Chozick gave orders for his people to remain where they were and rode his T-2 forward. Once he was about three hundred feet away from the wall, the durasteel gate opened and a merc appeared. She was clad in black body armor and wore two pistols. As the woman came closer. Chozick saw that she had red hair, freckles on her face, and was a bit husky. Not fat, but sturdy, as if raised on a heavy gravity world. She stopped and looked them up and down. "That's a Trooper II... But it's wearing a non reg paint job--so that makes you deserters."
"Since you're familiar with cyborgs you know what they can do," Chozick countered. "If this comes to a fight we'll win."
"Not necessarily," the woman replied. "But even if you do, the causalities will be high."
"I have a DE," Chozick said. "You know that... You saw it circle the town. We can grease you from above."
The woman made a face. "There is that."
"Yes, there is. But it doesn't have to end that way. You could pull out. I'll let you go. Or, if you're interested in a merger, I'm looking to expand. What's your name?"
"They call me Red."
"Okay, Red. My name is Damien. You have three choices: Fight a losing battle, take a walk, or enter into a merger. Which is it going to be?"Red was silent for what might have been a minute. Finally, with obvious reluctance, she spoke. "I'll take option three."
"Good," Chozick replied. "Here's the deal ... Ryker agreed to buy a ton of hafnium from me for three mil. But, when I arrived, he tried to charge me a five-hundred thousand credit landing fee. That pissed me off so now I'm going to confiscate everything he has. I'll take ten-percent off the top, you'll get five, and equal shares will go to all the troops. Yours and mine. What do you say?"
"I like it," Red replied. "But my people have a say in what we do -- and they will insist on that if we merge."
"You can't run a military unit like a democracy," Chozick said. "Both of us know that. But my troops can cancel my ticket anytime they want to. I know it and they know it."
Red nodded. "That makes sense. I'll be back shortly."
A full twenty minutes passed. And Chozick was beginning to wonder if Red was up to something when the gate swung open and the merc reappeared. She wasn't alone. As Red came forward Chozick saw that she was holding a leash. It was attached to a portly man who was walking with his head down. When Red was twenty feet away she stopped. "Damien, this is Mr. Ryker. Mr. Ryker, this is Damien. I think he has a present for you."
Ryker looked up, and was just about to speak, when a bullet passed through his mouth and exited through his neck. It didn't kill him, but the next one did. The mine, the town, all of it belonged to Chozick now ... And it was just a matter of time before the Hudathans would pay for the skeleton. Life was very, very good.
Chapter Four
Military strategy is shaped by the availability of supplies.
Tral Heba
Ramanthian Book of Guidance
Standard year 1721
The planet Algeron
When Smith awoke, it was to the feeling that there was something he was supposed to do. But what? Then it came to him. He was supposed to find Chozick and bring him to justice. And that was God's work. "Blessed are they who maintain justice, who constantly do what is right." Psalm 106:3.
God's universe was a huge place, however, and full of places where evil could not only hide, but flourish. In spite of their best efforts, the Confederacy's intelligence operatives had been unable to find the renegade. And, try as he might, Smith couldn't imagine himself in Chozick's place. That made it practically impossible to guess where the son of Satan was.
Fortunately, he had a sinner close at hand. A person who made no secret of the fact that she was a blasphemer, an occasional drunkard, and a serial fornicator. And that was his executive officer Mary Josy. Perhaps she would be able to help.
So Smith showered, shaved, and went to breakfast. Or was it lunch? It was difficult to keep track of time on Algeron. Then he went looking for Josy. The company was enjoying a two-day stand down, so she was off duty. And on Algeron there was only one place where a mostly godless person could go for fun, and that was the officers' club.
The O club was about fifteen-minutes away from where Smith's company was quartered. The light was dim, the music was too loud for Smith's taste, and he could smell the alcohol. The sweet, sweet liquid that had given him so much peace before taking his life away. He steeled himself against the pull of it and went looking for Josy. He wasn't familiar with the layout, and the club was huge, so that involved a good deal of walking around.
