“See you in 170 hours, sir,” she said. Hargrave fell in with him as they floated back toward the trooper berthing area.
“Well done,” the older man said and patted him on the shoulder. “Your dad would’ve been proud.”
“I’d like to know more about that last mission,” Jim said. “Nobody ever told me what really happened.”
“I’ll tell you what; ask me some other time, and I’ll tell you all about it. Right now, I want you concentrating on what’s ahead.”
“That’s fair,” Jim said, and the two floated aft.
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Cell 305C, Mercenary Guild, Capital Planet
Sansar looked up as the door to her cell opened. After a few moments, it closed again without anyone entering. With a faint, almost electrical, discharge, a small felinoid form materialized by the door.
There was a Depik in her cell.
Sansar sighed as a wave of dread threatened to crush her. The preeminent assassin race in the galaxy, most of their victims never saw their killers…unless they were supposed to, for some reason. Usually to be humiliated before their lives were extinguished.
“Greetings, Hunter,” Sansar said. “So, the Depik are working with the Mercenary Guild, and this is to be my end?”
The assassin looked at her, and its eyes slowly blinked.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Sansar asked, cold sweat running down her back. “Because if your purpose is to scare me, you’ve succeeded.”
“No,” the Depik replied, “my intention isn’t to scare you. The slow blink is quite the opposite. It’s our equivalent of your smile.”
Sansar sighed and stood, then knelt in front of her cot.
“What are you doing?” the Depik asked.
“I know there’s no point in trying to fight you,” Sansar replied. “All I might do is make my ending bloodier and more painful. I’d prefer you just give me a clean kill.” A bad thought came to her. “Unless I am to die badly, in which case, I’d probably make at least a token effort to stop you.”
“You misunderstand,” the Depik said, doing the slow blink again. “I’m not here to kill you. In fact, I’m here to do you a service.”
“Oh?” Sansar asked, a note of hope in the syllable.
“Yes. Once, several of our lifetimes ago, the Golden Horde did us a favor and took care of one of our Hunters in her moment of need.”
“I’m aware of that. Her story is passed down among the leaders of our company.”
“Excellent. You must be aware there’s a contract out on one of your people, a Major Good.”
“I expected as much. I know he killed a Hunter at his house. I don’t know of anything my major did to warrant termination but could think of no other reason for the Hunter to be there.”
“There was indeed a contract taken out on his life.”
“Was?”
“I’ve decided to purchase it.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this? I can’t do anything about it from in here, and I doubt I could stop you if I tried.”
“I doubt you could, too.” She slow blinked again. “Happily for you, though, that’s not my intention. I’ve come here to offer you the opportunity to buy out the contract from me.”
Sansar patted the skinsuit they’d given her to indicate her prisoner status. “Sorry, I don’t have a single credit here, much less what I’m sure it would cost to purchase this contract. I don’t suppose you’d take my word that I’ll pay?”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not the way we work. I must have payment.” The Depik faded out again, then reappeared several seconds later. “How about the coin on your bed?”
Sansar stood and turned; there was now a one-credit coin on her cot that hadn’t been there before.
“A single credit? That’s what his life was worth?”
“Oh, no,” the Depik said, blinking slowly again; “the original contract was much higher. Much. But as a favor to you, I’ll allow you to buy it out for a credit.”
“I’ll take it, and gladly,” Sansar replied. A thought occurred to her, and she looked around the room. “Wait a minute—aren’t you worried about being seen here with me? There have to be cameras and other monitoring devices in here.”
“There are three cameras and two listening devices,” the Depik said. “But am I worried? No. I’m the Depik Governor, and I am…somewhat accomplished…at my craft. All the devices are currently inoperative. I suspect someone will be here shortly to move you to a new cell, so they can try to figure out what went wrong with them. I doubt they ever will, though.”
The assassin moved to the door.
“I don’t suppose you can get me out of here?” Sansar asked. “I’d be willing to pay for that, too.”
“At the moment, no, I cannot,” the Depik replied, slipping out the door. “You’re too well guarded, and I can’t extract you without compromising myself. The number of guards I’d have to kill would certainly indicate my participation, no matter how creatively I disposed of them. More importantly, though, it’s also likely you wouldn’t survive the effort, no matter what I did. You’re in the Mercenary Guild headquarters, after all. Forces are moving, however, that may bring opportunities in the future. I’ll do what I can; if nothing else, I’ll ensure your death does not go unavenged.”
The door shut behind the assassin, and Sansar collapsed onto the bed. Revenge, while nice, didn’t help her very much.
* * *
Cell Block 307A, Capital Planet
The Depik assassin had been correct—Besquith guards had come for Sansar shortly after the killer’s departure and moved her to a new cell. She’d been in the new cell for about 30 minutes when the lock released with a click, and the door opened. A figure in a brown, hooded robe walked in and stood by the door. Sansar couldn’t see within the hood very well, except for the gaping mouth in the center. There appeared to be an eye on either side of the mouth which tracked independently of each other and maybe one more above the mouth? She shuddered; the apparition was as creepy as anything she’d ever seen. She scanned through the info she had on alien races and came up with the race—Pendal. Great pilots. An additional personal entry noted that Nigel had said the Besquith had tried to enslave them.
