by Jeff Inlo
The pirate fiddled with a few controls as the information on the screen disappeared. He swirled about like a dancer, but his demeanor now appeared cold and calculating like the thief he truly was.
"Now let's understand something. I know you tracked and destroyed all ships trying to evacuate during this little skirmish, I can't say I appreciate that by the way, and you might actually believe that this is the only copy you have to worry about. Don't believe it. I might not have been able to release a ship, but wave transmissions worked just fine. When the Authority was filling space with phony attack orders, I piggybacked this entire file to a satellite orbiting one of the system's uninhabitable planets. That satellite then transmitted a coded message out of the system. It may take a while, but that message will be received by one of my operatives. That's not all. Now that the Authority has cleared the system, I just deployed a courier ball of my own with another download. It's already in Boscon Push and heading to a different pickup sight. That makes at least three sets you have to worry about, and maybe I have a few other tricks I'm not willing to disclose. What it means is you can't just bury this thing by killing me and destroying what's left of this complex. You've got two choices, make a deal now or I distribute this cover-up to every planetary com my ops are working on."
Jack seethed. "Son of a ...."
That was the second time Rath saw Jack lose his semblance of control. He remembered the first time, when the nukes exploded on Fenrir. That certainly didn't end like a ray of sunshine and the scout braced himself for another bad ending.
The coordinator swallowed hard, as if accepting the situation like bad tasting medicine. "Fine. We leave Semele alone."
"Can you guarantee this?" Angelo posed, openly wondering of Jack's influence.
"Nothing's a guarantee," Jack stated flatly. In the end, he offered his own assessment of the situation. "Right now, Authority Command seems to be making their own calls. They're not happy with you, but they're more concerned with the Fenrites. You may have just enough of a threat to keep them at bay. But I wouldn't get too cute. You'll have your base of operations, but that's all. You start moving out, expanding, and all bets are off."
"That's all I care about," Angelo stated almost playfully, content with the situation at hand. "I've barely scratched the surface of what I can do with this planet. It has a wealth of resources. I'll probably be dead and my heirs will still be working on developing this place."
The agreement appeared complete until a voice of dissension questioned the situation.
"Uh... That's fine and dandy for you, but what about me?"
Both Angelo and Jack tilted their heads as they eyed the scout.
"Where does this leave me?" Rath repeated.
Jack frowned but said nothing. He waited for the pirate to make the first move, which he did.
"Yes, you are rather dangling about, aren't you," Angelo agreed. "How about this? Part of my deal with the Authority includes that Mr. Scampion be left alone. He's allowed to return to his scout duty with no reprisals from Regency? Will you agree to that Mr. Coordinator?"
"Right now, I could care less what happens to Scampion," Jack scoffed. "He's a non-factor now. You're the one who should care about him, not me."
"How so?"
Jack gave one quick glance at the scout, like an executioner acknowledging his victim. "He knows everything you know. He hasn't gone to the media or released his story to a com. Not yet, anyway. But what if he does?” Jack turned his gaze back to the pirate. “If he starts talking, the games up. You have nothing to hold over us anymore, and we have no reason not to blow your planet apart... with you on it. I guarantee you, once this gets out; the Authority will come back here to finish the job. I can't see why you'd want to keep him alive."
Angelo bit his lip, but only for a second. He brushed away the tension with a heavy laugh. "Very good, very good. You want me to kill this scout for you, but I'm not going to. My bargain stands. You leave Scampion alone."
"You'd take that risk?" Jack openly debated.
"I'm not going to do your dirty work for you, if that's what you mean. You want him out of the mix, and I'm not going to accommodate."
Rath turned to the pirate, thankful for the reprieve but still wondering about his future. "What about my scout ship, and the funds in my account?"
Angelo waved a hand in near disgust. "Bah, you think in very small terms, Scampion. I would have expected more from you than that. I don't bother with such meager amounts of money. I have a planet. Why would I need your inconsequential holdings? As for your scout, you will be allowed to leave in it whenever you wish."
Jack turned about abruptly to leave, as if he accepted the discussion as complete, but he stopped at the door. He didn't turn to face anyone. His back addressed the pirate.
"Blackmail's a dangerous thing, Angelo. Especially coming from someone like you. I wouldn't suggest you push too hard with this, there's only so much room we're willing to give. In my estimation, you're at the breaking point as it stands now."
"And threats are dangerous things, as well," Angelo countered "I haven't made it to this position out of pure bluffing. Push me too hard and I also can respond. This information is important to..."
Jack didn't stay to hear the rest. He walked out of the bunker and stumbled through the rubble to return to a shuttle.
Angelo turned back to his terminals without further care, as if Rath wasn't even there.
The scout felt obligated to offer his thanks, though deep inside, it made him feel queasy.
"I guess I should say thank you. You didn't have to do that for me."
Just as Jack didn't turn, neither did the pirate. It was his back that addressed the scout. "Don't feel too warmly to me, Rath old boy. I didn't kill you because I know that's what he wanted me to do. Somebody in Regency wants you dead, and I try not to make it a point to assist them. That's why I included you in my deal. You're a thorn in someone's side, and that can be a plus for me. I like it when Regency has problems. Actually, I was planning to turn you over to them before their blitzers reached this bunker. I figured it might buy me enough time to escape. It's a good thing I waited. You see, timing is important."
