Down, she told herself. Down. Where was that from?
Ahead, she saw the vertical ladder to the bridge. Using her hands to grasp the bulkhead and slow her movement, she pivoted almost effortlessly into the 90-degree junction and changed direction with a tap on a few of the ladder’s rungs.
Not bad. Especially for having failed my first null-gravity movement course.
The last few years had flown by. After leaving the Marauders and Marc behind, she’d tried to find another mercenary unit with human leadership that would take her on, but her experience with the Marauders ruled her out of new contracts. She thought, at first, it was because she was a woman, but she soon realized it was more a distrust of Marc’s leadership ability and his integrity. They saw her as damaged or unqualified goods. An inability to make them think differently led her to Selector Hak-Chet and the Peacemaker program. He’d been less than impressed at their first meeting.
“Humans are seldom qualified for work such as this, despite being the perfect beings for it. You may be able to think on your feet and make snap judgments better than any species in the Union, but your self-doubt and paralyzing second-guessing are also second to none.”
From that moment, she’d tried to always “switch on” and force every ounce of her being to engage in dealing with the situations around her. During the first three days of the transit to Araf, she’d languished on Hak-Chet’s words and suffered a humiliating defeat of reasoning. She’d steadied the course with research and introspection for the last few days. Kenos and Taemin, she was relatively sure, believed she was incompetent. When they arrived at Araf, their most likely course of action would be to ask for a replacement Peacemaker. The least likely was that they’d let her do her job without interference.
The most dangerous course of action, though, was the one she’d spent the most time preparing for. Once they arrived at Araf, they would select a neutral landing site for her to operate from and alienate all three colonies at once. The problem was that a neutral site would take her away hundreds of kilometers from the disputed ground itself. The Consortium would spare nothing to control the negotiations; that was evident. When she made no progress, they would file an injunction against the Peacemaker Guild and allow the mercenary units already on the ground to fight it out. The only problem was that the Altar had no mercenary units to support them and would come to the gunfight with knives instead.
Jessica almost smiled in the passageway. She’d come up with a plan to combat both an injunction and an all-out mercenary war. All she had to do was the impossible—get the Altar to agree with her.
On the bridge, she found Kenos sitting in a chair behind and to one side of the nameless Pendal pilot. He startled. “Peacemaker Francis. You’ve emerged from hiding. What can we do for you?”
His veiled insult bounced off her smile. “Thank you, Administrator Kenos. Now that I’ve had the chance to fully review the files and prepare myself accordingly, I’m ready to tackle this negotiation.”
A small, slow smile appeared on the Cochkala’s face. “I am certainly glad to hear that. What brings you to the bridge? We’re preparing for atmospheric interface right now.” His tone said it was a bad time, which brightened Jessica’s smile all the more.
“I’m aware it’s not the best time, but I wanted to request a fly-by.”
“Of what?” Kenos asked, his little eyebrows raised comically.
“There is a section of the southern continent about 1,500 kilometers west of the Altar colony that looks like it might work for a relocation effort.”
Kenos sat forward. “Relocation? Of whom?”
“The Altar, of course,” Jessica said. “It appears to be a simple way to get a handle on the Choote river situation.”
Kenos nodded. “We can certainly adjust our course. You’re speaking of the Dor’Chak Plateau, correct?”
“That’s the one,” Jessica grinned. “And since we’ll be in the atmosphere, I’d like to swing over the Choote River. The entire length.”
The smile on Kenos’ face faltered slightly, but he caught it quickly. “Certainly. I believe your full reconnaissance to be a wise choice, Peacemaker.”
“Thank you, Administrator.”
“Once we’ve flown over the Choote, I’d like to host you at the main spaceport complex for the negotiations. I’ll be happy to send conveyances for the delegations at the Consortium’s expense.”
You little bastard, Jessica thought approvingly. He’d played almost perfectly to type.
Careful not to nod, Jessica replied. “I’d like to conduct my reconnaissance first, please. We can discuss a neutral site based on what we see on the ground.”
Kenos turned to the pilot. “Lay in a course for the Dor’Chak Plateau and a south to north reconnaissance of the Choote River. Alert the colonies to our presence.”
The Pendal pilot nodded, saying nothing as always. With its haunting hooded cloak and four arms, the typical Pendal topped the creepy factor. She’d never had one speak to her, not even the one in her Peacemaker class. In fact, she’d never seen him after the first day, and that was just as well.
Kenos turned to her. “I believe you’ll see that Araf is a beautiful world created from a lifeless hunk of rock—a technological marvel. We started the process more than a thousand years ago. The only major setback in this planet’s development was the Canavar.”
Jessica looked out the window at the approaching planet. From a distance, it looked like Earth. On closer inspection, cyclones that should have gathered along the equatorial regions rolled in the higher latitudes. The northern ice cap was immense and easily two or three times the size of the southern one. “It is beautiful, but I can see what Taemin mentioned. About the weather, that is.”
