"I said wake up!"
Micah mumbled something no one could understand.
"I don't suppose you want to tell me why you disobeyed a direct order, mister. I told you to leave!"
"I did... sir. Lev... six. Got out. Didn't leave... behind."
Micah struggled to force himself more awake and alert.
"Burnit, Micah, as grateful as I am..."
"Not," interrupted Micah, "Not... leave... behind... assets. Never... leave..."
"Blather!"
Micah winced and that set off a multitude of accumulated pains. Something hissed and whirred and he felt lighter. Ionoski's expression relaxed and he walked away muttering.
"Ruddy dim jarhats."
Micah might have smiled but the medicine took him away.
***
"I sent Blankenship to monitor traffic around Barrhi Esav," said Ionoski, "They should be there before long. I also have the Nerissa en route here. My ship will need extensive repair and renaming but that's not a priority."
Micah and the others now occupied a facility on Goshairin. The contingency ship with Davies aboard should arrive in one or two days. Ionoski tried to dress Micah down for disobeying orders but Micah let it slide off. He'd accept whatever discipline Ionoski chose to impose but only after the mission.
"If he orbits close to the port he might be able to receive the blip collection data," said Ferrel, "For what that's worth now, burnit."
"Burn it indeed," said Ionoski, "For truth I'd give a platinum arm for a good monitor on their LINC beacon. I don't know exactly what I did but I'll wager my next paychit there's a cargo ship of traffic to the Mekhajan."
"Sucker bet," said Siffai, Like Ionoski she'd tried harsh words on Micah but given his condition she couldn't put any punch behind them. "What about Dhallac's data?"
"Burned and archived," said Ferrel, "Names and planets. Lots of each. They're all code names and blind-keyed for a single specific recipient. Looks like eyecryption but I can't say six-sigma. He also had some logistical notes on upcoming operations, again blind-coded. I've got some solid probables on those, though. He had a lot more than Charraud."
"Esavian activity is spiking in the Federation," said Barstein, "Sorry, Micah. It started about ten hours plus LINC time after we recaptured Ted."
"They also tried the Unity," said Kidwell, "They bombed several public buildings but no one was injured. Orris reported that they stopped several more attacks before they developed, mostly thanks to our advisors and what they did there."
Ionoski nodded.
"Did they make the connection," asked Micah, "On Triumph?"
"Not that Orris mentioned," said Kidwell, "He said there was some anti-outsider noise but not a lot of that. Interestingly enough none of the noisemakers considered the League or Semids as outsiders. There's progress on your plate."
"Truth pure and platinum there," said Ionoski, "So. Any plans?"
"I have an idea," said Micah, "It's squelch for detail right now but it has an unshakable foundation."
***
Micah cleared his mind, focused on his germinating thoughts and started his workout. He didn't press his body too hard. Federation medics, he discovered, were just as bad as their League counterparts and less open to reason. Perhaps with some justification since he didn't remember two of the hits they had to patch. Serious hits.
Micah let his mind roam but kept it lightly tethered to his realizations. His idea might work, it might fail, it might have no consequence or it might backfire tragically. As he worked through his routines he nudged and moved pieces of plans and let them settle into place. He considered each one against the four possibilities then worked to optimize the first. At long last one clicked into place that gave a higher optimal and lower improbables. It would require frightening amounts of planning, critical skill in execution and even a measure of luck.
Davies eyed Micah critically.
"Yes, I can do that," he said, "even fast. I'm probably the most qualified person this side of the Sylvan Reaches, for truth. Am I allowed to know why?"
"You don't want to," said Micah.
"Fair coin, then." Davies nodded. I already have most of what I need but I still have to find a proper weaponized carrier. Are you concerned about any other side effects?"
"Not particularly, as long as they're within the parameters I specified. If you can keep them down it would help greatly."
"Help your mission?" Davies said that with a spike of sarcasm.
