Enforcer
Page 12
Bith turned, a confused look on his face.
“That’s odd.”
“Indeed,” Gorn added. “They have reinforcements on the Core or they have nothing and are overconfident in their ability to produce results.”
“Or something else,” Bith replied. It was a peculiar turn of events. It was highly unusual for the Peacemaker transport to lift off, let alone return to the Thrustcore. He shook his head. “No matter. Whatever they have or do not have in orbit does not affect them in the short term. You are ready for all eventualities?”
“I have been ready since you ordered civil disobedience, Honored Bith.”
“Then let us see what kind of peaceful negotiations they intend to conduct, shall we?”
No one said a word, or even acknowledged them, until they entered the central building in the compound. After they descended several flights of stairs, what appeared to be two levels underground, they emerged into a nearly vacant hallway. Two armed Jivool guards stood outside a doorway about 30 meters away. Bith took note of the two sets of heavy blast doors they passed through as they entered what appeared to be the inner sanctum of ISMC operations on the planet. Across from the guards was another doorway marked “Spectrum Operations” which confirmed Bith’s suspicions. Data showed that most of the electromagnetic spectrum was being jammed with broadband noise. Combined with reports of strange containers on rooftops around the city, there was little doubt ISMC had the ability to limit communications whenever they wanted to. The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and Bith fought the urge to smile.
They really are good. It is almost a shame the situation has come to this.
The Jivool guards opened the double doors to the ornately appointed conference room. As was customary, the conference room appeared to have been built to the exact specifications and furnishings of the one aboard the Rumiar. Even the cart of beverages, this one not strapped to the bulkhead, rested in the same corner as it had aloft. A large V-shaped table dominated the space, and rather than the floor-to-ceiling viewports that had revealed Godannii 2 below, there were floor-to-ceiling holographic viewscreens that held the same, albeit digital, image.
Bith recognized Dolamiir’s second in command sitting in the first chair on the far side of the table. A middle-aged Jivool with sandy-brown fur and a gray streak of hair running over his skull and down his back occupied the second chair. The third chair was filled by a much older black and brown Jivool with gray on his snout. The graybeard, as Bith knew such advisers were called, held an esteemed place among the Jivool, but he was not an active member of the corporation. More importantly, Dolamiir was nowhere to be seen.
With practiced ease, Bith kept his surprise from registering on his face. Without Dolamiir present, his plan for the negotiation would have to change…somewhat. Still there was enough leverage represented in the room to accomplish what he intended. Additionally, the board of directors couldn’t be far. He knew they hadn’t left the compound—his scouts would have reported them leaving—so they would be found in due time. The same went for Dolamiir. And even if they’d remained in space, well, certain agreements had been made with friendly-leaning parties.
At the head of the table sat one of the Jeha Peacemakers. The other three stood behind him, relaxed yet alert. Bith shambled forward, feigning age or injury, and took the opportunity to survey the room as the guards stepped in behind him with their weapons at the ready. They sealed the heavy doors from within, and Bith noted they were armored blast doors.
Perfect.
“Honored Bith Sundo,” the Jeha said. “Please, come to the table for official negotiations. As stipulated by Galactic Law, in the presence of a Peacemaker overseeing a peaceful negotiation, I’d ask that you take your instructions solely from me. I am Peacemaker Rsach of the—”
“Peaceful negotiations?” Bith grumbled. He turned slightly to the guards behind them. “You lock me in a room with two hostile guards at my back and expect me to engage in peaceful negotiations?”
The Jeha sputtered, his antennae bobbing in surprise. “Honored Bith, you mean to insult these proceedings with your accusations of impropriety and—”
Bith raised a hand and silenced the Jeha. Taking the power from those who flaunt it was the mark of a great diplomat, and he had been one of the finest ever produced by the herd. “You have weapons pointed at our flanks, Peacemaker. There will be no negotiation, peaceful or otherwise, until they are removed.” He crossed his arms.
