Forge a New Blade (The Laredo War Book 2)

by Peter Grant

  “Perhaps killing does not come easily to you?” another woman asked half-mockingly.

  “Ha! Let me remind you of Bactria’s claims about our big assault on Laredo last year. They say they suffered over twenty thousand casualties, including twelve thousand dead. The team under my command killed well over four hundred that day alone. How many people has your most dangerous, most lethal enforcer killed for you? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? I’ve personally killed more than that during a single battle; and in three years of constant, unrelenting warfare I saw plenty of battles and firefights. No, ma’am. Killing doesn’t bother me at all.”

  She nodded slowly. Her face had gone pale.

  “Then why have you spared us?” another man asked slowly.

  “Because I have a more important mission.” Dave paused to let that sink in, then went on, “I’ve just demonstrated I could have killed you tonight as easily as snapping my fingers. I can do so at any time in the future. However, you know what happened to the Bactrian Consulate last year. They were found to be in violation of their diplomatic status, and all their people were expelled. I don’t want that to happen to us, so I’m trying to avoid doing anything that might cause it. Note that I said ‘trying’. If I have to act, I will, and I won’t let anything or anyone stop me. I decided to first show you how vulnerable you are, in the hope that it might – might – make it unnecessary to kill you. That’s what this is all about.

  “Be in no doubt of the danger you’re in. I know all of you, and what’s more, I know every generation of your families, from great-grandparents to great-grandchildren. I know all their names, where they live and work, everything I need to target them. If you make it necessary for me to come back, I’ll wipe out your entire bloodline – every one of you.” He took a printed photograph from a chest pocket of his black combat jacket. “For example, here’s little Hans. He’s your grandson, right?” He held it out towards one of the men in the cage, who stared at the picture, then nodded. “Note the background. He’s standing in front of his school. If I’d meant to harm him, he wouldn’t have come home today.”

  Slowly, his lips pressed tightly together, the man nodded. “But we also know you,” he pointed out, suppressed fury grating in his voice. “Fourteen of you arrived on Neue Helvetica last year. You all live together in apartments above your Embassy. We can find you as easily as you can find us.”

  “But you don’t know where the others are.”

  All eight heads jerked upright, eyes fixed on Dave as the man demanded, “What others?”

  “We had thousands of fighters on Laredo. What makes you think we were the only ones to escape?” There was a sudden stillness in the cage. Dave grinned ferally. “More than fourteen left the planet with my team.” True, he thought to himself. Three were killed in action before we departed the system. “Others have done so since then.” True – as prisoners being taken to Bactria for special interrogation. “You’ve no idea how many have joined us since our arrival, coming down from orbit in ones and twos and blending into the population.” None – but you don’t know that, and it sounds entirely plausible. “With the United Planets headquartered here, there are so many transients and temporary residents on Neue Helvetica that it’s impossible to keep tabs on them all.

  “You also have no idea how many locals are backing our play.” He drew the pistol from the holster at his waist and held it up, careful to ensure that his extended trigger finger covered and concealed the serial number. “Notice the stylized gold eagle engraved on the slide. You all know what that means. This is a Neue Helvetica service pistol. Where do you think I got it, and these combat fatigues, and this body armor and web gear? They’re all current military issue on this planet. Civilians can’t buy them, so the fact that my entire team has access to them demonstrates that we have powerful allies.” Just as long as you don’t see any of the rest of us, and realize that my entire team has access only to the gear I’m wearing right now. Once I return it later tonight, we won’t have any – but you don’t know that.

  Dave returned the pistol to its holster, the rasp of steel on polymer clearly audible in the stony silence. “We’ve been very careful never to allow you, or anyone else, to follow us when we meet with our comrades and friends. The proof of our success is that every one of your watchers was taken out tonight before they could warn you that some of us had left the Embassy. Don’t worry, we didn’t kill them; you’ll get them back eventually, although they’re going to have a rough time until then. Who do you think took care of them while we were all still inside? You don’t know, and what’s more, you’ll never find out.” He didn’t bother to explain that it was the work of more flitterbugs, flying down from the roof, controlled by a console in the building, aided by the warm evening that had led the watchers to partly open the windows of their vehicles for comfort’s sake.

