Lmurr chewed the corned beef hash, wincing at the saltiness of the beef and the curious crunch of the cubed potatoes against his tongue. Humans would find it savory. For him, it was barely palatable, but he needed to eat. Understanding Human likes and dislikes were the keys to their impulsiveness. Of all the sentient species he’d operated with or against, they were the most unpredictable and the most resilient. Their Peacemaker was exceptional at both. News of the incident at Araf spread like wildfire on the heels of her commissioning. Non-Human mercenary units stood up and took notice that Humans could be a real threat, if they ever got their collective shit together.
Lmurr chuckled. Humans and their colorful language.
There were a few Human mercenary outfits that had the money, personnel, and experience to make a real difference. Most of them employed passable fighters who would do anything for money. The galaxy wanted Humans to do their dirty work. If they died trying, that was even better. Removing a civilization’s warriors, even the bad ones, makes them easier to topple—it was a simple rule of warfare, older than the Union itself. One Lmurr knew all too well.
Alarm klaxons blared from the compound below. The mercenaries were attacking. Lmurr curled his lip in disgust and tossed the remainder of the cold hash aside. With a deep breath to calm his rising anger, he stood and collected his rifle. Outside the tent, the morning was humid and almost cool. Lmurr took another deep breath and calmly leapt from the platform’s edge to a main tree branch three meters below, his claws digging into the soft wood easily. He’d mapped thirty routes to different firing positions in the tree’s foliage and could be at any of them within thirty seconds, if he hurried. There was no need. The MinSha alert system always gave ten minutes warning, if possible. He could crawl on his stomach to his firing position and have enough time. The only question was whether the Peacemaker would come outside. If she did, in the commotion that was sure to follow, he’d be able to end her life and hide in his prepared position long enough to contact the mercenaries and get a ride all the way to retirement.
He blinked the idea of warm sand and cool water away and crawled through the foliage to his favorite firing position. From there, he could see the entirety of the compound. If Francis poked her head outside at the wrong time, he could use the mercenaries and their typical smash-and-grab mentality to cover his work. In the crook of a wide branch that concealed him and offered an impressive field of fire, Lmurr nestled the rifle against the tree and set his firing position. He snapped the firing mechanism to charge and felt a thrum through the weapon’s stock. He sighted it in and settled down to wait, as he’d done one thousand six hundred and four times before. This was no different, he told himself.
One more shot. One more kill.
* * *
Weqq
MinSha Compound
Jessica rushed through the central corridor of the western wall complex toward the laboratory. Behind her, Psymrr screeched at her to stop, but she’d made up her mind. The MinSha were hiding something, and she didn’t have much time to figure out what. They’d done something, accidental or not, involving the TriRusk. The entire mission and discussion about species indoctrination was bullshit unless she knew what their intentions were, beyond protecting the TriRusk. The characters of the old holoshows where interference with emerging civilizations was wrong would have been proud, except that the concept was a lie, and Jessica knew it. Civilizations tended to exist well within their own bubble. Expand that bubble or burst it and a civilization could fail. How many societies on Earth had done just that? Leaving a civilization alone sounded good in theory, but the reality was societies had their resources and their own areas of expertise. Sharing the expertise was a noble thing to do, but all too often, stronger states influenced the resources of weaker states. The MinSha believed the TriRusk had something of value.
Or, they knew there was value in their society and wanted to keep it for themselves.
Jessica found two armed guards at the laboratory door. One of them stepped in front of it and raised his curved-stocked laser rifle to the ready position. “You are not permitted entry. We are authorized to use deadly force, if necessary.”
“You have five seconds to get out of my way,” Jessica said. “There are five statutes in the Peacemaker code that allow me to pass through that door or cause you bodily harm.”
The guard tilted his head. “An unarmed Human doesn’t stand a chance against an armed MinSha, Peacemaker or not.”
“Get out of my way.”
The guard raised his weapon further but didn’t swivel the barrel in her direction. The look on his impassive face said he wasn’t going to move. Jessica smirked. Watching his body position, she juked her left foot toward the MinSha, gauging his reaction. Aggressively, he brought up the butt of the rifle and swung it in a vicious arc toward her head, but Jessica was already moving. She ducked under the swing and pulled the stun baton from her left hip, switching it on in one smooth motion. The guard completed his swing, and she came up with the stunner, lodging it between two plates in his carapace under his right arm.
“EERKK!” The guard screeched and fell to the floor. She dislodged the stunner and whirled to face the other guard. It hadn’t moved and looked at her almost placidly.
“Not interested?” Jessica asked.
The guard tilted its chin and Jessica looked behind her. Captain Tirr’s red eyes gleamed. “I am impressed, Peacemaker.”
“You want to tell me what the hell is going on, Tirr?”
Tirr looked at her, then at the guard behind her. “Open the door and stand aside.”
The guard said something she didn’t understand, and Lucille didn’t chime in her earpiece with an instant translation. The hatchway to the laboratory swung open, and Tirr motioned for her to step inside. She looked at the guard. “What did you say to the captain?”
“Whrrr.”
She squinted. “What does that mean?”