#
Angry but silent mercenaries guided Rath to his scout and basically pushed him inside. He had to bite back a sarcastic remark about their hospitality. He took only the time to check his fuel gauges before he launched. A quick check of the galactic charts gave him the course codes for an outer rim trading post. Not even caring about the integrity of his engines, he punched in the codes to Boscon navcom, turned the ship over to autopilot and watched the system disappear in the wave of Boscon Push. He was not at all unhappy to be free of Angelo, and free of the whole situation.
#
Taranson was none too pleased about letting a marauder transport dock with his highly classified ship, but he really had no choice. Once the coordinator was onboard, he offered a suggestion in a most forthright manner.
"We really should get out of this system. We can come right back if you want, but they have a concrete fix on our position. I'm picking up scanning beams of all wavelengths, and that's not the kind of thing Espial likes to find out about."
"We're leaving," Jack announced as if the pilot's opinion meant nothing. "Set a course back to Earth. Full push. You boasted a great deal about what these new engines can do. Impress me."
#
Even for those in the fleet without access to viewshields or terminal displays, rumors and image files spread fast enough for everyone to know the fate of the Planning Station. General Hollins wouldn't have stopped the flow of information if he could. He wanted the scene burned into every soldier's memory, from cadet to commander. He found no joy in the revelation. He recalled the men and women who served with him before he was reassigned to his new post. If anything, it opened a loss in his spirit, a hole in his pride. But it also offered redemption. It justified his disgust for the entire Fenrite situation, his displ
easure with the councils—both the politicians and the scientists. He looked upon the sobering scene as a tribute to their incompetence, not the Authority's.
But it was the Authority that had truly suffered. It was their station, their soldiers, that had faced the Fenrites, not the councils or the scientists, and the aftermath filled the main display in the command center with a grim reality. What was an entire self-propelled base station now drifted in space as a charred, crushed mass of fused metal.
The Fenrite missiles had opened several holes in the outer hull of the station. While the devastating explosions ripped the metal apart, the loss in pressure forced an internal implosion. Large sections of the hull collapsed, folding over into layers and layers of crushed metal. What was once shaped like a large oval now appeared more like a hollow bowl with a jagged-edged rim.
"Put melees in flight," Hollins stated firmly, but with a note of calm respect. The image of the collapsed station continued to fill the main display screen, and it quickly became a memorial in the general's mind. He could not simply disregard the last monument of thousands of soldiers, anymore then he could ignore the safety of the fleet. "Signal the carriers. I want complete coverage of the group. We are on full alert. Interceptors are to afford complete and continuous patrol. Set up the pickets and begin full scan of Fenrir. Deploy outer probes. We can't assume the attack came from the planet itself. If they were able to do this, they might come from any direction. Send recons around the system's star and launch comlink satellites into an orbit around Fenrir's moon."
A bevy of activity erupted about the command center, but Hollins continued to focus on the main display and the remains of the base station. "Get all rescue crews available and begin a complete search of the hulk. There could still be some soldiers trapped in internal compartments. Include a team of techs to download any information from their files. And get the pilot of the courier that delivered the message over here. I want to know what happened. I want to know how a society of cross-genetic, half-ass backwards morons destroyed a Planning Station."
It was more than a question; it was a matter of history, one that was almost incomprehensible. The Authority had never suffered such a loss. Marauders were sometimes successful in damaging a frigate or a cruiser, rebel planets at times forced temporary withdrawals of ground forces, but never, ever, had the Authority lost a vessel of such strategic importance.
The general decided to use the tragedy to further his own opinion of what should be done next. "Record images of the station. Download to a courier ship and send it off to Base Spartan. Mark it for Authority Command and request immediate response. I don't know why they've been draggin' their feet on this, but I doubt they'll let this go unanswered."
#
Dr. Sinclair knew she wasn’t going to enjoy her meeting with the liaison between Regency Govern and the Authority, but Skysdale, the new coordinator, insisted. He had been to one quick briefing after another. He had heard generals make demands and planetary leaders make concessions. Those with true power had made a decision.
"They've had enough. It's just that simple." Skysdale didn't care how Sinclair accepted this news. He saw the reports on the damage to the station, knew how many Authority soldiers died in the attack. Liaison to her council or not, he wanted this counteroffensive as much as any other soldier.
"So they're just going to go in there and blow the place all to hell?" Sinclair sneered.
"They've got the firepower, and they intend to use it."
"What about Semele? My sources say they didn't finish the job, most of the marauder base is still intact."
Skysdale didn't give Sinclair that information. She got it from someone else. He made a note to uncover that in the future. For the moment, he addressed what he did know.
"Semele can wait," the liaison stated flatly. "Marauders are not the kind of threat the Fenrites have become. They're not responsible for destroying a Planning Station. Angelo existed before this mess started, and he'll still be there when we're done with Fenrir."
