Dirty Deeds

by Mark Wandrey

  “I apologize, Patrol Leader, they entered a structure and seemed to simply disappear.”

  Chosht grumbled low in his throat before deciding to let it go. He turned to the hatchlings, all standing in a group by their vending stand. They looked up at the troopers, eyes wide with obvious fear.

  “What were you selling?” Chosht demanded. The Humans only stared. Chosht looked them over then snarled a curse. He removed a translator from his utility pouch, used a claw to program it, and handed it to one of the hatchlings, who hesitantly took it. “Do you understand me?” he asked.

  “Y-yes,” the hatchling with the translator answered.

  “What were you selling?” They all looked at each other, not willing to answer. “Speak, or there will be repercussions.”

  “We have alcohol,” one of the hatchlings said.

  Chosht cocked his head in confusion. Of course he knew what alcohol was. He didn’t understand why it would be desirable to adult Humans, or how it would be valuable.

  “Why do the adults buy this alcohol from you?”

  “To get a buzz,” the same hatchling said.

  Chosht consulted his slate, entering the phrase and meaning into it to obtain a better translation. After a moment, he had the answer. Humans used alcohol as an intoxicant. He found it quite strange, as the liquid had little to no effect on his race. HecSha commonly used a derivative of sulfur known as “Kick,” which was inhaled through the nasal cavities to get a buzz.

  “Show me this intoxicant,” he said.

  The other Human hatchlings watched with agitation as the one of their number who was cooperating showed Chosht a store of bottles containing clear liquid and another store of smaller, empty bottles, obviously meant for distributing the intoxicants to customers. He was impressed with the setup, then he noticed the metal box.

  “What is in the box?” he demanded. All the hatchlings became more agitated, and several moved closer. The other members of the merc squad raised weapons, and the Humans froze. Keeping a close eye on the hatchlings despite his men holding weapons on them, the leader reached down and took hold of the box. It was tricky with his thick fingers, and he juggled the box. One of his men reached in to help, and in that instant the hatchlings bolted.

  His troopers began to track the fleeing Humans with their weapons just as the box crashed to the concrete and broke open, spilling hundreds of credit chits.

  “Don’t fire,” Chosht ordered as he bent over to examine the scattered credits. They were of every denomination, from partial credits up to a hundred, all easily determined by the size of the red diamond chip embedded in them. “The profit is more important.” He gestured at the credits and stood to observe the last of the hatchlings, the one who’d spoken for them, looking back at the HecSha claiming the credits the Humans had earned. Chosht couldn’t be sure, though it seemed the hatchling wasn’t upset or mad; rather, it looked amused. A second later, it departed.

  * * *

  Chosht had his troopers search the immediate area for the departed hatchlings. He was certain they were nowhere in the area, and the cursory search confirmed. Once complete, he led the squad back to their operations area in what remained of the starport offices. The space had once been used by the planet’s pitiful space defense squadron, now dead.

  “Where is Commander Khisht?” Chosht asked another squad leader, Shisht, who was lounging in the barracks dining area.

  “Speaking with the Human leaders,” the squad leader said.

  “Oh?” he replied. “This is good, we have questions for the Humans.” He showed the other leader what he’d taken from the hatchlings, the credits and intoxicants.

  “Fascinating,” the other said, “so there are more credits around after all.”

  “It would seem so. I am leaving my squad here and going to talk with the commander.”

  “Be careful you are not waylaid by the infamous Human rogue merc.”

  The squad leader snorted and shook his huge head, many of the other troopers laughing as well. The feckless Xiq’tal had somehow gotten one of their two dropships shot down while killing a group of suspected mercs living on an island some distance from the main colony. An investigation had found several dead, and most of the habitations severely damaged. Several older wounded Human mercs had been captured when they’d come to town in their craft. The commander considered the matter closed, though many of the mercs still joked that a deadly Human killer must still be around.

