Dark Moon Arisen Page 2
“Only the cleaning staff, ma’am,” the MinSha replied. “I sent a platoon of MinSha to the cleaning company’s offices to…interview…the members of the group that was responsible for cleaning the office the last time. They will get answers.”
“So I can expect the members of my staff to recover quickly?” Peepo asked, looking at the Jeha.
“Yes,” Kr’ch’lt replied. “The nanobots have been deactivated, and we will check periodically to ensure they do not return. We will also check the cleaning crew. Your staff should recover very soon.”
Peepo looked back to the security officer. “What about listening devices? Have you looked to see if the cleaning crew left any of them?”
“Yes ma’am, we have,” Brantayl replied. “The room was clean.”
“Thank you,” Peepo said. “You are dismissed.”
The MinSha waved the Jeha out of the room before her and shut the door as she exited.
“Well,” Peepo announced to the rest of the staff as she took her seat, “hopefully that will take care of one of our issues. What other things need to be decided today?”
Her chief of staff, Captain Beeko, raised a hand. “There are some questions about when you think the Humans will recognize the obvious and give up?”
“Give up?” Peepo asked.
“Yes, give up,” Lieutenant General Chirbayl replied. “We have had their planet under occupation for some time now, yet there is only a minimal amount of acquiescence to our wishes. They do not act like a beaten or subjugated race. They continue to fight us at every turn. Where we are able to get them to do what we want, they often find ways to sabotage it.” The MinSha officer shook his head. “When will they finally give up and recognize they are beaten?”
“The Humans?” Peepo asked. “Never.” A burst of exclamations met her pronouncement, and she raised a hand to get their attention. “Never, that is, while the Four Horsemen remain uncaptured. Having those nuisances running around gives them the one thing they need to continue their resistance—hope. If you had ever looked into their history, you would have found that is the one thing that keeps them going. Where there is hope, they will fight.”
Her eyes swept the table. “We can beat them down, over time, without killing the Four Horsemen, and I have already seen some of the pockets of resistance beginning to die down, but to totally subjugate them, we need to remove their hope.” She turned to the lone HecSha at the table. “What is the status of the operation to locate their base?”
General ShoFra shook his flat, wide head. “We have not made any progress, as we have not heard anything from the SooSha we hired. We expected it to make contact by now, but it is late returning.”
“And?”
“I do not understand what you are asking, General Peepo.”
“I’m asking what other plans you had in place in case the SooSha failed in its attempt to locate the Human base. Certainly you did not put all of your nestlings in one carryall? You have other operations also underway?”
“But General, it was a SooSha! They never fail! And the rate they charge, they had better not.”
“Many things tend to happen with the Humans that ‘never’ happen,” Peepo said, her gaze taking in all of her staff. “Just like any operation, I expect you to have backup plans, and backup plans for them in case those plans fail. The next person who fails to do so will be stationed on an outpost overlooking a neutron star. Am I clear on this?”
Her staff signaled their assent, and in many cases, their submission as well.
“Good,” Peepo continued. “Send another Grimm, send other spies, do whatever it takes! Find the base. Now! The sooner this is done, the faster we can subjugate the Humans.”
“Yes, General Peepo,” General ShoFra said again, his reptilian head nodding. “It shall be done as you command.”
“Very well,” General Peepo said, working to control her breathing. “What else needs my attention today?”
“There is good news from Golara Prime,” Lieutenant General Beelel said. An Altar, his antennae quivered in excitement. “All is in readiness there. All six fleets have been assembled and stand ready to assault the Human colonies. We had to substitute some additional Bakulu units in place of the Izlian ones, but they have arrived and are ready for the mission.”
“Why did you have to replace the Izlian units?”
“The loss of Admiral Omega has them all in mourning, and they have withdrawn to their home world for his funeral services. With the addition of the Bakulu, we have enough units to conduct the operations you have planned.”
