After a day made even more enjoyable by the Unitites' happiness at their experience, Micah managed a quick workout and a hot shower before going to bed.
Only to have his sleep interrupted somewhere between late at night and early the next morning!
"Wake up, sleepy!" Ferrel barged in as soon as Micah's door cracked open. He held two terminals and a jolly-bag of other assorted hardware. "Wake up, Micah. This is important!"
Micah mumbled something neither of them understood as he worked himself awake. By that time Ferrel had the two terminals meshed via a complex collection of other devices. Micah desperately wanted chog but at least Ferrel's excitement helped him toward sentience. He already had the Mekhajan terminal doing something while the League one ran various devious and thorough analytics.
"Look, my brother. Look, look, look! Look at these heuristics. Look at the results!"
Micah tried to focus his chog-deprived brain on Ferrel's words. When they finally clicked into place and he complied he saw the beginnings of a pattern forming. He just realized the implication of it when Ferrel began chattering again.
"It's the same algorithmic style as the data from Charraud's machine!"
Micah squinted, blinked and opened his eyes again. "These tolerances look pretty wide, Charlie. No blather."
"Frost that! Look at the similarity indices. Look at the AI psych coefficients. Look at the core function genetics!"
"They are similar," said Micah finally.
"I'm calling Ted and Vera. And Katie. And Dave."
"Tell them to bring chog."
After Micah got plenty of chog in his system the results began to take shape exactly as Ferrel said. Micah ran some checks of his own, with help from Siffai and Kidwell, and they all reached the same conclusion.
"Convincing, six sigmas," said Ionoski, "but will it sell soya?"
"Sell it and bank the profits!" Ferrel twiddled his terminal and the display filled with diagrams and schematics. "I know we have a few spare high-grade terminals, Ted. I'll dissect a few and patch them into this one. The Mekhajan hardware architecture is seriously different from ours. I hate to admit it but that metavirus is even more impressive now! Our hardware no-blather slowed it down. If it hatched on a Mekhajan box we'd still be wondering what happened."
Ionoski examined Ferrel's notes.
"This terminal is very similar to a starship navigation box. We use similar concepts on ours but our terminals are very different from nav boxes, and with good reason! I'm guessing these stapes do it this way for economy and because that's what they had to work with when they started."
"Can you burn with it," asked Ionoski.
"Don't insult me, Ted! Of course I can burn with it! These spikers won't know what scorched 'em!"
"Slib. Try not to stay up all night,err... morning, then," replied Ionoski, "The hour is obscene and I'm going back to bed. Good work, Charles."
***
Mek-Daira did indeed welcome the Unity party and all the others aboard. The portmaster informed the captain they would likely have an extended stay and offered very nice billets within the port city of Majoris at a most reasonable price. Ferrel spent the trip optimizing his favorite warez to the Mekhajan hardware. From the amount of profanity he generated, followed by the number of desserts he demanded Micah knew he succeeded. Then they arrived and grounded and Ionoski left them with a caution before they left the vessel.
"We'll be here a while. Be careful where you step and what you do. Just because the hand you see is open doesn't mean it can't close and arm itself quickly."
Micah and Ferrel presented themselves as college students on a study-vacation, now of an extended duration. The Mekhajan laughed at this, understood and upon request granted them above-normal access to their libraries. They wasted no time taking advantage of this and before long made friends of most of the librarians there. Every single one of them had interesting stories of family or extended family and Micah listened raptly and took copious notes. Ferrel dove into the historical archives with special interest in the long, rich and varied histories of Mekhajan trade.
Micah found Mek-Daira familiar yet different. Its buildings, structures and people would fit easily within the League, yet they would also stand out. Majoris' inhabitants all wore bright and at times clashing colors. Very few wore tight garments and all of the loose robes, capes, cowls and cloaks had voluminous hoods with face flaps. That confused Micah until he found a treasure ship of obscure historical data. The original settlers to the Mekhajan worlds originally came from worlds composed mostly of deserts; and both Mek-Daira and Mek-Soulda had their share of them. That made a great deal of sense: all of the garb he saw, bereft of ornamentation and flashiness, would make excellent attire for hot, dry and dusty climes. The colors would either stand out for easy detection or blend in to make such impossible.
