by Daniel Gibbs
Miri couldn't stop herself from wincing at the word "gallows." Visions of Lowery, the camp, Christopher Tobay, and Annette Zens, filled her. She remembered their slow, horrible deaths, and teared up as raw guilt crashed through her heavy heart.
"I'm sorry," Felix said. "Looks like I touched a nerve there." He swallowed. "Saw someone hung, didn't you?"
"Yes," she answered hoarsely. "Two courageous, kind people, who trusted a fellow sufferer with their plans for freedom."
"And?"
"They died slowly for their mistake."
Felix's mouth hung open. "Christ Almighty," he said. "You were playing for high stakes, weren't you?"
It was for the mission. For years, she'd repeated those five words over and over. When the League fled Lowery after their horrible defeat at New Arabia, the loss she enabled, it'd seemed to justify everything. That feeling lasted only a short time, though. Then the nightmares began, where the specters of those she'd condemned to death or deportation haunted her, reminding her of the suffering she'd caused them.
"I was. And I prevailed. But success… success does not cleanse the soul of guilt," Miri replied. She turned away.
"I've been there," Felix called out. "You're not the only one. I've killed too."
"In battle. What I did, what I did was much worse." She spoke those words and continued to the room she'd been given, suddenly feeling very, very tired.
Linh's work crew didn't disappoint Tia. They moved with practiced thoroughness, cataloging all of the damage from the Tash'vakal attack while she looked on.
As enjoyable as a sight it was, Tia couldn't stop her frustrated, irritated feelings over this situation. Henry, damn him, was right about the stakes. Getting Gaon to Lusitania was their best bet. But Tia felt like he wasn't as objective about it as he should be. Not with Jules Rothbard's fate on the line, and not with Gaon identifying the League as behind the attacks. Becoming an independent trader, even entering League space on contracts, had not diminished the traditional enmity he felt for them. Now she worried that the chance to save a childhood friend and stick it to the League was clouding his judgment.
The worst thing, the absolute worst thing, is that he's right, and I know he's right. The League's after us now because of Miri Gaon, and they won't accept "we dropped her off at Trinidad and hightailed it" if we run into them. Not if they want to silence her.
Thinking of the League made Tia's fists clench. They had a lot to answer for with her people. Engineering their revolution, then warning the megacorps about it, crushing the hopes of her abused, suffering people. The only thing good about it was that it'd opened Tia's eyes to the nature of the powerful. They cared only for themselves. The League, for all its rhetoric, was no different. Maybe even worse, given the scope of their lies. We should have known better. The oligarchs lied to us too.
"Someone's moody today." Hearing Linh's voice prompted Tia to turn her head. "Henry and I have made arrangements," she said. "And he's off to hire that fetch tech for your crew. He'll make her day."
"You think she'll be worth it, given what we can afford?"
"She's one of the good ones," Linh assured her. "So, want to get a drink tonight? I've got a box of Thanh we took off a ruined transport, proper salvage."
"Maybe. If anything, it'll remind me that not all of my old comrades are dead or surrendering to our oppressors."
Linh shook her head fervently and lifted her right arm. "They took my arm and my pride, Tia. I'd have died if you hadn't gotten the tourniquet on in time, and they'd have taken me if you hadn't carried me to the extraction point. I know how much you wanted to stay and fight…"
Again, the furious sounds of a vicious urban battle filled Tia's head, brought up by her dear comrade's words. "I didn't get you all the way there," she said. "The mortar blast..."
Linh nodded. "You're lucky you still have all of your meaty bits, Comrade." She thumped her organic left fist against her metal right arm.
"As I recall, I'm lucky to be alive."
"The sad thing is, you know who pulled us to the extraction point?"
"Felipe." Tia swallowed and nodded. "To think even he's surrendering now. And going over to the League, when he damn well knows they're the reason we failed. Justifying their betrayal, even."
