A Fiery Sunset Page 7
* * *
Operations, Golden Horde HQ, Uzbekistan, Earth
Sansar bristled as a Veetanho’s rat-like face appeared on one of Operation’s Tri-V screens.
“Guild Master Peepo just took over all of Earth’s main communications nets,” a tech said.
“Let me hear what the bitch has to say,” Sansar replied. The tech nodded and turned up the volume.
“…I believe the Buma erred in making first contact with you,” Peepo was saying; “you were not ready. You needed longer to mature as a civilization, to come together as a culture, and to learn to follow the rules and strictures of an advanced society.
“For your rulers have chosen not to follow the rules. They have used nuclear weapons on civilians. They have meddled with genetics, bringing back the horrors of the ancient Canavar and uplifting races before they were ready to join the Union. They have experimented with outlawed technologies. They do these things on their own, without bringing them before the ruling council of the Mercenary Guild or any of the other guilds. History has shown that one thing happens when leaders choose to go it alone and flout the rules of civilized society—war.
“Rather than allow this to continue, and to give these decisions legitimacy by allowing Humans to become full-fledged members of the Guild, the Mercenary Guild has chosen to act and has called for a Guild Tribunal. We have decided to step in and take over as rulers for your planet while the tribunal is held to determine the future of your membership. Perhaps you can resume self-rule again in the future, but for now, it is in the best interests of the Galactic Union for the Mercenary Guild to assume responsibility for your society, for your own good and to preclude any other…unfortunate incidents…from occurring.
“As of now, the mercenary industry of Earth is under new management. All mercenary organizations will be subsumed as direct forces of the Mercenary Guild, and the industry for making equipment for war will be supervised by members of the Guild until the Guild Tribunal can be held. This tribunal will be held in six of your weeks at Capital Planet, and I call upon all your mercenary leaders to step forward to be judged, especially your so-called Horsemen. All mercenary force leaders must come and give an accounting of their actions. If they do not present themselves for judgment, they will be declared rogue and hunted to the ends of the galaxy.
“I know this is unpleasant, but it must be done for the good of the galaxy and the Galactic Union. Please do not consider fighting us. You need only look to the skies; our ships are large enough for you to see them there. We hold your orbitals and will use whatever force is necessary to ensure you do as instructed. 100 years ago, an example was made of your nation-state of Iran, and death can, and will, come again from space for any who attack those carrying out this lawful action.
“We will be contacting your planetary leaders to inform them of what is required. All mercenary leaders are to present themselves in one week at your world government headquarters for transportation to Capital Planet for the tribunal.
“That is all.”
The screens blanked out or went back to their previous programming, leaving Sansar seething as she stared up at them. “You think you’re going to take our planet and enslave us, you oversized rat? As Blue Sky is my witness, I’ll kill you myself!”
* * * * *
Chapter Five
Assault Ship Fang and Claw, Earth Orbit, Solar System
“…All mercenary leaders are to present themselves in one week at your world government headquarters for transportation to Capital Planet for the tribunal. That is all.”
Peepo punched the button harder than she needed to, terminating the transmission, then stopped and closed her eyes. Despite the years of planning and the overwhelming amount of effort that had gone into the plan, the operation hadn’t gone as well as expected, even with her present to oversee it.
She meditated a moment, trying to determine where everything had gone wrong. Each of the attacks to decapitate the Four Horsemen had been flawlessly planned, but the execution had been lacking. Where before she’d assumed the failure was due to the incompetence of her subordinates—her planning had never been this wrong before—she was now having second thoughts.
Perhaps, just perhaps, it had been her planning that was wrong. No, the plan—both the overall strategic plan, as well as all the operational plans that had comprised it—had been well thought out and systematically arranged to bring about the downfall of the Horsemen. Yet, she’d just watched the operation to capture or destroy the Golden Horde go horribly wrong. The Humans hadn’t succeeded—the Horde had been destroyed in a nuclear blast—but it’d also cost her most of the army that’d been meant to help control the planet.
The plan was good; she knew the problem had been with the Humans. As she looked back at the other failed efforts to destroy the Horsemen, she could now see a similar thread running through all of them. The Humans hadn’t acted as predicted. It made no sense for the Horde to have blown itself up, but it had. None of the things the Hussars had done had made sense, either, but they’d worked.
The fault was hers after all.
The most competent commander she’d ever faced, Darius Shirazi, had been a genius at commanding troops and finding ways make his enemies beat themselves, by forcing them to do things that played to their weaknesses, not their strengths. If a force was good at defending, he’d draw them forth to make them attack. If an opposing force was good at assault, he’d keep them on the defensive. That made sound military sense, and Peepo had put his string of successes down to sound military planning. As she examined his career in her mind, though, she could see a new pattern emerging. Where Shirazi’d had his biggest wins, he’d done something that was either completely unexpected, something that had violated his own doctrine, or something that should have gone against his instincts for self-preservation.
