For a Few Credits More: More Stories from the Four Horsemen Universe (The Revelations Cycle Book 7) Read online

  He glanced at his slate. “Ah, yes, I do have them.”

  “Good. As you can see, the Sidar civilians were in the middle of the firefights. Most were killed by HEAT rounds, but many died to lasers and Zuul rockets.”

  “That, too, is in the examination.”

  “I mentioned a while ago that something about some of the firefights bothered me.”

  “Yes, what was it?”

  * * *

  “Sunray?”

  “Yes, Warrant Officer?” I had had nothing to do but watch as my remaining troopers gathered what evidence they could.

  “Been thinking about the booby traps some.”

  “Booby traps?”

  “The ones that slowed us in the mines.”

  “Right. What about them.”

  “They were all IEDs using mining plastique.”

  “None of them military designs?”

  “Not that we found.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, there’s another thing I’ve been thinking on. I read all the reports about the Zuul before coming here.”

  “Me too.”

  “They’re smart and skilled, but here they fought dumb.”

  “So did we.”

  “We were surprised…”

  “You think they were just as surprised. And that means all of this was done by the Sidar.”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  “He was wrong, though I didn’t realize it until after your forensic team arrived, and we were taken into custody. Or rather, he was half-right.”

  “You think the Zuul knew more than he thought?”

  “No. They were even more blind-sided than we were. He was right on that. Had they had the time, they would have barricaded us in the Zuparti quarters.”

  “But they did.”

  “Not really. That barricade only had a detachment. They called them ‘paws.’ One paw to hold us down, that’s it. If they were serious, they’d have had more in front of us. During the battle, I thought they had simply tried to get us to overcommit to the mines and therefore outnumber us in the common areas, but what really happened was the events surprised them. We beat them in detail. Their tactics rely on numbers and surrounding the foe, but they never had the chance to do it.”

  He rotated his tail around as he considered that.

  “No matter how surprised they were, though, when the firing started, they fulfilled their contract. Whatever else you decide, I wish that to be reported to the Mercenary Guild.”

  “Why does that matter to you? And how can you say they fulfilled their contract? The creatures they were to defend all died.”

  “They’re victims as much as we are. They fulfilled the contract the Sidar actually wanted, not the one they thought they were fighting for.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Let me ask you a few questions.”

  “Very well.”

  “First, your forensic team has our data cubes, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you have found most have no data at all. Only a few of them kept their records.”

  “That is so.”

  “The most obvious conclusion to arrive at is we went berserk and deleted the data in an attempt to cover up the massacre, right? Although the Mercenary Guild informs all units that the Peacemakers enact draconian penalties when a unit goes rogue, it does happen.”

  “On occasion.”

  “And if that’s what you conclude, then how likely is Anathiola’s request that the station be ceded to the Sidar.”

  “Likely, actually. There’s precedent for such a decision. In fact, there’s almost no other ruling I could make at this time.”

  “That’s what I thought. Now, in this instance, what would that mean?”

  “I do not understand the question.”

  “There are no other habitations in Cimaron-283133 currently, right?”

  “Ah, yes, I see. If the Sidar are the sole owners of all habitations in the system, then they can claim it entirely for their own.”

  “However, if two races hold the system jointly, they cannot exclude other races, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  It took a long moment for the Peacemaker to process the ramifications. “You are suggesting the Sidar sacrificed an entire colony in order to lay claim to this system? Preposterous. There’s nothing in this system that valuable.”

  “Not exactly, and I think you could be wrong.”

  “Not exactly? And what do you mean, I could be wrong.”

  “You made the same mistake Master Warrant Russell made. The Sidar want control of this system, it’s true, but I don’t think the Sidar arranged this whole incident alone. At the same time the virus shut off our communications, our data cores were erased.”

  He circled his tail. “If, indeed, a virus eliminated all of your communications and your data core, it would seem more likely that you yourselves introduced the virus in order to protect yourselves than for the Sidar to have introduced one that helped you kill their own people.”

  “You’re right. The Sidar never had a chance to insert a virus because we paid for protection from Sidar code. Nor was it the Zuul. We protected ourselves from their code, too.”

  “Those are standard precautions.”

  “Exactly. That leaves three possibilities. Ourselves, the Pendal Cartographers, and the Zuparti. Of these, we can exclude the Pendal, unless they are likely to volunteer for suicide missions where their species or guild gain no advantage.”

  “Logical. That would make me suspect you.”

  “Yes, and I don’t blame you. However, I will point something out.”

  “Oh?”

  “Were our data cubes the only data that was wiped clean?”

  He swiped through his pad, looking at the forensic report.

  “Yes. All of the Sidar and Zuparti computers seem to have all their data. The personal slates of all those in the station had varying damage, but they were not erased. In fact, many recorded parts of the firefight.”

  “Does that footage match what I described?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thought so. Well, there’s one other computer.”

  “Oh?