"I threw him out before he tried that," Linh said. "I almost want to ask how…"
"Something about the League having to beat the Coalition and make the workers' revolution possible beyond Hestia." Tia snarled. "Even though they're worse than the Coalition. They oppress workers even more viciously than they are on Hestia. I've seen it."
Linh shook her head and let out a sigh. "Maybe we need to work through that Thanh to drown the memories. But right now, I'd better see to—"
"Chief!"
The voice was not human nor entirely natural. Linh's Matrinad crewmember came up. Through the faceplate of his atmosphere helmet, Tia could see the dark pink and red scales of his skin and the almost entirely black eyes, like that of a dolphin mixed with a human. He was gripping something in his right hand.
"Crenan, what is it?" Linh asked.
The Matrinad opened the hand. Inside was a stubby piece of metal. "I found it attached in the stern of the ship, near the engines," he said through his helmet vocoder, which made the English sound tinny and stilted. Tia figured the vocoder was translating from the Matrinad's speech. "It doesn't look like any shrapnel I’ve seen before."
"No, it doesn't." Linh took the object and looked it over.
Tia noticed her expression darken. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"This is a micro-QET," she said, pronouncing "QET" as "Kwet." "That is a quantum entanglement transceiver. Anyone with the right quantum signature and their own QET can read the location of this thing."
"A tracker," Tia said. "This is how the Tash'vakal found us."
"Oh, I'd bet my month's salary on it, Tia." Linh gave her a dark look. "Now whoever did it knows you're here, on Trinidad."
"And they'll be coming," Tia sighed. Things were definitely not going to get better.
26
After Jastavi's image disappeared from his desk's computer screen, Chantavit Li scowled and contemplated the unfairness of the universe.
They were on the cusp of a success that would shake the galaxy. Victory over the reactionaries, the throwbacks, the superstitious fools; it was at hand. The petty nations ruling over these rich worlds would be on track to absorption into Society, which would see to the proper use of the wealth they squandered. So far, their foes were utterly clueless as to their plans.
And yet, and yet—Miri Gaon and these impetuous antisocial miscreants might ruin it all. Li took in a breath and imposed control on himself. He was letting his frustrations get away with him.
As for Gaon and the Shadow Wolf—Li's on-world contact was already working to bring Gaon here. But could he risk this crew wouldn't decide to run, Gaon in tow, for the farthest star sector? That might diminish the risk to the operation, but letting the former operative get away would anger Admiral Hartford and impact Li's position.
More to the point, Li didn't want to risk her getting away, not after finding out she was the Traitor of Lowery. He wanted to see the two-faced religious zealot face justice for her crimes against Society.
For now, though, he had another matter to deal with. Something that needed to be cleaned up. He knew full well his next call would not be pleasant. He forced a neutral expression to his face and placed the call anyway.
Allan Kepper appeared on the screen. A small, knowing smile came to the man's face. "They got away from your ambush, didn't they?"
"They did," Li said. "You didn't tell me their ship was so heavily modified."
"You didn't ask."
You individualist scum. You knew, and you hid it. You hid it due to your pride. However did our species survive such foolishness before the Society was created? Aloud, Li said, "Well, I am through underestimating Captain Henry and his crew. How soon can you find them?"
&nb
sp; "I know from the tracker they're at Trinidad Station. Say the word, and I'll have a ship out of Sektatsh by the end of the hour. I'll add it to the contract costs."
Li bristled at that. "The contract didn't have..."
"That was when I was taking one spacer from Sektatsh. Now I'm chasing an independent trader across several star systems to Trinidad Station and points beyond. You changed the job, now pay the extra costs." Kepper folded his arms. "Or I'm done."
"You didn't finish the job!"
"I gave you the means to track them off-world, following a complication you didn't adequately warn me of," Kepper shot back. "So, what'll it be, Li? You paying for the extra work, or is this call over?"
Li went silent for several seconds, as if making his choice. "I'll pay," he finally said. "For you and you alone, Kepper. This job has to be quick and clean to avoid more suspicions cropping up. We have a wider operation riding on Gaon not being able to testify about what she saw."