With that discovery Micah began noticing other patterns as well. Though he found no explicit reference to clothing style or color he noticed similarities. Members of a family and their relatives chose similar colors and decorations, the closer the relative the more similar the choices. People with the same or similar occupations also dressed similarly, but in style, cut and selection rather than color. Constables, guards and military members all wore knives with the branch of service dictating the type of blade. High officials and officers had much flashier and fancier blades and some had jewels in the hilts. Micah mentioned his findings to Ferrel.
"Polarity, my brother! Five credits says Vera beat you to it, though."
"Sucker bet," replied Micah, "Except for the knives, and make that ten."
"Do you mean you just now noticed that?" Kidwell stared at Micah incredulously. "For truth? I saw that our second day here. Family or clan dictates color and occupation dictates style.
"Merchants, for instance, always wear no headcloths or ones that can be pulled down easily when bargaining. Nothing to hide, you understand. Government officials all wear sashes tied to the right. Higher positions have borders; the higher the office the wider the fringe. Children sixteen and under wear plain or no headcloths and belts tied in the front, most with plenty of slack hanging down. Single women braid ribbons into their hair and wear it long. Married women either cut it short or tie it back. Single men looking for wives weave thin gold or silver wire into their hair or beards... Flames! I could talk about this for hours and it's just one city on one planet!"
Micah felt the smugness of Ferrel's grin.
"But I will admit you got me on the knives," she said, "To me they're just knives."
She then scowled at both of them as Ferrel handed Micah a ten-credit coin.
"Pious question," said Ionoski, "do we know what an Intelligence agent wears?"
"Not yet," replied Kidwell, "but now I may have some help finding out!"
***
Micah and Siffai escorted Ferrel through the streets of Daira'teh'Hamman, the capitol city of Mek-Daira. It lay an hour away from the starport and Majoris and Ionoski suggested it for their task at hand. Mekhajan surrounded them but none saw them. They wore dull robes with very little color, no ornamentation and a plain, long headcloth wound to cover all of their faces except the eyes. The crowds teeming around them didn't specifically avoid them but they still managed not to stray too close. Micah grinned at this and kept his eyes carefully downcast.
They owed Kidwell thanks for discovering the shunned ones. Mekhajan society tolerated very little crime. That didn't stop it, of course, nor prevent those with the power and influence to avoid consequence from committing it. Criminals of lesser stature and standing who survived the crime and its punishment announced their shame and dishonor by wearing plain clothing and hiding their faces. No one spoke to them unless absolutely necessary and the shunned ones Kidwell observed spoke to none save themselves. By custom and tradition any dangerous, dirty or otherwise undesirable job fell to the shunned ones, thus giving them their lot in life and their position in society.
The three of them found a datamar
t, paid a few coins and took seats away from everyone else. Though not specifically barred from any part of Mekhajan society the shunned ones still kept their shameful status and Micah, Ferrel and Siffai carefully did so.
Micah would have liked more time to acclimate himself to the feel of the city and he'd have stayed in Majoris but Ionoski overruled this. He and Barstein waited somewhere in Daira'teh'Hamman but would remain unseen unless some catastrophe befell them. Not likely from the set of Ferrel's shoulders.
"I'm in," he said softly.
Kidwell and Ionoski came up with a few candidates for Mekhajan Intelligence. While the agents would be foolish beyond sanity to advertise themselves there was a real possibility that the ordinary workers would attire themselves per their job and importance, as did everyone on Mek-Daira.
"Scan alpha," said Ferrel, "Number one loaded and coded."
Neither Micah nor Siffai detected anything amiss so Ferrel continued. Four targets, four successes.
