You are probably wondering why I am telling you this, but it is because Molina is something of a legend and cautionary tale in our colony. He could be considered family, and that could be a problem for the Peacemaker Guild. Not to mention, if he is involved, this is a bigger mess than Lucky and I first thought.
* * *
“I have information…” Lucky and Ray said simultaneously on returning to their rented quarters in one of the more “reputable” spaceport dives.
“You first…” they both said. Lucky growled, but Ray pulled a small flexible ball out of his overcoat pocket and threw it at his partner. Lucky leapt up and grabbed it in her mouth. It squeaked when she closed her jaw on the toy. The interruption gave Ray a chance to talk first.
“It was a Wrogul, and not one of ours. Well, actually, one of ours, too. But the clinic was bombed by MinSha working for a strange Wrogul. There is video of them, no audio, but I could read his flashes.” Todd spoke quickly to get it all out before Lucky stopped being distracted. “Hell of an accent, too. But he was clearly looking for ‘Squiddy’ or Nemo.”
Lucky chomped on the ball a few more times, causing it to squeak again, then there was a hissing and a squawk. Lucky spat it out, and the punctured and flattened toy came to rest in the corner of the room. Good thing there is plenty more where that came from. “Grr. The Administrator said the same once I finally got to see her. I had to bite a Veech to get in there. Trust me, they do not taste like chicken!”
“The surgeon, though, is something of a rogue from my world. Never anything serious, but he constantly skirted the rules and regulations. He left Azure about fourteen years ago at the same time an advanced nanite fabricator went missing. He was wanted for theft for a year, but then charges were dropped, and the owner of the fabricator said he had planned to give it to the surgeon and send him off-world anyway.” Ray flashed frustration. Molina was…problematic. He was self-centered and greedy. He may have brought this upon himself.
“According to this ‘Toweena,’ the old Don was ready to retire, but wanted to save face, so he had her stage a “hostile takeover.” I don’t believe it for a moment, but it also gave her an excuse to re-negotiate the ‘protection’ plans for off-world businesses. She said the clinic claimed to have its own security and didn’t want to pay. So, when a merc squad came calling, she didn’t stand in their way.” Lucky shrugged. “Personally, I think she sold the surgeon out and used the event as an excuse to take out the Don.”
“That does not give us a link between this strange Wrogul and the Human civilian, though.”
“Merc, not civilian.”
“Civilian. He was visiting a clinic, not on a contract.”
“Grr. Merc—once a merc, always a merc!”
“Civilian, you tooth-brained hound!”
“He was a merc getting a second pinplant so he could do a better job as a merc! Besides, the Wrogul took him, and if I didn’t hate the taste of rubber bands so much, I’d bite you, you…calamari!” Lucky was getting wound up.
Time to cool this down. “Wow, you got a lot of information. Well done!”
“Yeah, well, I hate feathers in my meals. So, I started plucking a few off of the Administrator. She was quite talkative.” Lucky smiled at the memory. That was one of the reasons Ray loved partnering with her.
“I have an indication the Wrogul surgeon got away alone. You say a Wrogul took the Human. Which one of these is true?”
“Two Wrogul. The Administrator said they lost track of the surgeon, but the MinSha caught the Human down in the red-light district. They were taking orders from a squid in a water tank and boarded a shuttle headed up to a destroyer. It didn’t break orbit until the Human showed up in the district two months later. System Control lost track of it and thinks they had their own hyperspace shunt.”
Ray flashed contemplation. He had also gotten skilled at duplicating Human vocalizations with his translator. “Hmm. We do not have tracking on the two Wrogul, but I have a lead on the surgeon. Twelve years ago, he showed up here in the company of a rather famous scientist from my world. Very old, though, for a Human. I can send a message and see if he is still around. Meanwhile, I need to examine the Human merc.”
“According to the Administrator, they sent him to Earth. Someone had set up a credit account in his name, so they hired a courier to take him there. I’m surprised they didn’t stick him in cargo and pocket the rest considering how much was in the account, though.” Lucky licked her teeth.
“Hmm. Earth. Yes, well, we should probably check in at the Luna Barracks,” Ray suggested. He knew Lucky was thinking about the lost opportunity to eat the Sphen-Eudy, but Peacemakers were cautioned against doing such things. Time to distract her. “Hey, there is a Human restaurant near here that claims to be a Brazilian Steak House. I have heard that translates to all the meat you can eat. They also serve calamari—for me. You in?”
Lucky just drooled in place of an answer.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
To’Os was a single stargate jump from Earth, so Ray got regular updates from the Peacemaker Guild Consulate on Luna. There were indications something strange was going on with the Human merc companies, but that wasn’t a priority for the Guild, as they seemed to have an increase in assignments and transfers. There were a number of enforcers on active duty elsewhere, and support staff was being shuffled to locations closer to those high priority efforts. It was odd HQ would allow the staffing to drop so low, but that was above Ray’s pay grade.