  “I shall be cautious,” Chosht said, then took the bag containing the credits and intoxicant and left the barracks. He moved to the far end of the starport and into what remained of the controller’s building. The structure was half destroyed, though one entire wing remained. It was there the Humans were setting up a new government for Valais, and it was there he found his commander, Khisht.

  As Chosht entered the facility, Khisht’s personal detail looked up to verify who had come in. Certain he wasn’t a threat, they resumed their relaxed postures. The Humans present were anything but relaxed. In fact, they looked more distressed than the hatchlings from earlier. When Chosht came in, the Humans stopped talking and looked at him. Eventually, they continued talking.

  “As I was saying,” a female said, “we can’t deliver the food you’re requesting.”

  “You claim that,” Commander Khisht said, “and I don’t believe it.”

  “Most of the fishing ships were sunk,” a male complained, “and the few remaining are struggling to feed the town.”

  “So you have enough food for the Humans?” the commander asked.

  “Barely,” the woman who’d first spoken said, “we’ve doubled the production at the hydroponics farms and are building new greenhouses. We just need time to realize yields.”

  “If you have enough, you can provide the foods to us.” The Humans gawked. “We will take 250 kilograms of fish per day. The less desirable can go to the Xiq’tal, they aren’t choosy.”

  “How do we make up for the loss?” another man asked.

  The commander shrugged, then spoke. “There are fishing Humans who used to be on boats accidentally sunk during the conquest. Let them go in small boats.”

  “It’s winter,” the second man complained. “The weather is turning bad. That’s risky.”

  “It’s riskier not to provide what we demand,” the commander said, his low, grumbling voice translated into the Humans’ mumbles and hooting language. “Is this going to be a problem? We can eat many types of animals.” He looked at them and showed his pointy teeth. “We prefer red meat over fish.”

  “No,” the female yipped. “We can manage.”

  “Maybe the outer settlements can be taxed?” someone suggested, and heads nodded.

  “They can pay in fish!” More agreements.

  “Good,” Khisht said. “You are forming a plan.” This is like dealing with uneducated hatchlings, he thought.

  “There’s the matter of the non-native species?” the woman asked.

  “What of them? We are fine eating them as well.”

  The second man spoke. “When we aided your liberation, you said you would help us restore the natural biosphere. The ecological damage done to this formerly pristine world needs to be reversed.”

  Khisht had to consult his slate on the liberation. When he cross-referenced the meaning, it made him smile. These traitorous Humans possessed a considerably advanced ability to justify betrayal of their own kind. Such a trait in a merc race was strange, more often found in sneaky, weak, non-merc races. He decided to brush the matter off. “We are occupied with consolidating this planet into our control.”

  “But you said afterward we could run it for you!” the female complained.

  “We’re re-evaluating that decision,” Khisht said, and a hush fell over the group of Humans. “Giving your new government weapons at this stage is unwise. This plan of yours to kill non-native species can proceed by fishing them for now. Are you proceeding with manufacturing new fishing vessels so we can beg
in exporting again?”

  “That is problematic,” another male said. “Most of the ships here were imported from Earth, and some from other manufacturers in the Union. We were never a manufacturer. What little industry we had is crippled due to power shortages.”

  “You have a mechanical manufactory,” Khisht said. “Set it to the task.”

  “It’s making equipment for hydroponic food production,” the Human replied.

  “Well, then, I leave it to you to prioritize production,” Khisht said, “and do so quickly. I need to show General Peepo results before the reinforcements arrive.”

  “What about more power to increase output?” one of them asked.

  Khisht made a face they wouldn’t recognize. No ships were being allowed in system. Their Maki frigate had been forced to destroy a Human freighter that wouldn’t surrender the day before. No doubt it would have brought needed supplies, including F11 for the colony’s reactor. Without replacements, the generator was running at reduced capacity. “I’ll look into that.” The commander turned his huge, flat head and looked at Chosht. “Squad Leader, is there a problem?”