"It will help my conscience. And yours," said Micah, "I do believe that's worth some extra time to ensure. Believe or doubt, I'm not suggesting this lightly. It's at least a dozen kinds of horrible and every other word like it you care to use. Don't think I don't realize that, but look at the lives it can save and the ones it could have stopped from being lost."
"Slib. I guess it is best me. I do have the training and I'm willing to take that extra time. At times like this the irony of life is hard to live with."
Micah nodded. With Davies firmly on his side he sought out Ionoski. He found him working in his room.
"Idea time?"
"Yeah. Turn on your garble. I don't want this leaving this room. Yet."
As Micah spoke Ionoski nodded in agreement and occasionally asked for clarification or detail. When he reached the final part Ionoski's expression turned grim.
"I hope you're not trying to earn some misplaced glory or atonement, Micah."
"You know better, Ted. I agree it's hades' own risk but I will assume that personally. Weigh that against the lives it will save."
"You're assuming I haven't."
Micah shrugged. Ionoski sighed and his expression gained ten years.
"We'll proceed, then. I should be able to request at least a few more agents to help. Blankenship and his crew, minus Davies, will comply. It's still a damnable risk, though. What about an alternative?"
"Absolutely! Six-sigmas on the beam. Plus-plus! Give me a better one and I'll gladly take it!"
Ionoski smiled wanly. "At least we do have a little time."
Micah handed him a datacube. "Contingency."
After a moment Ionoski accepted it and nodded.
Chapter 14. The Meaning of Spice
al'Vooshi cringed as Elshid snapped his comm shut.
"You try the patience of more men than myself and the Vizier, truth-finder. What stale excuses do you offer up now?"
"His will is unbelievably strong, Moha. I have tried him many times and still he resists. No other man has ever withstood the question for so long!"
"So you claim, fool. Perhaps the Vizier should assign another this task. He has many truth-finders and little patience left."
al'Vooshi clamped down his rage carefully.
"None other has my skill, Moha! Dhu smite me, any of my fellows would have the infidel dead and with less information than I have extracted!"
Elshid blew his nose in a fine but already-soiled cloth.
"Perhaps you will tell Dhu yourself. Many fateful things are happening beyond your foul lair. You may well find ample displeasure should you look."
"Moha, I..."
"Silence, you idiot! Perhaps the Vizier's will is unclear. Break this infidel or die! The Feast of the Flight starts at sunrise. Count your hours carefully!"
al'Vooshi bowed, left and made his way to the infidel's room. He lay suspended above a bench with many complex and painful devices attached to his joints. As al'Vooshi watched the man flexed his arms, lifted his chest up a few centimeters and breathed in. The tension would not let him breathe otherwise and by now his arms must certainly burn in agony.
"You are a fool, infidel." al'Vooshi spoke the words without heat or hatred. "Your suffering has cost you nothing save pain before your death. Why? Tell me that if nothing else. The Fest of the Flight begins tomorrow and you will not live past its end. Why?"
The infidel lifted himself to breathe again. This time al'Vooshi saw his muscles quiver as he held himself there.
"Not...
Not... for... you."
Shocked and enraged, al'Vooshi raised his hand to strike. Then, slowly, he lowered it. The infidel gasped for breath again and remained silent.
"Very well, infidel. I shall leave you for now."
Before he walked out al'Vooshi loosened the bindings and let the infidel rest limp on the hard bench.
***
Micah and Siffai sat at a table near the corner of the dim and drab port club on Zuvi Minor. Their forged credentials got them secure storage and billeting at an only mildly outrageous price. Now they sat across from a captain and his steward.
"Aye," said the captain, "I trade Esavian space. Trickier than meltin' thermex without blowin' it but profit's profit." He took a pull of the ale Micah furnished. "What's yer interest?"
"Trade," said Micah, "And profit, of course."
The captain and steward both laughed. "Aye, an' profit too. Just what d'you have that they might be wantin'?"