"This probably isn't what we want," said Ferrel, working on the fifth candidate, "These nets are folding plus-plus too easily. Not nearly thermal enough for what we're after."
"Or you're just that good," whispered Siffai in reply, "As you are so oft wont to inform us."
"Whatever it is," said Micah, "we can probably use it. Besides, the last time we did this the real threat came from the data, not the net it was on."
"All truth and no blather there," came the reply, "but the puckoes sharp enough to design that metavirus six-sigma will not be chugging chog on their security."
To that Micah could only agree. Success number five.
"Let's leave now," said Ferrel as he unmeshed his terminal, "That smelled sour at the end."
"Were you traced?"
"I don't think so. I'd rather not find out rudely, though!"
With Micah's careful lead they ran a rat path to another datamart. They didn't stay there long, though; only long enough to copy the spools and give them to Siffai. She took them and split off to make her own way back to the port. Apparently no one traced Ferrel because they found her waiting for them back at their billets.
***
From the time he boarded the ship Laray radiated satisfaction and some amazement. After they launched and began the trip back it increased. His willingness, albeit reluctant at times, to speak turned into downright chattiness! More significant to Micah, Maas felt the same way. Although the Mekhajan didn't go into many specifics or details they exhibited an eagerness to do so. They all knew trade wouldn't happen overnight but they all knew equally well that it would happen.
"The mission cover was a success," said Ionoski, "What about the mission itself?"
"Likewise and more so," said Ferrel, "First point, and the first of many, is that we may state conclusively that Charraud is connected to the Mekhajan. He is a Mekhajan agent, he works for one or he bought his gear and warez here! The protection on the data we grabbed was identical. Not similar, mind you, identical! Modulo the encryption keys, which are also ruddy near identical, their security operated and broke exactly the same! The inversion worked to high orbit and the embedded virii died before they could even expand."
Ionoski nodded appreciatively.
"That's not all! When I burned the Brothers of the Table, rotten narsty crypto there too, I found a lot more data on Esavian trade. That's where they keep the membership details and family information. Who trades where and what. There's some competitive overlap, no blather, but the Brothers do work hard to make sure everything is covered and that everyone gets a chance. We have plenty of data on partners, rivals and even archived trade transactions."
"Polar," said Ionoski, "What about Intelligence?"
Ferrel's expression fell. "Erm... no. When I burned target five, the government cores, I looked as hard as I could. I didn't want to stay too long, though. Foreign protocols, unusual access, unfamiliar hardware..."
"So what did you get," interrupted Siffai.
"Intelligence," said Ferrel, "but of the military sort. Structure and organization, troop and ship deployment, that sort of thing. Nothing useful."
Ionoski, Micah and Barstein swapped pained looks.
"Very useful," said Micah, "S&P will go suborbital over that! How is it not useful?"
"Not useful to us, then," amended Ferrel, "I wanted some names or locations."
Micah shook his head sadly. Leave it to Ferrel to complain about finding pristine platinum when he wanted praline chog. He slirped Ferrel's 'useless' data and he, Siffai and Barstein began analyzing it.
The Mekhajan used their Navy as their primary military force. Understandable, given their history, but it went beyond that. All of their military forces branched from and connected to the Navy. They had no Marines per se; the Brothers of the Blackwater Guard filled that role and extended it. At need those military forces might be stationed on a civilian merchant vessel.
The military itself used a very decentralized command structure: when hostile forces attacked an area the highest-ranking military officer became the force commander. Period. Other than base rank and seniority they had no fixed command structure. Not easy to accomplish on an interstellar scale but for the Mekhajan forces it worked exceptionally well.
The logistical structure had an impossibly low overhead. Supplying distant ships required little more overhead than for those within the same system and the efficiency with which they moved matériel would have League logisticians slavering with envy.
"I don't understand," said Kidwell, "How can their Navy function, Micah? I'm not military but I do know it can't function without chain of command. No military can work without one!"