Tirr laughed. “It’s a simple sound of assent or agreement. I believe you are familiar with the term ‘hooah’ from the soldiers on Earth?”
Jessica smiled. “That’s merely one example, but yes, I know what you’re talking about.”
“We have a similar tradition.” Tirr nodded. “Maybe we’re not that different, after all. Unless you severely injured my soldier.”
They stepped through the doorway. “Mild shock. He’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
“Save for his pride,” Tirr said. “Public embarrassment goes a long way in correcting attitudes, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would.” The laboratory was a long narrow room with several treatment beds along each wall. At the far end, a set of clear doors cordoned off what Jessica assumed was a clean room. Inside, Fuul stood looking over an enclosure that reminded Jessica of the portable playpen in her best friend’s living room back on Earth. She walked through the immaculately-sterile room. Fuul turned, startled, as Jessica approached the door. Her lips moved, but Jessica couldn’t hear anything until the doors opened.
“—Peacemaker. You cannot be in here, by Psymrr’s orders. I protest this—”
“Protest noted. The Peacemaker can go wherever she deems it necessary, on my authority.” Tirr said.
Jessica looked over her shoulder and met the captain’s eyes. “Thank you, Tirr.”
He nodded and looked at the physician. “Is the subject sedated? We cannot risk an outburst that will bring the rest of its tribe.”
Fuul nodded and looked into the pen. After a moment, the physician spoke with reasonable control and professionalism. Jessica couldn’t help but wonder if the MinSha knew the expression ‘being caught with their hands in the cookie jar.’ “She is sedated, yes. Peacemaker Francis, this is a three-year-old TriRusk female. Like the one you spotted outside the compound this morning, she has a condition like the albinism observed on Earth and in four other species in the Union.”
Four? Jessica blinked. Maybe Tirr is right, and we’re all not that different. “Why are you keepin
g her here, and why wasn’t I briefed on this?”
Fuul’s chest twitched in a MinSha sigh. She looked at Tirr, likely for approval, then back at Jessica. “The TriRusk disappearance is one of the great mysteries of the Union. They were a respected species and great allies of the MinSha for centuries. But, rare little ones like this possess a unique biochemical trait. It’s hard to explain, Peacemaker. Because of the trait, they were exploited by other species in the Union for profit.”
The TriRusk in the pen cooed softly. Jessica heard the doors close behind them, but she focused her attention on the sleeping creature. The dinosaur-like appearance was clearer now, and the powerful forelimbs and hands looked odd compared to the rest of the shaggy body. As she watched, its belly hitched. The child twisted its abdomen and raised one leg.
“Good. I can show you,” Fuul said. “She will express her bowels in a moment. You may want to cover your olfactory sense…nose, Peacemaker. The smell can be quite potent.”
“Human babies possess the unique ability to bring tears to our eyes with their odors.”
“I had no idea,” Fuul said. The TriRusk passed a small amount of yellow stool on the floor of the pen. Fuul reached down with a gloved claw and collected it. Jessica watched the physician mash it between her fingers. The sight, plus the overpowering smell of something dead and rotten, tightened Jessica’s stomach.
Gods, this is worse than Rachel changing Evan’s diapers! The sudden thought of her friends and their families made her miss Earth for the first time in months. Her memories weren’t nostalgic. They were painful reminders that she’d chosen a far different path than the rest of her species.
Fuul held out a hand to Jessica. Something in the stool caught the light of the room and glittered. For a split second, she saw a prism. She wanted to ask if it was glass, but she quickly realized the shit-smeared crystal was something very different. Its presence explained everything.
“They synthesize diamonds.”
Fuul nodded. “Very small amounts, yes, but very pure. Only the albino children do this. The ability vanished by age ten or eleven in all the cases known to the MinSha.”
Tirr spoke behind her. “The ramifications of this discovery, especially if they are feral, are far reaching.”
Jessica asked, “How much do they produce a day?”
“The average is about ten grams per five Earth days,” Fuul said. “Every week from birth to ten or eleven, they produce close to five kilograms each, Peacemaker. The diamonds are perfect for enhancing laser weaponry, adorning drilling equipment, and a host of other uses.”
“Before they disappeared, TriRusk diamonds were the most sought-after manufacturing resource in the outer rim territories,” Tirr said. “If word gets out about the TriRusks’ presence, every profiteer in the galaxy will come here to capture and exploit them. We called for a Peacemaker to protect them for that reason. Even if they are feral, they need the Union’s protection.”
Jessica nodded. “They do. We could have solved this much more quickly if you’d simply trusted me.”
“I don’t trust you, Peacemaker. You’re a Human and likely already thinking of ways you can exploit this situation for yourself,” Fuul snapped.
“If I’m thinking of ways to exploit this situation just by standing here,” Jessica replied slowly, “then what are you doing sedating and withholding this child from his tribe?”
“She was abandoned. We rescued her and—”
“Didn’t you tell me the TriRusk have been outside the compound every other day for a while? They’re looking for this child, Fuul. I’m ordering you to give her back to them.”
