by Ben Winston
“I was reassigned to another project, then I just stayed away. I knew they were watching me because I'd been the one to report my former employers and they wanted to make sure I hadn't had another agenda. I did, but they either never figured out what was or if they did, it was deemed a non-threat and ignored. I'm thinking the latter.
“Now this. For all intents and purposes, he's fallen off the planet. I would bet my pension that he fell right into that big black project, too,” Sharon said. “It's really the only one I can't get any information on.”
“Could it have been another government?” Laura asked.
Sharon shook her head. “No, if it had been, we'd have already started finding the bodies. He never would have gone peacefully if they had been foreign or even against the nation. No, he actually helped us a little; he identified the two men as being former special-ops soldiers, specifically Marine Force Recon. That's not much help mind you, but it's a place to start. I don't suppose you got a license plate on the truck did you?”
“Yeah, but it was the standard black SUV everyone sees on TV; generic as you can get,” Laura said.
“Not really. The fact that they used that particular vehicle tells me that they were playing to an audience. Everything you've told me backs up that theory. But the question then becomes why? Why did they want everyone in your trailer park to think the MIB took him?” Sharon asked, rhetorically.
“Joe was a vocal conspiracy buff. So, the MIB was a believable cover. However, it did make people wonder which conspiracy he was right about,” Laura said.
“That's easy, he was right about most of them. Nothing ever gets done about it because the conspiracy folks actually help make the whole thing sound absurd, which keeps the conspiracy a secret. It would make sense for Joe to do that; if they did find him, they would see he was actively working to keep their secrets and they would leave you alone," Sharon said.
“So how do we find out who took him and if he's still alive?” Laura asked.
“You don't. They'll kill you if you try. I have access to most of those sort of resources and even I'd be risking my life trying to find out. However, I'd stand a better chance than you would; killing a General is a political quagmire most agencies avoid. Laura, I'm serious here, I've worked for the intelligence services all of my professional life; they would kill you and not even think twice about it. You would not believe how easy it is to stage a believable accident that would keep Joe from retaliating.
“As for him still being alive, you can bet he is. After all, why go through all of that just to kill the person that was taken? No, there are far easier, and cheaper, ways to pull that off,” she fell silent a moment, as if in thought. "I've been offered a new job. I was going to refuse it since my area of expertise is for ground operations, but it might get me an inroad on this. The draw back to it will be that I can't contact you after I take the job. I'd be going in alone, so I don't know who I could trust to contact you with any information.”
“The PTB's know all about your sexual preferences, right?” Laura asked.
Sharon looked at her, confused. “PTB's?”
“The 'Powers That Be'; you don't actually work for the Air Force. That's the name that Joe put on his bosses at the agency," Laura explained.
Sharon snorted and nodded. “Very apt. Yes, they know. I suspect they knew about my connection to Joe as well, but since I never pursued it, they never said anything.”
Laura took her hand. "How many red flags would it raise if I was your 'girlfriend'? We met at the wake and became friends, we can progress that relationship into something they might accept."
Sharon smiled sadly at the woman. "Laura, that sort of thing can't be 'staged'. I mean, we could certainly go through all the motions, but if they even had a hint it was fake, we'd both be retired."
Laura nodded her understanding. "I know I'm not very attractive anymore, but I think I really would like to get to know you better; you were an important part of Joe's past. Yes, this would be to find him, but if you'd have me, I'd like to try."
“This isn't going to work,” Thom said as he looked at himself in the mirror. “I don't even have the same skin tone or hair color as Singh.”
“That's because you're not finished yet. Jump up here on the table, Thom,” Symms said.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Change your hair and skin color to match those of Constable Singh. Once we're done with you, only his wife would know you aren't him!” Symms said as he began typing on the keyboard.
Becka knocked on the door. “Doctor, this message just arrived for the 'Constable'.”
She was grinning, so Symms knew who it was from. “Well, don't give it to me!”
She handed the missive to Thom, who opened it. “I am to report to Admiral Hawklings at the earliest possible time. There's a travel voucher in here as well.”
“Really?” Becka asked trying not to giggle.
“Becka? How close are you to getting that voice modulator finished?” Symms asked.
“Almost finished, Doc. Who's going to be using it?” she asked.
“Your paramour, my dear. So as soon as you get done, he needs to make the call to the Constable's Office. So, hustle it up!” Symms said, throwing a mock kick at her butt, and missing by a mile.
Fifteen minutes later, Thom, escorted by Doctor Symms, since Becka had to be sedated over Joe's 'death', arrived at the landing field and boarded Shana's shuttle. Shana made a show of welcoming the man aboard. She winked at the doctor and closed the hatch.
“What news from the planet?” Jared asked as he pushed away one of the badly beaten girls.
“Would you like me to summon your medic, My Lord Prime?” Hargrave asked, looking at the two girls.
“Did I ask you to summon my medic?”
“Uh, no My Lord. You asked about the planet. Anderson was killed, but not before he killed his attacker. The Connies believe it was a revenge thing, so they're not looking into it very hard,” Hargrave explained.
