The choice of weapons was wrong, too. Why send a man with a handgun at all? And why a hypervelocity rifle? A simple chemical sniper rifle would have been a better choice, maybe with the hypervelocity rifle as a backup. One shot, one kill, and Ryck would probably be in a body bag awaiting transport back to Tarawa.
Ryck’s actions were far more laudable. By slowing down the playback, he was surprised to see that he’d reacted to the attack before the first man had actually fired his handgun. Ryck had thought he’d merely reacted, but it was clear that he started his lunge a split second before the man fired. The news drone used two recording units, giving a degree of three dimensions to the playback, and from the impact of his assailant’s round on the building behind him, Ryck knew it had missed him by less than a few centimeters. If Ryck hadn’t already been reacting, he’d probably have been hit.
Ryck pulled his first shot at the rifleman, jerking the small Bianchi pretty far off target. If the rifleman hadn’t been using the sweep method or hadn’t flinched at Ryck’s charge, Ryck would not have had the chance to fire a second round. Still, that second shot was a thing of beauty. While running, with a snub-nosed self-defense weapon, he had nailed the man in the chest just below the base of his throat.
He stopped the recording just as his image tipped his cover to the woman—something that had been getting good press and was going viral in the undernet, from what Ryck had been told.
He sighed and looked at the clock. He was in the vault, tired of waiting for the senior embassy staff to decide what to do with him. The Vishnu police had released Ryck to the custody of the embassy. Ryck had been told that there were no charges pending yet, but he was to remain in the city pending a complete investigation.
Ryck didn’t expect anything to come up with the killing. The various recordings showed that he was simply defending himself. There still was the issue of the Bianchi, however. Carrying it was strictly verboten, and there could be pretty drastic consequences because of that. It all depended on how Vishnu city police wanted to proceed with it, and that had to be more of a Confed government call in the long run. Ryck wouldn’t face jail time, given his diplomatic immunity, but he could get his credentials pulled and be asked to leave New Mumbai.
Ryck had been asked by the police detectives where he’d acquired the Bianchi, but Ryck clammed up, citing his still-current immunity. There was no use getting anyone else in trouble.
Finally, Captain Franks, Mr. Torrington, the RSO[5], and Mr. Pinyin, the First Secretary, came into the vault. Ryck had expected Mr. Lamonica as well, or even the ambassador himself, but evidently, neither of those two notables wanted to get that directly involved, even if they’d both been in the meeting to decide just how to handle the situation.
“Well, Ryck, shit just seems to follow you around,” Captain Franks said as the others took seats.
Ryck shrugged and said, “Not really my fault, sir.”
“No one is saying it’s your fault, but wherever you go, things happen. And now we have to deal with this. The ambassador was in conference with the Third Minister[6] himself on this before he joined us.”
The Third Minister? The fifth highest official in the entire Federation?
Despite himself, that impressed Ryck.
“We’ve also received word from the Foreign Office that they will not be taking any action against you. This is unofficial at the moment. They still have to go through the motions of an investigation.”
“Not like they want to,” Torrington said in a tone of disgust. “It was their people, the Liberty Party, at least, that orchestrated the attempt.”
“We don’t know that, Greg,” Mr. Pinyin said. “It may be, but as Party Secretary Ingles said to me and pointed out, the, shall we say, less-than-professional assailants sent, the incident might have been an attempt to frame the Liberty Party.”
“Bullshit. I mean with all due respect, sir, they sent these clowns because they are clowns themselves, but their target was a Federation Marine, not some political dabbler. You fuck with a Marine, and this is what happens!”
The men were ignoring Ryck for the moment, and he tried to digest what he’d heard. Most of this was new to him.
The Liberty Party was a far-right, ultra-nationalistic group which was making inroads into public support. They had vocally come out against Ryck being awarded the Corona Navali, arguing that they could not honor a man who had once led an attack against their Army which was only rightfully asserting Free State sovereignty at the time.