It didn't take long to discover that the officers were self-segregating. Infantry sat with infantry, engineers sat with engineers, and cavalry sat with cavalry. And that was where he found Josy. She was seated at a table in cavalry country. Three equally junior officers were at the table all playing some sort of drinking game. That bothered him. Why? Because he was jealous? No, yes, maybe. "There you are," he said. "Mind if I join you?"
Josy didn't want Smith to join the table, nor did the others, especially the two cavalry officers. They knew Smith by reputation and didn't want to suffer though a lecture. But they couldn't say "no" to a company commander and didn't. "This is a surprise," Josy said truthfully. "Have you been here before?"
"Once," Smith answered. "During my orientation tour."
The cavalry officers exchanged looks and stood. The taller of the two spoke. "I hope you'll excuse us, sir ... We have a field exercise coming up -- so it's time to grab some shuteye."
"No problem," Smith said. As the officers left he turned to the other person at the table. A navy pilot who should have been with the zoomies on the far side of the room but had chosen to hang out with cavalry instead. Why? The answer was Josy. Smith smiled. He was old for a captain, at least thirty-five, and came across as even older. "So, son ... Shouldn't you be checking your parachute or something?"
Josy started to object but the flier shook his head. "That's okay ... The captain is right. Duty calls.” And with that he downed the rest of his drink and left.
Smith turned to find that Josy was staring at him. "What the hell was that?" she demanded.
"There's no need to swear."
"Bullshit. You swear."
"Only under great stress," Smith replied. "Besides, he was navy."
"I like the navy ... And I was going let him land on my pad."
Smith made a face. "You're disgusting."
"Right ... So, why are you here?"
"I, that is to say we, are supposed to find Chozick."
"And?"
"And I wondered if you had given the matter any thought."
"Not really," Josy replied. "I've been busy."
"Okay ... Well, there's no time like the present. You heard Colonel Price. The brass doesn't know where Chozick is. Maybe we can come up with something."
Josy shook a stim stick out of a half empty pack and set fire to it. She sucked the smoke deep into her lungs before allowing it to dribble out through her nostrils. Smith caught a whiff of the smoke and felt the old hunger. It wasn't about stim sticks. It was the combination of stim sticks and alcohol that he craved. A stimulant and a depressant. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Those are bad for you."
Josy took another deep drag. "So is getting shot at ... But you never object to that. So let's think about the Choz ... He went over the hill. Why?”
"Because he's a thief and the chance to steal both the skeleton and the hafnium was too good to pass up."
"Okay," Josy agreed. "But did he go his own way? Or did he keep the company together?"
Smith considered that. "Based on what we know so far it looks like Chozick went out of his way to bring scum bags into his company. People who shared his values and would follow illegal orders. So would he ditch them? I don't think so. And remember ... That sort of arrangement cuts both ways. It's quite possible that Chozick's people wouldn't let him split. Not without paying them first."
"Good point," Josy said. "So, where would they go?"
> "The rim."
"Yeah, but where on the rim? He could be on any one of a thousand planets."
Smith knew that was true. Chozick and his borgs could be anywhere. Then it hit him. Cyborgs! Chozick's company included a detachment of twelve T-2s. And every one of them would require spare parts. Lots of them. Far more than any company would take on a mission.
So where would he get them? Not on the open market because war form parts were highly regulated and traditionally manufactured on Earth. But the Ramanthians were in control there. Yes, new factories were under construction elsewhere, but just starting to come on line. That was why Smith and his peers had to battle each other for parts. So there was only one place where Chozick could get what he needed and that was Algeron! But how? And from whom? "Come on," Smith said. "We're going to the personnel department. Then we'll go visiting."
"Visiting? What the hell for?"