"They have chain of command, Vera, just not one obvious to us. The League operates with a well-known and sturdy one, from the greenest corporal all the way up through the Senior Sky Marshal. There's plenty of flexibility to adapt to circumstances but CoC is solid. Every soldier or Patrol officer knows from whence his orders come."
"That's just it. There's no 'whence' here!"
"There is, dear," said Micah, "We know that because their military works. We just don't know what it is. It's something their soldiers know and so elementary they don't bother writing it down. Anybody reading the data would also know it. What interests me is how they manage to keep their supply chain so lean and efficient."
"Shame on yourself, Micah," said Ionoski, "Think outside the barracks! They use their merchants." After Ionoski had Micah's full attention he continued. "No blather. Ship for ship there are far more trade vessels than military vessels and the Brothers of the Table membership comprises a massive merchant fleet. When it comes to non-combat supply and logistics that's what they use."
"Frost! Squirt me that data, please."
After Micah studied it long enough to work out the rough structure it made sense. It made a lot of sense! The Mekhajan versions of the Trade Academy and Naval Academy shared the world of Mek-Bellos. All military officers above their rank of captain trained there. Micah hypothesized that pilots, astrogators, medics, engineers and command crew who washed out of Navy training would end up in the Merchant Academy. That made even more sense, it fit nicely with the origin of the Mekhajan themselves and it made sense of their command structure. Bonusjack!
"Heh. Chew on this, Vera." Micah was proud of himself! "Mekhajan society revolves around family, friends and family friends, truth?"
"Ye-es," said Kidwell suspiciously.
"And families sometimes trade kids with each other."
"It's called 'fostering,' Micah, and they do not trade their children! If a family has too many kids to inherit the family business or one of those same kids doesn't want the family business the father fosters him to another family.
"It's like adoption but the child never loses touch with his original family and can even participate in the process. Sort of. Most of the time when the adopted child comes of age there is a marriage into the family and both families celebrate the fact.
"The side effect is an incredibly comp
lex network of unofficial contacts between families and businesses. That's plus-plus useful when situations heat up. If your second cousin's niece-in-law is married to the fourth son of the man causing problems it gives you a way to defuse the situation without losing honor."
Micah nodded and began recording suppositions. "Polar. Now apply that to the military. All high military and merchants train at the same schools on the same planet. Bet me five standing there's not a lot of crossover between the two! Heaven's flames!!"
Micah called up his earlier data and ran some quick correlations.
"That's ruddy how they do it," exclaimed Micah, "To the Mekhajan there's not a lot of difference between the merchant and the military man. One does the fighting and the other does the food! That's how their command structure works and that's what makes it work so well!"
Kidwell took a moment to digest this. "Double flames! We need to send this to DOSTRAP top priority! If we can adapt their structure to our..." She stopped when Ionoski held up his hand.
"Sorry, Vera," he said, "That won't work for us. Our command and logistical structures are pretty much set in zrock. Changing them would take a lot more effort than it would save, it would be basically impossible to do and it would throw our military and the Merchant's Guild into chaos." Ionoski looked at Micah. "Right sergeant?"
"Yes sir!"
"But still very valuable to know," continued Ionoski, "The League may not be set up to adopt their system but we can bloody well make use of it. Somehow."
"There is another implication," said Siffai suddenly, "Though perhaps you do not see it. It is only natural that the Mekhajan are cool and distant toward League trade!"
Micah and Ionoski swapped glances and each pulled out a five-credit bill.
"Because they are even more dedicated to trade than are you, silly doshas! In their eyes they are fighting an opponent who is bigger, stronger, more skilled, more experienced and who has more weapons. 'Trade if you must, but only if you must.' No! 'Fight if you must but only if you must!' Make no mistake, my League brothers and sisters," Here she smiled. "Free and fair trade may be your hearts and souls but you bargain harder than some soldiers fight!"
The Radical Factor (Stone Blade Book 3) Page 15
