Stone Blade

by James Cox

  The subjects themselves covered everything from combat armed and unarmed to manners and society of any planet inside or outside the League. No topic was too obscure and no amount of detail was wasted. Field exercises, or labs, gave them the chance to show what they'd learned or failed to learn.

  ***

  Micah twiddled the dex and his terminal glowed. It flashed green for a bare second but before he could take advantage it turned red and died.

  “Problems?” Ferrel looked up from his own terminal at Micah's foul words.

  “One or two,” said Micah, “thousand. I used to think I knew something about computers.”

  Ferrel hooked his machine into Micah's.

  “Show me what you're trying.”

  Micah called up the module again. He wormed his way past the first few watchdogs but when he paused to try and defeat the wall the dogs caught him. Again.

  “Hrm,” grunted Ferrel, “Micah, my friend, you know I have nothing but respect for you but that was almost as subtle as a punch in the gut.”

  Micah stared evenly at Ferrel.

  “Charlie, we both know you're a lot better at this. I'd appreciate any pointers. I just want to pass the flaming tests!”

  Ferrel grinned equal parts mischief and mischief.

  “I'll make you a deal. Help me through unarmed and I'll get you through this.”

  Micah grinned pure relief.

  “Deal!”

  ***

  “Dear Micah:

  “I'm sorry I didn't write sooner. I tried. I really did but I just couldn't. Please understand.

  “I went to the port last night. Sometimes I do, especially when I start missing you too much. It's never like the time we went there. Micah, please don't laugh. Sometimes when I go there I can almost feel you. The ships came for you, Micah, and took you somewhere wonderful. Sometimes I still wish they'd come for me too.

  “Micah, I think of you too. Please don't forget me.

  “Jenn

  ***

  Micah ghosted his way through the semi-crowded streets. It took a lot of touch to sneak with appearing to sneak but Micah had practiced it many times. His target wandered hither and thither with an occasional look backward. Micah strove to be elsewhere when that happened and mostly succeeded. Then the figure darted into an alleyway.

  Swearing mentally Micah non-hurried into the alleyway. Garbage crunched under his feet but he saw his target disappearing around a corner ahead. With nothing to lose by haste Micah sprinted.

  Motion! Two, no three people stepped out to face Micah. The first already had a sap raised. Micah blocked automatically and punched.

  The other man's damper flashed red. Hit and kill! Obediently he fell to the pavement. The other two stepped forward, trying to flank Micah. He snap-threw one into the wall - hit and kill - and turned his attention to the other.

  “Hold!”

  Feces! Micah stopped where he stood. The 'dead' men rose, his target returned and Colwraith stepped out of a concealed doorway.

  “Seven wrong choices, Mister Stone. Can you name them?”

  “I ran into the alley,” started Micah, “Once in the alley I lost my target.” Micah fell silent.

  “Right once, Mister Stone. You lost your target. Where does this alleyway emerge?”

  Micah focused on the map he'd memorized.

  “Two blocks down.” Chagrined now, Micah followed that thought. “I could have advanced and caught him on emergence.”

  “And the combat, Mister Stone. First rule of the fight?”

  Feces twice! “Leave no traces! No witnesses. No unnecessary casualties.”

  “That is two, Mister Stone. Have the other five ready by the time you arrive at the School.”

  Colwraith and the others stepped through the door which promptly locked behind them. With a quick glance around Micah changed faces. Both he and Ferrel excelled at that, thanks to help from another classmate. Though Micah thought hard he didn't relax his vigil. He'd done so on his first lab and Colwraith arranged a 'mugging'. Micah handled it quite well only to find 'Constable' Stanley waiting for him back at the School. Micah earned six days of details for that.

  By the time the School loomed ahead of Micah he had answers enough to satisfy Colwraith and then some. He, Ferrel and the others had learned. The lessons were unfailingly hard and sometimes painful but always learned.

  Micah marked a turning point about eleven weeks ago. The instructors' attitudes and lessons turned more personal. As did details! The students no longer spent all their time together and other students Micah hadn't seen before joined some of the lessons. The instructors had complete records on all of their students and worked now to improve strengths and strengthen weaknesses. Micah occasionally detected notes of pride in his instructors' demeanor toward him and toward the others.