  “Perhaps, Commander,” Chosht said and removed the bag from his back. “My patrol found a group of hatchling Humans operating a vending stand.” He explained what his team had found and showed the commander the confiscated credits and intoxicants.

  “Can you explain this?” Khisht asked of the female Human who seemed to be in charge.

  “This is nothing we have authorized,” the Human responded.

  “Where are your people finding this money?” he asked, holding out a hundred-credit chit in his thick-clawed hand.

  “They must have some credits stashed away.”

  “All of this for some intoxicants?” The Humans wouldn’t look the commander in the eyes.

  Sometime later Chosht followed his commander out into the late afternoon. It was raining again, the atmospheric temperature only a few degrees above the freezing point of the falling water. The HecSha weren’t bothered much by the temperature; their armor had built in heaters.

  “Do you believe them, squad leader?”

  “No,” Chosht said without hesitation.

  Khisht turned and glanced at him, the nictitating membranes on his eyes flicking away moisture. “I know our company is made up entirely from our own clan, but you are still one of my smarter cousins.”

  “Thank you, Commander.”

  Khisht grunted and walked on for a bit, continuing toward the barracks. The protective detail moved along with them in loose defensive order, though none were looking around much, or they might have noticed the hatchlings following them, watching from the shadows and recording with tiny cameras. The commander held out the bundle of credit chits and Chosht took them. “Take these to the cache and put them with the other credits and booty we’ve gathered. I think we’ll have to plan another search, and this time concentrate on personal dwellings.”

  “Shall we wait until the Humans finish their improvements on the hydroponics farm?”

  “No,” Khisht said, then shrugged. “It doesn’t harm our operations if a few starve.” He turned his head and looked toward the sprawling line of apartments and houses that covered the hillside. Snow covered its sides now, and patches decorated the tops of the taller buildings. “It might serve as a lesson to these mammals. Maybe make them easier to govern.”

  Chosht nodded and headed off in another direction with the credits. Khisht watched him go for a moment, then observed a pair of Humans pass by. They appeared old and decrepit, huddled under a rain garment and a large fabric rain shield. “This is the merc race General Peepo is so concerned about?” he asked nobody. His detail ignored the question, used to their leader sometimes speaking thus. “What a joke.”

  From the damp darkness of a nearby alley, Vince spoke into his translator. After a moment, he whispered to one of the kids who’d been with him, pointing at the dinosaur leader and giving instructions. The other kid nodded, and Vince set out after Chosht. He smiled a crooked smile as he followed the alien. Once again, Murdock had been right.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  Murdock examined the older Tri-V display, ignoring how it occasionally lost focus and flickered. Since they’d obtained it, the machine had been strained far beyond its design parameters. It was a domestic unit, and the processor probably wouldn’t last much longer.

  Speaking of not lasting much longer, he opened his little humidor and scowled. Half a box of Bongani cigars remained. He’d lost most of his stash when the fucking crabs blew the shit out of his house. He took one and lit it anyway. They wouldn’t last forever. “The HecSha are using the office of this savings and loan,” he said, pointing to the spot on the map Vince had supplied him with.

  “Not exactly a creative solution,” Mika Gruszka pointed out. Several of the others nodded.

  “But a pretty good one, still,” Leif Dolan said. “They have a vault and a reinforced structure. It was used as an emergency storm shelter before a larger community module was installed a block away.” Dolan examined the display and shook his head. “I’m surprised they have their headquarters as far from the money as they do.”

  “The dinosaurs are arrogant in their position here,” Ripper said. He was examining the data as well and rubbing his chin in concentration. “But it’s a less than ideal choice.”

  “I think I’ll have the pups give it a couple looks,” Murdock said under his breath.

  “We can hit the dump and be out, like that,” Dod said and snapped his fingers.

  “You’re probably right,” Murdock agreed, “but we don’t want to tip our hand to the point the aliens go to their Order 9. This needs to be a nice, smooth, quiet job.”