Micah opened the complex and advanced lock on the armored case beside him. He extracted a pair of crisp wafers and handed them over. The steward managed to swallow without choking but the captain spat his on the floor.
"Flamin' feces! That's worse than wet wooden bilge water! What the bloody hades is it?"
"Spice," said Micah coolly, "You don't have to like it to know they might. I can sell you..."
"Nar! Burn me floppers if I'll have aught of it! Yer ruddy doofy with it an' I'm not riskin' my profit or my parts tryin' to sell it! Nar!"
The captain rose and strode away and the steward followed, but returned ten minutes later.
"That dirt is ruddy bad but I've made profit on worse. Be here tomorrow an' I'll take two kilos of it. Five platinum."
Micah and Siffai exchanged shocked looks.
"It's worth three times that here, spiker! Per kay!"
"Nar, mate. I got to make money an' keep it out of the cap'n's nose. Nar. I'll give you six for both kays."
"Ten," said Micah, "Ten each and it's yours."
"I'll give y' ten total. Not a shard more."
Micah looked at Siffai hard. After a glance to the steward she nodded microscopically.
"Done," said Micah, offering his hand.
The steward left and after a short time three more men approached. For such an insular people the Esavians attracted an unbelievable number of independent operators willing to risk doing business with them for a hopeful profit. These three didn't buy any spice but others had, and would. It didn't hurt business that Micah accepted any currency, either. Between them he and Siffai had exchequers from no less than six nearby governments. When one buyer paid in talo Micah ordered a meal.
"How many words have we verified," asked Siffai.
"I make it fourteen plus three possibles."
"My count as well, dosha. Shall we retire for the evening? I'm not feeling well and I doubt you are either."
"No blather there. Sounds polar to me and I still need to check on those tickets."
Micah walked back to their sparse room with considerable cheer, despite the mild fever they both had. It was more of an annoyance than anything and of more concern was LINC time. That cost a lot here but Micah didn't need much of it. He received a message from Ionoski who had sold a lot of their spice through his business on Mek-Bellos. Kidwell, Ferrel and Barstein also reported success as did Blankenship and the other agents assigned to work through him. No doubt the had some overlap and duplication of effort but that didn't matter at all!
***
Micah, Siffai and their crates of spice made the trip to Saddireb Libre aboard a dingy free trader whose captain had a letter-of-passage and agreed to a no-questions trip. Not the most pleasant voyage Micah had ever made but also far from the worst. He and Siffai alternated watches and the crew left them alone.
Despite being the most advanced world the Esavians boasted, Saddireb Libre was still far below even Jengiil standards. Micah found a hostel for himself and Siffai. The Esavians still showed little welcome but at least Sadarra, the capital city, had a small downzone between itself and the port. Micah walked past the League mission there but nothing else. Rumor said the League used the place to express disfavor with diplomatic officers. Still, it felt good to have in place.
Micah didn't try to rent a spot in a warehouse or merchant's complex, instead choosing to operate from their house. A small monetary consideration secured them a small, single-room building barely big enough for them and their cargo, but sufficient. The residents of Saddireb Libre might hate outsiders but they had no problem separating them from their money. So, Micah began acquainting himself with the people in the downzone. Whenever he made a new contact he brought samples of his spice. Some liked it and others didn't but he still managed to sell a good portion of their stock to traders bound throughout Esavian space.
"Not bad for a pair of near-broke spice mongers," said Siffai over khav, "What are the chances they will discover what it truly is?"
"Effectively zero. It's very popular on a few worlds in the Sandriss sector but nowhere else. They're eager to export it but nobody wants to buy it."
"It is pretty foul. Is there a chance the Esavians are from there?"
"Not even on League Day! They all just have defective taste buds."
"With the exception of khav. Are we ready for tonight?"
Micah fed a few coins through his exchequer and verified them. "Always and ever. I owned a few boxes earlier today but they're not in the same galaxy with what we need."
"Impressive, my dosha. It seems Charles does not own the market on skills!"
"Selahay."