  Nor did Micah spend all of his time learning. After helping Ferrel and several other classmates with unarmed combat Micah found himself appointed temporary assistant instructor. Dr. Stanley told Micah to watch as his erstwhile pupils squared off against each other. He critiqued the bouts professionally and ordered Micah to improve them for the next week.

  ***

  “Micah! Assembly!”

  Micah examined Vera Kidwell closely. Though prone to frequent pranks she was serious now. The only thing harder than teaching her to throw a punch was teaching her how to take one.

  “Why for now?” Micah worked on justifying answers for Colwraith and he didn't really have time to stop.

  “Spike me if I know.” She grinned at him, moved in and draped herself seductively across him. “Maybe it's sex training.”

  Micah blushed. He reached into his drawer for the plastic cucumber he'd bought. Kidwell reddened, rose, stuck out her tongue and left. Micah grinned at that. She'd earned it many times over and simple justice demanded that she receive some of her dish-out!

  Stanley, Colwraith and all of the other instructors waited in the assembly hall. Micah found his place quickly and sat. The hall was uncharacteristically silent. Ferrel didn't have his usual grin in place and Kidwell wore her own face for once. Given ten minutes she usually changed it.

  “Students,” began Stanley, “it is with great pride that I call your Last Assembly.”

  Micah felt the floor drop from beneath him.

  “You may feel you're not ready,” continued Stanley, “I hope you do. We have shown you the path and that is all we can do. Walking it is your obligation now. You have learned how to learn, ladies and gentlemen, now go and learn and serve the League as we have shown you.”

  Stanley raised his glass in toast to those who had gone before. Now, for the last time, the students joined him.

  Interlude

  Joachim Frond, First of the Circle, Unity of Triumph, held out his hand. Page Isaac Velvert, Fourth to the Badge, handed him a dataspool.

  “The information I require?”

  “Yes, First. It is complete and comprehensive. I think you will be pleased.”

  “You have reviewed it, then?”

  “Yes, First. Brellin and Maas are, as you suspected, involved in data smuggling. Juch is fond of the whores and Loglain enjoys vinostim.” Velvert smiled at this.

  “You slander your betters Page Velvert.” No emotion crossed Frond's face. Nor did he feel more than he showed.

  Velvert paled. “I abase myself, First...”

  Frond cut him off. “Report yourself for discipline. When your penance is done you may resume your duties.”

  “As you command, First.”

  ***

  Frond reviewed the data carefully. The Unity of Triumph had survived the Interim and would continue to survive only by the strength and faith of the Unity. With the cursed League border growing ever closer Frond perceived the threat where none others could. Even now the Circle of Firsts hosted the League Ambassador. By strength of will Frond refrained from spitting on the floor! Such a display would be wasteful and weakening. Ambassador indeed!

  Still...
<
br />   Frond dismissed the thought. The others might be tempted by offers of League autonomy but Frond knew it for the lie it was. The Circle ruled by faith and by consensus and the Unity of Triumph survived by that rule.

  Frond had finished less than half of the spool when his comm beeped. Just as well, he thought. The documents of his fellows' sins were vile and base to the extreme. A perversion of the Unity! Still, he would use any tool the Unity provided to ensure the purity of the Circle's consensus.

  Frond allowed himself a small sigh. The comm beeped to remind him of the Circle's meeting with that wretched League sinner. It simply would not do to meet him with less than the full Circle. Vowing himself a penance for weak thoughts, Frond rose, straightened his robe and left his office.

  Chapter 10. The First Assignment

  The red sun of the String-of-Pearls system blossomed as it touched the watery horizon of Azure, its fourth planet. Puffy clouds caught the light and played with it; sending magnificent streamers of color through the sky as they reflected and refracted the star's ruddy light. The sun itself seemed determined, before it died for the day, to put on a show of unparalleled magnificence and beauty...

