by Steve Perry
“Probably true, if our intel is correct. However, the more we know about the situation here, the quicker we can remedy it. We have, of course, seen your reports, but if you wouldn’t mind telling it to us again?”
“Of course.” He leaned forward slightly. “Some months ago, we were approached by a buyer who represented Masbülc. He made an offer for our next crop, which was in the beginning states of first harvest. As I am sure you know, difrui grows year-round in this climate, and in a good year, we will get three harvests.”
Jo nodded. So far, nothing to tweak her Stress Analyzer, nor did she expect any such.
“The man—I believe his name was Proderic”—he pronounced it “prod-er-ick”—“offered a premium, twenty percent higher than the going market price. Of course, we turned him down.”
“Why didn’t you take it?”
He leaned back slightly, gifted her with the smile. “We have a long-term relationship with TotalMart. Our contract with them had yet to be renewed, but we expected them to make an offer. Masbülc is a fine company, but . . .”
“You didn’t want to piss off the big dog?” Gunny said.
He chuckled. “Just so, Gunny. We might be a short-rocket planet out here, but we aren’t brushing alfalfa seeds from our hair. The couple million extra we’d have made taking Masbülc’s offer isn’t much compared to what TotalMart could send our way in the next decade.”
Still no lies, but a blip, nonetheless. She filed it away and continued.
“So tell me about this Proderic. What was your sense of him?”
“Well. He was slick, sharp, smooth. Had that professional salesperson aspect about him, a good listener, smiled a lot, quick to answer any questions, and all the responses on tap. Hinted that Masbülc would be interested in a long-term relationship and willing to pay premium rates for a five-year contract.
“He was short, had a tan or faux that darkened his skin, indicating that he either spent a lot of time outdoors unprotected or wanted to convey that impression. His clothes were nice enough to impress but not so expensive so as to raise eyebrows in wonder. He arrived in a rented flitter with an assistant, a young woman who appeared to be chosen for her physical beauty, which was considerable. When he saw me look her over, he hinted that she might be willing to, ah, stay behind and work out details of the contract with me personally, no matter how long it might take.”
Jo nodded. No surprise there. Sex had sold stuff ever since stuff had been around.
“When I was adamant that we weren’t ready to accept his offer, he asked me if there was anything he could do to change my mind.” There came a short pause. “You have viewed the conversation?”
Jo nodded again. She had watched and listened to the recording as a matter of course. But how Chet felt about it? The vid couldn’t convey that.
“He asked me to reconsider before making a final decision, that he would get back in touch later. I didn’t hear any direct threat in his words, nothing that could be taken as such, but . . .”
“Go on.”
“. . . there was about the man in that moment a sudden sense of . . . menace. Nothing upon which I could put my finger, and say, ‘There! That!’ but a feeling. Rather like standing just outside the cage of a greatcat. Were it not for the fields between you and the beast, it would think nothing of swatting you dead with one clawed paw just because it felt like it.”
“Thank you,” Jo said. “I won’t take up any more of your time. We will keep you posted as to our investigation.”
Chet nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”
Outside, in the warm afternoon sunshine, the three entered the hopper and switched on the garble field as the engine cycled up.
Gramps said, “Interesting. He telling the truth?”
“Far as my aug could tell,” Jo said. “But there was something.”
Gunny and Gramps exchanged looks. “Go ahead, Chocolatte, you know you want to.”
“Age before beauty,” she said.
Gramps grinned and shook his head. “Well, as I recall—and for a man of my advanced age, memory is such a porous and transient thing—and please correct me if I am wrong, but when you introduced us, you didn’t mention any ranks, did you?”
Gunny nodded. “Amazing. You caught that.”
Jo headed off the exchange: “Nope, and yet Chet knew to call you ‘Gunny’ and me ‘Captain,’ and none of us are wearing anything that denotes rank.”
“Gramps here is sometimes pretty rank when he takes off his boots, but, yeah.”
“So he does his research,” Jo said. “Nothing wrong with that though it does make you wonder. Was he just showing off by letting us know he’d checked us out? Or did he screw up and let that slip by accident? And does it matter either way?”
“Another of the many questions we will undoubtedly address,” Gramps said. “Wheels within wheels . . .”
As the hopper spiraled up through a thousand meters toward cruising altitude, the Doppler on the tactical control panel pinged.
“Incoming attack,” the computer’s vox said.
“My, would you look at that,” Gramps said. “Somebody is shooting at us.”
The computer could do it and would in another half second, but Jo preferred manual. She hit the e-chaff spew and tapped the power control to full. The thrust shoved them back into the cushions as the hopper, one of theirs and unobtrusively rigged for combat, shot almost straight up, zipping through three gees in a couple of seconds.
“Take it easy! I had a big lunch!” Gramps said.
The missile, ground-to-air, had been fired from a couple of klicks out and was most of the way there, but the e-chaff spew caused it to slow and think about things. Jo’s finger hovered over the gat-control, in case the rocket was smarter than an IR or pulse-guide weapon.
