Stone Blade

by James Cox

  Micah felt a sudden sense of calmness. At least Deke and Jenn would have a chance.

  “So it's treason,” said Micah simply.

  Micah knew he would 'vanish' under appropriate circumstances. His parents, his brother, Jennifer, they would lack for little. The pay he'd saved plus his geld would go to them.

  “In truth, Agent Stone,” said Glade, “it's more a matter of courtesy that concerns me. It is considered simple manners to notify local personnel when you plan a mission on their turf.”

  Micah examined every face around him. None of them showed the least concern about a traitor in their midst.

  “I know that,” said Micah, “Will you please tell me what I'm missing?”

  “Flames,” said Ferrel, “Only the obvious, my brother!”

  “Micah,” said Ionoski, “By its own mandate the League will not interfere locally without official invitation.”

  “Absolutely correct,” confirmed Glade, “And unless you filed a Transfer of Citizenship - which will not be granted, if you're interested - after my office closed this afternoon you are still a citizen of this world.”

  “Yes?” said Micah.

  “That means, my poor suffering friend,” said Ferrel, “that you are eminently qualified to request such intervention here!”

  “Me? Request intervention? That's well and good but I'm hardly an official source or a government employee!”

  Glade waved a hand in dismissal. “A minor point. One for solicitors to argue. Micah, the League considers Caustik's government deplorable, reprehensible, abhorrent and quite a few other nasty things. More so since we learned the truth about the 113th. We have been working for years to reform the power structure here. But, we were severely limited because we didn't have any grounds for direct action.”

  Micah's thoughts finally clicked into place. “But now you do!” He felt like laughing in relief.

  “I trust,” added Glade, “that you won't mind giving your official nod and invitation to any future actions we may wish to undertake?”

  “Not in the least, sir!” Micah snapped to attention and saluted smartly. “Tell me, Agent Glade, did you have my future planned when I left your office that first time?”

  “No, sirra, I did not,” said Glade, “I evaluated you and flagged your record. That only shows potential, though. The rest of it was all you.”

  The main door opened and slammed as Kidwell stomped into the room. She speared Micah with a truly icy glare and helped herself to a drink. She then sat on the bed and once again fixed Micah with her worst stare.

  “You, lover, have one rutting sorry excuse for a planet here.”

  “Hello, Vera. It's nice to see you too.”

  Kidwell stuck out her tongue. “I also most emphatically do not like your constables. They are entirely too free with their hands.”

  “What happened,” demanded Ionoski, mien serious now.

  “Oh, nothing permanent. They'll eventually stand up straight. They will, however, be most reluctant to cuff and frisk any 'sweet prollie meat' they find walking after dark.” Kidwell flashed Micah a grin. “Micah, my soon-to-be-ex- lover, besides the Fourth Rule you overlooked a most significant wager.”

  Kidwell turned to Glade. “I found some really good crowds to work, Blake. Your Emigration desk should be getting some applicants before long. I planted a few simple facts about the League and just how proper it is to visit and what to expect outside Caustik. I took exceptional care to seed strongest among your lowcarders.”

  Micah's heart finally climbed into its proper place.

  “Thank you,” said Micah, “All of you!”

  “I suggest,” said Glade, “that we finalize this mission with a trip downstairs to this hotel's most excellent facilities. I for one intend to pop a bottle of Spiral's best sparkling and you are all invited to join me.”

  As they headed out Ionoski drew Micah aside.

  “Micah, I know this is hard to realize, but we in Intelligence take care of our own. A few senior agents back at base think you three hit lucky with Unity. Most of the rest, myself included, give it to skill, training, bone-dog stubborn refusal to quit and pure raw and refined talent. As hard as you are willing to serve and take care of the League, the League will take care of you and yours, too. You're a part of that now and we're going to look after you. Don't forget that.”

  “I won't.”

  They joined the others now walking down the hallway.

