by Kal Spriggs
The only thorn in his side was the handful of agents who had met with opposition. Three of his junior agents had been killed, at least one of them had been exposed in the process. Punatra wanted the Apru open and vulnerable, not alert to his activities. While the Chandral didn't have immediate plans for the conquest, the time would come soon, he knew. He would have to take the time to eliminate any knowledge of his people, which meant hunting those who had killed his people as well as destroying evidence of their presence.
And, he thought, if I don't hear from Galapunatra soon, I'll have to assume that he too, has fallen prey, and I'll have to investigate the crew of the ship he infiltrated, this Fenris.
He sneered a bit as he thought of the unholy ship, a thing of welding, constructed rather than grown. Powerful and dangerous, yes, but also unclean. Worse, it was directed by an intelligence not of flesh and blood, but of wires and circuits. That Galapunatra had to operate from aboard such a monstrosity made Punatra cringe. He hoped that his grandson had made good his effort to take over the vessel, if only so that he could extinguish such an abominable creation from the universe.
And if he hadn't, well then, Punatra would make good on his grandson's efforts and he would do so personally. After all, such a group of criminals as Galapunatra had described would make an excellent trial of his own abilities, and for all his knowledge of his own superiority, sometimes a man just had to test his capabilities.
Time: 1030 Zulu, 12 October 291 G.D.
Location: Guard Intelligence Headquarters, Harlequin System
Agent Scadden nodded to Director Feinstein's too beautiful secretary as she waved him through to the inner office. The sunny smile she gave him was almost reward enough, even though he knew she could watch a burning orphanage with that sunny smile in place and not feel a thing.
Again, he surreptitiously checked the floor and felt some relief as he saw carpeting rather than plastic sheeting. “Director.” In all likelihood that meant things had fallen out as well as he had hoped.
The vulture-faced man gave him a smile, “Senior Agent Scadden, excellent job, excellent job.” He slid a folder across his desk and Scadden stepped forward to take it. “Odin Interstellar's embarrassment was almost perfect and the splash has quite embarrassed Parisian Sector's Headquarters. Oh, their faces as they briefed the Security Council... I wish I had a recording of the meeting. Senior Agent, you've given us free rein to act as we see fit.”
The Director's smile matched the greedy look of a scavenger watching a dying creature, “There will be many missions that we didn't have freedom to pursue... and now we do. I have a blanket authorization to enact any measures I deem necessary to preserve Guard authority across the Harlequin Sector.” He rubbed his hands together, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.
Scadden matched the director's smile, but for quite a different reason. The Director's pleasure with him would mean greater freedom to carry out his own agenda. Scadden snapped to attention, “Sir, I'll await your orders.”
“Oh, they'll be coming, very soon now,” Director Feinstein said with a smirk. “You are dismissed, Senior Agent, and when this next set of missions begins, your name will be at the top of my short list.” He made that sound like a good thing, though Scadden's stomach turned a bit. Generally, Feinstein made even Scadden's former mentor seem rather tame in retrospect. Director Feinstein's vision of humanity's future involved killing off all those who stepped out of line.
“Thank you, sir,” Scadden said. He departed the office, nodded to the Director's secretary, and continued out into the corridors. It took him some time to work his way to his own office, buried down in the depths of Harlequin Sector's Guard Intelligence Headquarters.
He read through the official investigation report from the incident at Odin Interstellar. Most of the blame had fallen on Doctor Farber, who the authorities had taken in to custody. Though, unfortunately for him, he'd been transferred to Odin Interstellar for further “questioning” that Scadden somehow doubted the good doctor would survive.
More the pity, Scadden thought, he was a truly brilliant man... just inconvenient to all parties. He dreaded what the scientist's program would have revealed about his own plans, much less that of his allies.
The investigation's findings, backed up by an independent investigation by Rear Admiral Grossman of Guard Fleet, was that Doctor Farber had hired a mercenary company in order to “prove” his algorithm worked by then betraying them. He'd used that to prolong his position within Odin Interstellar and to embezzle funds from his project into a private account, all the while planning to hijack their databanks and then escape with as many secrets and files as he could, with a team of criminals hired to slip him out.
The investigators had concluded the pirates had brought additional explosives with them for the mission which had detonated as a result of Doctor Farber's grenade. To Scadden's minor surprise, they had identified several of the bodies and even pointed out a possible connection with Guard Free Now, though they concluded it looked more like a freelance operation.
Because the doctor hadn't escaped and his only surviving compatriot had only ever been a prisoner within the Headquarters, they had concluded that no data had leaked from Odin Interstellar's network. Yet Scadden could read between the lines. What it laid out was that Odin Interstellar had been played the fool. Their security had only barely covered their blunder and only because someone else, namely Vulcan Mining Concern, had noticed a problem.
They had already seen repercussions as a result. Their stock value had plummeted and at least three major corporations, including Vulcan Mining Concern, had pulled their contracts with them for data transfer and information storage. It wouldn't be long before others did the same... and the vultures were circling.
The other pages in the folder detailed an analysis of implications for Guard Intelligence, but Scadden skipped over those. Many of them were either extremely short-sighted or were by analysts who knew what their superiors wanted to hear and wouldn't produce anything that required more thought than that.