"Fine. I'll contract a ride to Trinidad immediately. I'm not very familiar with the station, so do you have anyone on-site to give me intel?" His grin was all business. "It'll save you money in the long run."
Typical individualist scum. He thinks I care about his scraps of paper and pointless bits of data. "We have intel on Trinidad. I'll have someone hand it over before you leave Harron."
"Fine. I'll wait for their call. Kepper out."
Once Kepper's face disappeared from the screen, Li sat back and considered his options. Harron, and Trinidad Station for that matter, were technically in the operating area of the League External Security office in the League Embassy on New Kerala, but he had seniority over Captain Ruslov and the more pressing need. With that thought in mind, he keyed the QET for the Embassy and called up the embassy to the Keralans. Ruslov appeared, a man of pale complexion with Siberian features. "Commander Li," he said with respect in his Russian-accented English. "What might I do for you?"
"I need one of your people on Harron," Li said. "For an op with Gamma Priority."
Ruslov nodded. As a captain, he only had Ultraviolet clearance, so he knew nothing about Hartford's plan. Li himself, despite his rank, was only X-Ray clearance, but had a need-to-know for the good of the operation. "I can give you a list. Most are just informants and sympathizers in the major cities."
"I need someone who can get their hands bloody and keep a straight face," Li said. "Anyone there that can do that?"
Ruslov's expression didn't change. "Yes."
"Then send me their information." Li smiled pleasantly. "I have important work for them."
"Right away." Ruslov's image disappeared. Several moments later, a personnel file appeared on Li's screen. His systems finished decrypting it and displayed the information within.
Li grinned at the information.
Hartford listened quietly to Li's report. After it was over, he appraised the intelligence officer coldly. "So you have failed yet again?"
"Our intelligence on the Shadow Wolf and her crew was incomplete," Li said. "Had I known they were so well-armed—"
"You should’ve anticipated it," Hartford said, interrupting Li's excuse. "You should not have underestimated them. Your contempt for them cost us this chance to claim Gaon."
The look on Li's face told Hartford that he was right about that. He was allowing his contempt for people like this Shadow Wolf crew to color his judgment. "They are unusually well-armed for a ship of that type."
"That means their captain is shrewd. He understands the dangers he faces and prepares for potentialities, not assumptions," Hartford said, not hiding his contempt for Li's behavior and related failure. "A shame you did not match his diligence."
Li visibly bristled at the insult. Hartford suspected he was more offended by being compared so unfavorably to an "individualist" trading captain than he was by the reminder of failure. But he cared little for Li's feelings. His focus was on the threat to his operation. "Where is she?"
"Trinidad Station."
"I see. I will have ships ready to intercept them when they leave Trinidad."
Li's eyes narrowed. "You could jeopardize everything. If the local worlds find out we have ships in the region—"
"I will leave it to your experienced Ambassador Salinas to explain, along with her colleagues." Hartford grinned. "After all, few of those worlds care for Trinidad Station as it is. Hartford out."
Upon pressing the key to cut the channel, he looked up to the seemingly-neutral expression on Commander Aristide's face. "You disapprove?" he asked, familiar with his liaison's expressions.
"I am concerned," she said. "Your desire to capture Gaon, while understandable from a social point of view given her treason, does come across as…" For a moment, she became flustered. "My apologies, Admiral, the thought is unbecoming."
Hartford put his hands together. "Allow me to hear it regardless, Commander."
"This seems to be a… vendetta, sir. An individualist vendetta." She spoke the word "individualist" with all of the vile that the term deserved, given what it meant to them.
"Ah." Hartford nodded. "I can understand that. Understand my desire for Gaon's punishment is a social one, Commander. She caused a terrible defeat and cost many thousands of our finest their lives and freedom. I shudder to think how many of them suffer in our enemy's camps, being subjected to their superstitions and polluted by their individualism."