  “Don't think you'll get out of debriefing either,” said Ionoski, “We have an entire trip back for it. We'll have quite a time, Agent Stone, testing your skill at finding time for us whilst under the influence of so many distractions.”

  Micah grinned at that. He knew he had some serious ribbing coming his way.

  “One other thing, my soon-to-be-former lover,” said Kidwell, “Your brother is five times fine. He's young and trainable and I doubt he'd give me a plastic... Something.”

  Micah bit down a rejoinder and turned his mind to devious plans. Plans in which Kidwell figured prominently. Micah knew he would owe her several by the time they reached Azure.

  All things considered, thought Micah, it would be a good trip home.

  *** THE END ***

  Chapter X: Afterword

  Thanks for reading my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If so please consider giving me a review at the retailer where you purchased it.

  If you're interested in more information concerning the League please check out my blog and Facebook pages. In addition to notes about writing, life and programming you will find data about the League, its Guilds and general comments on an average citizen's life there. These were kindly provided by Dr. Ferdinand Kincaid, a noted and well-published League archivist and member of the Artisan's Guild.

  In addition to writing books I'm also an open-source Java developer. My magnum opus in this world is Matt's MathTools, a Java application designed to help design and format mathematical things for written (or HTML-based) tests or worksheets. If you find that interesting please visit the site and grab the software. Several tutorials are provided and all of it is FREE!

  About the Author

  James Matthew Cox, Jr. was born in Texarkana, Arkansas and he grew up on a farm seven miles outside of it. His mother made sure he learned to enjoy reading at an early age and his father made sure he learned to enjoy science fiction, also at an early age. Growing up, his heroes had names like Asimov, Bradbury, Clarke and (E.E.) Smith.

  After graduating high school James completed a Bachelor's degree in Computer Science and a Master's degree in Mathematics. He then spent many years as a college math and computer instructor. His writing career began in junior high school and, after many years of practice, he finally decided to do something about it.

  Blog: http://themoldyripegrape.wordpress.com/

  Facebook Book Page: https://www.facebook.com/NewStarsTradeLeagueArchive

  Facebook Personal: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100005061257303

  Twitter: @moldyripegrape

  Matt's MathTools: http://www.sourceforge.net/projects/mattsmathtools

  Cover Artist: http://www.viladesign.net

  Chapter Y: Preview

  This is an excerpt from Book 2 in the Stone Blade series. Enjoy!

  *****

  Robin rose early the next morning. Interestingly the card didn't lead to Durastel's main office but a smaller location not far from a residential area. Still, Durastel's hologo appeared on the doorway and Robin's card opened it so she assumed it a satellite office.

  "Ms. Macy." Aaron's demeanor had not softened at all. "This way please."

  He led her down a long hallway with several doors. Robin didn't see anyone else but she heard the sound of a busy office behind several of them. She also noticed biometric security locks on each one. Aaron opened a doorway at the end of the hall and Robin found herself in a smaller office. Opposite the office's door stood a heavy security doorway, obviously an exit, visibly locked but with the mandatory emer
gency-escape bar.

  "Ahh! Ms. Macy. An honor and a pleasure!"

  This man's expression was as warm and friendly as Aaron's was cold.

  "I'm Claud Everett and I am so very pleased you decided to work with us."

  He took her hand and shook it warmly.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Oh, blather. Call me Claud. And... If I may call you Robin?"

  She smiled her assent.

  "Excellent! Ted LaGrange spoke most highly of you." He handed her a chip. "Here is the data you'll need. I must ask that you not remove it from this room and if you leave that you lock it securely in your desk."

  Robin nodded.

  "Now, if you please, we need to prepare your ident."

  Aaron had a retinal scanner attached to a datapad. Robin gave her rets and prints and after a moment he handed her a card.

  "And we are done," smiled Everett, "My office is the third on the left going out if you need me."

  Robin spent most of the morning assimilating the data on the chip. She saw nothing to warrant nondisclosure but she didn't really want to. No doubt something about the data was sensitive or at least time-sensitive.