  “You can target us, yes; but if you do, those we leave behind will Wipe. You. Out.” His voice was ice-cold, deadly. “Let’s use an old-fashioned term from the dawn of the Space Age. We’ll call it Mutual Assured Destruction.”

  He paced slowly back and forth in front of the cage. “This is the first, last and only warning I’m ever going to give you. Verstehen sie?” The last words were uttered in a gravelly rasp, and all eight listeners nodded jerkily.

  “You will do the following. First, you’ll withdraw all your watchers and never try to monitor or follow us again by any means. Second, you’ll deliver to the Embassy by noon tomorrow everything Bactria paid you to do their dirty work, plus suitable compensation for the trouble you’ve caused us. I leave the amount to you, but I point out that it will be a sign of whether or not you’ve taken this warning seriously. Be sure I’ll respond accordingly.” More nods, emphatic ones. Money, like violence, was a language these eight men and women understood very well.

  “Third, you’ll eliminate at once the Bactrian agents who contacted you, in such a way that we know you’ve done it. I suggest appropriate news headlines – a tragic accident, perhaps? Fourth, you’ll keep a watchful eye for any further Bactrian attempts to… inconvenience us. As and when you learn of them – and there will be more, I’m sure – you’ll inform our Embassy about them. I want to know everything; who’s behind it, their names, their pictures, where they live and work, the whole lot. I, or my deputy in my absence, may ask you to deal with them for us. If we do, we’ll pay you half a million francs for each person you kill at our request, plus a suitable bonus in difficult cases.” Their eyes widened. “Yes, it will be profitable work for you. We’re reasonable people. We don’t mind paying, provided we get value for our money.” Nods of understanding.

  “All that will make up for your mistake in targeting us. If you do all those things, I won’t trouble you again. We’ll be gone from this planet in a few years, and you can continue with your affairs as if we’d never met. However, I strongly advise you not to forget this evening. We can get to you anywhere, anytime. You can’t build or buy enough defenses to stop us, so don’t waste your money. Your bribed policemen and bought-off politicians won’t be able to help you either, just like they couldn’t help you tonight.”

  Dave shook his head. “You probably think of yourselves as hardened criminals, but you don’t even begin to understand what ‘hard’ means. I’m willing to bet that my wife has killed more enemies than all your enforcers put together – and she’s killed only a small fraction of the number I have. My comrades in arms have all done the same. Underestimate us again at your mortal peril.”

  He took a folded piece of paper from his pocket and passed it through the wire to the nearest man. “This combination will open the padlock. Don’t enter it into the lock for at least the next fifteen minutes. You’ll hear us walk out, but the flitterbugs will still be here.” The eight in the cage looked up and around nervously. “They’ll be under the control of other members of my team from their consoles outside. After fifteen minutes they’ll be gone. You won’t be able to hear them fly away, so don’t try to move before the ti
me’s up.”

  He took the spray injector from his belt. “Do any of you know how to use this?” Two of the prisoners nodded. “Good.” He laid it on the floor outside the cage, along with three ampoules of a clear liquid. “There’s enough antidote here to inject everybody. They won’t feel good when they wake up, just like you didn’t. Some may vomit. Don’t worry, they’ll recover.”

  Dave looked at them all one last time, staring each of them in turn straight in the eyes.

  “Don’t. Make. Me. Come. Back.”

  He turned on his heel and walked into the blackness on the far side of the blazing floodlights. The eight, staring after him, heard other footsteps join his as they receded into the distance. A door on the far side of the warehouse opened… then closed… and then there was silence.