Scadden had done his own analysis... one that significantly differed from the official projections. He had seen the writing on the wall a decade ago, when he examined the shift in Guard Intelligence operations. It had begun when his mentor had explained why he was leaving. The realization that the UN Star Guard could not maintain their empire much longer had triggered something of a conscience... and a desire to avoid the bloodshed and chaos that would result.
There was nothing he could do to halt that transition, but he might be able to set the stage so that it was as short and painless as possible. Nations like the Preserve or even subsidiary protectorates within Guard space like the Harmony Protectorate could expand to fill the role. Terrorist organizations and militant nut jobs would make their moves, but if the right powers could be enabled... then they might be stopped.
Removing Doctor Farber from his chance to gain power was probably for the best, he thought absently. He didn't think the doctor planned to massacre people with his power, but that didn't mean he wouldn't kill a lot of people trying to force his vision of the future down their throats.
Scadden sat back as he considered his plan. His greatest resource at the moment was the fact that he had his eye fixed ten moves ahead. His fellows within Guard Intelligence prided themselves on their foresight, when most times they did little better then react to events as they occurred.
Scadden didn't know if his plan would work, but he did know that he had a new resource to call upon. The crew of the Fenris would be a very useful tool, especially given Melanie Armstrong's ties to the Century colony.
He would have to handle them carefully, but at least he knew that he could depend upon them. They and other mercenaries would be key, he knew, especially if they brought with them the entire effort of the Mercenary Guild. If they could be split away from their direct support of the Guard yet still retain their charter and their professional ethics, he might be able to pull it off. Of course, if on
e of the external threats, such as the Culmor or Erandi got involved, things would probably crumble.
No pressure, he thought, I just have the fate of the human race on my shoulders. He smiled as he thought about that. When he was honest with himself he could admit that part of why he had chosen this course of action was it appealed to his ego. A challenge that he could take pride in... to save humanity from oppression or even extinction.
Arthur Scadden just hoped he proved equal to the task.
Time: 1715 Zulu, 15 October 291 G.D.
Location: Danzig, City of Neuhaven, Neu Emshaven System
Doctor Farber awoke and he blinked his eyes against the harsh light overhead. What has happened to me, he thought, I feel so weak, so slow...
He raised one hand and stared at it. Slowly he felt dawning horror as he saw his pink, fleshy appendage. “What happened to me?” He sobbed. He was in a hospital bed, in a room of some kind. His body, though, his beautiful perfect body...
“Doctor Farber,” a voice spoke from a short distance away, “So glad to finally make your acquaintance.” The polite, cultured voice was everything that Axel Farber hated about humanity... it was everything he could never be as a mere human.
Axel Farber looked over and after what seemed like an eternity, his eyes focused on the man seated near his hospital bed. “Who are you?”
The man gave him a smile with perfect, even teeth, “I want you to tell me everything you remember about what happened at Odin Interstellar's Corporate Headquarters.” He had a gentle, calm expression, one that made Axel Farber think that everything would be alright... even as part of him rejected such illogical emotion.
Doctor Farber shook his head, it was all so muddled. So much of his knowledge had been locked away in his nanocomputer, he had long since transferred his short term memory to electronic mediums to allow him perfect recall.
“I don't know. There was shooting, an... explosion?” It was all a blur, vague and chaotic, he remembered being angry, being very angry, and... some sort of realization. Had he finally succeeded, had he attempted to upload his algorithm into his mind? How had he not succeeded? Axel knew he wouldn't have done it if he wasn't certain of success.
“Yes, doctor,” the man said. There was something familiar about him, something about his eyes. “Tell me about that.” His level voice became intent, direct, even commanding.
“I'm not sure,” Doctor Farber said. “Was I injured?” He hated his shrill, quavering voice.
“You were,” the man said. “Your augmented body was virtually destroyed by a stunner hit. It was quite beyond the repair of my people, so I had them regenerate your original body.”
“No,” Doctor Farber whimpered. He hated the sound of his voice, the weak, pathetic whine that he had never been able to erase from it. “I must be allowed to fix myself, I'm weak. This fleshy thing is not my body, I need my augments!”
“No,” the man said. “You don't.” He stood from his chair and then pulled up a small table next to the bed. “You see, Doctor, the woman who hit you with that stunner round was my daughter, Lindsey Bader. I'm Arnold Bader, the CEO of Odin Interstellar.”
Doctor Farber caught the man by the front of his shirt and managed to lever himself upright in the bed, “You don't understand! I can't live like this!” Had he his proper metal limbs, he could have forced compliance... but he didn't.
Arnold Bader caught his wrists and levered them back painfully. Doctor Farber gave a shriek of pain and Arnold Bader's smile grew broad. “Yes, Doctor, that's what you need to do. You'll be doing quite a bit of that over the next few months.” From how he had twisted in the man's arms, Doctor Farber could see the contents of the table. It held an assortment of knives, pliers, and needles.