The Peacemakers had been on To’Os for just over two Earth weeks, and the information return on their efforts was running out. Jessica had provided Ray with access to the Port servers—for a modest fee, of course—and he had been going through the files to find any mention of the mysterious Wrogul in the company of the MinSha. Lucky was unable to get any new information from the city Administrator and had exhausted planetary and system administration sources as well. She was now going door-to-door in the To’Os red-light district to see if anyone had seen how or where the Human merc had appeared. There was little of substance, but their transport was still a couple of days away. They needed to make sure all the leads were chased, and no one chased better than a Besquith.
The only new piece of information came from Ray and Jess’ hacking of the former Port Manager’s office recordings. While To’Os official policy was “if no one recorded it, it didn’t happen” leading to an absence of official documents and recordings, the Tossers were paranoid enough to keep personal records for their own defense. Administrator Toweena had foolishly neglected to scrub all the files from her time as Port Manager, and there was one recording of her talking with an unidentified person named Pasteur right before the raid on Squiddy’s clinic. Lucky was able to confirm that several civilians had overheard the MinSha mercs talking about Pasteur as well. It seemed likely they had found a name for the strange Wrogul at the heart of the attack, but there were no certainties and no further information on that being’s whereabouts.
The trail was not entirely cold. They knew the Human Ginzberg’s location, but reports said he was not talking. Whether by choice or by force was something Ray would need to investigate.
The Guild had contracted their transport to Luna with a company specializing in protecting VIPs. It had made a name for itself protecting a religious leader on a mixed Human/alien colony when the alien’s home world declared jihad on the heretics for accepting commonality—if not outright converting to—an old Earth religion. Normally Custode Sviss Executive Protection transported protectees on couriers and yachts with upgraded armor and mostly defensive weaponry. However, the SEMS Frank W.A. Jefferson was really an over-sized frigate with luxury accommodation for the VIP clients, room for a large bodyguard, and the weapons complement of a typical merc frigate. The ship itself was almost the size of a destroyer but was not a true warship and couldn’t compete in a head-to-head battle with one. Nevertheless, it was top-of-the-line for rapid VIP transport, and the CSEP were re
nowned for the use of cunning and guile in place of firepower.
That did not mean CSEP would run from a fight. Just the opposite, and they were calling at To’Os to deliver a Sphen-Eudy corporate executive who had just fought off a literal hostile takeover attempt. The Peacemaker Guild wanted the ship and full security attachment at Luna to move some critical resources to Kleve. The security had been augmented with a small merc company, the Copperheads, who were also headed back to Earth. The Guild was willing to pay the deadhead fees to get the Jefferson back to Luna. Providing transport for Ray and Lucky was simply a fringe benefit.
On the day of departure, Lucky had gone ahead to the starport to arrange retrieval of their cargo modules from the customs lock-up. Given the likelihood that items had gone missing, and the near certainty the locals would try to charge exorbitant fees to “find” them again, Ray had decided Lucky would be the best negotiator for the job. That left him to finish packing his planet-side gear and prepare his mobile water tank for transport.
Part of their sealed cargo was the specialized Wrogul mix of one-percent saltwater fortified with sulfur and several volcanic minerals. Jess had directed him to the supplier that Molina—well, Squiddy as he was known locally—had used. Rather than use their own precious supply, Ray had his tank and holding cells filled with the local product, then packed away his “business suit” and dry-land gear.
As he was leaving for the port, he was surprised to find two CASPers waiting for him to leave his accommodation. His pinplants pinged as a notification came in from Lucky. Apparently, the travel arrangements included full-service protection. The party arrived at the ’port, Ray paid his fees—surprisingly modest, apparently Lucky had been effective—and reported to the shuttle. An unusual alien, looking remarkably like a starfish in water-filled coveralls, greeted him and checked his manifest. Two more CASPers stood guard at the ramp. As he started to maneuver his tank up the ramp, one of the treads locked up and the vehicle lurched to a stop, spilling water out of the tank.
A notification popped up that he had received a message on a private pinlink channel even Lucky did not know about. As the purser signaled the CASPers to simply lift the tank into the hold, he ran a quick check for malware and opened the message.
I can fix that for you.—V.
“What? Who?” Ray flashed confusion as well as vocalizing through his translator, the message had caught him that much by surprise. He lifted himself up out of the tank to look around the hold and noticed that one of the escort CASPers was flashing its external telltales in a pattern that seemed familiar…Wrogul laughter?
“Corporal Verne Azure at your service, Peacemaker,” a synthesized voice said from the mecha.
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
It seemed improbable at the time, but I had no evidence it was anything except happenstance. See, Wrogul from Azure colony are not exactly common. There are around one hundred of us, although one-half have adapted themselves to live in the open ocean, instead of the low-saline, high sulfur waters of the Styx River delta, and remain strictly to themselves. So far, I had only heard of five who left Azure to make their way in the Union.
Still, you would be excused for thinking eight-armed aquatics that think of themselves as Human would keep in touch, or that an old Galactic species such as the Wrogul would be more common in the Union. The truth is, while I knew where my fellows had gone, we really did not keep in touch…mostly. Not only that, but while the Galactics acknowledged there definitely were other Wrogul out there, they just didn’t seem to be around.