Sinclair gritted her teeth. She wasn't getting through to Skysdale and she knew it. She also didn't like the use of the word "we" when he referred to the Authority. He was supposed to be on her side, working for the council, but his allegiance to the Authority was now becoming very apparent, and very disagreeable.
"So that's it. The Authority has decided to go in and wipe out the Fenrites on their own, and to hell with Regency Govern and to hell with me."
"I don't think they're worried about answering to you anymore," Skysdale responded coldly.
That was too much for the doctor to take. "And what about you, subcommander? Are you worried about answering to me?"
"To tell the truth, no. I saw what happened to the Planning Station. I'm not happy. Actually, right now no one's happy. In case you're wondering, this thing has just about cut Regency apart. Espial is now firmly siding with the Authority. If you thought it was hard to procure their services before, just give it a try now. As for the councils, Regency Govern members are looking for parachutes. Looks like everyone has had his fill of your council."
"I see." Sinclair scratched the inside of her left nostril while fuming over Skysdale's little outburst. She offered her own assessment of what might happen if the Authority went renegade and started deciding things for themselves. "Then what does Authority Command think is going to happen when the public finds out about this? The Authority gets its funding from the people. Word starts getting out that the military wants to take control and is in bed with Espial, that funding might just dry up. And what do you think the public reaction will be when it learns the Authority just decided to exterminate the first alien uncovered? A decision made without the consent of any council?"
"The Fenrites aren't an alien," Skysdale responded in a tone of ice.
"The public doesn't know that."
"They can be informed."
"Don't try to play that game with me. They can also be informed that the Authority had a huge role in the cover up. Either way you cut it, your generals are going to look bad."
She paused, took a long moment to collect herself. In the end, she knew all too well there was no way to pacify the Authority while leaving the Fenrites unpunished. Action had to be taken, but she remained resolved that it would be her decision.
"Now, if I can ask you to remember your job for a moment, I have a suggestion. One that will end the Fenrite threat and cover all of our butts."
#
Sinclair brought the initiative directly to EMOF herself. Space travel in shuttles didn't agree with her large frame, and she appeared to be shaking off a spot of queasiness as she directed Dr. Farmer into a private room.
She was in no mood for a debate that she fully expected, so she began with the reason behind her directive.
"You saw what happened to the Planning Station?"
Dr. Farmer grunted with an obvious note of emotion. "Yes. Terrible tragedy. It's hard to accept that something like that could actually happen."
"But it has, and it changes things drastically."
"Yes, I guess it does in some sense," Farmer allowed, but he lifted his head as he tried to offer his own interpretations. "Then again, it fits with most everything we're discovering here. The Fenrites didn't use a weapon of their own creation against us. They simply copied what they saw of our own technology. I would even hazard to guess that most, if not all of the warheads used came directly from the spearhead missiles which failed to detonate on our attack against them. Reconnaissance from Espial agents as well as the Planning Station, before it was destroyed, confirm that several downed spearhead missiles were captured and studied by the Fenrites. That's how they do things, I'm sure of it. They take the knowledge that we give them and they construct the devices. I would theorize that the design for their own melee type space craft came from information they gathered in the same attack."
He held up a finger as he motioned for a moment of pause. He began flipping through report
s until he zeroed in upon the study in question. "Yes, yes. Here it is. I have some research done on the genetic process used to increase the brain capacity of the Fenrites. It substantiates a theory that the Fenrites might not be as intelligent as our own species, but they are actually more adept at recall and mimicking behavior. The creative portion of their brain was untouched in the splicing, but when geneticists altered the DNA links to make the Fenrites capable of absorbing our brain wave implants; they created large areas in the brain which act like a large sponge."
Sinclair considered the theory, but only for a moment. Indeed, it answered many of her own questions about the Fenrites ability to build advanced technology, but in truth, it didn't matter any more. The Fenrites were about to become extinct, and she was going to give the order.
"It's time for this experiment to come to an end," she huffed, "both here and on Fenrir. The Fenrites are now too dangerous to be left to their own devices. This time, however, we can't afford to have any mistakes, so I'm ordering a test with the moon-based Fenrites. Biologists have created a toxic mist which can be injected into an atmosphere. It contains an organism that will attach itself to the reptilian portion of their genetic makeup. It is a virus, completely communicable, that will attack the ectothermic response, basically inhibit the Fenrites ability to absorb heat from external sources. They will all freeze to death despite the true temperature within the sphere. We have to be completely sure of the effectiveness before I order the use on Fenrir, so the mist will be injected into the moon sphere in one hour standard."
Farmer began to tremble with anger, shook his head in direct disagreement. "You can't do this."
Sinclair responded with a low-toned voice, slow and forceful. "I asked you if you saw what happened to the Planning Station. This thing ends now. We do it this way, or the Authority goes in and blows everything to hell. That means nothing left to study, nothing left at all. Just ashes."
Farmer's voice flared, his face red. "Well, why here? The moon-based Fenrites haven't attacked anyone. We can continue the study here."
"And let them develop this close to earth? I don't think so."