Smith plucked the stim stick out of her hand and stubbed it out. "What's the old saying? You're known by the company you keep? Well, let's see who Chozick liked to hang out with. I'd be willing to bet that one of them works in supply."
Josy made a face. "You don't gamble."
Smith smiled. "No, not anymore. Come on. We have work to do."
***
The warehouse was large, dimly lit, and primarily staffed by robots. That meant Staff Sergeant Lester Orko had plenty of time in which to sit in his office, throw his boots up onto his desk, and watch porno. And that's what he was doing when a T-2 named Tanaka kicked the door in. Orko was taken by surprise and nearly fell over backwards as two officers entered the room. One of them was holding a laser equipped pistol. The red dot floated up off his chest as she came over to press cold metal against his forehead. "Hi," she said sweetly. "My name is Lieutenant Josy -- and this is Captain Smith. We're here to talk to you about a turd named Chozick."
"You can't do this," Orko objected. "I have rights!"
"Yes, you do," Josy agreed. "You have the right to tell me what I want to know or I will blow your balls off. Then I'll file a report stating that my pistol discharged accidentally. Captain Smith will back me up, then he'll have to go to church, and God will forgive him. Meanwhile you'll be living in the stockade and singing soprano. So what'll it be? The low down on Chozick? Or a ballectomy?"
Orko's eyes shifted to Smith. "She's kidding, right?"
Smith shrugged. "She's a sinner, son. And you never know with sinners. I can't say that I approve of her approach -- but God moves in mysterious ways. Who am I to intervene?"
Josy smiled evilly and tilted the weapon down so that the red dot was centered on the supply sergeant's crotch. "Okay!" Orko exclaimed. "I'll tell you ... Get the bitch off me."
"The bitch is an officer," Smith said primly. "As such, you will address her in the proper manner."
"Please, ma'am," Orko said contritely. "Please aim your pistol somewhere else."
"That's better," Josy allowed, as she pulled Orko and his rolling chair away from the desk. "Now you can have a nice chat with the captain while I take tour your terminal. Uh, oh, look at this ... Porno! You are a bad boy."
Smith dragged a stool over to where Orko was sitting and spent the next twenty minutes talking to the noncom while Josy reviewed his records. The people in personnel had been slow to cooperate at first -- but quickly changed their minds after a brief com call with Colonel Price.
Based on the data they gave him, Smith had been able to compile a list of people who had served with Chozick. With that information in hand he had conducted a series of interviews. Most of the people he spoke to had been interviewed by military intelligence. But Smith didn't stop there. He went to see their acquaintances, and their acquaintances, until someone tipped him off to a supply sergeant named Orko. A well-known "fixer" who could seemingly summon hard to find spare parts out of thin air.
Eventually, based on computer records, plus Orko's admissions, the full story came to light. About a month after Chozick and his people went on the MIA list Orko received a package from a civilian pilot. One of hundreds who came and went all the time.
Inside the wrapping, Orko found a box containing six gold wafers plus a request for certain T-2 parts. The document wasn't signed, but Orko had done business with Chozick in the past, and had a pretty good idea of who he was dealing with. There had been two packages since, both delivered by the same pilot, a woman named Peebo. "But how did you pull it off?" Smith wanted to know. "T-2 parts are very hard to find."
Orko was reluctant to say -- but agreed to do so when Smith threatened to let Josy interrogate him. "I took the parts of T-2s in the morgue," he confessed. "And why not? They were waiting to be recycled."
Smith knew that was partially true. Worn out war forms were stored in a facility commonly referred to as "the morgue”. But given the situation on Earth, all parts were valuable. Even those with sixty or seventy percent wear. "So you sent worn out parts to Chozick?"
"Not worn out ... Used. And I told him that. He knows the score. There's no way that I could send new parts."
That made sense and Smith had what he needed. Which was to say Orko, who was going to be incommunicado for the next month, and recordings of everything the supply sergeant had said. They didn't know where Chozick was -- but they would soon.