  Unnoticed by the four people seated at a round table on one of the many patios of one of Azure's many restaurants. These four had eyes only for each other and the small, flimsy strips of plastic they held. A pile of coins ruled the middle of the table, occasionally augmented as one of the four drew another card.

  “Economics are trump,” said Micah, eying the other three carefully.

  “Raise.” Gunter Rene duCharle 'Charlie, burnit!' Ferrel added a credit to the pile.

  “Call.” Vera Kidwell traded a credit for a card, her expression unreadable.

  “Raise.” Ted Ionoski added five credits.

  Micah knew better than to place any significance on Ionoski's wager. An Intelligence veteran of many years, he knew better than any how to tweak a situation to his advantage.

  It came to Micah as a very pleasant surprise that he'd be teamed with Ferrel and Kidwell. Ionoski explained with due patience that League Intelligence took great pains to match talent, maximize skill and flexibility and minimize weakness.

  Vera Kidwell understood people better than anyone else Micah knew. She could chisel herself into and out of any social situation, with or without notice. She had an absolute eye for spotting patterns and when the patterns involved people she knew intuitively what they meant. In addition to that she changed faces as quickly and easily as Micah changed holovee programs.

  Ferrel, in addition to being a burner without peer - “Breaking into a system is crass,” he said on more than one occasion, “it's so much better to have it invite you inside.” - readily extended his knowledge to the complex mechanicals and electronics Intelligence used. Micah didn't know exactly how deep Ferrel's skill went but three weeks before graduation a biometric scanner appeared on his and Ferrel's terminals. Ferrel swore innocence, but he always did.

  Micah considered himself the strong-armed backup. While Ferrel had a military background Micah had gone into and emerged from more hells than Charlie or Vera cared to imagine. Micah worked to hone his combat skills and to refine Ferrel's and Kidwell's.

  At first Ionoski conducted formal team-building and team-training exercises. Then the sessions turned less formal, with Ionoski working down rough edges and sharp corners. The other three rightly viewed his experience as a well of knowledge and wisdom unequaled by any text-cube.

  Kidwell bought another card and lit a drugstick carelessly. With an unsuccessfully furtive glance she raised two credits. Micah resisted the temptation to fall for her ploy. Again.

  “Call.” Ionoski placed two credits into the pile, face still blank.

  “Trump!” Kidwell put out the 'stick, showed the Strong Economy card and reached for the loot.

  “Not so fast, lady.” Ionoski grinned and played Planetary Drought and Financial Ruin.

  “Rut! Bloody flames,” swore Ferrel. He played Minor Recovery for five credits and folded.

  Micah shook his head. With the cards currently showing and Economics dead as trump, Fleets would follow and he didn't have a single strong Fleets card. Something told him Ionoski did.

  Kidwell graced Ionoski with her sweetest smile.

  “One of these days, Ted.”

  “Your pleasure, lady,” grinned Ionoski, “Shall we sample this fine establishment's board of fare? I shall treat.”

  “But of course,” replied Kidwell demurely.

  Micah and Ferrel swapped grins. Kidwell had something planned but now at least she'd wait until after the meal. By tradition the winner paid and somehow Ionoski always managed to win enough to cover it.

  ***

  Micah, Ferrel and Kidwell waited patiently in the commander's outer office. They all received a call from Ionoski earlier that morning but he gave no details. Nor did the commander's secretary, though she had chog and nibblers.

  Ionoski emerged, greeted them pleasantly and led them to a secure briefing room.

  “This,” began Ionoski as he displayed a system, “is Triumph, capitol system of the Unity of Triumph. This system and five others in the Unity occupy a very strategic corridor. Currently the League has a non-aggression pact along with a Hostile-4 trade and tourist treaty. We've been trying for stronger ties but so far without success. Recently the government took a marked and rather disturbing turn away from us. The government is a loose religious oligarchy and some of the less galactically-inclined among them view us as the worst sort of sinners.

  “The League sent one of our best negotiators but so far he's made no progress. He reported that he was on the verge of a breakthrough when the Unitites went cold and wiped out most of his progress. Relations are currently cool and getting colder and he wants to know why. Our job is to find out. I've cleared this information, eyes only and not to leave this room.”