Fuul reared up on her hind legs but didn’t push any taller. Jessica wondered if it was because of the ceiling height or because the physician understood that her posture could seem like a threat. A Peacemaker’s actions were justified in honoring any such threat. She made no move for her sidearm, though. “You cannot order a physician to do anything in the treatment of a patient, Peacemaker. Union law prohibits your misuse of power.”
What the fuck is your problem?
Jessica forced a smile. “What are you treating this patient for, Doctor?”
“I am identifying its genetic markers to try and prevent her from passing them to future offspring,” Fuul said. “I am justified in keeping it here as long as necessary.”
“We’ll see about that.” Jessica turned to Tirr. “I need to send an emergency message to the guild. Now.”
“Follow me, Peacem—”
Alarm klaxons sounded. Tirr pushed through the clear doors and fled down the medical bay. Jessica followed at a sprint. They dodged other MinSha pushing through the corridor toward the central compound. Tirr adjusted a headset microphone over his mouth and began giving orders. “Defenses to ready. Set all standoff weaponry to active and sensors to engage. We will not fire until fired upon, but if they do fire at us, I want you to rain fire on them.”
Jessica caught up to Tirr as they entered the command center. Psymrr was nowhere to be seen. “They’re Humans, Tirr. They’ll talk to me. Give me an open channel.”
Tirr glanced at a Tri-V screen and slapped it. “All outbound communications are jammed. Even the emergency channel.”
Jessica tapped her earpiece. “Lucille?”
<
“Copy that.”
“Who are you talking to?” Tirr asked. “Do you have assistance on this planet?”
“Lucille is a slate program who monitors my communications and assists when she can. She’s blocked out, too.”
The captain looked down as a three-dimensional overhead view of the compound appeared, and Jessica could see the defensive emplacements. Gun and missile turrets appeared at every corner, and manned firing positions filled the parapets. Something was wrong. It looked good on the surface, but something about the positions of the key weapons didn’t make sense. Depending on how Raleigh attacked, they could be vulnerable.
A red light blinked ominously from the control panel. Tirr grunted and reached for the communications console. “What is that? Aren’t our comms jammed?”
“I have to try, Peacemaker.” Tirr looked at her for a second and pressed the transmit button. “All stations, this is Captain Tirr. De-orbiting vessels are firing on outlying colony sites. Brace for impact and die well.”
Jessica blinked in horror. Two of the descending ships passed at an altitude of ten miles and loosed what looked like a full arsenal of weaponry on the outlying sites. The problem was so simple tactically the MinSha never considered it. They had no ships in orbit supporting them. All their assets were on the ground and focused on the unrelenting jungle around them. They never considered an attack from space against a scientific mission.
They were vulnerable from above.
* * *
Satisfaction
20,000 Meters Above and Descending
“Ten miles up,” Raleigh whooped with glee. With no real opposition, his plan to overwhelm the two smaller colonies from the ground was unnecessary. The additional CASPers, ammunition, and fuel he’d be able to save for operations against the biggest colony would give him more combat power and, more importantly, options. “Change of plans. Teams Charlie and Delta, de-orbital bombardment of your target sites. Everything in your drop bays short of the nukes, you hear me?”
The two small vessels acknowledged as they fell further from the formation toward the planet’s surface. He could see Charlie team and its sleek corvette, Black Bonnie, falling just off his nose to the planetary north. Her drop bays were open, and a steady stream of precision guided munitions fell from her cavernous racks. The small, poorly defended MinSha colony in the mountains stood virtually no chance.
“Charlie and Delta, recon your targets and make sure nothing’s moving. Close on our formation ASAP. Charlie, deploy in the valley to the south and east of the compound. Delta, you get the northern high g
round. Round up anything you see. You’re weapons free until I tell ya you ain’t. Get to work. Raleigh, out.”
He stared at his displays as Charlie and Delta teams fell further back, leaving the two larger ships descending to the surface. He didn’t have the patience or bank account for drop skiffs or anything else along those lines. A whole ship, rigorously protected by his CASPers, put everything at his disposal. At least that’s what he told himself. After reports of Marc Lemieux’s survivors aboard an orbital ship mutinying against him and running for Karma, Raleigh decided he loved the company of relentless mercenaries he’d built from scratch, but he couldn’t trust any of them not to steal his ships at the first sign of trouble. Protecting them from automated control sabotage took a sizable portion of his funds, but it was worth it. Nothing short of an act of the Gods could disrupt his ability to shoot, move, and communicate. He controlled everything; blacking out anything unnecessary to his forces gave him a sense of finite control. His mercs did only what he told them to do, or they paid for it dearly. And his ability to clog every aspect of the electromagnetic spectrum made him a force to be reckoned with. “Offensive weapons. Full package on overwhelm.”
The offensive weapons officer slicked back a stray lock of stringy, blonde hair and replied. “Copy, sir. Package is on.”
Raleigh grinned. “Everything you’ve got, Riddle?”
Riddle nodded, never looking up from his console. If he’d been tanned and fit, Raleigh would have pictured him as a perfect California surfer. “Everything I’ve got, sir. Phased array four is acting up, but I’m covering with array three and supplementary systems.”
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