The Peacemaker said nothing, but his unconscious flexing of a few limbs along his body spoke for him. Uncertainty emanated through the room, and it was just enough to put the cool, calculated Jivool executives a little off their normal start.
“You are correct, Honored Bith,” Rsach said slowly. “I apologize for our indiscretion. You were searched and turned over your weapons outside. We meant no disrespect.”
We. Bith didn’t miss the significance of the pronoun. He wanted to grind his jaw. The little imbecile said we, and he didn’t mean his backup singers.
Rsach spoke to the guards. “You are ordered to stand down. Exit the room and secure it with the diplomatic seal I provided. Only a Peacemaker will be able to break the seal, so that negotiation can flourish. If we need anything, I will contact you via the channels that Honored Suulamiir has partitioned for our use.”
The middle-aged Jivool to Korvan’s right nodded solemnly.
Now I know who is responsible for the jamming, Bith thought. He didn’t move, instead waiting patiently for the guards to exit and seal the room from the outside. When the seal clicked into place, Bith had to fight the urge to smile. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and let his demeanor soften.
“Would you sit with us, Honored Bith?” Rsach asked. “The ISMC assures me they want a peaceful and speedy end to this situation.”
Bith sat to the Peacemaker’s immediate left, with Gorn taking the seat to his left. As he did, he replied, “They do, do they? Does that mean they’ll confess to the murder of innocent civilians? The starvation of my people? Horrendous working conditions in their barely safe mines? If they are willing to do that, Peacemaker Rsach, then I am unequivocally ready to negotiate a swift end to this situation.”
Korvan rumbled to life. “Your rebels killed ISMC security forces in their sleep. You continue to inflict terrorism against the employees of ISMC and have destroyed millions of credits worth of equipment.”
“I am guilty of two of those three things, Korvan,” Bith said calmly. He stared at the young Jeha. “We had nothing to do with whatever happened on that video you released of the ISMC barracks, and certainly not before a GenSha youth was shot by your forces. And yet, you have ordered your guards to fire on innocents. Peaceful protesters around the planet have been killed by your armed thugs. Thousands of my people have been killed or wounded. Not just miners, but their families and children. You’ve done this to push my people away from this table. Well, I am here now. Do not think for a nanosecond that I am leaving without justice.”
Bith noted that the second Jeha’s antennae perked up at the mention of the wounded youth, as if it was news to her.
Korvan laughed. “You’re sadly mistaken, Bith Sundo.” He motioned toward the Duplato Peacemaker. “The Peacemakers agree that our contracts are valid and legal in the eyes of the Galactic Union.” He narrowed his eyes. “You are guilty of armed insurrection and mutiny in defiance of a properly executed contract. This negotiation will go no further. You will order your people to stand down from this insanity now.”
Bith stood and stared at the Jivool for a long moment before he turned and walked toward the beverage cart. It was clear the Peacemakers cared not for anything but what Korvan and ISMC were feeding them. With his back to the room, he said over his shoulder, “I appreciate the refreshments. At our last meeting, aboard your ship, you offered no such courtesies. That begs the question, Korvan, how much of this is a charade? How much is real?”
“Meaning what?” the Jivool grumbled.
“Dolamiir is currently handling affairs he deemed more important than—”
“More important?” Gorn thundered from his chair. “Bith is correct. Even your words betray your lack of interest in sitting at this table. You do not wish to admit any wrongdoing as you bathe the Peacemakers in luxury and finery in the hope they will favor you. You revolt me, Korvan.”
Bith removed the cover from a small cooler used to hold ice and looked inside. He smiled. While ISMC was good, his methods were better. The message he’d sent, which had been acknowledged, was proof that the right amount of credits and a guarantee of safety to a compassionate and somewhat disgruntled ISMC trooper made all the difference. Inside the cooler was a small GenSha pistol with an eight-round magazine loaded with 13mm SHRED rounds surrounding a jacketed core capable of penetrating light armor. They were flechettes that would come apart inside the target, turning the connective tissues within into ground meat. He grabbed the weapon and slowly worked the action to chamber a round before he turned.
