because I thought you and I should have a chance to talk before Protector Redruth greeted you.”

  Njangu put on an interested expression, stayed silent.

  “I’m sure you’re aware that autocrats are, with reason, very suspicious of their secret agents, particularly those who’re executives.”

  “Of course.”

  “You might be interested in knowing that I not only hold the post of Commander of the Armed Forces but, as of six months gone, head of the Protector’s intelligence appar
at as well. The latter is a position I despise, and hold only through necessity.

  “The man who held that assignment before me fancied himself an expert on Machiavellianism. I’ve noticed those who loudly pride themselves as intriguers generally end up with a puzzled expression and several inches of steel between their own sixth and seventh ribs, but that’s as may be.

  “This wight decided he would play politics with Protector Redruth against me. Why, I have no idea, for I’m quite busy and content with my regular duties and had no designs on him or his station.

  “At any event, he became a bit of a threat, and it became necessary for me to … deal with him. So now his duties are included in mine, and he is ashes in the wind.

  “I’ll explain how that pertains to you. I rather assume protector Redruth will offer you a post within the government, probably with the rank of Leiter. He’ll want you to be his special advisor on the Cumbrian matter, and, if you serve well, you’ll be promoted.

  “It’s not inconceivable you could end up as head of all security services, replacing me. At present, I would neither object nor recommend you for that rank.

  “But if it happens, I’d suggest you remember what happened to that other man, who thought himself devious, and restrict any ambitions you might have beyond that.”

  Celidon smiled coldly. “We’ll be arriving off Larix in two more jumps. One of my staff will escort you to more comfortable quarters, and you have the freedom of the ship.

  “Welcome to Larix and Kura, Ab Yohns.”

  Yoshitaro got up, bowed, and followed the woman out of the compartment.

  Stupid bastard, he thought. Telling me those who loudly proclaim their sneakiness always get sneaked on, and then doing the same thing himself. As if I hadn’t been around enough fools and their cliques back home that I had to deal with when they got big eyes on me or my people.

  But still, I’d best be careful.

  CHAPTER

  6

  Lari/Larix Prime

  A lim with military insignia picked up Njangu and Celidon at the port, and, with many salutes, took off. Yoshitaro, noticing it was escorted by two Zhukovtype gunships, asked what the danger was.

  “No danger,” Celidon said. “The Protector feels any public appearance by a member of the government should be accompanied with a display of force. It not only gives the workers something to admire, but something to think about if they’re considering the slightest dissidence.”

  Agur was a monolithic city, its chunky buildings high-storied, frequently occupying whole blocks. They appeared to be poured in place, the blank concrete generally dyed brown or light blue, without facing or decoration other than the signs for the businesses within, which were gay and colorful.

  The lim flew about ten meters above the street, siren wailing. Njangu could see people afoot, or in small vehicles of uniform design. There weren’t many lifters in the air.

  “The Protector prefers his people use ground transport, or our extremely efficient undergrounds,” Celidon said, sounding like a government brochure. “Lifters are generally reserved for official use or, in larger forms, to take the citizens to the coliseums or to the country recreational areas.”

  The people wore bright clothing, frequently streaked with conflicting colors that stood out against the drab buildings. Njangu couldn’t tell if they looked happy, sad, angry, or even ground-down.

  “As a matter of curiosity,” Njangu said, “how do you deal with your criminals and dissidents? Conditioning?”

  Celidon gave him a wintry smile.

  “We hardly need Condit,” he said. “And the term we use is social misfits. The Protector sees no need for them to further fatten on the public by lazing about prisons, devising schemes for illegal enrichment when they’re released. Instead, they’re put to work, hard physical work in areas of risk. Undersea mines, on our moon stations, things such as that. Those who’re given lighter sentences, and survive them, generally are no longer a threat to society.

  “As for dissidents … real ones were a generation ago. As for the others … you’ll see.”

  Njangu, once a threat to society himself, and certainly now a dissident in Larix’s terms, thoughtfully considered Celidon’s words.

  A few minutes later, Celidon nudged him. “There’s the Protector’s palace.”

  The city encircled the grounds, three or four kilometers in diameter. The great building in the center was as grandiose and rococo as any dictator could dream of, all spires, domes, multicolored bubbles, strangely configured towers.

  Yoshitaro decided that, one day, given the chance and enough explosives, he wanted to strike a blow for architects everywhere.

  • • •

  “Do you have any idea what brought about your exposure?” Protector Alena Redruth asked. There were only two people in the huge office, or at any rate only two Yoshitaro could see. He assumed Redruth wasn’t foolish enough to meet anyone without gun cover and wondered how many gunmen were hidden behind the walls.