“Outstanding!” Peepo exclaimed, happy to have one of her staff report positive results for a change. “Send them orders to begin the attack at once. When the Horsemen see their colonies being taken from them, and their empire collapsing all around them, they will have no other choice but to meet us in battle or agree to our demands. This is the beginning of the end for them!”
* * *
Outside SOGA HQ, Sao Paulo, Brazil, Earth
Thirty minutes later, as the meeting began to break up, the fly on the window withdrew the thin wire it had worked through a small crack in the window’s caulking. One hundred and one stories up, it didn’t get inspected very often. The little insect walked the rest of the way to the roof and across to the other side of the building, where it began transmitting. After a series of burst transmissions, the creature began disassembling, and tiny pieces, smaller than most people could see unaided, blew off in the strong winds at that altitude, never to be found again.
* * * * *
Chapter One
Gray Wolves’ Hideout, Houston, Texas, Earth
“The bug is transmitting,” Corporal Bolormaa Enkh reported, looking up from her console.
“Anything good?” Major Good asked, coming to stand by her. It wasn’t hard—unlike their previous facility in Tashkent, the monitoring station in the Gray Wolves’ Houston hideout wasn’t much larger than a good-sized closet and only held two consoles. Extremely capable ones, of course, but only having two operators severely hindered the amount of intelligence his section was able to process. The movement of large quantities of black market materials outside the door—accompanied by a tremendous amount of thunderous and creative swearing—didn’t help the process.
At least he didn’t have to watch over his shoulder for Depik assassins anymore; now he only had to worry about the Besquith enforcers working for the Mercenary Guild finding their station. That was probably worse, he decided as he waited—the corporal’s eyes were closed; she was parsing the data with her pinplants—death at the hands of a Depik would most likely be quick. The Besquith would take a while to kill you, and you wouldn’t be having much fun while you waited for death to claim you.
“Okay, got it,” the corporal said, opening her eyes. “They’re moving on the colonies.” She pushed a file to the major via her pinplants.
“The Golara system again, eh?” he asked as he went through the information. He turned to the other being in the room with them. “The Merc Guild is launching their attack. They are sending a number of fleets—at least six, although a seventh fleet was mentioned—to assault our colonies. They didn’t say whether their intention was to destroy them, occupy them, or relocate the colonists, but either way, we’re going to have to do something to stop them.”
“I suspect that is exactly what Peepo would like you to do,” the alien said in a harsh whisper from the depths of its hooded figure. “You are in a no-win situation. You cannot let the Merc Guild capture or destroy the only other free Humans in the galaxy; however, to attempt to do battle with their fleets is sure to result in the destruction of the Winged Hussars. Without the Hussars, the other Human mercenary units, both Horsemen and not, will be unable to move around the galaxy and will be quickly swept up. This could easily be the end of your off-planet resistance.”
“That’s almost exactly what Peepo said.”
“I do not think she is far from the truth in this matter,” the
figure whispered. “Peepo excels in putting her opponents into no-win situations, and, as I already noted, she has you in one now.”
“Were you able to get any intel on the fleet massing at Golara?”
“Yes. We had a ship go through the system. The fleet there is…extensive. Even if they break it up into six or seven task forces, there are enough battleships for all of them to have at least one. If your forces attempt to do battle with them, the results are unlikely to be beneficial.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Major Good asked. “I have to report this to my commander and the rest of the Four Horsemen, and when I do, they are likely to act on the information. What should I tell them?”
“Yes, you have to report it, and I will make the exchange for you as I promised. I will also include the imagery our ship obtained in the Golara system. As to what to tell them, did the Merc Guild reveal any other intentions that could be used against them? Did they say which colonies they were attacking?”
“No they didn’t, but I suspect it will be the ones closest to Golara.”
“Maybe…and maybe not,” the figure whispered. “The fleet base at Golara Prime is in a unique nexus position, where their fleets can depart on many headings. The guild will be looking to capture the most important colonies first—those that have either resources, an advantageous location, or are the most heavily populated. Whichever colonies they think are the most important to you, you can be sure those are the ones they will attack.”