Apparently, it was. Instead of following the chaff, the rocket changed course and headed for the hopper. Interesting.
Jo lit the gat.
The hopper slowed, gravity eased up, and the vessel veered a hair to port as the gat-port snapped open. The electric gun opened up, six barrels atwirl, eight thousand rounds a minute of 10mm EU caseless, laser-locked onto the incoming rocket. A two-second burst was more than enough. Way more.
Rags would probably give her shit about how the computer could have done it in one second, thus saving 133 rounds, but fuck it, better safe than sorry. If they got spiked? The computer wouldn’t care.
The heavy metal sleet tore the rocket to pieces five hundred meters out, shredding it into metal-and-plastic confetti. No boom, as the bits fluttered and fell in the warm afternoon.
“Smart rockets don’t come cheap,” Jo said. “Looks like the opposition is ramping things up.”
“We need to go find it and have a look?” Gramps asked.
“No point. We’d find out it was a rocket and maybe backwalk where it came from, but the shooter will be long gone, if he was even there when it lit. Could have been a din running it.”
“Well, at least we won’t be bored on this op,” Gunny said.
“How could anybody be bored when you are around, Chocolatte?”
Jo shook her head. Sooner or later, somebody would tell them to get a fucking room and get to fucking. Be interesting to see what their reactions would be when it finally happened.
She waved at the com.
“Cutter here.”
“You check the feed from the hopper’s squirt?”
“Why would I do that? Don’t you know? Aren’t you there?”
“So far. But somebody doesn’t want us to be.”
There was a pause. He’d be calling up the telemetrics on the hopper. Before he could speak, she said, “And don’t even go there about overfiring the fucking Gatling gun, Rags.”
“I was only going to say, ‘Nice shooting.’”
“Bullshit you were.”
H
e laughed. “Come home. We need to sit down and think out loud about this.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Kay didn’t expect her visit quite so soon, though it wasn’t a complete surprise. Wink was at the lab, talking to Luque, and it wasn’t as if Kay had all that much to do. She walked through the decontamination field, waved her hands back and forth to make sure they were completely bathed, and through the two positive-pressure chambers. Into the waiting area. Other than her own fur, she had nothing on that could carry germs. Not that they had found any such.
Leeth stood there, as if she were a statue, staring into infinity. It was well-known that the Sena could stand in a meditative trance for hours without moving, their minds hard at work on whatever they wanted to consider in detail. They seemed unaware of their surroundings at first look, but it would be a mistake to assume that. Sena slept aware.
Two seconds through the door, Leeth spoke to her: “Kluth.”
“Leeth.”
Her sister appeared much the same as Kay remembered. Trim, taut, with the bril-hide weapon belt of her trade slung low on her hips, pistol on one side, swand on the other, the com, recorder, and PPS snugged midway between. The official stain on her shoulders was an electric purple, freshly applied.
She was every centimeter the walking Rule of Law, and a subvocalized word into her com would bring a dozen more like her running if she needed them. Unlikely that she would need such help. To assault a Shadow was to die; if not in the moment, then soon afterward. Everybody knew that. It happened rarely. As far as she knew, there were no unsolved attacks on Shadows unless some had happened since she’d left.
Shadows were immune to Challenge while on duty. Any Challenge from anybody. Offer one, they could shoot you down without a second thought if they felt like it.
Even the military stepped wide of the Sena.
“I grieve for our parents and siblings,” Kay said.
“As do I. We have never been a particularly fortunate family.”
That was the extent of their expressed grief. People died. Some sooner, some later, that was the way of it. The dead moved to another country.
“You look sleek. Apparently soft, alien ways have not made you entirely fat and slow.”
“As being Sena has apparently done to you. Gained a kilo or two, Sister?”
Leeth whickered. The Shadows were among the most dedicated of Vastalimi. They trained to keep their minds and bodies as close to peak condition as could be maintained. There were no fat, dull Sena. A fitter group of The People was not to be found, everybody knew that, too.
Kay had always been able to make her sibling laugh; good to know she still could.
“I didn’t expect to see you in this life again.”
“Nor I you. I could hardly refuse our elder brother’s call in this case.”
“Agreed. Can you help?”
“It remains to be seen.”
“And what of your human pas?”
“He is not my pet, but a colleague. He has great skills as a medic, and he brings an unbiased perspective. As I am sure you already know in great detail.”
“Unbiased? As opposed to . . . ?”
Sleek, and her wit undimmed. Right to the pertinent comment.
Kay smiled. “Tell me, have politics ceased to function since I left? No more power-hungry, self-serving, ambitious Vastalimi to be found here?”
Leeth whickered again. “Would that it were so, Sister. But surely you don’t think somebody would use this illness to their advantage?”
They both whickered at that one.
“I take it you have not found such links.”
“Not as yet. How is life among the humans?”
“Better than many would expect. They have their own kind of honor, they can be brave and loyal. Slow and weak, generally, but they are matchless with small arms. You have heard, ‘Never shoot with a human’?”
Leeth said, “A teat-tale to frighten cubs, I always thought.”
