The Doublecross Program: Book Three of the Star Risk Series

by Chris Bunch

  “The bastards!”

  “Agreed,” von Baldur said. “Fortunately, both Colonel Riss and myself are fully trained in the field of chemical weaponry, and feel that we’ll be able to not only counteract their barbarity, but turn the weapon back on them.”

  “Good,” Suiyahr said. “Our troops have no training in that aspect of soldiering…. We never felt anyone, even the Khelat, are dastardly enough to use such a weapon against us. Clearly, we were wrong.”

  Friedrich nodded.

  “What we propose is, since many of our own soldiers are untrained, to run an exercise, then, after it’s finished, to have a command-post seminar on what went right and what went wrong. Then we’ll be prepared to train your troops.”

  “A CP seminar, eh? There at your central base?” Suiyahr said. She almost licked her lips. “I am glad,” she said, “you are so concerned.”

  She blanked the screen.

  Von Baldur got up from the com set, smiling.

  “Hook, line, and sinker,” he said gleefully.

  • • •

  “We want running feet,” Riss said. “Right past the pickup, on to the next.”

  “What’s this all about, M’chel?” one of the com techs asked. “You’ve had us chattering into the com, dashing back and forth, and shouting orders all damned day.”

  “Now, if I wanted you to know,” Riss said, “I would’ve told you, wouldn’t I? Now, hup, hup, hup-pity hup.”

  • • •

  Goodnight was glad he wasn’t claustrophobic.

  The crawl space was not that wide, especially with him pulling at a tenth of a kiloton of explosives, even helped by an antigrav sled and Grok pushing from the rear.

  If he slipped and fell, it would be an almost 25-meter drop, through the false ceiling to, most likely, impale himself on one of the seat backs below.

  It was the second trip they’d made.

  Grok had asked, “Is this trip necessary?” and Goodnight had wondered if he was making a joke. But no alien could be that antiquarian.

  He took out the detonator that had been planted under von Baldur’s suite, having replaced the small transmitter with some real, live primary explosives.

  Goodnight knew nothing could happen. But at this stage of explosions, he always got sweaty palms.

  • • •

  “Colonel von Baldur,” the rather shifty-eyed man asked.

  “I am he.”

  “Do you have scrambling capabilities?”

  “I do.”

  “On Alliance setting R09, up three, bassackwards, please.”

  The man hazed into interference.

  Von Baldur puzzled out the hasty code, touched sensors on the com.

  The screen cleared.

  “I’m Hal Maffer,” the man said. “Over here on Seth V. You haven’t used me…. I run a hiring hall for people in your line of business. I’d like to do business with you someday, since I’ve heard your Star Risk goes by its word.”

  “We try.”

  “I’ll make this fast, then,” Maffer said. “Before your pals the Shaoki have time to figure out the scramble.”

  “You are keeping track of us?” von Baldur said.

  “Nope,” Maffer said. “I just happened to hear you’re working the Khelat-Shaoki mess — I’ve put teams on both sides in there over the last few years — and heard something else that you might be interested in.”

  “How much?” von Baldur asked.

  Maffer held up his hands.

  “For free. But you’ll owe me one.”

  “Depending how good it is.”

  “It’s good. Day before yesterday, one of my competitors placed a battalion regimental team — the Malleus Maulers, they call themselves … armored lifters, some interstellar capability — with the Shaoki.”

  Von Baldur hid his surprise.

  “Didn’t figure you’d heard about it,” Maffer said. “I dunno what kind of war you’re fighting, but the client specified the team he picked had to have chemical training.”

  “I owe you one,” von Baldur said.

  “I thought you might,” Maffer said. “Nobody likes competition when they don’t know about it.”

  • • •

  “So, they’re getting cute,” Riss mused.

  “They’re gonna bring in these Malleus clowns,” Goodnight agreed, “right after they blow our asses away when we get together after the gas exercise, eh?”

  “It appears fairly obvious,” von Baldur said.