Doctor Farber felt his panic mount, “Please, please, I'll tell you anything you want, I'll do anything you want!” Pain was not something he had felt in decades, he had removed that flaw from his body long since. Now it overwhelmed him... and he smelled the sharp stink of urine and felt hot wetness spread across his legs.
“Oh,” Arnold Bader said. “I know that. Normally I wouldn't bother with as pathetic-willed a creature as you... but I'm making a special exception.” He lay Doctor Farber back on his bed, adjusted his pillow with care and precision and then pulled his chair up next to the bed. “Now, then, Doctor. Tell me about the day that you killed my daughter. And please, give me all the details.”
Time: 1230 Zulu, 28 October 291 G.D.
Location: Blisken Station, Hanet System
Malekith escorted Mr. Wilson and Mr. Wolters into Fenris's lounge. Wilson, with his scar seamed face and Wolters with his weathered one didn't have smiles, but Mel could still tell that they were satisfied.
“Guard Intelligence has released the funds from escrow for your payment,” Wilson said, his raspy voice pleased. “We've transferred the funds to your accounts, short some Guild handling fees and the money for a Guild Charter as well, which we assume you'll want.”
“Thanks,” Mel said. She didn't comment on the assumption... or the fact that the Mercenary Guild had probably taken a sizable chunk for themselves in Guild fees. Just now, they were flush with money... and their money stolen from Guard Free Now would begin to arrive in only a few more months.
“We wanted to meet in person to express our thanks for handling the situation so well,” Wolters said. “Initial news reports have painted Odin Interstellar in a very poor light. While independent investigation has cleared them of any data breach, I would be surprised if the corporation lasts out the next few years.”
“And since they killed off the company of mercenaries sent in before us, that makes you happy?” Mel asked. Not that she blamed them, Guild mercenaries needed to look out for one another; certainly no-one else would.
Wilson gave a humorless smile, “We fight and die for profit, but when someone ruthlessly kills our people, I don't mind bringing them down a notch or three.” He shrugged, “You hit them where it really hurts, their profit margin, and they don't even know we did it.” He set a data chip down, “Pending your repairs, we'll put out the word that your new mercenary company is available for hire, Miss... Amiss, I believe it is?”
Mel gave a sour smile at that. Fenris had insisted the identity provided the best cover, but Mel figured he thought he was funny. “Yes, Captain Melody Amiss,” he said. At least she wouldn't need to learn to answer to another nickname. “And we've selected a name for our company: Rising Wolf.”
Wolters gave a slight snort at that, “Appropriate. Well, Captain Amiss, I look forward to seeing what your company is capable of, now that you're a part of the Mercenary Guild. We'll establish you as one of our 'black' companies so your exact resources will be kept as restricted information.”
Mel nodded at that, “Thanks.”
“Pending anything else,” Wilson said. “We'll leave it at that. Congratulations, Captain.”
The two men departed. Malekith gave Mel a nod, “I'd also like to extend my congratulations and my thanks. The payment for the Colonel's services was more than satisfactory.”
“Not a problem,” Mel said. They had paid through the offer of planting a variety of cover identities into the system for Bane Sidhe and from what Fenris had said, it had taken less time than finding appropriate existing identities for Mel and the others, mostly because the ones for Bane Sidhe didn't have to be as comprehensive, theirs were merely for future operations and would only need to last for so long.
“Well,” Malekith said, “I'll be going. If you need any further assistance in the future, you know how to contact us.”
***
“So,” Bob said as the thumping music of the club made his skull vibrate, “what plans do you have?” He had to lean in and yell to be heard over the racket. Not that he minded being close to her.
Aldera gave him a slight smile, “I think I will stick around.” In the dim light, her pale skin looked even more pale. She looked every bit the tragic figure from one of his homeworld's ballads,
the damsel in distress. And me, he thought, I want to be the sucker to go save her from her tower.
“No,” Bob said, “I meant for the night? Why did we come here?” She'd mentioned she planned to go out earlier and invited him. This certainly was not what he had expected of the prim and proper woman. Then again, he had come to suspect that Aldera was a woman of many surprises. He quite liked that about her.
She gave a wave at the club, “I have never experienced this before, yes? I have lived in a bunker much of my adult life. Before that, there was research, studies...” She smiled, “I wanted to see what it was like. I also want to experience some other things and I thought this would be a way to start them. After all, we do have money to burn.”
Bob liked that smile. Quite a bit, actually. “And?
She moved her head back and forth. “The music, it is quite bad. The lighting is dim so we cannot see how dirty it all is. The drinks,” she lifted the drink she held, a girly drink with fruit, flowers, and a curled straw, “are terrible. The company is not so bad though.”
Bob smiled at that. “Well, I'm glad something hasn't disappointed you.”
“The evening is young,” she answered back with a smile.
“Well,” Bob said, “since you've seen a club, what next?”
“Well,” Aldera said. “I've actually made a list. First I would like to find a decent man, have him treat me to a nice date, good dinner and better conversation. Then, I would like to take him to a hotel, rip his clothing off, and have passionate sex with him.”
Bob coughed as he inhaled some of his drink. She was right, the drinks were terrible. As he caught his breath, though, he drank it down in one gulp.