"Yes. They will require much resocialization in the camps, especially for those held for much of the war," Aristide agreed. "But that does not address my concern, Admiral. If you send our ships to Trinidad, or even near to it, you risk exposing our presence. Even if the squadron overwhelmed any defending ships and destroyed the station, word will get out."
"Which is why I am not going to send our ships," he said. "At least, not our cruisers."
Aristide considered him for a moment. "A… test operation? But not against the station itself? It has some defenses, and pirate bands that use it as a base. They would inflict damage and losses."
"Agreed. We will be in a position to intercept the Shadow Wolf on her way to Lusitania," Hartford said. "Given we have outfitted the weapon to our ships for the operation, these traders will not see the threat until it is too late."
Aristide considered Hartford's plans with that same neutral, controlled expression. After several seconds, she nodded. "It is a good plan, yes. I can see it working."
"I imagined you would," he said. "Alert the captains to take their ships out. It will be a worthwhile exercise to prepare for our main plan."
"Very well." With the final order given, she departed.
In the star system TR-1898, past the Spinward edge of the Trifid Nebula, space split open again to admit a cargo vessel on its way to the Tal'mayan colony of Dretani. Remaining behind was the ship, which had just rendered assistance against Jalm'tar pirates operating at the Spinward: the Morozova out of Cyrilgrad. The fact that the Morozova was a pirate ship itself gave the situation some irony, but the Tokarev brothers were honest in that ships and companies who paid them protection received it.
With the action over and the crew returning to standby, the Tokarevs went to their shared office just astern of the command center to await after-action reports. Their desks faced one another. Each had holos of their slain father and uncle. It was hard for them to see those smiling faces of their closest male role models and not feel the voids in their hearts and souls. That pain soon gave way to renewed hate and a desire to kill Leaguers.
It would’ve been one thing if Sergei and Anatoly Mikhailovich Tokarev had been privateers or pirates. That life—their life—was a violent one. But they hadn't been. Their ship, the Titov, had been a mere transport. Their only "crime" was carrying missionaries from Cyrilgrad to a world the League had just asserted control over. Unfortunately, League authorities hated religion, and they especially hated missionaries, dismissing them as active agents of "anti-Social thinking and attitudes." The League of Sol put them all on trial and convicted them of "promoti
ng anti-Social behavior and mental corruption." The elder Tokarev brothers, and three priests of the Old Rite Russian Church, were subjected to public execution by strangulation hanging. The crew of their ship was forced to watch and were thrown into a socialization camp before being released at the insistence of the Trifid Neutrality Committee.
The Committee had undoubtedly hoped to convince the Old Believers of Cyrilgrad to respect their action as upholding the neutrality of all worlds in the Trifid Nebula Region. Those hopes did not materialize. The persecution and execution of their people was a harsh reminder of their past, and the Old Rite Church quickly adopted a virulent anti-League posture. Still young adults at the time, Piotr and Pavel decided they would avenge their father and uncle one dead Leaguer at a time, and fifteen years later, the Morozova was notorious for its willingness to attack even superior military forces in their quest for vengeance. Their success was aided by interstellar politics and the unwillingness of the League to send armed warships into Neutral Space.
And yet, now the League had sent such ships in, according to Karla Lupa. The Brothers were still wondering how to handle that.
"The squadron should gather at Cyrilgrad," Piotr said. "If the League's going to use warships in our space, we must be ready for an attack."
"That will do no good. We need allies, brother."
"It will be up to the Elders back home," Piotr said. "All we can do is prepare for whatever they decide."
The discussion might have continued if not for a tone from Piotr's desk. Pavel looked up from the armory inventory. "What is that?"
"Interstellar message by QET, from Father Nikolai in Sektatsh."
"Ah."
Pavel returned to work, imagining the missionary was letting Piotr know how his mission was proceeding. Perhaps a donation is necessary.
Nikolai's voice came over the line. "It is dreadful, Piotr. God care for his poor soul!"
"Whose?" Piotr asked.
"Vasily's."