by Chris Bunch
Not good.
Yoshitaro dressed, thought wistfully of taking a weapon, remembered Celidon’s warning, and was at the palace within the hour.
Redruth and Celidon were waiting. Celidon wore his usual expression of cold amusement, Redruth’s lips were pursed tightly.
“I am not pleased with you, Yohns,” he began, without preamble.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Njangu said. “Might I ask?”
“You told me a penetration raid was going to be mounted by Cumbre.”
“That was what set off the alarms?”
“It was,” Redruth said. “However, you said only a single attack would be made.”
“There were at least two ships,” Celidon said. “One came from N-space in the location you’d told us to watch, but another used the same nav point as their earlier attempt. We’re grateful that the Protector, in his wisdom, had all standard nav points within the system monitored.”
Njangu kept his face blank. Their sensors were better than the Force had thought, and they were more paranoid as well.
“What happened?” he asked. “I heard missiles being launched.”
“Pah,” Celidon said. “Pure panic. The capital’s defense Leiter panicked, shot at shadows, and has been disciplined for his stupidity. What actually happened was the first attacker, the only one you’d warned us of, was quickly destroyed, far out in space.”
As we hoped would happen, when we set this up back on Cumbre, Njangu thought. He also noted the emphasized “only.”
“The second ship evaded us for a time,” Redruth broke in, “and made for Prime, much as the last Cumbrian ship had. I don’t know whether that first ship was a decoy, and the sabotage team you warned us about was aboard the second ship or not, but that’s my assumption.
“We attacked, lost contact, regained it just before the ship went back into hyperspace. We were unable to put a tracer on the ship, but assume it returned to Cumbre.”
Njangu relaxed a little.
“This is the second occasion the Cumbrians have bothered me,” Redruth said. “They can rest assured that this time there’ll be a response they shall not like at all. I do not need to consult your expertise on the system to know that.
“The reason I summoned you is to make you aware I allow no error from my servants. You warned us of one attack, not the second. A job partially completed is the same as one not begun.
“Remember that, Yohns, in the future. I’m not pleased with you at the moment. So take this as a lesson, learn to concentrate on the job at hand instead of your own private pastimes, and don’t make the mistake again.”
Njangu bowed, turned, and left.
He was trebly pleased. If anything goes awry, no matter whose fault it is, or if it’s no one’s, there clearly must be someone to blame, and it’s never the Protector. Good. That keeps underlings from wanting to report not only failure, but problems as well.
And all the time, he thought piously, spent with my companions, hasn’t been hem-hem wasted. Redruth clearly thinks I’m sex-happy, and therefore more of a dolt, and it’s never bad to be thought stupid by an enemy.
But his main joy came from what appeared to be the success of the intrusion. The first ship, entering the system far distant from Larix Prime, had been a drone, intended to be discovered, tracked, and destroyed.
Its only purpose was to cover the second ship, which shouldn’t have been discovered at all. It had, which wasn’t good, but it also appeared that the Larissans had lost track of the ship during the critical moments of its insertion. That ship carried a relay satellite, which should have been, and hopefully was, planted on one of Larix Five’s moons.
Now all he had to do was figure out a way to talk to it, assuming it was there.
• • •
Ideally, Njangu had hoped Ab Yohns was entitled to a transceiver, which could be modified to his purposes.
Next most likely would be for him simply to buy a nice, powerful com, slide in one of the chips he’d brought, so the set broadcast on an off-frequency, code his transmissions, use a couple of recorders to transform the transmission into a blurt, and send it, keeping one eye open for any direction finders in the neighborhood.
Njangu had figured he was closely watched, and any such purchase would be regarded with lifted eyebrow. He’d planned to resurrect one of his civilian talents and steal such a receiver.
Protector Redruth, however, had matters well in hand. There were no transceivers in civilian use. All coms were controlled by the security services, and were sealed units, preset on the state’s frequencies. Yoshitaro thought if he could acquire one of those sets, and try to pry it open, either he wouldn’t have the skills to do the mod, or the set would self-destruct on him, probably howling on some frequency that a social misfit was messing with it.