“Greetings, Stranger,” Sansar said. “I take it you’re not a guard here, are you?”
“No, I’m not,” the hooded figure said. “I’m here about something else.”
“I’m glad I’m not in charge of security here,” Sansar said. “My cell has been Grand Central Station today. I assume you’ve done something to the cameras, too?”
“Too?” the being asked. It paused a second, then continued, “Ah. Yes, let me just say that there won’t be any memories of my being here. Beyond your own, that is.”
“Okay, that’s cryptic enough,” Sansar said. “As I don’t appear to be going anywhere, what can I do for you?”
“I’m here to warn you. You’re in great danger.”
Sansar indicated the cell with the sweep of a hand. “That isn’t much of a news flash. I’m here, defending Earth against a group of hostile aliens that seem to have something against us.”
“There are those here who don’t intend to allow you to leave.”
“So the trial is all a farce? I’m to be jailed for the duration of whatever it is that’s going on?”
“Jailed? No, you’re to be terminated. They believe they have enough votes on the Council to have you killed once the verdict is declared, and they intend to do so. You were never going to get a fair hearing in any event; you may not know it, but the Speaker is General Peepo’s daughter.”
“General Peepo’s daughter? I don’t understand—what have I done to deserve death?”
“You uplifted the SalSha, which would technically be enough to receive the ultimate penalty; however, you’ve done something much, much worse.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve disrupted thei
r plans.”
“Disrupted their plans? How did I do that?”
“You—and by ‘you’ I mean not only you, personally, but all of your race—have disrupted the plans of the Merc Guild by not following their rules. They’re gearing up for something, and your inability to do what you’re told worries them. To use metaphors from your race, you’re a wild card—the nail that sticks up and must be hammered down. The Council wants everyone in agreement for something, and they don’t think they can trust you.”
“What is—”
“I don’t know what their plans are, but we know they’re grand.”
“What’s bigger than the Merc Guild?”
“Taking over from all the other guilds and establishing their dominance over the galaxy?”
“You can’t be serious. How could they do that? Without support from the Cartography Guild, how could they move around?”
“Who says the Cartography Guild isn’t involved in their coup?”
Sansar thought furiously, trying to resolve the data she had with the new information. Most of the guilds didn’t have armed forces, so even though they might not like it, they wouldn’t be able to stop the Merc Guild. The Peacemakers were armed, but there were so few of them—by design—that they wouldn’t be much of a threat to Merc Guild rule. Still…something didn’t make sense.
“Why?” Sansar asked. “Why would the Merc Guild do that? Once they took over, wouldn’t that put them out of business? That could only lead to anarchy.”
“We don’t know,” the figure said. “With Peepo behind it, we’re sure it’s part of a grander plan, but we can’t foresee what the plan is.” It held up a hand. “This is a discussion for another time—my time here is short today.” It opened the door. “We’ve sent a message to your friends that they need to rescue you. You must delay the proceedings until they’re able to do so.”
“Rescue me from here?” Sansar asked. “How do you expect them to do that?”
“I don’t know,” the being said. “They’ll have to find a way.” The being slid out the door. “You must be ready when they make their attempt.”
“What about you?” Sansar called. “Will you help? Who are you? How do I get in touch with you?”
“I’ll do what I can, and I’ll be in touch if I’m able.” It paused before the door shut to add, “We’ve met before, you know.”
“We have?”
“Yes, and I believe you called me Smokey.” The door shut behind him.
Sansar’s thoughts raced back to a virtual reality bar on the Dark Net where an unknown entity had tried to warn her that someone was coming for her. She could picture the being she’d called Smokey because it had taken the shape of a pillar of smoke. If this was the Pendal’s second intervention—and the race’s third if what Nigel Shirazi had said was true—they were somehow invested in these proceedings. What did they have to gain by helping humanity—even if it was only with information, so far? She thought long and hard on it but didn’t have any answers by the time she finally fell asleep.
* * *
Cell Block 307A, Capital Planet
Two Besquith once again escorted Sansar to her tribunal room, and she sat without having to be told. She wouldn’t start by being antagonistic; there was little to gain by it, and she risked alienating—she smiled at the word—any of the Tribunal members who hadn’t already made up their minds as to her fate.
The Veetanho Speaker was obviously against her, along with her Besquith and Goka cronies. The MinSha, Flatar, and Tortantula representatives, if not against her, probably at least leaned that way. The Oogar were antagonistic toward everyone; it was in their nature. The Selroth were generally neutral toward things that happened among the air breathers. Maybe the Goltar rep would give her a fair hearing, just to oppose the Speaker, but that only left her with one member on her side.
It didn’t look good.
Leeto looked to her left and right then said, “Let us begin. Once again, we’re here for Case Number 9035768J, or what to do with the Human problem.”
The way she said it made Sansar’s hackles rise, but she forced herself to let it pass.