  Bactria: April 29-30 2851 GSC

  THE ROYAL PALACE IN SODIA, CAPITAL CITY OF BACTRIA

  The Satrap stared out moodily over the city. Both of Bactria’s moons were in the sky tonight, casting a pale ghostly light over the buildings spread out as far as the eye could see. The central business district was agleam with lights, looking much prettier than its blocky utilitarian architecture appeared during the day.

  A rustle of cloth came from behind him. He turned as Zeba pushed through the curtains onto the small private balcony, smiling as she saw him. She’d changed into a pale blue flowing gown, softening her face and body, making her appear much more feminine and desirable than her official, uniformed persona as Captain Yazata of the Satrap’s Bodyguard.

  “Hello, Rostam,” she greeted him, walking over and reaching her face up to his. He leaned down and kissed her lips slowly, lingeringly.

  “Hello, darling. I’m very glad to see you. You’re a breath of fresh air after that persnickety delegation from the House of Nobles.”

  She frowned. “Are they still giving you a hard time over me?”

  “You bet they are! The old guard simply can’t accept that I won’t knuckle under and let them push me around. For generations the Satrap has allowed the nobles to choose his bride. They’ve swapped the position around every generation between half a dozen of the most influential families. I’ve upset their entire historical applecart, and they can’t get used to it.”

  She giggled. “I’ve never forgotten their faces the day you announced to the House that you were going to marry. First, incredulity that they hadn’t been told long before and allowed their say in your choice of bride; then greed and avarice as they waited to hear which of the noble houses you were going to favor; and then outrage when you announced you’d ennobled me, and we were already engaged!”

  Rostam shrugged, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Well, the constitution is quite clear – the Satrap must marry a member of the nobility. I simply sidestepped it by making a new noble.”

  “Yes, but that hadn’t been done in over a century.”

  “It was high time, then! We have to break the stranglehold of the old guard. They’ve operated a ‘closed shop’ for generations. They don’t know it yet, but after our wedding I’m going to publicly announce that the ranks of the nobility will again be opened to those who faithfully and loyally serve Bactria. I’ll ennoble half a dozen prominent people right away to prove I mean business.”

  Her face fell, and she put her hand on his arm. “Do please be careful. There’s already immense resentment that you accepted the traditional resignations of all your father’s officeholders, instead of rubber-stamping their continuation in office. Elevating new nobles will set at least half the House firmly against anything and everything you want to accomplish. Some of them are already angry enough with you that this might push them over the edge from grumbling into outright disloyalty.”

  Her fiancé threw up his hands in disgust. “Most of them are already set against everything I want to do. What have I got to lose?”

  “Hmm… I suppose, when you put it like that, you’ve got more to gain by bringing in people who’ll act as counterweights to the stick-in-the-muds.”

  “That’s the way I see it. You’re also not taking into account the enormous support I’ve had from the House of the People after ennobling you. I know you’re embarrassed by it, but they regard you as one of their own who’s slapped the nobles right in their snooty faces. You’re a hero to them.” He grinned as she blushed. “I’m going to use that support, just as I’m going to use the newly ennobled members of the Upper House, to help push through my budget reforms for the next year. The traditionalists will hate my proposals, so that’s the only way I can see to get it done.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “You’ll be finalizing the military budget outline tomorrow, right?”

  “Yes. The War Council will consider the final offer from Marano, decide on the most essential expenditures in the light of the new threats facing us, and work out how to pay for them. There are going to be plenty of sore losers.” He shook his head. “Anyway, that’s enough of politics for tonight.” He put his arm around her and hugged her close, and she leaned into him. “Only one more week and we’ll be married. Then you can live in this apartment openly, instead of having to sneak in the back way in order not to offend traditionalists.”

  She giggled again. “Yes. Heaven forfend that the Satrap actually enjoy making love to his wife, and she to him – especially when she isn’t even his wife yet! That would be untraditional!”