Even the transceivers in aircraft were sealed and preset to the needed frequencies.
As for finding a store that sold electronic parts, none such seemed to exist, nor would Njangu have the slightest idea of what to buy and how to put it together from scratch.
He considered the omnipresent vids, and wondered if they might not be more than a box on which to watch sports, news, or government directives. It would be very simple to add a small spyeye to each set, and further tighten Redruth’s hold on Larix.
One night Yoshitaro pretended to get drunk, no doubt depressed by Redruth’s chiding, a sad and solitary figure with a bottle, glowering at some sports show. Reception was very bad, evidently, for he whacked the set every now and again, without improving the transmission quality.
Finally, after a bottle and a half had vanished, going unobtrusively down various drains instead of his gullet, Yoshitaro could stand no more. He stumbled over, picked up the set, lifted it overhead and sent it crashing to the floor, to explode in flinders.
That would get him a reputation for being illtempered. He assumed there were other more sophisticated eyes in the room continuing to record.
In fact, a few minutes after he examined the wreckage, his eventual reputation was well deserved.
The set did include a primitive lens and transmitter. Yoshitaro had hoped he would be able to replace its chip with one of the ones he’d brought, somehow jack up the power supply, and use that as his transmitter to the satellite and then to Cumbre.
The spyeye was a one-piece block, as was the rest of the television’s guts. No doubt an experienced tech could have figured a way to modify them, but Njangu Yoshitaro was a thug, not an electronics engineer.
He kicked petulantly at the pieces of television, woke Pyder, told her to get certain devices and restraints, and come with him to Brythe’s room.
The next morning, the television had been replaced, and no one made any reference to Yoshitaro’s fit of rage.
But he still had no way of communicating with that satellite, assuming it was there, and Cumbre.
Which meant that all of his scheming and cleverness, so far, was useless.
And the back of his mind kept wondering just what form Redruth’s retaliation against Cumbre would take, and when and how in the hell he could send a warning.
CHAPTER
7
Cumbre/D-Cumbre
“Nothing from Yoshitaro, Jon?” Garvin asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
“Flipping nothing,” Hedley said. “An E-month, and zed flipping zed.”
“He’s probably having trouble finding a pay com that’ll take Cumbrian coins.”
“Probably,” Hedley said. “So did you have any other reason to bother me, other than to see how cheerfully I lie about not being worried?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Garvin said. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t be bothering Larix and Kura more than we are. Larix is probably still on alert after our last debacle. So let’s send a nice, small team in on Kura, and bash its rural sleepy head a little bit.”
“With you, of course, on point.”
“Why not?” Garvin said. “I’ll let Penwyth, who hasn’t been doing squat lat
ely except making sure Angara meets the proper number of Rentiers, take over II Section, and go out with some of Njangu’s thugs.”
“ ‘Kay,” Hedley said. “I’m listening. Insert shouldn’t be too much of a problem, and I don’t mind the idea of pulling the tiger’s tail a little. What about getting out?”
“If we mess with them just on the ground,” Jaansma said confidently, “they shouldn’t be looking to space. Plant a relay satellite like we just did for Njangu, and when I holler, come in with three or four velv, a couple of the new destroyers, and we scamper, with no casualties except to the goblins.”
Hedley gnawed at his upper lip. “Could work. But I’ll run it past the old man.”
• • •
“It’s a wash,” Hedley said. “Angara says way, way too risky without any more data on Kura. Sorry.”
“Goddamit, boss, the only way we’re going to lick Redruth is to hit him here, there, and everywhere. Like that old song has it, ‘call me the wind or whatever, since I keep blowing down the road.’ ”
“Wind,” Hedley said. “Try a serious bit of storming. Praise the Buddha without a flipping bellybutton that we’re not in the bad old days when you first came aboard, or somebody’d be putting out bulletins calling us Stormforce or some other rabid-ass piece of silliness. Remember, we used to be, what, Swift Lance, or whatever?”