Kenos made a dismissive gesture with his paws. “Humans. You bitch about the weather more than any other species in the Union,” he laughed. The chittering sound evoked a memory of her mother’s fingernails rasping across an Emery board. “I jest, Peacemaker. Araf’s climate control system is located at the D’nart Spaceport. You are free to inspect it before the negotiations begin. We expect to have the system calibrated in the next two years. Our colonies...our clients will have perfect weather every day—optimum moisture levels and temperatures.”
Jessica decided to keep Kenos talking a while longer. “Those are some pretty serious deviations. That cyclone there,” she pointed at a gigantic swirling storm in the northern hemisphere, “is at what? Forty or fifty degrees North latitude?”
Kenos frowned. “It is. While the number of cyclones that form and get away from us is much lower now than 10 years ago, we still haven’t managed to manipulate the system parameters to get it exactly right.”
“We had a saying where I grew up in North America. If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes, and it will change. Weather isn’t predictable and maybe, just maybe, can’t be controlled.”
Kenos studied her for a long moment. “Your point is taken, Peacemaker. However, the Consortium believes that weather manipulation and control is vital to our Dream World initiative, and we will continue our efforts to succeed. Nature merely needs to be stimulated properly. The planet’s systems will respond to our efforts in time.”
A red light blinked to life on the console in front of them. Jessica slipped into a seat and buckled the five-point harness. “Atmospheric interface burn in 10 seconds,” a slow, monotone voice said. Jessica realized it was from the previously silent pilot.
The Tchrt One burned and the nose snapped up to allow the keel of the yacht to bite into Araf’s upper atmosphere. A tiny vibration rattled through her seat as if the planet reached out to shake her just enough to let her know that gravity was coming.
“Interface.”
Jessica watched out the front windows as the first licks of ionized plasma appeared like tiny orange flames dancing around the yacht’s blunt nose. She tried to see the speed indicator but could not. The horizon tilted to the left as the yacht began a long, fast turn to the
north to bleed off speed. A full minute passed as the pilot held the turn. With an equally measured movement, he turned in the opposite direction. As Jessica watched, the Pendal repeated the maneuver three times. A blink of realization shot through her. Just like Earth’s space shuttle a couple hundred years earlier! The shuttle, really the orbiter because space shuttle was the name for the whole damned system, would perform a series of high-altitude hypersonic S-turns as it returned to Earth. Hadn’t one disintegrated during re-entry? Discovery?
Jessica shook her head. No, Columbia.
“Everything okay over there, Peacemaker? You look a little concerned.”
“Trying to remember a piece of trivia. Nothing important.”
Kenos chittered again, and it made Jessica clench her left fist—the one the Cochkala couldn’t see from his position. “We’re about three minutes from the Dor’Chak.”
Jessica nodded and kept looking outside. The feeling of gravity was there now, pulling her naturally down into the seat. Combined with the feeling of speed from the passing terrain and clouds, it was as close as she could get to flying. As the Tchrt One continued to slow and turn, Jessica imagined the controls in her hands and let the illusion play out in her mind. As quickly as it began, it was over as the yacht settled fully into Araf’s atmosphere and banked toward a wide, high plateau surrounded by ragged mountains running east to west. Geologically, it was perfect for the Altar, albeit without a prevalence of the precious metals the Consortium paid them to mine. There were other alternatives, Jessica believed, but it could be a good home for the Altar, if all else failed.
Kenos leaned over. “What do you think?”
“I think it could work very nicely,” Jessica said conspiratorially. “You’ll just have to pay them to mine something else.”
“I’m sure that something could be arranged.”
“Something financially viable and acceptable to the Altar?” Jessica asked.
Kenos chuckled. “Your treading very close to a line where your mediator needs to be involved, Peacemaker.”
Jessica leaned back in her chair. “You’re right, Administrator. We should table this discussion until Taemin is able to be present.”
“The Caroon don’t handle microgravity very well,” Kenos said. “He should be fine about the time we land at D’nart.”
Which means he’ll miss most of the flight down the Choote. Perfect. Sarcasm felt right, even if she couldn’t overtly express it.
Jessica pointed. “Those are the Wet Mountains, yes?”
Kenos nodded. “Indeed. You have been studying, Peacemaker. On the far side of them is the source of the Choote River. As it winds through the mountains there are some significantly deep gorges impassable at high water. When…” he paused. “When we fine-tune the climate systems, there will be significant winter snows in the mountains that will feed the Choote more, raising the water line by 50 percent for most of the downstream colonies.”
But that’s years away, if ever.
“More water would solve your problems, certainly,” Jessica said.
Kenos said nothing. The effect was as significant as throwing down the gauntlet at his feet. His silence meant one of two things: either he wasn’t expecting her to place blame for the climatological problems solely on the Consortium and derailed his thoughts, or he’d realized she was onto something and would entertain her effort to move, at least by appearances, the Altar Colony. “And until we get that water, what would you have us do, Peacemaker?”
Option two, Jessica thought.
“Let me see the ground, Administrator. I can evaluate my plan based on what I see.”
Kenos tapped the pilot on one shoulder, and the yacht sped toward the Wet Mountains. The rounded, older hills reminded her of Appalachia and the side of her family no one talked about. Her father’s family lived there working renewed tobacco farms and making moonshine like they’d done 400 years before. The difference was that alien races loved both exports and paid handsomely for them. Her father’s business centered on running tobacco and moonshine through the Earth trade unions and out to interested species at ridiculous payment rates. At least it did until his disappearance.