“Not entirely. Two of my human team members can outshoot any Vastalimi I have ever known.”
“Is that so? You are likely unaware that I am the current Sena pistol champion and ranked third with the issue carbine,” she said.
“Only third?”
Leeth looked away, a brief flash of embarrassment flitting across her face. “I had a bad match. I shall do better next time. I—” She caught the hint of Kay’s grin.
“Ah. You pull my fur.”
“Who better than your own sister to do so? I expect the third place was but a fluke. You always were the most driven and talented among us. But even so, there is one called Gunny who would defeat you eight of ten with any common sidearm or shoulder weapon, and she loses to Cutter by the same ratio when they vie.”
“Interesting. I should like to see them shoot.” She paused. “Have you had Challenges?”
“None so far. Perhaps those who might have offered such have either died or moved on, or perhaps, forgotten.”
“Unlikely those directly concerned have forgotten.”
“Well, I have been here but a few hours. Word is yet to get around.”
“It will.”
“I expect so. I have learned some new skills from my adopted pack that may be of use.”
Kay caught the hint of another question in Leeth’s demeanor. She said, “I thought so at the time.”
Leeth blinked, surprised. “To what do you refer?”
“The question you did not ask: Was Jak worth it?”
Leeth shook her head. “You could have been a great Sena, sibling. You have an uncanny knack for clawing to the heart of the matter, a clarity of vision. And now what do you think?”
“Probably not. I have yet to see him.”
“But you will.”
“Of course.”
“His alignment has changed.”
“To be expected.”
“I have never heard him speak of you.”
“Also not a surprise. The questions I will need to ask him are not personal but about our problem.”
“You think Jak is involved?”
“I cannot say. But his uncle was the third to die from the malady.”
“Yes. I recall.” Leeth nodded. “You seem . . . calm about things.”
“The years away have given me a perspective I would likely not have achieved here. Humans do not see the world as we do. There are things to be gained from them.”
Leeth whickered again. “You always were more liberal in your views about such things.”
“But was it not you who used to tell me that the more you knew, the better? That knowledge was the sharpest fang?”
“I have missed our discussions, Sister. I would not have chosen the path you did, and I have wished more than once that you had taken a different one, but zevot krut.”
“Yes, often life is hard. I cannot complain; many have it worse than I.”
There came a short pause. “I have duties. We will speak again, assuming we survive our days.”
“I shall endeavor to do so,” Kay said. “And offer hopes you will do the same.”
“Sister.”
“Sister.”
After Leeth was gone, Kay was somewhat surprised at the emotions that had roiled up within her during their short meeting. Leeth had been the brightest light of their litter, always faster, sharper, more ambitious than the rest of them. That she became a Shadow had been no surprise. She always had a rigor in all her activities and a keen sense of justice. The Sena could not expect more from one of its own than Leeth brought to the job, for even in that august body, she was above reproach.
That she came to see her tainted sibling? Nobody would lift a lip in her direction. Certainly not if they knew what was good for them. Sena were restricted from offering Challenges, save for most special circumstances. They
were exempt from any.
It was the talk of Jak that had stirred her, even more than the loss of her siblings and parents. Death claimed all, there was no point denying that. But Jak was still alive. She had, she’d thought, put all that behind her, let it go. So she had thought.
Having Leeth as a resource would likely prove beneficial. The gnawing little pest in the back of her mind had increased its activity. If this disease was not a natural phenomenon, then somebody had unleashed it upon The People for reasons that would need be discovered in order to determine who had done it, and from them, how it could be stopped.
When you hunted, there were several ways you might proceed to take unseen prey. You could follow a trail; you could circle around and try to get ahead of it, to intercept it; you could guess where it might go and get there first and wait. You could use bait or a lure. Any might work, but determining which was the fastest and surest was the quest. Dull hunters went hungry. Really dull ones got themselves killed.
Sometimes, prey would outwit even the fastest and sharpest hunter and escape. It happened.
But she was not going to let that happen this time.
FOUR
Cutter leaned back in his chair and considered the problem. It wasn’t really that much of one, relatively speaking. They had a pretty good idea of who the opposition was, and it was a matter of tracking them down and having a spirited discussion with them.
Sometimes, it would take guns. Sometimes lawyers, sometimes money. TotalMart had them out here to kick ass, but if he determined that buying off the opposition was cheaper? The runners would write a transfer and pay the toll, and Cutter and his troops could move along to another job.
Corporate liked that about CFI, that they would make the report even if it meant they put themselves out of work. So far, that had always resulted in more jobs being offered in short order, and he was good with that. Sometimes a win was decisive, and sometimes it came from packing up and walking away. Nature of the biz.
Jo and Gunny and Gramps would poke around and figure out what was what, and when they did, then there would come a battle plan. Meanwhile, they had enough seasoned troops to guard the root shipments. Industrial espionage was doubtless on the table, and processing sites being sabotaged, local growers being kidnapped, and the like might still happen. CFI had already started offering classes to local bodyguards and their expertise to any police agencies who might want it.