What Mr. Pinyin said, though, about the Liberty Party secretary’s assertion that his party was being framed was an interesting twist. Torrington was not buying it, but then Torrington had been a sergeant in the Marines before moving into security and working his way up the ladder until he was the RSO for all of the Confederation planets. He tended to be more direct, and he seemed to be taking the assault on Ryck, a Marine, personally.
Mr. Pinyin held up his hand, stopping Torrington, and said, “We just don’t know, Greg. Not yet, at least. But now we have to deal with the major, here.”
They turned back to Ryck, and Mr. Pinyin nodded to Captain Franks to continue.
“After intense discussions, the decision has been made to terminate your assignment here.”
That hit Ryck in the gut. This had been his least favorite billet since he’d joined the Corps, but he was not a man to accept failure.
As if he could read Ryck’s mind, the captain added, “This is not a reflection on you, Ryck. Quite the contrary. You’re going to get a star for your BC3. You’ve done the Federation proud, and this incident, believe it or not, is a good thing for us.”
Another Battle Commendation? Why do half of my awards seem to be politically motivated. I should be used to it by now, Ryck thought sourly.
“We are lodging a formal protest with the Confederation,” Mr. Pinyin said. “This looks very bad on them, and your amazing reaction is trending well on the undernet. We calculate a positive jump of 18.3% on universal opinion as to the effectiveness of Federation military strength, and an 8.5% rise on the overall Federation PubStat.”
The first secretary’s face took on an almost giddy look as he gave Ryck the figures. That was not surprising. A large part of his job was to improve the reputation and public acceptance of the Federation, and his performance evals relied heavily on the gathered data and analysis, so those figures could be just what he needed to get his next promotion.
A very dark and nasty thought nibbled at the back of his mind as he listed to the first secretary bring up more numbers. If this was working out for the Federation, could the attack have been orchestrated by his own government and not the Liberty Party or anyone else? The two assailants had not been very skilled, after all, and it could have been ordered knowing Ryck, a skilled combat Marine, would prevail.
Shit, I’m getting paranoid! he told himself. They wouldn’t risk my Nova like that.
Ryck knew the government would not be above sacrificing any individual for the good of the Federation, but as one of two living Marine Nova holders, he was worth more to them as a living symbol of Federation superiority.
He thought.
He pushed that suspicion down and focused back on Captain Franks, who was telling him something.
“. . . back on the sixth floor here at the embassy. We’ve already got a team picking up your personal effects now. You’ll stay here until the Confederation finishes its investigation. You will not leave the embassy grounds again except under heavy guard for anything pertaining to that investigation, but as of now, your duties are suspended. Once the investigation is complete, you are going back to Earth for some appearances, then to Tarawa for your next assignment.”
“Heavy guard, sir? Is that really going to be necessary?”
“Appearances, Ryck, appearances.”
“Roger that, sir. I understand,” Ryck said as the meeting came to a close.
He shook the hands of the other three men. Greg Torrington motioned for a y
oung man who’d been standing outside the vault to enter the door after the first secretary left.
“I don’t know if you’ve been in the apartments, but I think you’ll find them quite comfortable,” he told Ryck. “This is Ed, and he’ll be showing you the way. He’ll be giving you a list of contacts, so if you need anything you can’t get at the commissary, give any of them a call. And I don’t want to belabor the point, but please don’t try to leave the compound on your own.”
Ryck grimaced at that. “Comfortable” apartments or not, he was a prisoner for all intents and purposes.
Torrington must have seen the expression, because he said, “Yeah, I know. And it sucks. You pulled two righteous kills, and most of us are damned proud of you, but as a reward, you’re grounded. It ain’t fair, I know, but it is what it is.”
He held out his hand, and Ryck shook it. He didn’t really know Torrington that well, but he appreciated the moral support.