  “Then we should active our drill immediately,” Grok said.

  “If not sooner,” Goodnight agreed.

  • • •

  The night came alive with alarm shrills.

  Befuddled officers and warrants were told to turn their men and women out, wearing protective masks.

  The Khelat were attacking with poison gas.

  Some of the mercenaries didn’t have masks, or had forgotten where they were.

  Umpires, wearing white armbands, started shouting, “You, you’re dead! And you, you’re another corpse,” not adding to the peace.

  The shrilling and shouting got louder, and the soldiers got more and more befuddled.

  Especially when they heard the whine of starships on their secondary drives, and warships settled down beside their quarters.

  Star Risk Command’s hotel had a destroyer nose up to its building, and hover on antigrav.

  “On board! Get your sorry asses to the ships,” came the commands.

  Redon Spada’s patrol ships arced overhead, swept down to pick up stray detachments as soldiers were sardine-canned into ships.

  A transport leased earlier by Grok settled down, picked up the last of the men, and then floated up.

  Von Baldur was on the bridge of the Fletcher, linked to Colonel Suiyahr. He was visibly unhappy.

  “Fifteen minutes to clear quarters. Not good at all.”

  “If this had been real, what would you do next?” Suiyahr asked.

  “We would immediately go to the units we’ve been tasked to provide command responsibility for, evaluate the situation, and proceed to take action from there,” von Baldur said glibly. “But that’s for another drill.

  “This night’s performance was shameful! We shall be up at least until dawn dealing with this matter. I shall not allow such incompetence to happen again.”

  “No,” Suiyahr said, holding back a tight smile. “No, you shall not.”

  The starships reversed their courses and lowered back toward barracks and the high-rise that was Star Risk’s headquarters.

  As they landed, or hung next to the Star Risk Command, the elaborate deceptions took over.

  Remote-keyed recorders began playing the sounds of men and women disembarking, being ordered to the ballroom used as a briefing center.

  Three remoted projectors whispered into life, showing, to the three eyes the Shaoki had installed in the Star Risk Command, soldiers filing toward the briefing room.

  Appearing empty, the ships lifted away.

  Corns went on aboard the ships and informed the mercenaries they’d seen the last of Irdis.

  None of the Star Risk leaders paid the slightest attention to the howls that went up about lost and abandoned possessions.

  “Tough titty, troop,” Goodnight told one outraged sergeant. “You bought your gear to begin with. Now you can buy better.”

  Out-atmosphere, the destroyers, patrol boats, and the single transport jumped into N-space. Redon Spada’s ship was the last to vanish.

  There were no followers.

  The small fleet made two more jumps, then set its course for Khelat II and its capital world of Rafar City.

  “Clean, very clean,” Goodnight said.

  “Finer than frog hair,” Riss echoed.

  “I am starting,” Grok added, “to understand just how many varieties of your doublecrosses there can be.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  About half of the Shaoki Council — those whom Colonel Suiyahr decided were eit
her powerful enough to need kowtowing to or could be enlisted on her side when she determined a coup was appropriate — were gathered in the council chamber.

  She held a small triple-frequency transmitter in one hand.

  “Thank you for coming, my friends,” she said. “This shall be very short.

  “Some time ago, I determined that the Star Risk team that we had trusted with our worlds, our people, and our lives, had turned traitor, and were only secretly working for us. They had, in fact, returned to their true masters, the Khelat.

  “This could not be borne by any decent, honorable soldier. Therefore, I determined to put in place an emergency device so that if they, in fact, behaved traitorously, retribution was swift. Today, using the mask of an anti-chemical warfare exercise, they are putting in motion their plan to betray all of us to the Khelat.”

  There were gasps, shouts of disbelief, anger.

  Suiyahr held up one hand.

  “Do not worry, my friends. The situation is well in hand. This device I hold will set off a large explosive charge I had prepared and planted in the midst of these turncoats.

  “Now, here is full vengeance against those who would betray us.”