The two of them walked purposefully through the not-deserted streets. After a decent meal from a man who complained about taking League coin Micah and Siffai stated a desire for a pleasant walk before Sentinel Call. When it sounded they ducked behind a shadowy building, waited, and emerged as a pair of yrran'qui. From there they easily found their target and waited once again.
The presence of a comm and broadcast center surprised Micah but made their mission several orders of magnitude easier. After Sentinel Prayer most of the crew there left but not all. Micah picked the lock quickly and, once inside, he and Siffai searched for a high-res datajack. She found one and Micah wasted no time jacking in.
The building net established the connection slowly and, slowly, began verifying protocols and parameters. By the time it finished he knew why Ferrel always complained about primitive boxes! Micah searched as quickly as he could. He knew within broad tolerances what he wanted but given the primitive nature of the hardware and software here he didn't know if he could find it. He did find enough warez to do what he needed, potentially, but it took time to adapt his data to them. Siffai kept watch while he worked and he finally finished what he needed.
Micah's terminal beeped and flashed red. The net's primitive dogz finally noticed him and attacked. He neutralized them easily enough but that roused more security, and more after that. He hoped to escape notice completely but planned around discovery if it happened. He launched two Ferrel-potent modules, flattened most of the system and slirped money and data from several sensitive areas. That set off the rest of the security warez. Micah triggered his crash-trap, jacked out and he and Siffai departed quickly.
Outside the building the audible alarm started. Micah and Siffai climbed to an adjacent rooftop quickly and removed their robes. They had noseemes beneath them and after a harrowing journey jumping from building to building they built enough distance from the now-active broadcast center to drop to street level and don their robes again. They reached the edge of the downzone well before any pursuit, changed back to appropriate garb and made for their house.
"That was a good workout," she smiled, "Now I wish we had more khav to celebrate it."
"I would buy it if someone would sell after Sentinel," said Micah.
They packed their illicit gear carefully and sat back with bulbs of tea to celebrate.
"I have one question," said Siffai, "Given our supply of spi
ce," she tapped one of their remaining crates, "will we be able to stay long enough for the effects to spread and the broadcast to start?"
"We should, but by now it isn't critically relevant. They don't have the tech here to stop it and even if they did it's spread too far by now. We could leave tomorrow and only shave a few points off the optimals."
"Slib, then, as you say. Finish your tea, dosha, and let us rest from our exciting evening."
Micah nodded. "Fair coin! I just have one detail to finish before we do."
He prepared his report, included the necessary data and details and blipped it to the League mission, heavily encrypted. The officer there would know what to do with it if the two of them had to leave early.
***
"INFIDELS!!"
Micah and Siffai jumped to their feet as the front door crashed open. In swarmed a crowd of dour-faced Zehbol'ach Dhu along with two hooded ammi. Three drew knives and rushed Siffai while the rest concentrated on Micah.
Chaos!
Micah fought with all the deadly force he possessed. He had no time to count the fallen as kicks and punches rained on him. He blocked most of them and most of the ones throwing them didn't have a second chance. Time slowed as his reflexes took over. The Zehbol'ach spoke and shouted but he paid it no heed. Occasionally he heard Siffai shout and a crash or pained grunt usually followed. Though Micah dropped his enemies more than one connected before he did. He blocked the pain automatically but every punch or kick that hit did affect him.
After Micah knew not how long they ran out of enemies. Besides the ordinary Zehbol'ach one ammi lay on the floor where Siffai rested on all fours.
"We need to leave," he said, "Now!"
When Micah pulled Siffai to her feet he saw the knife handle protruding from beneath her ribs, her blood staining the clothes and floor.
Medikit! Micah knew he had one but it took precious seconds to locate. It took years-long seconds to prepare a patch of instaskin and slap it over her wound.
"Katie. Katie! We have to leave now! Hurry!"
She coughed out blood, drew a shallow breath and looked up at him.
The Radical Factor (Stone Blade Book 3) Page 29