“How did they get that? Did our guy actually know Anderson?” Jared asked.
“I do not know My Lord, but Constable Singh was almost immediately called to Darkwater after the murder. Before he left, he called back to his investigators and told them not to investigate, but to list the death as a revenge killing,” Hargrave took a deep breath. "It sounded hokey to me, so I got them to open the classified file. It seems that in his former life, Anderson killed someone that was very close to Garreth. Singh won't be able to report in until he gets back.
“They also discovered that Anderson is actually a highly skilled assassin that was used to eliminate National Security threats before he retired. We are very lucky he is dead; I have little doubt that he was sent here to kill you,” Hargrave finished.
“How certain are we that he's dead?” Jared asked, seemingly unconcerned.
“Completely, My Lord. It was visually confirmed by the Coroner, as well as by two of our people. The little bitch is crying like someone ripped out her heart and Symms has received an official reprimand because of the poor security in the lab.
“We got a copy of Anderson's potential scores from Symm's office too. If those scores are to be believed, he had almost twice the power of even you, My Lord.”
Jared looked at Hargrave like he was thinking about killing him. Although, Jared would never kill the man; well, not yet anyway. It was Hargrave that built the network of spies and criminals that have come in so handy at Darkwater and on the planet.
“I want those scores lowered to be less than mine before we file the official report. I don't need anyone getting the idea that someone was ever stronger than I. Get someone to get these out of here.” he gestured to the two nude young women. "Then, bring me Carne and Jessica. This ought to be very entertaining. Oh, and Hargrave?”
“Yes, My Lord?”
“Send someone to retrieve our little sister. I think it's time she learned exactly who she serves,” Jared said with an evil glint in his
eye. "With Anderson's death she should be in the perfect frame of mind for me to crush her will."
It took Joe a couple of days to finish recovering and to learn to use his new eyes and the shield. Basically, he had a thought-controlled computer inside his skull that gave him a few more skills.
Becka 'borrowed' a hydrogen powered craft that seemed to have its history in the days of light aircraft. (Which were still going on, on Earth.) The main difference with this one was that it was capable of hypersonic flight.
Beta Centauri IV had a lot in common with Earth. Resting almost in the center of the 'Goldie Locks Zone' of the large star, the planet was almost twice the size of Earth, had a slightly higher gravity, and a thicker atmospheric layer.
The 'dart' as she called it was used for long trips on the planet. It had room for up to thirty people, depending on the cargo being hauled. In this case, it was camping equipment, and the box of gifts from the Admiral. Becka took them to the Hysophan Desert, which was far away from any other settlements or prospecting areas of the planet.
Joe had even managed to convince the Admiral to include a couple special items for Becka, so it promised to be an educational trip.
They found an ideal spot that reminded Joe of the Arizona or New Mexico desert, only it had more trees.
They parked the dart and spread a chameleon tarp over the small craft. Then they set up their sleeping pavilion and the rest of the necessities they would need for the week. Joe left the weapons box in the dart, but opened it and selected a few things, before he resealed the box and returned to where Becka was preparing dinner.
“Whatcha got there?” Becka asked, cheerfully.
“Well, now that I'm officially back on duty, I have my protector...” he held up an old Desert Eagle .50cal handgun in its holster. “...and a couple of other toys for both of us to play with tomorrow.” He held up one of three silenced Glock SoG90 9mm with an extended clip in another holster.
“Ooo! That one looks small enough for me to play with!” Becka said playfully.
Joe smiled at her. “That's why I had Hawklings pack an extra one for you.”
She handed him a plate with a nice juicy looking steak on it, and a side of pork and beans from a can. “Sorry about the beans, but I didn't think I had time to bake a couple of spuds before we got ravenous.” She walked to the dart, and retrieved a small cooler. Bringing it out by the campfire, she opened it, and handed him a brown bottle with a ceramic cap. It looked just like the beer in Germany did.
“Local brew. Personally I think they got the Brewmeister straight from Bavaria!” Becka said.
Joe looked at the bottle and read 'Centauri Dark Ale'. Under that was a phrase in German that he read as 'New planet; Old recipe.' He took an experimental sip.
“Okay, it looks like I have a new favorite beer. This tastes almost as good as the old Classic Dark used too. Damn I was pissed when they quit making that stuff. The stuff they replaced it with tastes like they ran it through the Clydesdales first!” Joe said.
Becka nodded. “I thought you'd like that stuff. Be careful though, they don't have the same regulations here that they had in the United States. Can I ask you a question about the guns?”
“Sure,” Joe said between bites.
“Why did you stick with slug throwers? Why not a laser or a MAG?” Becka asked. (MAG stood for Magnetic Accelerator Gun. Same principle as a rail gun, but without the rail.)
Joe swallowed a bite of steak and chased it with a drink of ale. “The Desert Eagle, I keep for sentimental reasons. But those three Glocks are mostly undetectable by weapon scanners, dead easy to use, accurate, and very quiet, not to mention reliable as hell.” He took another drink.