“Honored Gorn,” he said in a soft, but reprimanding, tone. “Please stick to our talking points. Consult your slate, if you must.”
“Yes, Honored Bith.”
Bith closed his eyes and waited. The exchange was not meant as an actual reprimand, but an initiation of action. The Jivool, both Jeha, and the Duplato all suffered from a similar weakness to hypersonic sounds. The GenSha, on the other hand, had no such weakness. Bith heard the tone and winced. It made his teeth feel like they were wiggling in their sockets, and even his sinuses vibrated with the potency of the sound.
There were startled grunts and groans as the program blasted everyone’s inner ears with an incapacitating assault of perfectly tuned sound waves. He heard several of them drop to the ground coupled with the thrashing of bodies. He turned to see Gorn rushing to the Peacemakers, two of whom lay on the floor, while everyone else desperately covered their auditory receptors. Gorn quickly gathered the Peacemakers needlers and heavy rifles. He slung one over his shoulder, then patted down everyone sitting at the table to make sure nobody had a hidden weapon. Gorn stepped away from the table and moved to the far side of the room and stood just inside the doors, the rifle leveled at what were now GenSha hostages.
Satisfied, Bith nodded for Gorn to terminate the program…for now. Gorn tapped several commands on his slate and then eyed the ISMC suits.
It took several moments for their hostages to regain their composure. Bith waited patiently with his pistol pointed at the one called Suulamiir. When the Jivool’s eyes focused and found him, Bith asked, “You are responsible for the jamming on all frequencies, yes?”
“I am.”
“Turn it off. Now.” Bith gestured with the pistol. “You have the controls on that slate, I’d imagine. Turn them off. You have 20 seconds to comply.”
Suulamiir tapped furiously on his slate. “I have disengaged the jammers. They are shutting down across the planet as we speak.”
Bith nodded. “You are broadcasting this negotiation live? Or are you recording it to doctor later, like the footage of your barracks incident that, again,” he said, turning his eyes to Peacemaker Rsach, “we had no part of?”
He saw the other Peacemakers flinch, but Bith did not turn to them. Gorn aimed his rifle at them and kept them from intervening. The silence of the young Jeha said much for his experience.
“We are recording,” Suulamiir finally admitted, frowning.
“Live broadcast. All available channels,” Bith ordered. “Now.”
An angry look on his face, Suulamiir tapped again. “The broadcast is live, Honored Bith. I do not know what you wish to show besides your own continued mutiny—”
Bith pulled out his own slate, called up the broadcast, and saw the room shown exactly as it was before him. He noted that the camera sending the feed was centered on Suulamiir’s angry features, with Bith on one side of the room and Gorn on the other. It was clear to anyone watching that the negotiations had taken a turn for the worse.
Bith raised his pistol, aimed carefully, and pulled the trigger once.
The round hit Suulamiir in the center of his head and exited in a cloud of pink mist. The Jivool fell forward and thumped against the table. Blood poured out through the hole and began pooling quickly on the table. The 10-centimeter crater in the back of his head was visible to everyone. Korvan flinched and retched all in one fluid motion. The graybeard, though, made no move whatsoever. Bith pointed his pistol at Korvan and watched with satisfaction as the Jivool’s composure cracked.
“Please! Don’t!” Korvan screamed.
“You had your chance, Korvan,” Bith said and turned to face Peacemaker Rsach. “And your guild will pay for its support of ISMC, as well as for what they’ve allowed in the past.”
Rsach’s antennae bounced furiously. “You cannot hope to keep us here. The guild will not negotiate with terrorists, Bith Sundo. Guild Master Breka’s policy on this is clear.”