Her mother never spoke his name after he left that stormy August night. Every effort she’d made since turning 18 to find out what the Union or Earth’s governors knew came up empty. The Peacemaker Guild’s computer system gave her a little more information. “Snowman” disappeared on a flight to the Outer Rim—what the cartographers called the Mismert region now—carrying a load of unspecified cargo. Nothing more was in the entry, but it was more than even the Cartography Guild would provide. The emergence gate information was blank and invalid, too. He’d vanished into a black hole or something, but no one knew what had actually happened. What mattered, besides the chipset in her pocket, were the things he told her as a child. Things like “seeing is understanding.”
The diagrams and Tri-V images from her briefings were worthless until she saw the ground with her own eyes. The yacht soared over the last ridgeline, and the Choote River flowed to the north like a wide blue swath through the high desert plains. In the distance, vast green prairies dominated the horizon.
“That’s the GenSha land,” Kenos said. “They farm more than 10,000 square miles of land for us, producing everything from potatoes to gm’lisk.” Vegetables of all kinds were in high demand throughout the galaxy, even the strange ones that tasted like gunpowder and produced a nasty headache when consumed by humans.
“That much land requires a lot of water. How much do they use daily?”
Kenos shrugged. “Fifteen to twenty million liters.”
“And the downstream affect to the Selroth?”
“Unknown.” Kenos frowned. “They believe that the processing kills fish in large numbers. We haven’t seen this effect and doubt its veracity.”
The river widened and bent sharply to the east. A large sandbar appeared in the river and Jessica fought the urge to sit up. Across the northern horizon were dust plumes racing toward the Altar colony. The erratic patterns indicated they were mercenary vehicles. Traditional units tended to move in straight lines with predictable turns. “Mercenaries.”
Kenos sat forward. “Mercenary forces are strictly forbidden! The Consortium retains the responsibility to negotiate and settle disputes peacefully!”
Liar.
“Your agreement states that a colony can hire a mercenary force to protect its interests, exploit tactical advantages, and secure contested resources, Administrator. I believe these mercenaries are doing exactly that. The GenSha want the Raknar.” Jessica almost added a statement about his real amount of knowledge, but stopped herself. He would tip his hand soon enough. “Can we broadcast a message on all frequencies?”
“Of course,” Kenos huffed.
“Good. Transmit the following message.” Jessica paused. “This is Peacemaker Francis. Under the Articles of War, you are ordered to cease fire and prepare for negotiation. Stand down from all hostile actions and report your unit, your combat strength, and your commanding officer’s name for the record.”
The response took a full 30 seconds to arrive, but the delay was worth it. “This is the Wandering Death with 300 personnel. My name is Qamm, Peacemaker. We are standing down and returning to quarters.”
The dust plumes reversed course and headed back to the GenSha colony. Jessica watched them for a second. There was no denying it felt great to stop a mercenary force with nothing more than her words. The Wandering Death were new to her. Even after years in the business, she’d never run across them. With more than a thousand mercenary units operating in the galaxy, it wasn’t that much of a—
A hot white light blossomed in the center of the GenSha colony.
As soon as it appeared, the light was gone and replaced by a large, dark cloud over the central paddock. Scores of voices filled the radio channels. Mercenary forces reversed course again, turning north for the Altar colony faster and more recklessly than before.
Kenos turned to her. “It would appear that your cease fire has not been followed, Peacemaker.”
“Broadcast the message again,” Jessica said. When it finished, there was a clear, solitary transmission.
“Peacemaker Francis, this is Tgenn of the GenSha. The Altar have struck children. We cannot let them get away with this.”
Jessica hesitated to push the button and another voice came in to the fray. “This is Klatk, Queen of the Altar. Peacemaker, do not listen to the GenSha. They attacked us four days ago and killed 700 of our brood. This is what they deserve.”
Jessica looked at Kenos. “Let me talk to them, now.”
“The channel is yours,” Kenos replied.
“This is Peacemaker Francis. All stations will cease fire and return to your colonies immediately. Failure to comply with this message will result in fines against mercenary forces and diplomatic sanctions against colony leadership under the Articles of War.” Jessica paused. “I will hold negotiations in an official setting within 96 hours, as codified by the Articles, at a place of my choosing. Both mercenary forces and contracting officials will respond to this message accordingly. Acknowledge.”
Jessica heard each check in. The GenSha and their Wandering Death force and the Altar checked in. There was another click, almost too faint to be heard, but it was there. Someone else had been on the frequency and tried to time their departure from the frequency to coincide with another disconnection and hide their presence, only to fail.
Kenos stared at her. “It appears your message has gotten through. Shall I set course for D’nart?”
The bridge hatch opened and a very green-faced Taemin looked inside. Jessica shook her head. “I will set up the neutral site on neutral ground in the center of the operations area. Land at the Raknar. Under the Articles of War, I declare it a non-combatant neutral site, effective immediately.”
Peacemaker (The Revelations Cycle Book 6) Page 9