***
Angelica Peedo had just broken orbit, and was headed for the nearest jump point, when two aerospace fighters swooped in to take up positions to either side of her courier ship. The orders to turn back came as a surprise to both her and the vessel's only passenger -- a wealthy Human who had business interests on the rim.
But Peedo wasn't worried until she landed at Fort Cameron and a pair of military policemen came aboard the ship. Then, with cuffs on her wrists, she was led to an office located deep within the fort. A number of people were waiting there. "I'm Colonel Price," one of them said, "and this is War Commander Tora-Sa."
Peedo turned to see a Hudathan step out of the shadows and wondered what the hell was going on. A ridgehead? In Fort Camerone? That was unheard of. The introductions continued. "The young lady is Lieutenant Josy -- and the man standing next to her is Captain Smith. We want to speak with you.”
The ensuing conversation lasted an hour. By the time it was over a number of things were clear. Peedo knew Chozick as a man named George Vemy and he, like other clients she had, paid her to carry small shipments of freight for him. Did she know what she had been transporting for Orko? No, that was none of her business. And where had she and Vemy met? The answer was aboard a space station in orbit around a planet called Long Jump.
Smith felt a tremendous sense of satisfaction as the final piece fell into place. Now they knew where the treacherous bastard was. "So," Price said, "we're making progress. But speed is important. Chozick made use of an intermediary to communicate with the Hudathan government. He wants fifty-million for the reliquary and they're stalling him. But how long before he moves to another location? Or sells the remains to someone else at a deeply discounted price? You and the lieutenant did an exemplary job of figuring out where he is. Now is the time to go get him.”
"I'll need a week to get ready," Smith replied.
Price frowned. "A week? What for?”
"To train my people," Smith explained. "We know Chozick still has his cyborgs. That's why he's buying parts for them. So, if it comes to a fight, it will be a brawl in which T-2s will have to battle T-2's. And my people aren't trained for that."
Judging from the expression on Price's face, that hadn't occurred to him. And seeing the possibility of an advantage, Smith was quick to follow up. "Plus I need a freighter. A ship that won't attract attention but can duke it out with a DE if necessary."
War Commander Tola-Sa spoke for the first time. "Why not send a battle group? Then you could take control of the space station and the planet if you needed to."
Price made a face. "I wish we could ... The truth is that we don't have one to spare. Plus, even if we did, I fear that Chozick and his renegades
might slip through our fingers. A stealthy approach is best, and Captain Smith is correct, it will take some time to find the right vessel."
He turned to Smith. "I can see that you have given this matter some thought."
"The lord takes care of those who take care of themselves, sir."
Price looked at Josy who smiled beatifically. "That's right, sir ... and the lord takes care of those who carry a big stick.”
"Now that's funny," Tola-Sa said, without cracking a smile. "The lieutenant could be a Hudathan.” The meeting was over.
***
In order to make the necessary preparations in a short amount of time, Smith and Josy had to split up. His responsibility was to get the company ready to fight -- and hers was to make sure they had all the materials required to do so. That included food, ammo, and yes -- spare parts. No small job, and one she tackled with her usual energy.
That left Smith free to make plans. Unlike Chozick, who was an infantry officer with T-2s attached to his unit, Smith was a cavalry officer. So it was tempting to show up off Long Jump with a full company of thirty six cyborgs and an equal number of bio bods. Tempting, but risky. That was because he couldn't predict what would happen next. T-2s were great on open ground. But what if he had to go after the renegades on Orb 1? Bio bods would be more useful in that kind of situation.
So, after giving the matter some thought, Smith decided to allot himself fourteen T-2s. That was two more than Chozick had. Plus he was going to take what he thought of as "the equalizer”, Meaning one of the Legion's quads. In addition to the fourteen bio bods who would team up with the T-2s, Smith was going to need some foot soldiers. About seventy of them if he was to achieve parity with what Chozick had. The obvious solution was to take two platoons of regular infantry.
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