“Guild Master Breka.” Bith nodded and his knowing smile was full of loathing. “Of course he’d tell you such a thing, and you quoted it like a good student, Rsach. I’m guessing you’re a recent graduate of the Academy on Ocono.” The comment prompted a surprised look on the faces of all four Peacemakers. “You have my congratulations, but rest assured, young one, I’m not planning to negotiate anything with anyone until the truth comes out. If they disavow that, then I’ll kill you off one by one until they do, Peacemaker. The truth always comes out.”
* * * * *
Chapter Eleven
Godannii 2
ISMC Compound, Black Sector, Moppicut City
“Do you hear that?” Satuur Nu Kovat said slowly, his eyes narrowing. His voice was low, grim, suspicious. He slipped across the executive suite at the top of the ISMC compound building, his footfalls nearly silent as his right paw slipped into his jacket. The front of the suite was a complete bank of windows from one end to the other, and he had ordered all of the curtains drawn as a means of thwarting any snipers among the GenSha. The hills were high along both sides of the valley, and a good sniper, even at 1,000 meters, could easily put a shot through anyone inside. He pulled a curtain aside a few centimeters, his eyes darting back and forth as he took in the situation.
“Hear what?” Dolamiir looked up from what he had to admit was an exceptional steak, cut from one of the indigenous forms of livestock. The meat was tender and tasty, rivaling some of the best steaks he’d enjoyed aboard the Rumiar. He took a sip of a local ale, frowning at the mediocre taste. It wasn’t to his liking, but it was the only thing available, and it did complement the meal.
He glanced at the feed showing the live negotiations taking place five floors beneath him, and then cut off another piece of his steak. He did a double-take and stared at the screen. His eyes went wide in horror. Bith Sundo aimed a pistol at Suulamiir. He thumbed the remote and turned up the volume.
“The broadcast is live, Honored Bith,” Suulamiir said, his eyes full of fear and anger. “I do not know what you wish to show besides your own continued mutiny—”
The audio crackled with the abrupt discharge of a large-caliber pistol and then the back of Suulamiir’s head exploded, sending blood and brains flying in a rosy cloud. He slumped forward, his head hitting the table with a loud thud. Korvan, sitting immediately beside Suulamiir, began retching as the rest of the room went deathly silent.
“The traitorous vermin,” Dolamiir hissed as he ripped his eyes away from the screen. He turned to where Satuur stood at the window. “Get down there and kill those two!” he screamed at Satuur, who was peeking through the curtains and, apparently, oblivious to what had just happened in the conference room.
“Wretches…” Satuur growled. The compound stretched out in front of the three-story building and included a field of concrete walkways, mountain grasses, and thick mud where the vehicles had dug deep paths in the soil. Beyond that, about 40 meters from the front door of the building, was the main, eastern gate, with a paved road running away toward the landing pad where the shuttles were parked a kilometer away. The crowd of GenSha that had gathered hours earlier was gone, but what was about to replace it filled him with dread. He spun around and moved toward a bank of monitors along one wall.
“What in the name of all that’s unholy is going on?” Dolamiir shouted, suddenly frightened by his bodyguard’s behavior. Then he heard the sound of heavy engines and tractor treads approaching the building.
Satuur held up a finger while he hit the keys of a panel set into the desk. The screen showing the Peacemaker meeting disappeared from the monitor and split into six different images of external surveillance feeds that flicked from one image of the compound to another until he found the cameras he wanted. On one, labeled Eastern Gate, a pair of bulldozers moved up the road, side-by-side. They had thick layers of armor plating welded to their blades. He could also see GenSha miners, all of whom were armed, coming up in the wake of the heavy equipment. They turned off the main road and down the short stretch of pavement that led to the front gate. It was hard to estimate numbers, but he guessed there were more than 100. The other camera, labeled Western Gate, offered a virtually identical view.
“The GenSha are mounting an attack—a big one.” He looked at Dolamiir, his eyes intense. “We have to leave. Now.”
A klaxon blared throughout the entire compound. Dolamiir saw what was coming, and a tremor of fear coursed up his spine.