What if it wasn’t so much that the Humans had been “lucky” as that they’d made their own luck by doing things their enemies hadn’t planned for? Yes—that was it. She’d failed to plan for all contingencies. She’d thrown away contingencies when they didn’t make sense. Although they hadn’t made sense to her, they’d made sense to this arrogant upstart of a race. Happily, all the contingencies were still in place for the tribunal, should they be forced to conduct one. If not, even better.
She opened her eyes and smiled for the first time all day. Even though the Horde had destroyed the majority of her combat shock troops, she was still in possession of their planet, and she was in no danger of losing it. While some of the Humans’ forces had fled rather than contest the space above their planet, they would be found. The majority had probably gone to Karma, and they wouldn’t like the reception they’d find there. Some might’ve gone to wherever the Hussars went when they disappeared, but that was only an inconvenience; they didn’t have enough ships to hold out against the forces she had under her control. She’d find them and ultimately destroy them.
The plan hadn’t worked as intended, but it had worked well enough. True, there was some mopping-up action that needed to take place, but the Humans’ backs had been broken. She held Earth. Once the trial was held, she’d be the planet’s governor, and everything else could be worked out. Better yet, she knew the Humans’ secret—and she wouldn’t underestimate them again.
“Your wishes, General Peepo?” asked her chief of staff, Captain Beeko, upon seeing her smile again.
“Although the battle didn’t go as planned, we’ve met our objectives, and it’s time to bring the Humans to heel,” Peepo replied. “Send the fleet units to capture the Humans’ colonies. Continue looking for the Hussars’ base and any ships that escaped. Destroy them when they’re found.”
“Yes, General. What about the planet now that we’ve lost the Tortantulas?”
“We still have enough forces to control their critical nodes,” Peepo replied. “I’ll take several companies of Besquith troops and meet with their leader. That way, there can be no chance of her misunderstanding my intentions. Send the rest
of the Besquith to pick up any of the Horsemen that were left behind, and after that, any of the other merc companies that survived the viruses. We need all of them contained before they can do something stupid like starting a resistance movement. Also, send a company of MinSha troops to each of their CASPer manufacturing plants and bring them under our control.”
“Yes, General.”
“What’s the status of the Depik assassin?”
“Their governor continues to say there are none available for contract,” the chief of staff replied.
“Have you ever heard of this before?”
“No, General, I haven’t.”
Peepo frowned. “Neither have I. Perhaps the Depik need to be reminded whose interests they serve.”
“Shall I send a task force of ships to remind them?”
“No, not yet. We’ll see how they end up playing this. I would prefer NOT to have a race of bloodthirsty assassins angry at me, all things considered. In the meantime, go ahead and hire the Zuul assassin to do the job with the Peacemaker; that Human needs to be put down before she amasses too much power with her guild.”
* * *
Assault Ship Fang and Claw, Earth Orbit, Solar System
“You’re to kill the Human Peacemaker named Jessica Francis,” Captain Beeko said.
“Why?” the Zuul known as Lmurr asked. “What’s the Human done to you?”
“That’s not your business. Suffice it to say she’s starting to make a nuisance of herself and is endangering plans we have in motion. Big plans.”
“If they’re big plans,” Lmurr replied, “then assuredly, there’s a big payday for successfully completing this mission.”
“Indeed, there’s a big payday for completing it. There’s also a similarly large penalty for not completing it, or for bungling the job.”
“And that would be?”
“Have you ever seen anyone eaten alive by Besquith?”
“No.”
“I have. And trust me, you do not want it to happen to you.”
* * *
EMS Bucephalus, Hyperspace
Jim floated in his stateroom and finished reading the last of the files—data transmitted to him just before the fleet jumped into hyperspace. The number of merc units seemed large, but it wasn’t. Of them, only three were more than a single company in strength, besides his own Cavaliers. Two were special mission units, with no real combat weight. He sighed and rubbed his temples. This is all we have? he silently asked the stateroom.
Splunk bounced by, chasing the remnants of the hyperspace device Drizz had given him. As the Hussar had told him, after it reprogrammed Bucephalus’ navigational computer, it’d destroyed itself. Captain Su explained that the computer didn’t hold a destination after you entered hyperspace. Apparently, however it worked its magic, you only needed it for the first few moments. Once in hyperspace, the device had blanked the file in the computer, then melted down.
Jim had given it to Splunk to experiment with. She took it apart, examined the workings, then abandoned it. Jim had put it back together and given it to her to play with, and she’d been using it as a toy ever since. It sailed across the room again. As an arboreal species, she was as happy in space as it seemed any could be. He’d seen some Humans who’d kept cats and birds on their starships. Both animals seemed to adapt well to both freefall and variable gravity situations. He marveled at just how at home Splunk was in freefall. It was something he’d done many times over the months since she’d saved him on her world, Kash-Kah.
“Maybe space is our home now, too,” he said quietly. The atmosphere recycling fans made enough noise she didn’t hear him, even with her ears. Was it true—had they lost Earth? Hard to lose something you hadn’t fought to keep, wasn’t it? The revelation that his girlfriend—his first-ever girlfriend—had been a government spy who’d only slept with him to get information on the Raknar was bad enough. Being forced to abandon his home world and run with his tail between his legs was worse.