  Once she felt comfortable with the data Robin checked the warez she had to work on it. Not satisfied she connected to the net and started downloading her usual tools. Almost immediately the door opened and Aaron walked in.

  "What are you doing," he demanded.

  "I'm downloading some tools I need."

  "That is not authorized. Cancel them immediately."

  "B-but..."

  "I said cancel them."

  Robin moved to comply, totally unsettled by Aaron's mien but the door opened again and Everett walked in.

  "What is it, Cyril?"

  "She's downloading unauthorized programs."

  Everett looked at Robin.

  "It's all openware," stammered Robin, "I use it exclusively at Wrighten. It's open, verifiable and all certified by the Security Standards Committee."

  Everett thought hard a moment. "Let me have the names, hashes and certs. Don't install them until I have approval. If you need anything else, please ask first."

  "Sh-shall I cancel them?"

  Everett smiled. "No, Robin. That won't be necessary. It's Cyril's job to be cautions and he's quite good at it. I'm certain we'll be able to approve them. In fact, why don't you take lunch. I'll try to have them ready when you return."

  Robin ate quickly but waited her entire break before returning. She watched people walking and bustling about, mentally assigning them chat nicks. No one greeted her when she returned to her office but Everett sent her a message approving her downloads.

  Robin wasted no time installing her warez and starting on the data. Within ten minutes she knew why Everett needed an experienced data tech. The access routines worked counter-intuitively and the intrinsic data format matched nothing in Robin's experience. Still, she was nothing if not versatile and before long she had reformatting routines worked out.

  Her terminal beeped fifteen minutes before quitting time and notified her that it would automatically power down and securely archive her data. She finished her current transaction within seven minutes so she closed them and cleaned out her temp files.

  '[system]FoxBird is in +UptownCafe+'

  Robin seriously considered slapping her terminal. The net was abnormally slow tonight and she really didn't feel like tolerating it. She lit a 'stick and checked her email.

  'Foxy!' 'Hey, FB. How doing?'

  Robin smiled in spite of the slow flow. MoldyGrape was up and so was viXxXen. Gemsparkle, Jewelz and FuzzyFeet lurked in the channel but didn't immediately respond to her huggles. As she expected Thomas still hadn't appeared.

  '{action}FoxBird is doing *very* well! Started new assignment today. Lots of fun, almost like work but not really.'

  'Cryo-cubed,' posted Grape, 'Does that mean you're gonna buy me lunch now?'

  'idts. {action}FoxBird stares blandly at the silly Grape.'

  '{action}MoldyGrape shrugs. Was worth a t...'

  Robin's terminal blanked out and beeped irately. After a quick check she almost did as well. The ambient traffic plus her email app slowed the net until it dropped connection. Robin shut down her email, IM and other active net apps then tried chat again.

  '[system]FoxBird is in +UptownCafe+'

  'wbBirdie,' posted Jewelz.

  'What got me,' asked Robin.

  'Timed out,' responded Grape, 'How's your ping?'

  'Cr*ppy,' said Robin after a quick check, 'I closed all my actives except this. Grr... {action}FoxBird is paying for a data *pipe* and she doesn't like just having a *straw*!!'

  Several people chuckled and Robin saw her ping bordering on yellow.

  'Crud++! {action}FoxBird is gonna log out until I get some fast flow. *Hugz* and *smoochies* around. Bye.'

  Robin logged out. On a hunch she loaded and ran some analytics. Then she checked for active adware. Next she tried a simple flow analyzer. Nothing, nothing and nothing. Well, she thought, sometimes the net was just slow.

  The next morning Robin once again saw no other person but this time all of the offices sounded busy. She spent most of the morning finishing what she started the previous day. When she started a new dataset she again found the archive access protocols strange. What she did with the data wasn't terribly complex but access and interpretation more than made up for that. She spent most of the afternoon doing what she normally accomplished in a single hour simply because of format and protcol incompatibility. Still, she finished within her fifteen minutes before mandatory power-down.