“Tell you what. Why don’t I stop by tonight, say around 2000? I can bring a six-pack and a bag of kabobs,” the RSO asked Ryck.
“Sure, sounds copacetic,” Ryck answered.
If he was going to be stuck in one of the embassy apartments for the next month or two, some beer and kabobs seemed like a pretty good way to get his ordeal started.
Chapter 12
The embassy limo pulled in front of the terminal and stopped. Ryck dutifully waited until the two guards jumped out and made a show of checking for a threat before opening the door for him. Ryck stepped out, and two reporters called out questions while half-a-dozen news-drones hovered overhead.
Ryck waved at the reporters, ignoring the questions as he hurried in through the VIP entrance, to be met by Annabelle Trystin, one of the embassy’s handlers.
“We’ve got your bags in the secured holding vault,” she told him with earnest-sounding sincerity. “They’ve been examined for any sign of tampering, and they should be safe now.”
Ryck might have even believed her concern had he not been in the meeting with her and at least 12 others the day before, where this charade was choreographed. The Federation wanted to play up the fact that Ryck, who was now a minor undernet star throughout the Confederation, was only leaving because the Confederation was not able to ensure his safety. In the diplomatic wars, this was pure gold.
Vice-Colonel Micah Enlightenment was waiting just beyond Ms. Trystin, and Ryck broke the script to go over and shake his hand.
“Well, you’ve created quite the fuss here,” Micah told Ryck. “Makes all the rest of us look like wallflowers.”
“That’s not such a bad thing, sir. Hard to be unnoticed and hear all the good stuff when there’re news drones following you everywhere you go, you know.”
“Well, you’ve given us all a bit of excitement, and it’s going to be rather dull here without you.”
“Uh, excuse me, Major, but this is not a secure area. We’ve got to get you moving,” Ms. Trystin said, taking Ryck’s arm in her hand as if she was going to pull him along.
Ryck resisted for a second to say, “If you ever get to Tarawa, or wherever I am, I’ll buy you a beer. Even take you to see the wife. She says you Simonites are their lost cousins, needing to be brought back to the flock.”
“You’re on, Ryck,” Micah said before the slight Ms. Trystin was able to pull Ryck away.
The spaceport security personnel were trying not to make a big deal out of it, but they’d obviously been briefed, too, as they had a security lane opened as he was pulled along. Ryck breezed through, confident that even if he were armed, he would not have been stopped.
Ryck, Ms. Trystin, and a lone Confed escort walked down the wide hall and shops until the escort swiped his pass on the lock for an unmarked door.
“Here’s where I leave you, Major,” Ms. Trystin told him. You’ve got about 20 minutes before boarding the shuttle, and then another 40 minutes and you’re on the Holiday Extreme,” she told him. “We’ve got one agent on the shuttle, but he will not make the trip back with you on the ship.”
“Thank you, Ms. Trystin,” Ryck said, shaking her hand. “And thanks for all your help.”
Help he knew had not been needed. If the Federation really thought there was a threat, the Navy would have dispatched a combat ship to pick him up. Instead, he was to be a passenger on one of the scheduled Holiday line cruise ships, and only in second class berthing at that.
Well, it’s almost done, he told himself as he entered the room.
And was surprised to see Major Titus Pohlmeyer leaning up against the bar, a drink in hand.
Titus raised his glass to Ryck and beckoned him over.
“What, you making sure I get off the planet?” Ryck asked as Titus poured him an actual Reider single malt, not a fabricated one.
Ryck didn’t really single malts—well, to be accurate, he didn’t like the one time he’d tasted a non-fabricated one, but the fact that the bar had real, old-fashioned drinks made in distilleries instead of the latest fabricator impressed him. He sniffed the dark amber liquid, then took a small sip.
No, he still didn’t like it, but he knew he should, so he kept up the charade and nodded appreciatively.
“Well, Major, it seems as if your time as a guest of the Free States was a little, shall we say, interesting?”