  She had a broad smile on her face as she pressed, in proper sequence, the sensors on the detonator.

  The charge, planted just above the chamber’s magnificent central chandelier, exploded downward, a one-kiloton blast and sheet of flame.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Star Risk was staring at a large projection screen showing a pirated ‘cast of the ruined Shaoki Council Hall. A propagandist raved mutedly about atrocities and such.

  Star Risk and its people were now housed in a brand-new barracks instead of a luxury hotel, on Khelat II, which was just fine with them.

  Hotels are impossible to secure.

  Goodnight was seemingly hypnotized by the results of his and Grok’s handiwork.

  “What’s the old phrase?” he said. “Hoist by their own … what is it? Dildo? That doesn’t make much sense.”

  “The word you’re looking for,” a voice behind them said, “is petard. Like in fuse.”

  Goodnight spun.

  “Jasmine!”

  King ankled into the room.

  “Any calls while I was out?”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Friedrich summoned an aide, told her to get the best Methuselah of champagne in the Khelat worlds, and damn the expense.

  “Come to think about it, make it a case,” he ordered. “Tell anybody who coms us that we are in conference for the rest of the day.”

  It was Jasmine’s turn to tell the war story.

  She did, from the crash to her purchasing into a pharmacy to her discovery she sort of liked blowing things up.

  “The only one that made me feel a little bad,” she said, “was the one I needed at the end of the J. I had to blow up somebody’s house. But at least he was related by marriage to the Khelat royalty, so I didn’t feel too bad.”

  The champagne arrived and was poured.

  “I knew you’d see the explosions and come back for me,” King said.

  “You have more faith in me than I have in me,” Goodnight said.

  “To slightly change the subject,” Riss said. “And catching all of you at this emotion-drenched moment. Do you realize that we’ve never officially made our Jasmine a full partner?”

  “Surely we did,” Friedrich said, then thought. “No, we did not. I’m sorry, Jasmine. I formally propose, et cetera, et cetera.”

  “I fervently second the motion,” Grok rumbled. “I think that’s how it’s supposed to be said.”

  “Are you sure,” Goodnight asked, “you really want to be a partner with these degenerates? I mean, you’ve already been getting your twenty percent, and all a partnership is gonna get you is a fair share of the bills.”

  Jasmine nodded.

  “Moved, seconded, and …” Riss looked around, saw hands — and a paw — lifted. “… Passed by acclamation.”

  M’chel kissed Jasmine, who sat, happily drinking champagne, oblivious to the tears runnelling down her face.

  THIRTY-SIX

  It was late … or, rather, early, but no one felt like going to bed, eating, or much of anything except more champagne and idle talk.

  Jasmine was curled up next to Grok, who had one enormous paw around her.

  M’chel wondered about the possibilities, might have had enough to drink to ask them, but suddenly and fortunately another thought came.

  “You know what we’re short of,” she said, making sure she wasn’t slurring her words.

  “Inherited riches,” Goodnight said.

  “No,” Riss said. “Well, yes. But more immediately, and I mean no offense, Freddie, but our forte so far hasn’t been strategy. We’re nibbling here and there, but what are we after?”

  “More riches,” Goodnight said.

  “Shaddup, Chas,” Riss said.

  Von Baldur upended a bottle, tossed it carefully into the half-full trashcan, took another from an ice bucket, and started unwiring the cork.

  “I take no offense,” von Baldur said, appearing quite sober. “M’chel is correct. This is easily the biggest job Star Risk has taken on. We should have some sort of a master plan.”

  He shoved with both his thumbs, and the cork arced out of the bottle, ricocheted off a portrait of King Saleph, and away.

  “Ask the wizard,” Jasmine said, nodding at Goodnight.

  “An idea,” M’chel said. “Charles, let’s hear a battle analysis. Go bester.”

  Obediently, Goodnight touched his cheek. His body started slightly. He sat, silent, for a couple of minutes, then he spoke, his voice metallic, as if synthesized.