  Micah brought up the information and committed the high points to memory.

  “Ideas,” asked Ionoski.

  “Lack of information,” said Kidwell, “There's something very not-right there but there's not enough pattern to deduce it.”

  “Micah?”

  “Any contact with the other powers in the region? There are several within striking distance who aren't friendly toward the League. Any chance of pressure from them?”

  “None we've been able to find. I thought of that too, but as Vera said, TLI. Charles?”

  Ferrel shrugged, “Let me in their system. I'll break it before lunch!”

  Ionoski chuckled. “As I thought. Well, we're up for a trip to Unity. How should we go in?”

  “Op in a box,” said Ferrel, “We sneak in under the spotters and we'll have free reign.”

  “Meteor,” said Micah, “No chance of interception, provided we pick the LZ right, and we don't have to worry about customs at their port.”

  “Tourists,” said Kidwell with a scowl toward Micah, “We won't be crashing into the ground or lost in a shipping canister.”

  “Tourists,” said Ionoski, “Why else?”

  “Easier?” suggested Ferrel.

  “Less chance of being caught,” contributed Micah.

  “All of that,” said Kidwell, “plus protection from the treaty, such as is.”

  “And,” prompted Ionoski.

  “Legitimate contact with the negotiator!” Micah felt good about thinking of that.

  “We can always fall back on the other two,” said Ferrel.

  “Good answers,” said Ionoski with a smile, “Here's what we'll do.”

  ***

  Ian Ryan Ramsey, Ambassador Emeritus of the New Stars Sovereign System States Trade League, ground his teeth in frustration. The man seated across from him, Page Hieronymous Morr, Fifteenth to the Shroud, Keeper of the Writ, pointedly did not notice.

  “Again, Ambassador, why do you require this?”

  “As a gesture of goodwill, Signor Morr. As a chance for our peoples and yours come to know each other. Peaceful tr
ade is the cornerstone of the very League itself!” Actually Ramsey had no idea but the orders, recursively encrypted twice, were clear. “The League shall bear the cost, if that is a concern.”

  “It is not,” said Morr coldly, “This conference is nothing more than a thinly veiled effort to sway the Believers from the True Path.”

  “I fail to see your reasoning, Page Morr.” Reasoning, thought Ramsey, was simply the polite way to refer to Morr's complete lack of the capacity for independent thought!

  “Unity is the strength of the Unity. By Unity we survived the Long Night. By Unity we overcame our foes and by Unity we are strong. Without Unity we are nothing. What of that is unclear?”

  “The Holy Credo is clear, Page Morr. What is unclear is how a simple meeting between League merchants and those of the Unity of Triumph would tempt your people from righteousness.”

  Morr sighed. “It is clear to me that you discern no difference. The Writ is not open to debate, Ambassador. You may host this conference at your legation but I will not allow you to corrupt our people. By my hand I vow this complete.”

  Ramsey rose and bowed slightly. “I thank you for your time, Page Morr.”

  Ramsey mulled his options on the way back to the League legation. Though barely sufficient to fulfill the terms of the treaty the building represented a not-small triumph. The Circle of the Order of Places all but screamed when Ramsey, then on his first visit here, requested grounds near the Dome of the Circle. He knew they'd object but he almost misjudged their furor. They came within millimeters of canceling all agreements then and there. One small voice of reason finally suggested building near the spaceport. Joshua Orris, a minor functionary at the time, voiced the idea. In the eyes of the Circle the spaceport befitted sinners, scoundrels and criminals of the worst order. They ratified the idea and by their own terms they'd respect it as League territory.

  Clearing and remodeling the small buildings took a very few days. They gave Ramsey grounds up to the very edge of the spaceport. The Circle grumbled when he removed the fence but quieted when he replaced it with a much sturdier barrier around the entire legation. Subsequently he convinced them to allot him a small area of the landing pad itself. His fast courier became a fixture there. The Unity spent no resources maintaining it and no one but Ramsey himself knew of the sophisticated equipment packed into his small ship.