  “Maybe we skin this cat quick and easy,” Dandridge suggested. His thing had been infiltration, and he’d served in a covert ops unit. Murdock set the man to figuring the best way to crack the cache. In the end it was quick and dirty, but they had a plan.

  * * *

  Planning on the fly was a huge part of being a merc NCO, especially a successful one. Success meant survival. Few merc NCOs had more experience than Murdock, so when he knelt in the ice-cold water around a corner just within view of the former savings and loan, he weighed the options carefully.

  The wolf pups’ reconnaissance of the location after tracking the credits ‘confiscated’ from their booze stand indicated no guards. He felt a couple stinging impacts on his face; the rain was turning to sleet. Dandridge had run sweeps for perimeter sensors. Nothing. It was all too easy.

  “Gonna snow,” Dandridge mumbled from where he, too, squatted a few meters away.

  “Uh huh,” Murdock said, continuing to examine the target. “I’m more worried about the fucking crabs.”

  “What’s the deal?”

  “The Xiq’tal are tough as fuck, sneaky, quiet, hard to pick up on some sensors,” Murdock said, ticking off points on his hands. “They’re not warm blooded, so their heat signatures are weaker than the HecSha. The pups haven’t been able to watch the crabs and watch the dinos.”

  “Do you think we need to abort?”

  “Not just yet,” Murdock said and kept watching. Dandridge fidgeted while keeping his reservations to himself. Murdock was in charge; they’d all agreed. The one thing that could undo a covert operation more effectively than enemy action was disputes within the team.

  Because the operation had a level of risk, they’d agreed to use radios. The wireless systems were harder to detect; however, they came with a degree of unreliability over any range. Murdock deployed his team around the former savings and loan neighborhood to cover it from all angles.

  He reached to his belt and switched his radio to vox. “Mika?”

  “Go, boss,” she replied.

  He turned and glanced up toward the apartment building five blocks away. The structure was abandoned now because the city’s fusion plant produced so little power the elevators didn’t work. Nobody liked climbing four st
ories several times a day. He knew she would be on the top floor, but he couldn’t see her, which was perfect.

  “Anything moving?”

  “Negative,” she replied. Armed with their only laser weapon, Mika’s gun was equipped with an advanced computer-controlled scope. Since she could hit a target from a dozen kilometers away, the weapon wouldn’t be nearly as useful without it. Up on the top of the apartment building, she had a commanding view of the area with which to use the scope.

  Damn it, he thought, his instincts were tweaking and he didn’t know why. Fuck. He activated his wireless connection to Vince. “How you doing, kid?”

  “Fine, sir,” the boy replied right away.

  “Any sign of movement at the barracks?” There was no response for a moment, and Murdock began to think they’d lost the link.

  “I just checked,” Vince said, “nothing. Well, hold on.” Another pause. “They said a single dino just went out to the other starport building.”

  “Gonna need to make the call,” Dandridge said.

  “Yeah,” Murdock agreed. He transmitted. “We’re a go.”

  Dandridge moved over to where they’d already removed the manhole cover and pulled it back completely before sliding inside. Murdock was right behind him, though it took more time for Murdock to get down. He was much bigger than Dandridge, who was a rather thin man by comparison.

  Reminds me of the time I tried to squeeze into a MK 8 CASPer, he thought with a mental laugh. Luckily for him, the manhole was bigger than the cockpit of a MK 8 CASPer, at least by a little. He had to wiggle his belt holster through and let out his breath before his feet touched the metal rungs. Afterward, it was easy to descend into the darkness.

  Under the street, the night vision goggles were essential. The service crawlway was only a meter tall and extended in both directions. Luckily it wasn’t a sewer. Rather, it was designed to carry power, data, and fresh water from the various plants to housing and industry. So, despite a meter-wide space, it was only about half that because of the various cables and pipes. It didn’t stink of sewage, it reeked of mold and fish.