“With a laser you have to hold the target and you would have to hit a major organ to get a clean kill. Not to mention the fact that it could potentially penetrate a hull. The MAG would not only penetrate a hull, but everyone in the system would hear it fire. It's also fuckin' heavy. A MAG actually weighs more than my Barret!”
“I was going to ask about that. Why do you even have that monster? I really doubt you'll need it to kill Jared,” Becka said.
“Probably not. But when I left the Agency, I destroyed my old weapon, so they sent me a new one. While we're out here, I need to get used to it, learn to feel it and get comfortable with it. I may not need it for this first mission, but I may need it for another mission later on.
“It's the same reason all the other weapons that are in there as well. I need to use them, to get familiar with them again, in case I need them,” Joe explained.
“What else is in there? All I saw were the pistols and the Barret,” Becka said.
“Under the top layer of foam, there is what will soon be a standard issue military weapon. The M91 assault weapon fires standard NATO 7.62 mm rounds. The military almost punted the program except for the fact that this weapon can quickly be re-chambered for 5.56 mm which is what the existing M16 and most of its variants fire,” Joe explained, but saw that Becka wasn't all that interested in learning about the individual weapons. “Anyway, there is also one of your lasers and a small version of a MAG that's actually still experimental.”
Joe picked up their plates and empty bottles. He put the bottles back in the cooler for recycling, and the dirty plates into the garbage. Although it was still early for them, the day here was over.
The planet had two moons and this time of the year it was also getting some light from Centauri B, so it hadn't gotten pitch black. In fact, it was still pretty bright, once your eyes adjusted. The desert landscape at night was as eerie as it was beautiful.
The light coming from the companion star was almost bluish, while the light reflected off the first moon was reddish because of the amount of iron in the moon's crust. Later, when the second moon rose, it promised to get even brighter yet as that moon had an atmosphere, and would most likely reflect white light from Centauri A.
The light, like that reflected off the moon of Earth, bleached all the color out of the world around the couple. That eeriness coupled with the complete lack of sound from insects and other creatures that hunt at night, made both of them a little jumpy.
“Joe?”
“Yes Becka?”
“Out here isn't your quarters aboard the Citadel, but I think this will do quite well as a substitute,” Becka said. “Would you like to join me in our tent?”
Joe was up well before Becka, so he made some coffee and scouted the area. From the top of a nearby hill, he looked down on the camp, to check the camouflage they'd put up. It looked fine.
Sitting on a rock, he tried to relax his mind and emotions as he'd been taught so many years ago. He'd managed to quiet his mind a couple of times since awakening from the treatment at Darkwater.
Once again this morning, out here in the quiet wilderness of an alien planet, he again found his center. He would need to work on adjusting to the new way his eyes worked and to being able to 'speak' to the computer that controlled the nanobots in his system.
Sighing, he opened his eyes and looked down at the campsite. However, he wasn't actually looking at the site, he was using the optical interface to learn more about his 'new' eyes.
As per Dr. Symms instructions, he wanted to zoom in and his eyes did exactly that. He thought to return to normal vision and they did. However the telescopic view had been incredible. Then he tried something the doctor hadn't actually told him about. He wanted to see heat signatures.
His vision shifted slightly, and he could see Becka sitting up in the bed through the canvas of the tent. However, she was only a red silhouette overlying a small piece of the camo-screen they'd put up. He thought to remove actual view and use infrared only. He vision shifted to what he wanted.
When he got his vison back to normal, he 'asked' for an overlay for computer targeting. He blinked, and got a compass reading on the top of his sight picture, and an adjustable rangefinder that seemed to follow whatever his eyes focused on, as well as windage readings out to the p
oint of focus. There was also an icon that looked like it was a 'connect' button.
He stood to begin the trek back to camp. He and Becka had a lot to go over before they began shooting and getting used to their weapons. He dismissed the 'HUD' (Heads-Up Display) setting and felt that pseudonym would be used for that setting from now on.
As he walked he began wondering about what he'd learned about how to navigate so far, and how he seemed to be able to' hear' hyperspace. Briefly, he wondered if he'd ever be able to actually see what he felt.
He had to stop as his eyes began to cycle through various settings and frequencies until it found a setting that Joe honestly thought might be exactly what he'd just wondered about.
Since he could still see where he was going, just not in the same way as 'normal' mode he took a step to keep going and found himself just outside the hidden shelter, looking at a very surprised Becka.
“What the hell?” Becka asked as Joe switched back to normal vision mode.
Joe was just as surprised as she was. “I have no idea! I was playing with the settings for my eyes and wondered if I could see hyperspace, since I could feel it when you were navigating. My eyes started changing like crazy and finally settled on something that... I don't know, it sure felt like I was looking at hyperspace. While I was wondering about that, I took a step to finish walking down here and bam! I’m standing here!”
“You mean you made a hyperjump without a ship?” Becka asked, stunned.
“Honestly, I have no idea what just happened,” Joe replied, confused.
“Well, if what it looks like happened actually happened, then the entire game's changed,” Becka said thoughtfully. She was obviously shaken and she remembered what Dr. Symms had talked to her about.