  “The astrographical one in the observatory. And all its data is gone, right?”

  He consulted his slate. “Yes. That is interesting.”

  “For two reasons.”

  “Oh?”

  “That computer was by far the most powerful one at the station. It’s the only one with the processing power to possibly bypass our security.”

  “Perhaps. And the second thing?”

  “What’s the only valuable data on an astrographical computer?”

  “Processing from the telescopes, I suppose.”

  “Exactly so.”

  “You’re suggesting the Sidar saw something that made the system valuable enough for this?”

  “Not the Sidar alone.”

  “Oh?”

  “The astrographical computer could bypass our security, but not quickly.”

  “So?”

  “So, the only time any of our troops was in range of communications with that computer, which was shielded for data protection, was when Section 11 went into the observatory.”

  “That’s hardly conclusive.”

  “True, but when did Section 11 stop communicating?”

  He looked through the recording of my testimony on the slate. “Right after going into the observatory.”

  “Exactly. And it was only after the rest of us proceeded into the Sidar quarters that our CASPer data cores and communications became corrupted. When we were in close range of 11’s corrupted CASPers.”

  “How could they anticipate you would enter the observatory to let the virus attack?”

  “We had to clear the common area, meaning we’d have to visit the observatory at some point. Then the virus would spread.”

  “I suppose.”

  “All of the surviving data
is from CASPers that were never in range of the virus. Nor did we ever communicate to the troopers in those CASPers.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because it’s all from CASPers of dead troopers. Even the wounded and special section CASPers were corrupted before we realized what was happening. Check the data yourself.”

  Again, he consulted his slate and his tail drooped. “It’s completely circumstantial.”

  “But it’s plausible.”

  “Not really. You yourself said the astrographical computer would need time, and it never had it.”

  “Yes. It would need time if it didn’t have a vulnerability to exploit.”

  “Your systems have a vulnerability?”

  “I think one was introduced.”

  “Introduced?”

  “Yes. I think the Zuparti opened a back door into our CASPers.”

  “Again with the Zuparti. I don’t see any advantage here for them.”

  “They’re the only ones with the resources and opportunity to create the back door.”

  “Not your own troopers?”

  “Nope. The handshaking with the astrographical computer had to happen too quickly, and we never had access to the observatory. In fact, only about 10 creatures had access to the observatory: the Zuparti and Sidar scientists and the Cartography Guild.”

  “That would not be uncommon for such observatories, in my experience.”

  “Exactly. The Sidar could not have introduced the opening. Nor could the Zuul. The Pendal had no reason. None of my troops ever had access. Only the Zuparti had access to both the astrographical computer and our systems.”

  He moved his tail back and forth rapidly. “It still makes no sense.”

  “It does if they saw something that’s valuable enough. Something conveniently erased from the astrographical computer.”

  “F11 or red diamonds would be the only things.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But there are no sources of either anywhere around there.”

  “None that we know of. But I’ll bet there’s one only the Sidar and Zuul know about. And that’s why Sidar lasers ‘accidentally’ killed the Pendal. Otherwise, they report this find to their guild.”

  “Assuming this tale bears any relation to the truth, I still don’t see how the Zuparti gain.”

  “With shared control of Cimaron-283133-6A, what’s to stop other races from following up when the Sidar and Zuparti start mining whatever this prize might be.”

  “Nothing.”

  “But if only one of the two races holds clear title?”

  “Then that race would hold title to that prize. Yes, I see how the Sidar benefit.”

  “I think that the Zuparti and Sidar negotiated a deal where the Sidar give them a share, which they could do without ceding sovereignty.”

  “Yes, they could.”

  “And it’s why we were the killers,” I spat out.

  “Explain.”

  “We’re new. We’ve no real track record. There’s no long history, like with the Zuul, of successful contracts. You’d have no reason not to believe we went rogue, right?”

  “I still have no real reason.”

  “Why did you come here?”

  “What?”

  “Why did you come here? You told me earlier.”

  “Because Anathiola requested it.”

  “And so did Kukuluki.”

  “Yes. Which was odd.”

  “If you hadn’t come here what would have happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Right. The Sidar and Zuparti would share the system and the bodies would be spaced, but nothing else would change. The only punishment might be the Cartographers slapping some fines for their dead Pendal. The Peacemakers don’t really care about things this small.”

  “That’s true.” His tail drooped. “My superiors suggested I just ignore the request.”

  “But you wanted to prove yourself.”

  The drooped tail twitched. “Yes,” he said softly.

  “By coming here you have to make a decision. Every precedent I know of says you have to execute me and my platoon, fine the rest of my company, and give the Sidar title to the system because it was the Zuparti’s mercs that went rogue.”

  I paused.

  “And now you know why I’d as soon you threw me, Anathiola, and Kukuluki out of an airlock. Those two surely know what’s going on, and I surely deserve it, after getting more than half of my platoon killed. My only hope is you don’t kill the rest of my platoon. And I will fucking hate to see Anathiola and Kukuluki profit.”