I had just encountered my third Wrogul, and second from my home colony of Azure, in as many weeks.
First Molina resurfaced under the name of Squiddy fourteen years after he left Azure. Then he disappears after an encounter with the first other Wrogul Humans had reported in almost seventy years. Now my cousin Verne showed up as a hired mercenary security guard on the same ship Lucky and I were taking to Earth. It was too much coincidence.
Like any good detective, I did not trust coincidence.
* * *
Their reunion was brief and conducted mainly over pinlink. After all, Verne was on duty. It seemed he had indeed become a mercenary soldier, which had been his dream for as long as Ray could remember. In fact, his reminiscence had pulled up an image of a young Verne turning a child’s toy CASPer into a working replica in all but the weapons.
Ray needed to get his water tank secured and ready for lift. He was once again surprised—he would not have to ride to orbit in the tank; instead, there was a liquid-filled compartment explicitly for his use. It seemed the CSEP really did cater to the security and well-being of all clients!
Once on Jefferson, he was therefore not surprised to learn the ship had a complete set of water-filled tubes and compartments, and even dual command centers. The starfish-like Arritim were not exactly mercenaries, although they filled most of the ship’s non-combat functions. They hailed from San Pietro, the same planet as the Custode Sviss mercenaries, and this was their only ship with a mixed crew. It was the Star’s way of paying tribute to the mercs that gave their lives in defense of both species’ freedom.
Ray got settled in a compartment in the water-filled section. He knew Lucky was already aboard and enjoying a luxurious suite in the VIP quarters. Verne, of course, was back “in the dry” with the other mercs in what was traditionally called Marine Country, no matter which branch of troops were aboard.
Ray had never been close, nor was he particularly distant from his…uncle, cousin, or whatever Human relationship his fellows adopted. He and Verne were actually the same age, having budded in the same season. It was just that when Ray had left Azure to find his calling with the Peacemakers, only Nemo and Molina had yet left their home world. Verne was still trying to become a merc and building contraptions to try to improve his chances. Verne was friendly, but often preoccupied with fire and electricity, and seemed intent to master all manner of energy that threatened an aquatic species. The last Ray had heard, Verne had gone off to be a starship engineer. Now he was driving a CASPer. They had much to catch up on.
It was twelve hours to the stargate. They would be under thrust most of the way, so Ray would not be able to take advantage of the fluid tubes for some micro-gee exploration. Verne would not be off-duty for another six hours—after turnover. Lucky was currently “suffering” through having her fur shampooed and groomed by a personal valet.
There was nothing for him to do, so he set his pinplant to wake him in six hours and slept.
Ray awakened to alarms and sudden lateral acceleration. The smooth pseudo-gravity of constant thrust gave way to what felt like evasive maneuvers. Ray pinged Verne with a request for information and opened a comm line to Lucky. The image in his ’plant-augmented vision showed Lucky with glistening coat and curls tied with little pink and purple bows….and were those yellow eyebrow feathers tied in them? “What is happening, Ol’ Curly Wolf?”
“The captain commed that an unidentified destroyer and two frigates are closing on our vector and just launched missiles. He says this ship is big and can defend itself but is likely no match for them. So far, they have not used their full launch capability, and these appear to be warning shots. He thinks they mean to close and board.” She stopped and turned back and forth in front of the pickup, and Ray could swear she was…preening. “You like the curls? I’m going for Alpha in a few more years and figured I would try out the look since I had the chance.”
“We are under attack and you are concerned with your appearance?” Ray flashed sooltory—after all, he was amused—and irritated at the same time.
Lucky actually pouted. “I spent all day at this!” A whining wannabe female Besquith was not a comforting sight. “Besides—” She perked up. “—we have a full company of mercs plus the Guard’s own Marines. If they do board, we’ll have the advantage.”
She had a point, but only as long as the enemy did not blow up the ship first. The real question, though, was who
their assailants were, and why they were attacking. Pirates were unlikely to be operating this close to a planetary system. Besides, the Sphen-Eudy did not tolerate competition. Any pirates in the To’Os system would have either been co-opted and put to work as “customs inspectors” or some other cover, or they would have been destroyed. Early in their species’ history, the Tossers had trashed quite a few worlds before they organized their crime syndicates and resorted to more peaceful conquests, such as extortion, blackmail, and hired assassins.
If not pirates, then they had to be mercs—either in the hire of the Sphen-Eudy or someone else. As a member of the Peacemaker Guild, Ray had access to the Merc Guild database of open contracts. It should have been updated from GalNet no more than one hyperspace transition ago. If the mercs came in from out-system, the contract should be recorded. Even better, if they were a local hire, the local node would have the details within a few hours.
Ray used his Guild credentials and downloaded the entire contract database to his pinplant storage and set a search ’bot to look for contracts by time, location, company, and ship descriptions. When nothing matched, he revised the search and ran it again. After four iterations, taking only about five minutes in real-time, he accepted that the attackers were not on an authorized Guild contract.
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