Jim realized his pulse was racing, and his fists were clenched, and he forced himself to take a few calming breaths. At their height, Cartwright’s Cavaliers had consisted of three battalions of CASPer-armed troopers, and two support companies of APCs, dropships, and transports. After nearly three years of hard work, he’d gotten them back to a full battalion, and the first company of Second Battalion had just formed. Though short on support, it was almost half of what his father had to fight with at the height of their power. Even his father would have retreated, though, instead of being annihilated.
Cartwright’s Cavaliers had always been a heavy assault company. Their forte was hitting targets with fast, powerful attacks that overwhelmed their defenses. They often dropped from space in HALDs, High Altitude, Low Deploy maneuvers perfected by his grandfather. Jim had done them several times, and they scared the shit out of him every time. If his father, at his height, and the other companies of Earth would’ve had no chance against a vast alien armada, what chance did they have?
Zero, that’s what, he realized. Bucephalus, with four other mercenary ships attached, was blasting through hyperspace en route to the Winged Hussars’ secret base. Yet, what would he do when they got there? For better or worse, he’d stepped in and stopped Nigel Shirazi from going full-Rambo against the alien invaders, thus preserving a fighting force. Most were on their way to the Karma system, while he went to the Hussars to ask for help. What the hell was he supposed to say to convince Alexis Cromwell, the Hussars’ commander, to come and help them retake Earth?
The Cavaliers followed him, took his orders, and were fiercely loyal, despite his young age and non-merc persona. At first, they’d followed him because of his name, and the backing of his former First Sergeant, Murdoch. But after proving himself in battle, their faith and reliance on his command ability had grown steadily. Now he was in titular command of all the remaining merc units? What the fuck have I done, he wondered.
Nigel had yet to come over from Revenge, despite Jim’s invitation. The man was pissed off, of that there was little doubt. Jim needed to lance that boil before it exploded in his face. Yet, it really served no purpose to have a confrontation at this point. Maybe Nigel would calm down and come to his senses in the days left before they arrived at the Hussars’ Home. No matter what Nigel thought of him, Jim reminded himself that they were both Horsemen, and that carried a lot of weight with the other mercs.
It was near ship’s evening, so he pulled his uniform off and found a pair of shipboard pajamas in his bag. As he was changing, he saw he’d somehow activated the morphogenic tattoo on his stomach. The Raknar was there, an almost perfect image of the giant alien-made war machine he’d bartered for after a contract more than a year ago. He’d never understood how the blind MinSha tattoo artist had known about Jim’s Raknar, and the uncharacteristically green MinSha had disappeared before Jim could ask.
He floated in freefall, looking at the mecha, which was upside down from his perspective. The machine resembled a headless ape in many ways, and still Jim felt like it was looking up at him. Or did it look like it was falling? Falling, he thought.
“Oh, shit,” he said, and used his pinplants to access the ship’s computer. Whenever they were in orbit, Bucephalus’ data stores were refreshed from the Cavalier’s headquarters’ computer. It also had a huge amount of data copied from the Union’s GalNet, the much more powerful and extensive version of Earth’s AetherNet. He spent a minute combing through the files on the Raknar. Splunk had grown bored with her game and was snuggled in the storage niche she used as a sleeping space. She was, however, still awake, and her big blue eyes sparkled as she watched him.
Within an hour, he had what he was looking for. The information confirmed what he thought. “That’s crazy,” he said, shuddering at the very idea. But was it really crazy? No crazier than any other ideas he’d had over the last few years. If it worked, it could be what they needed to take back Earth.
He finally finished dressing, only just remembering to
turn the morphogenic tattoo back off, and turned off the compartments lights. Tiny marker lights remained on over the emergency equipment locker and the exit; both were things you didn’t want to be fumbling for in an emergency. He yawned with a tiny smile. Finally, maybe, an idea was forming. Splunk’s eyes caught the light from the exit marker and glowed slightly. “Goodnight, Splunk,” he said.
“Goodnight, Jim…
* * *
Emergence Point, New Warsaw System, Winged Hussars’ Home
“Bring the ship to combat footing,” Captain Su said from her command station in the CIC. All over Bucephalus the alert claxon sounded, and the command center lighting took on a reddish tinge. All the ship’s offensive and defensive stations were already manned. The crew had been called to General Quarters an hour prior in preparation for arriving at their destination, 170 hours after they’d left Earth.
“The clock reads one minute,” the navigator reported.
“All combat systems report ready,” the TacCom, or tactical commander reported. He directed the ship’s offensive and defensive systems, leaving the individual section leaders free to work their respective systems and the captain free to command the ship.
“Very good,” Captain Su said. She glanced over at Jim, who was strapped into a seat near her. It was an extra position on the CIC, a courtesy to the Cavaliers’ commander going back to the early days of Human mercs. Jim nodded, and she returned the gesture. “TacCom, do not, I repeat, do not activate shields upon emergence. That goes the same for targeting any vessels we spot.”