  Home and with a light supper in her Robin had just settled in front of her terminal when her door beeped. Puzzled, she put out her 'stick and opened the door.

  "FREEZE!!"

  ***

  Images.

  The door bursting open to a flood of blue-garbed men.

  A sudden rush of panic-driven terror washing through her. Her heart racing.

  One of the men pointing a weapon at her, its bore large enough for a hovervan.

  Voices. Several of the others rushing through the other rooms in her apartment, weapons drawn and ready.

  Harsh instructions. Trying to hear them, her mind too numb to.

  Rough hands grabbing her and slamming her against the wall. Her own hands shackled behind her. Her knees shaking. Sinking to the floor.

  Fingers under her chin forcing her face upward. The bright flash of a retscanner.

  More words. Incomprehensible. Her mouth gibbering, trying to answer.

  Two of them half-dragging and half-carrying her outside.

  Two Central Authority hovervans, their lightbars flashing, illuminating the area in red and blue.

  The people staring at her...

  ***

  Robin came to her senses in slow stages. The back compartment of the hover stank of sweat and urine and vomit. She shook violently. Something was terribly wrong! Her body moved this way and that as the hover maneuvered through traffic. The wind whistling, occasionally jostling the craft. The officers up front talking, the one beside her silent.

  The hover settled to a stop. When the doors opened Robin saw the massive edifice of a Central Authority office, brightly illuminated against the darkness of the night. Blue-uniformed officers walked purposefully about, some chatting with their fellows others not. Some of them stopped to stare at their newest arrival.

  "C'mon, perp." The officer beside Robin finally spoke. "The sooner we get you in the sooner we can go off shift."

  Robin managed a slow, shuffling stumble. More officers stopped to look. To the man beside her, thought Robin, she was nothing more than an object to be placed where it belonged. She took a deep breath but calmness avoided her. The man left her in the custody of a pair of female officers. They released her shackles only to pinnion her to a ring in the wall.

  "Strip, perp," said one of the ladies.

  Robin managed with their ungentle assistance. Her mind wobbled, trying v
ainly to encompass her surroundings and situation. Once the last of her clothing vanished the two officers searched her thoroughly, efficiently and impersonally. An eternity later they finished and handed her a flimsy wrap. Once they had it fastened around her they marched her to a hard bench and shackled her to it.

  "Macy."

  Robin looked up dully. The man said her name several times before it registered.

  "S-sir?"

  "Do you have a statement to make?"

  The question puzzled her.

  "No statement, then. Come on."

  The man unshackled her and led her to a small, sparse and cramped room and locked her inside. With a curious and emotionless detachment Robin examined her surroundings. She sat on a hard bunk, an unpadded shelf on one wall with a thin, folded coverlet at the foot. A rudimentary toilet and sink occupied the other wall. A cheap, blurry mirror showed Robin a haggard face staring back at her.

  The tears finally came. Robin's emotions caught up with her and she cried hard, racking silent sobs, each of them shaking her. She felt completely alone and friendless. She knew, distantly, that she should have some rights but she couldn't cudgel them from her brain. Without warning the lights dimmed but didn't go completely out. Robin lay back and pulled the thin coverlet over her and lay back.

  "Macy! On your feet, perp. Your counsel's here."

  That voice belonged to a very large and intimidating officer. Without ado he shackled her hands, pulled her to her feet and marched her out of her cell and down the hallway. The walk ended in a windowless conference room with a table, two chairs and a distinguished-looking lady with a briefcase and terminal open before her.

  "Annette Macy? I'm Loran Gallaway and the CA appointed me your counsel." Gallaway indicated the other chair.

  Robin fell into the chair more than sat but Gallaway didn't notice.

  "Your report says you didn't make a statement. Is that correct?"

  "Yes ma'am." Robin tried to make her voice strong but failed miserably.