“You’re changing the subject and trying to cheer me up,” Garvin complained.
“I am that.”
“So what am I supposed to do? Keep waiting on Njangu to call in?”
“Flipping exactly.”
• • •
Three days later, Protector Redruth’s response to the two pinpricks came.
A ship patrolling off D-Cumbre reported three ships, one an unknown destroyer-class, the other two Nana-class Confederation patrol crafts in-system, not having been reported by any of the outer planets’ warning posts. The report had barely been made, and alarms were gonging, when the patrol reported a missile launch from the larger ship. All three intruders fled, using the closest nav point to vanish back into N-space.
The missile was aimed at D-Cumbre, and projections of its orbit suggested it was homing on Dharma Island.
The patrol ship launched countermissiles, and the attacking missile evaded them. A second launch missed as well.
The missile’s orbit was further analyzed, and Leggett City, D-Cumbre’s capital, was determined to be the target.
Three aksai, two piloted by Musth, drove for space. Just out-atmosphere they were in range of the missile, and fired countermissiles.
Two struck home. Nuclear fire in D-Cumbre’s skies brought early dawn to the planet.
• • •
“Change one,” Hedley said. “Angara’s approved your run against Kura. PlanGov’s in major hysteria with what happened this morning. Nobody wants to grow up and glow in the dark, and nukes are for barbarians anyway.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“For what? A chance to get flipping killed?” But Hedley said that under his breath. “Go get your goddamned volunteers.”
• • •
“There’ll be me,” Monique Lir said. “Nectan, Irthing, Heckmyer, Jil Mahim for medic, Montagna as sniper, al Sharif, a couple more with electronics cross-training.”
“Mostly noncoms, I see,” Jaansma said.
“You don’t think we’re gonna let the pooptitties in the rear ranks have all the fun, do you?”
• • •
“Might I ask what you two want?” Garvin said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s late, I’m sleepy, I’m only half-through with … with whatever I’m doing, and I don’t have a lot of time to waste playing.”
Ben Dill slid into the chair in front of Garvin’s desk, Dr. Danfin Froude remained standing.
“Understand you’re going out looking for trouble,” Dill said.
“And that you could use a couple of volunteers,” Froude added.
“Doesn’t this frigging Force have any goddamned security?”
“Not against Ben Dill.”
“My answer’s a swift, unqualified go away. I’m full up on hee-roes.”
“Not a chance,” Dill said calmly.
“You’re a ship driver,” Garvin said. “We’re going to be hoofing it. You always snivel when you’ve got to lug all that poundage around on primary drive.”
“I’ve been known to walk through a jungle or two,” Dill said. “Carrying a couple of fagged-out I&R types, come to think about it.”
“And you didn’t see me falling back when we were stranded on that Musth world,” Froude added. “Besides, you’ll need someone capable of analysis when you’re down on Kura.”
“Yeesh,” Garvin said. “You, Doctor, I could probably use. But you still ain’t convinced me, Ben. Don’t you want to stick around here playing zoomie? Think of all the medals and glory and nice clean uniforms, not to mention your fan club. Jungle sluts are definitely not for high-class folks like you.”
“There ain’t many medals when nothing’s going on, and especially since somebody else got all the glory for zotting that A-boomer of Redruth’s,” Dill said. “Look at it this way, Garvin. I’m bigger than you, faster than you, I used to be your CO, and I’ll bust your frigging arm if you don’t change your mind, and then nobody gets to go play in the bushes.”
Garvin snarled in wordless defeat. “Go wake up Lir, and draw the gear she’ll tell you to.”
• • •
“How long will you be gone?” Jasith asked.
“I’m not sure,” Garvin said. “A month. Maybe more.”
“Was this whole thing your idea?”