  “Indeed. Shall we break with tradition yet again, darling?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She reached up and kissed him lingeringly, her breath coming faster as his hand rose to caress her breast. She pressed herself tightly against him as he led her back inside.

  ~ ~ ~

  MINISTRY OF WAR, SODIA

  Rear-Admiral Stasanor looked down through the rain-streaked glass. “At last! Here comes the Satrap’s motorcade.”

  His deputy, Commodore Eschate, chuckled. “Ever since he took up with Captain Yazata – sorry, I mean Lady Zeba – he’s been running late in the mornings. One wonders whether that’s merely a coincidence, Sir.”

  Stasanor tried to look severely at his subordinate, but couldn’t keep a grin from hovering on his lips as he said, “Make sure you don’t say that any louder. I’d hate to see you dismissed – or worse – for the crime of lèse-majesté.”

  “With respect, Sir, I think the Satrap has enough of a sense of humor that he’d merely laugh.”

  “Perhaps he would, but our opposite numbers in the Army would not.”

  Eschate’s smile was replaced by a scowl as he glanced at the two Generals on the other side of the room. “True. They’re prickly enough as it is over our proposals. They’re going to do all they can to cut us off at the knees, Sir.”

  “Yes, they are. Their service has hogged the lion’s share of the budget for so long it seems like the natural order of things to them. They can’t get it into their heads that the threat’s changed. The same goes for State Security.” He nodded discreetly towards the two black-uniformed figures talking to the Generals. “It’s always gotten whatever it wanted, and to hell with other fiscal priorities. What’s more, they haven’t forgiven the Satrap for taking away their status as an independent Cabinet-level office and subordinating them to the Ministry of War.”

  “Let’s hope the Army and the SS don’t work together to derail our proposals. If what we hear from Neue Helvetica is accurate, we don’t have much time to prepare.”

  The two looked at each other in grim agreement as they heard the sound of footsteps approaching down the long corridor. They moved to their seats as the Satrap came in, accompanied by four bodyguards under the command of his fiancée. Everyone snapped to attention as he walked to the head of the conference table, his bodyguards fanning out behind him against the wall.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. Be seated, please.”

  The six uniformed men, plus the Minister and Deputy Minister of War, moved to the table and sat down. There was a rustle of papers and a series of beeps from elec
tronic units as they prepared themselves. Servants poured coffee and offered biscuits under the eagle eyes of the Satrap’s bodyguards, then discreetly left the room.

  Satrap Rostam sipped his coffee, then set the cup down in its saucer. “I call this meeting of the War Council to order. Minister, please inform us of Marano’s final offer.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” The Minister of War stood and began pacing the floor. “They’re refusing to lower their prices any further. They say they’ve already cut them as far as they can afford. I don’t believe that’s true, not for a minute, but they know we’re hurting for hard currency. They’re the only supplier we can find that’s prepared to accept concessions for asteroid mining in part exchange for weaponry. That means they can afford to drive a hard bargain.”

  “Such is life.” The Satrap shrugged. “We’d probably do the same if our situations were reversed. Go on.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Their surveyors state flatly that our two corvettes damaged during the fighting last year are beyond economical repair. They suggest that we scrap them, salvaging what parts we can, and buy two new or refurbished ships from them. They’re prepared to offer us two corvettes from their Reserve Fleet, modernized and upgraded to match those we already have in service. Each will cost three-quarters of the price of a new vessel.”

  Rostam frowned. “Rear-Admiral Stasanor, what does the Navy have to say about that?”

  “It’s daylight robbery, Your Majesty, but I don’t see that we have much choice in the matter unless the Ministry accepts our alternative proposal – which, quite frankly, I’d prefer.”

  “Minister?”

  “Your Majesty, I agree that the Navy’s proposal to buy a squadron of eight heavy patrol craft would greatly improve their coverage of our system. However, they won’t be able to travel to Laredo under their own power, because they can’t hyper-jump.”