  “Since we’ve now sold both sides down the river, we should concentrate on winning this war as soon as possible. The longer things drag on, the more likely the chances will be that the Khelat will get tired of us, too, and try what the Shaoki did. One assassination plot per contract should be enough for us … unless we’re mounting those plots.

  “The most immediate thing that we should do is abandon this policy of being advisors and teachers. I think we should do more of the fighting ourselves, or at any rate by our direct hirelings, if we want to finish up this contract in an expected lifetime.”

  “Which means we need reinforcements,” Grok said. “We are thin on the ground to be playing soldier.”

  “Already considered,” Friedrich said. “I plan on contacting a man who we owe a favor to, on Seth V, immediately.”

  Goodnight nodded.

  “Freddie, you’ll be the grand strategist,” Goodnight said. “Riss can implement his schemes.”

  “And Jasmine — ”

  “Jasmine will hold down the fort and run the center of things,” King said firmly. “I’ve had enough adventure for a time.”

  “Finally, we should keep a back door open, in case the Khelat move faster than we do. Also, we have to do something to improve the maln shipments, if we’re to have Omni Foods making us rich and infamous.

  “And since things are still pretty vague, that’s about all I can suggest.”

  Goodnight touched his cheek, came out of bester.

  “If I am to play admiral,” Friedrich said, “I shall need a proper toy.”

  “Such as?” Riss asked, a bit suspiciously.

  “A battleship,” von Baldur said, a bit dreamily. “I have always wanted a battleship of my own.”

  “That will set easily with our Khelat masters,” Riss said sarcastically.

  “Not a very big battleship,” Friedrich said, sounding a little injured.

  “Well,” M’chel said. “Since I’ve, been acting paymaster while Jasmine was out playing, I guess we can afford a battleship. Or rather, the Khelat can. Get one now, while the Khelat are still feeling generous. A small battleship.

  “By the way, Chas. You didn’t say what you were going to do.”

  “All I know is a phrase came to me, just as I was coming out of bester,” Goo
dnight said. “‘Singe the king’s beard,’ was all it was. I dunno what the hell it meant.”

  “I do,” Grok said.

  “Ah, the wonders of the subconscious. Come with me, my friend, and explain,” Goodnight said, getting to his feet. “I need to rebuild my energy with a whop-pin’ great chunk of protein. Bloody protein. Plus, the booze sort of got burned up, and I’m sober now, and there’s no bigger pain in the ass than being around a bunch of drunks.”

  But he staggered slightly as he got up.

  “So we have a plan of sorts,” Riss said.

  “Of sorts,” Grok agreed. “But we still don’t have any sort of endgame.”

  “I suppose that will entirely depend on how things go, won’t it?” Goodnight said.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Friedrich von Baldur was very grateful there was a screen and light years between himself and Hal Maffer on Seth V. Otherwise, he might have been kissed.

  “M’god,” Maffer whispered. “This is the biggest order…. Would you mind going through it again, uh, General?”

  “First,” Friedrich started, “we shall need eighteen battalions of infantry. We do not have time to train, so we shall want full units, with leaders, logistic trains, whatever.

  “We are willing to pay the going rate, with a fulfillment bonus when, that is when, not if, we win.

  “There is only a medium hurry for these units, since they will be used as fortress troops, one per Khelat System. They don’t have to be elite, or commando qualified. We’ll be content with competent infantrymen.

  “Oh yes,” he went on, remembering the mercenary units who’d been in place when Star Risk arrived. “We do not want any units or personnel who have been assigned here before.”

  Friedrich didn’t mention that Goodnight wanted two shock battalions, since he’d told Freddie he’d recruit those personally, closer in toward the Alliance Worlds.

  Goodnight was also prepared to pay top dollar.

  No one in Star Risk had the slightest interest in going light on the budget. The Khelat were not their friends.

  “A force that big will certainly need a significant payroll and supply section,” Maffer said, not quite licking his lips.