“Well, I hope Colonel Enkh and the rest of the Horsemen can figure out a way to save the colonies,” Major Good said, “because you’re right—the Merc Guild will chew them up if they try to split their forces. Each fleet has at least one battleship along with it. When they said they were emptying the shipyard, they weren’t kidding.”
Corporal Enkh handed a computer chip to the major, who handed it to the Pendal in turn. “Here’s all the data we have,” Major Good said. “If you hurry, you can still get it to the captain before he leaves.”
* * *
Cantina Arriba, San Antonio, Texas, Earth
“Captain Kr’nh’gk,” the Pendal whispered, coming up from behind the Jeha at the noisy café. Although the alien had been watching for him, the Jeha hadn’t seen him approach, and the giant millipede sprang from his chair. Had anyone been watching, they would probably have attributed it to getting up to meet a friend, or maybe the Jehas’ rather jumpy natures, not the fact that Captain Kr’nh’gk was having a clandestine meeting in plain sight at one of the trendier new restaurants on San Antonio’s Riverwalk. “It is good to see you again.”
The Jeha’s head swiveled back and forth, his eye stalks turning even faster as he sat back down.
“Peace,” the Pendal said, holding up a hand and willing it to be so, and the Jeha’s frenetic motions lost some of their energy. “This is a beautiful venue, is it not?” He knew the Jeha was one of the races that found the sight of his face to be…upsetting, so he turned and scanned the Humans and off-world people walking along the pathway next to the San Antonio River. There were no threats approaching from that direction, he noted, and the Jeha couldn’t see his face anymore, which put him further at ease.
“You’re late,” the Jeha said, bending over the table as he contracted his various skeletal plates. The Jeha was still scared of him, and the large millipede-like alien unconsciously tried to make himself a smaller target.
“The traffic between Houston and San Antonio at this time of day is heavy…especially when you have to avoid the Besquith.”
“The Besquith are here?” the Jeha asked, his eye stalks twitching from side to side again.
“No,” the Pendal said. “And no, I wasn’t followed,” he added, answering the next question the Jeha was going to ask.
“How do you know?”
“I know!” the Pendal hissed with enough conviction that the Jeha accepted it as fact. “It would help if you tried not to look as if everyone were about to attack you.” He stifled his race’s version of a sigh, realizing that wasn’t going to happen—the Jeha was too skittish to be an effective spy—and looked at the slate his lower left arm held. “My,” he said, as loud as he could, “look at the time. I hadn’t realized it was this late.” He stood up and offered the Jeha a hand. “Have a safe journey.”
The Jeha took his hand, and he slid two computer chips into Captain Kr’nh’gk’s claw. The Jeha’s eye stalks were in rapid motion again so the Pendal didn’t delay. He turned and walked down to the riverwalk, using his senses to scan for pursuit. There was none. He glanced back to the Jeha, who was just sitting back down at the table. Although he doubted any of the Humans would notice, anyone familiar with the Jeha race would realize how nervous the Jeha was. The Pendal sighed. Good help was so hard to find.
* * * * *
Chapter Two
Karma Upsilon 4, Decaying Solar Orbit, New Warsaw System
Jim watched from a few kilometers away as 12 Winged Hussars tugs pushed. Plumes of high intensity radioactive exhaust extended for 100 kilometers behind each of the blocky pushers. How many million tons of force are they exerting? he wondered. They’d been at it for days, with tankers coming in every six hours to refuel them, yet the asteroid showed no apparent change from all that titanic force.
He glanced at the shuttle’s navigational computer, which was observing the asteroid by radar. Despite the lack of visual evidence to the contrary, the computer plot showed the truth—a ring projecting the orbit around the ancient red giant star. Jim had arranged to be in space when the path of the asteroid no longer ended in the star, and, as he watched, the line indicating the asteroid’s path finally moved off the star. In fact, it seemed to leap out of the star, forming an elipse where it cleared the star’s photosphere. That initial jump done, the movement was again slower and slower as the orbit climbed higher above the star. He knew a bunch of little beings who’d be happy about that news.