  His tail twitched, but mostly remained drooping. “I don’t know why, Lieutenant, but I believe you. About all of it.”

  “The truth can sometimes be convincing. But it doesn’t matter because no one else will. We’ve had too much time to create whatever evidence we want to fool your investigators. Our data cores are slag, and the precedents are too clear.”

  “Yes. And if I dramatically change the precedent…”

  “That might encourage other mercenary groups to turn rogue.”

  “Yes.”

  He pondered things as his tail lashed about, getting more violent as he worked through things. Finally, it stopped and for the first time, I saw him bare his teeth. “Anathiola, Kukuluki, please return. I have made my judgement,” he growled into a communicator.

  They returned almost immediately. They radiated anticipation.

  “First,” the Cochkala began, “I will judge on the Zuul. It is a tad unusual, but I will report to the Mercenary Guild that they have fulfilled this contract.” His tail waved away the Sidar’s incipient protest. “Yes, I know that will cost your people a bonus, and I know they did not actually protect all of your species. However, I find no fault in their actions, and they fought until completely eliminated. For the record, I specify this as a unique change from precedent intended in no way to influence future decisions.”

  Anathiola folded his wings. He was not happy, but he still anticipated the great prize.

  “Precedent dictates the Sidar should receive full and complete title to the moon Cimaron-283133-6A. This precedent exists for good and important reasons. No race should hire a mercenary unit and then use that unit to eliminate another race’s presence in a situation where covenants between the races dictate shared exploitation of resources. Therefore, I judge in favor of the Sidar.”

  Anathiola and Kukuluki both quivered in excitement. The prize was theirs. I shrunk into myself.

  Then the Peacemaker continued.

  “However, Cimaron-283133-6A is a special case. The conflict here spread to members of the Cartography Guild. I find no evidence supporting the fault of one race or another in the deaths of the two Pendal assigned here. Therefore, I choose to assess no penalty at this time, though should new evidence arise, I leave this decision open to future Peacemakers.”

  Suddenly, hope filled me and I could breathe again.

  “I also find that the Cartography Guild has a legitimate and important interest in the Cimaron-283133 system. I am sympathetic to the death of its members and wish their research be continued. Since Cimaron-283133-6A now belongs to the Sidar, I assign to the Pendal any moon, planet, or asteroid of their choosing to set up a new research station, and that station is to include open and free access to the Cartography Guild.”

  Anathiola and Kukuluki looked stunned. The Cochkala’s tail twitched as their expressions confirmed my allegations more than anything I could have ever said. The look on their faces made what was coming completely worthwhile.

  He forestalled any protest they might have had by continuing remorselessly. “Now I turn to the Human mercenary company…

  * * *

  “Thank you, Peacemaker.”

  The Peacemaker wrapped itself with its tail. “I do not deserve your thanks. You were right. I regret knowing what happened, and what I must do.”

  “You have no choice. You cannot open the door, even a little, for mercenaries
to overstep their bounds. Even so, you saved my platoon. And at least neither the Sidar nor Zuparti will benefit.”

  “It was the best I could do.”

  “I know. And I did get one message from my Colonel.”

  “Yes,” the Peacemaker responded. “It said, ‘tenacious and versatile.’ Nothing else.”

  “Nothing else was needed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s our company motto. The Queen Elizabeth’s Own Foresters never stops, and it always figures out a way. In this case, to get justice.”

  “Ah.”

  He paused.

  “I understand your species clasps forepaws at certain times.”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “I think this is one of those times.” He stretched out his paw before me until I shook it. He then turned around and left the airlock. When the hatch closed he turned back to look through the window before gesturing.

  The outer door opened…

  # # # # #

  BOSS by Scott Moon

  ULTRA MAX STATION

  Johnny Boss looked across the interior of the rented assault ship. The broker had spent an hour describing how reliable it was for a planetary assault, and Johnny hadn’t argued. The fewer people who knew about this highly illegal insanity the better. Infiltrating an Ultra Max Prison had nothing to do with a planet in the traditional sense.

  He wasn’t sure if he had talked his XO, Gabriel Davenport, into the scheme, or if it had been the other way around.

  The last three contracts he’d secured for the Ogre Fist Company (OFC, LLC) had made 10% profit. Problem was, he needed 75% to pay back money he’d borrowed to repair and upgrade the CASPer mechas in his unit. He needed everyone functioning at full capacity on every mission. Davenport had disagreed, as always, and claimed it’d be smarter to get special upgrades for the best performers in the OFC.

  “Everyone wins or everyone dies in this unit,” Johnny said.

  Davenport snorted. “Idealists die first, Boss.”

  “Tacticians lead from the rear,” Johnny retorted, holding the XO’s gaze.

  A moment passed. “Not this tactician.” He shifted his weight, then tightened something on the cuirass of his armor.