“Yes, you could say that. Like the Chinese curse,” Ryck said.
“Sorry?”
“The Chinese curse: ‘May you live in interesting times.’”
“Oh, I never heard of that. But yeah, it could be a curse, I suppose,” Titus said, taking another small sip of his drink.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a lightning rod,” Ryck said. “I know it’s caused more than a few headaches.”
Titus waved off his apology with the hand still holding his drink. “Now you’re just being diplomatic—too little too late.”
Ryck had to laugh, and Titus followed almost immediately.
“Yes, you might not have the natural proclivity to be a tried and true diplomat. And that is what interested some of us.”
Ryck tried to look natural, as if nothing important had just been said while he attempted to make sense of what Titus meant. His shadow’s presence in the waiting room was no accident, and there wasn’t much time until he would be boarding. It wasn’t lost on Ryck that this was probably the first time since the incident that anyone from the Confederation could talk to Ryck without anyone in the Federation eavesdropping.
“Unlike the Federation, the Free States is a democracy,” Titus started.
“Hey, we are too!” Ryck protested.
“Yeah, sure, and your Chairman shits roses, we know. No offense, but you in the Federation think you are the natural inheritors of Earth and all her history just because you still hold most of the planet. But so are we, so is the Brotherhood, so is every other government of man. We all came from Earth. We in the Free States left when the Federation started removing rights of the citizens. We kept democracy alive, not you,” he said with passion.
Ryck pointed as his watch and said, “What’s your point, Titus. I’m boarding in 15. You trying to convert me or something.”
“No, sorry, I just meant that as a democracy, we’ve got many factions, all seemingly working against each other. If the Peoples’ Rights Party says the water is wet, the Freedom Party will say it’s dry. Hell, the Liberty party will say there isn’t any water in the first place. But there is one thing that everyone agrees is that we need to be on good terms with the Federation. Our recent, uh, incident did no one any good, and we can’t afford that. We all banded together to fight the Trinoculars, right? We need to be able to stand firm again.”
“For what? You think the Brotherhood is going to challenge you, and you need us?” Ryck asked, trying to see where Titus was going with his line of thought.
“No, no. We’ve been cooperating with them. We see no threat there.”
“Then who? The Alliance? Any of the independents? You outgun any of them.”
“Just suffice it to say that some of our big brains think there is a possibility that there is someone else out there. And a schism in humanity is not a good idea. Not now. Not ever, really.”
Ryck placed his drink on the bar and took half a step back. “Someone else? Who? And why do your scientists think that?”
“I don’t know. I’m just a dumb grunt like you.”
Like grubbing hell you are. You’re connected, Ryck thought.
“But we calculate that there is an 18% possibility that there could be another threat. Maybe not now, maybe not for 100 years. But even so, stupid things like your incursion into our space, then our retaliation, were wasteful and could have escalated.”
“And why are you telling me this?”
“Because of who you are,” Titus said.
“I’m a major who has been fired from his assigned billet.”
“We both know that isn’t true. You do shit roses, even if your chairman doesn’t. Whatever you do comes out with you as a hero. And you are being groomed.”
Ryck didn’t bother to argue. He wanted to see where this was going.
“All we want is to have an open dialogue.”
“Who is ‘we?’”
“Hmmph. ‘We’ are a group within the government who feel cooperation is in all of our best interests. It is highly military, but we come from all walks of life.”
“So that still begs the question, why me?”
“Back to my point. You are not a democracy. You are an exocentric, repressive government. But your military is pragmatic.”
Ryck did not take well to someone else criticizing the Federation, even if he’d sometimes thought the same thing.
“Our military is the government. Our chairman is a retired admiral, or hadn’t you heard,” he said sarcastically.
“Who is hamstrung by your bureaucracy, just like any other head of government. But as a whole, your military—your Navy and Marine Corps—acts rationally. You can’t be ideologists when you are putting together an operations order.”
Major (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 5) Page 7