The tugs pushed for another hour, then stopped to reposition. Two more hours of pushing this way, then that way, and the job was done. The orbit was on the edge of being too close to the star at its perihelion, but it was high enough, and stable. The computer also insisted there would be no collisions with the thousands of asteroids already in orbit.
“Commander Cartwright,” the head of the tug fleet transmitted.
“Go ahead.”
“It’s as good as Commander Cromwell authorized us to do. It should be safe now.”
“My thanks, and respects to Commander Cromwell for the efforts.” He changed frequency. “This is Cartwright Actual,” he transmitted. “Bring them in.”
The squadron of bulk haulers, which had been holding position nearby, accelerated toward the asteroid. “I guess I can’t call it Karma Upsilon 4 anymore,” he said.
“Doesn’t make sense now,
“That’s a good idea,” he said. Using his pinplants, he accessed the shuttle’s navigational system and updated the designation of his asteroid base to just Upsilon.
“PENDING,” the computer said. Jim nodded in appreciation; the Winged Hussars’ computer systems were elegant. His renaming update on their navigational system was sent up to a central authority who reviewed it. The attention to detail was amazing, and also a little staggering. “DESIGNATION UPDATE—UPSILON.”
“There you go, Splunk,” he said. She gave a little coo and kept tinkering with the system.
The ships were slowing to dock, so he programmed his shuttle to dock, too. It only took a few minutes for the shuttle’s autopilot to accomplish the maneuver. Once again, a sign of the level of automation the Winged Hussars were capable of.
Inside Upsilon, Jim oversaw the unloading of the transporters. They held 20 Raknar, the 20,000-year-old war machines the Dusman once used against the Kahraman in a nearly cataclysmic war. He was sure they were the key
to winning this war, or at least a big part of that key. The Raknar floated across the main transfer bay, one after another. They looked strange in transport configuration. Their arms were folded back behind them, and their legs bent backwards at the knees so that the bottoms of the feet and hands interlocked. Pretty compact for a 100-foot tall, 1,000-ton mecha.
He followed one along as a crew of his Cavaliers’ technicians handled the transfer. The Raknar were being fitted into huge frames scaled for their use. Upsilon had once been a facility for working on the machines, something he’d gambled on when he’d bought the place. At more than a mile on a side, he hadn’t explored 1/10th of the asteroid, so he had no idea what materials might have survived from that time. The frames, sure, but they were little more than huge metal arms that could be locked to hold a Raknar.
Splunk floated next to him, her tinted visors floating on a tether. She didn’t need them in the relatively dark interior of the bay. Her bright, blue-on-blue eyes watched the Raknar with keen intensity. She’d been the key to figuring out a Raknar several years ago. He’d only just come to understand the full meaning of that. She was a sort of biological interface with the robot, almost a living haptic suit.
There was another Raknar coming, recovered by the team of Asbaran Solutions who’d rescued Sansar Enkh from Capital. They’d seen it, an unusual assault model which was a four-legged quadruped, instead of the more common ape-like bipedal versions he had here. They’d seen it and stolen it. The Raknar was almost pristine. They’d found a Tri-V image in the cockpit—a four-armed humanoid alien known as a Lumar with a Fae riding on its shoulder, just like Splunk liked riding Jim’s. The Lumar had to be the missing Dusman.
Jim found that surprising, though. The Lumar were indeed a merc race, like Humans and 36 other races. Only, they weren’t the smartest. In fact, the Lumar were rather…dense. Great fighters and tough to kill, they were often utilized as defensive units and could be found as security all over the Galactic Union. But Lumar building and manning the Raknar? It didn’t quite fit. “Maybe something catastrophic happened at the end of the war,” Jim wondered.