Garvin shifted uncomfortably on the soft couch, looked out across the Heights, across the bay at Camp Mahan. “Uh, yeh. It was.”
“You really want to get killed, don’t you?”
“I don’t believe,” Garvin said honestly, “there’s anybody mean enough to kill me, yet.”
Jasith got up, went to the sideboard, started to pour herself another drink, changed her mind.
“I know what you are,” she said slowly. “Probably, I guess, what you always will be. So there’s no good in my saying anything.
“Except this, you bastard. You are going to take one day, and one night, off before you go. I’ll make sure you eat nothing but your favorite foods, so you have something to remember, out there on whatever horrible world you’re going to, eating dried bat shit.
“And I want to make sure I walk bowlegged when you leave, so I have something to remember, ‘til you get back.”
• • •
The first ship to lift clear of Camp Mahan was a newly commissioned light destroyer, Garvin’s team aboard. Two velvs followed, aksai hanging from them like remoras.
Off D-Cumbre, they flickered into hyperspace, six jumps from the nearly unknown system of Kura.
CHAPTER
8
Larix/Larix Prime
Njangu Yoshitaro beavered on, scudding back and forth across Larix. He found problems, areas where the system was vulnerable. Small ones were reported to Redruth as he’d been ordered, potential big ones were noted for when — when, not if, Yoshitaro insisted to himself — he was able to find reliable offplanet communications.
He fell into the habit of working out in the same government gym Celidon used. When they sparred, as they did occasionally, Njangu was carefully less quick, less skilled than the other man.
Sometimes they met for dinner at one or another of the restaurants the government’s elite favored. Celidon was hardly a gourmet, his standard order underdone beef and raw vegetables. This, Njangu discovered the hard way, wasn’t spartanism — Larissan cooking preferred everything either cooked gray, or buried under a highly spiced sauce.
Their conversations were mostly fencing matches, which Njangu quite enjoyed, neither man willing to talk in specifics about his ideas or past or ambitions.
Yoshitaro did learn, however, at least one interesting series of facts:
Redruth had done exactly as Danfin Froude theorized: When the “troubles” started in the Confederation, Redruth had responded instantly, not wanting a “plague of anarchy” to intrude on his domain. As the situation worsened within the Empire, Redruth had banned most shipping into the Confederation. The few ships permitted out-system returned reporting planetary systems pulling out of the Confederation, and using the chaos to seize neighboring worlds, systems.
“It looked to the Protector,” Celidon went on, “as if civil war, if civil war can have a dozen different sides, was spreading. When Centrum itself screamed for support, Redruth refused, saying that war was raging through his own worlds, and he had no soldiers to spare. Cleverly, he saw nothing to be gained by losing his best troops in a distant galaxy, or, worse, having them come home infected with whatever ideas were destroying the stability of the Confederation.
“Redruth followed that up with garbled messages that suggested the situation was worsening.”
“Would one of them maybe have been that Cumbre had fallen out of contact?”
“Something like that,” Celidon said, washing down the last of his meat with ice water. “Ships coming from your … sorry, the worlds you were reporting from or the Confederation were taken.”
Njangu remembered that a ship called the Malvern, which he and Garvin had been aboard as raw recruits, had been seized by Celidon’s men.
“But you knew that,” Celidon said. “Weren’t you the bright lad who suborned that official on Centrum to let us know anytime something interesting in the way of materials would be passing our way?”
Njangu hid his surprise and smiled blandly.
“Eventually, I suppose, the Confederation assumed Larix/Kura/Cumbre had fallen into the same shitter as everyone else,” Celidon continued, “and so they stopped signaling and sending ships.
“Of course,” Celidon went on, “this isn’t just game-playing on the part of the Protector. In five or six years, maybe more, maybe less, when things have had a chance to get much worse, Redruth wants to start nibbling at the closer bits of the Confederation. He wants Cumbre taken so he won’t have to worry about his back, plus it’s ripe for exploiting, both in men and minerals.