Seeing no disagreement, Leeto continued, “You should all have received the additional documents on the charges against the other three of Earth’s so-called ‘Horsemen,’ and I am ready to proceed.” Sansar raised her hand. “What?”
“I didn’t receive those documents. How am I supposed to defend myself if I don’t know what I’m charged with?”
The Veetanho gave its version of a smile. “I sent them two days ago. I can’t understand why you didn’t receive them.”
Sansar frowned. “It could have something to do with the fact that I haven’t had GalNet access in my cell in three days.”
“That’s most unfortunate,” Leeto replied. “Did you mention that to anyone?”
“Yes, I told the Besquith jailors about it on several occasions, every day.”
Leeto shrugged. “That is, of course, most unfortunate, but it was never brought to my attention. You know how forgetful Besquith can be.”
“They are very single-minded,” the Goka representative added.
The Besquith rep smiled, oblivious to the derogatory statements, showing several rows of teeth.
Sansar was too angry to be scared. “I still don’t have GalNet access now, here in this room.”
“Really?” Leeto asked. “Let me have a technician investigate the issue.” She paused, and, a few moments later, GalNet service was restored. A flood of information flowed to her.
Sansar saw she had several messages waiting. In addition to Leeto’s message, there were two from lawyers promising representation and a quick resolution of her case. Right. If only it were that easy.
She opened the message from Leeto and the charge sheet inside it. As expected, there were the charges against Asbaran Solutions for genocide and using weapons from outside the prohibited 10-mile limit, but they were also charged with using nuclear weapons on civilians on two separate planets—including the Besquith home world of Bestald—and a host of lesser charges. The Bestald one was obviously trumped up, although the Asbaran rep she’d talked to had insisted the nuclear weapon on Moorhouse had been used after they left.
Against the Cavaliers, there were some extremely serious charges that had statutes dating back to the Great War. What? The first charge was developing Canavar and using them in battle. Blue Skies Above! Was it really possible the Cavaliers had done that? If so, why hadn’t they shared that info? It had to be a lie…but there had to be enough truth in there somewhere for it to be a believable lie. They were also charged with operating forbidden technology in the form of whatever had powered and turned Jim’s Raknar into a functional weapon of war. Once again there was probably some truth to it, but what evidence they had would have to be seen.
Her eyebrows rose as she got to the Winged Hussars—they were charged with operating an artificial intelligence! How was that possible? Moreover, how was it possible that the Horde had missed out on the fact that the Hussars had developed that capability? Even the Horde, in their most secure facility, hadn’t been able to develop a fully-functional AI yet. They’d come close, but it still eluded them…for the moment. Sansar had no doubt they’d figure it out eventually, but she was annoyed they’d beaten her to it. She shook her head, realizing it was probably just another trumped up charge; if the Horde, with all their computer and hacking experience couldn’t do it, it was unlikely the Hussars had been able to, either.
Sansar already knew the charges against her Horde. Operating a Kahraman uplifting facility and uplifting a non-member race. She internally shrugged. Those charges, at least, were valid. The Horde had done those things. They hadn’t wanted to, but it had been a life-or-death decision. If they hadn’t uplifted the SalSha, they wouldn’t have been able to return to Earth in time to stop the biowarfare plague that had been turned loose on Earth’s mercenaries. Most of them would now probably be dead, along with their friends and fam
ilies, if she hadn’t made the decision to uplift the SalSha. She was guilty but fuck them! They’d forced her into making that decision.
Well, shit. Between them, the Horsemen were charged with just about every one of the really serious laws in the Union—all the ones they enforced, anyway—and, if the Horde’s case was an example, they’d actually done some of them. If the other Horsemen had actually done what they were accused of, she expected they’d probably been driven to it, like she had, but “being driven to break the law” probably wasn’t an excuse that would get her off.
She made a quick search on the penalties involved for breaking those laws and her shoulders slumped. Just about all of them indicated death was the appropriate penalty for any violation. She took a deep breath and blew it out, then shrugged. Well, at least they could only kill her once.
“Does the accused understand the charges?” Leeto asked, interrupting her reverie.
“Yes, I understand what we are accused of.”
“Good, then let’s begin. Regarding the charges against Cartwright’s Cavaliers…”
* * *
Cell Block 307A, Capital Planet
Sansar collapsed onto her bed, exhausted. For the third day in a row, she’d been forced to listen to witness after witness describe how bad a person Jim Cartwright was. She wasn’t sure any of the aliens had actually met him off of the battlefield, and it was obvious that losing to him had tainted their perspectives. A lot. He wasn’t the poster child of what a mercenary leader looked like, perhaps, but she’d always found him to be a pretty good guy.
Not so the aliens. To hear them tell it, he was Satan incarnate. After the last piece of evidence they’d presented today, though, she was starting to see where they were coming from. Leeto had ended with a video that had been taken in the Chimsa system. The scene had started with a Tortantula mass assault of a walled city, and she’d shivered, remembering what it felt like to be on the receiving end of one of those assaults.
A Fiery Sunset Page 24