  Redruth was under normal height, in his early forties, and balding. He appeared unthreatening, except for his eyes, which held a strange, fixed gleam.

  “As a matter of fact, sir, I do,” Njangu said. “One of my agents, who was under surveillance, contacted me to report the Confederation element was planning another intrusion. I had relay stations in place for these transmissions, but they succeeded in following the signal to my base.

  “I just had time to activate self-destruct mechanisms and flee, with no more than the clothes I was wearing.”

  Redruth leaned forward.

  “Where are they coming, Yohns? Did your agent have time to give you that?”

  “I had only a flash,” Njangu lied. “The charts they’d requested were for the alternate jump point for the Larix system, since they’d failed on their first try. The agent said nothing about when the intrusion would be mounted.”

  “What is the Force mission?”

  “The agent said one of the men said something to his fellow about ‘putting in a wrecking crew,’ which I’d guess means they’ll be putting in some sort of a sabotage force,” Yoshitaro said.

  Redruth’s mouth worked. “We’ll be ready,” he said firmly. “We’ll stop them offworld as we did the last time, and this time destroy their ship or ships.”

  “Good,” Njangu said. “My theory is the failure of your response to destroy the Cumbrians last time led to my exposure.”

  “That intercept team has already been punished for its slipshod work,” Redruth said. “Forget about what happened.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve done extraordinarily good work for me over the years,” Redruth said. “You were rewarded for your success, not punished for failure. Now, do you wish further … rewards?”

  His eyes held on Yoshitaro, evaluating.

  Njangu didn’t feel he had any choice. “Of course, sir. I assume I’ll continue to be compensated as in the past.”

  “You shall. The first reward will be your immediate promotion to the rank of Leiter.

  “What I wish you to do is help me evaluate Cumbrian designs on Larix and Kura and, within the next E-year, assist with intelligence missions to Cumbre, preparing for the inevitable invasion.”

  Njangu nodded.

  “When I attack, you’ll be part of my staff, and, after victory, I’ll find a high place for you in Cumbre’s puppet government. You’ll have more than enough of a chance to replace whatever you lost when you were driven away. In humiliation as well as material goods.”

  Njangu let an evil smile come and go.

  “In addition, you can help me here, now, since you think like a Cumbrian.”

  Yoshitaro heard alarm bells.

  “I need to know my weaknesses. How could Cumbrian spies, assassins, or saboteurs infiltrate Larix? I want you to tour the worlds of Larix, then, later, Kura, and with your fresh eyes, look for weakness. Maintain as low a profile as possible.

  “Anything you discover should be repo
rted directly to me. I shall punish the lazy and unwary, reward the wary and strong.”

  “Yes, sir,” Njangu said. “What about Celidon? He told me he was head of intelligence. I certainly don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.”

  “If there are,” Redruth said firmly, “I shall deal with the problem. Celidon will be informed of what he needs to know by me. I am still the master of Larix and Kura.”

  He stood. Yoshitaro, realizing the audience was over, stood and made an awkward attempt at a salute, like a civilian would attempt.

  “In the future,” Redruth said, “there’ll be great rewards, even greater when, as is inevitable, I expand my empire, first to include Cumbre, then back into what used to be the Confederation. There are millions of worlds trapped in the chains of anarchy, and it’s the duty of Larix and Kura to free them.

  “Great, great rewards.

  “But for those who fail, or think they can serve their own masters, even greater penalties!”

  • • •

  Redruth’s majordomo escorted Yoshitaro to a different exit, where another of the military lims waited.

  “The driver knows where to take you,” he said, and saluted.

  Yoshitaro got in the lifter, found Celidon waiting.

  “Was your meeting with the Protector … interesting, Leiter?”

  “It was.”

  “Remembering what I told you aboard ship, is there anything you wish to share with me, say, about what your tasks will be?”

  Yoshitaro grinned. “How many rooms in the Protector’s palace do you monitor?”

  Celidon looked mildly astonished, then laughed hard.

  “Good, Yohns. Very good indeed. You are very adept at your analyses. I think that our relationship, assuming neither of us relaxes nor becomes arrogant, might be mutually profitable.”

  • • •

  Njangu’s city quarters were the three top floors in one of the half-block-long megaliths. He tried counting rooms, got three different figures depending on which elevator he used, and gave up.

  He had, already in place, a staff of twenty-four. He asked if this’d been especially prepared for him, was told by his head-of-household, a calm man with shifty eyes named Kerman, the apartments had been previously occupied by … “but I must not use his name, sir. He was a member of a Cumbrian spy network our wonderful Protector sniffed out.”