Counterstrike: The Separatist Wars Book 2

by Thomas Webb

  Silvio stared down at the empty section of bench. After a moment of contemplation, he smoothed his slacks and took the offered seat.

  “Have you ever heard the name Renee’ Leblanc?” Cynthia asked.

  Lima took a moment, allowing time for his mind to retrieve and organize the information he needed, and for his temper to cool. He had heard that name before. Several times, in fact. LeBlanc was a nasty piece of work. Now it was coming back to him. Born into a wealthy Separatist family, LeBlanc was the youngest of three siblings. All of them, in one manner or another, had found their way to being fighters for the cause.

  Leblanc himself was a bit of a war hero. An explosives expert, if Lima recalled correctly. He’d been captured in a raid four years ago. There had been an attack while he was still in a holding cell, and he and his compatriots had escaped in the confusion. Lima could only guess that Leblanc had been recaptured, then stashed away at the secret prison in Kush. Now, after that black site in the Kingdom, LeBlanc was 2-0 for prison escapes against the UN. He was twice imprisoned, and now twice escaped.

  “Leblanc,” Lima began. “Is a Separatist bomb maker.” He planned on letting Cynthia fill in the rest, in hopes she’d drop some new piece of intelligence that he hadn’t been aware of.

  She nodded slowly. “One and the same. But calling Leblanc a ‘bomb maker’ is like calling Mozart a simple musician. Leblanc is responsible for the creation of some very deadly devices, each more sophisticated and lethal than the next.” Cynthia threw the ducks another handful of oats. “This asshole’s credits include two recent highlights prior to his apprehension. Remember that UNIA field office that was taken out last year? And the civilian commercial transport bound for Narillius?”

  Lima had known people who worked out of that field office. Good agents. The civilian transport had been a tragedy. It was all over the news feeds. Over three-hundred souls en route to the resort world of Narillius, lost in the blink of an eye. The Separatists had claimed responsibility.

  “I remember the incidents,” Lima said. “Leblanc was behind them?”

  “He was.”

  Christ in the Stars, Lima thought. Leblanc was far more dangerous than he’d known.

  “What you may not know,” Cynthia continued, “was that Leblanc had a close compatriot in the Separatist movement. They came up through the ranks alongside one another. He’s someone you’re personally acquainted with.”

  Lima didn’t need any further clues. He knew who she meant.

  “Ramsey,” he said.

  “When you first came to Karl in Sao Paulo with your suspicions, we started doing some digging from our end. Of course we did biometric testing as soon as Ramsey was in custody.”

  “And?”

  “And the tests were fooled. Inconclusive. We came up empty. But we had our suspicions around the man calling himself Smith. Certain biometric markers were our first indication. I had them compared, and they matched Ramsey’s. But not to the degree to that we could be one-hundred percent certain of his identity. Even so, I suspected it was him from the beginning. Despite the DNA results, and despite the facial reconstruction.”

  “You suspected?” Lima asked, his voice rising.

  Cynthia shrugged. “I couldn’t rule it out, Silvio. We had no proof it was him, in the beginning. It’s not unheard of for very distant relatives to share biometric similarities. But I had a feeling in my gut that this time, that wasn’t the case.”

  “A feeling in your gut? And you did not think this ‘feeling’ important enough to bring to my attention?”

  Cynthia maintained her poker face. “I have my reasons. But that information is on a strictly need to know basis. At the time, you didn’t need to know. You still don’t. I’ll share them with you when, and if, the time is right.”

  The irony stuck in Lima’s craw. How often had he uttered those same words to his own assets over the years? Now it was his turn to be the asset. He had no choice but to swallow the indignation. For the time being.

  “So bring me up to speed on why we were brought in,” Lima said. He already had his suspicions about the agency’s motives for letting the team in on the prisoner.

  “He’s gunning for your people, Silvio. That shouldn’t come as a surprise to you?”

  It didn’t. And now she’d confirmed it. It led to a realization.

  “You used my team as bait,” Lima said. “To get Ramsey to reveal himself. To draw him into the open.”

  Cynthia emptied the last of the oats for the ducks, watching them peck at the morsels. “Did you know that you aren’t supposed to feed ducks bread?” she asked. “Makes them fat. They recommend oats instead.”

  “Why?” Lima asked.

  “Why oats?”

  “No. Why use my people as bait?”

  “Think about it, Silvio. Your team made for the perfect enticement. If Ramsey wouldn’t reveal himself for a shot at revenge, he wouldn’t do it for anything. And to be fair, it was your team that let him slip away in the first place. I would have thought that you, of all people, would be eager for the chance to right that mistake.”

  “Dammit Cynthia,” Lima growled. “And what about Ramsey escaping with one of one of the most dangerous bomb makers in the known worlds? Was that also a part of your plans?”

  Cynthia shook her head. “No. That was an . . .an unfortunate turn of events. We weren’t aware that the Separatists had that type of capability. Them gaining access to our secret locations and an industrial-sized sonic drill here on Earth wasn’t an angle we’d anticipated.”

  A sonic drill of that size and type was a major planetary construction tool. There was only one place-one company-that could have provided that caliber of equipment. “We know where they got their tech, Cynthia. They were well prepared and well equipped for this assault. United Les Space made sure of that.”

  Cynthia breathed a heavy sigh. “Like I told you before Silvio. . . the UNIA can’t move on them officially. At least not yet. We’re working on building a case, but we need more time. And more proof. With their connections, anything we have on them has to be peristeel-clad.”

  “They are growing bold,” Silvio said. And who could blame them? Too many politicians on too many planets were in their pocket. Lima relaxed, ever so slightly. He leaned back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other. “Of course, there are always other options?”

  Cynthia paused, her brow furrowed, as if something had only just occurred to her. She turned to Lima. “I haven’t ruled it out. But I’d rather not use those options if we have a choice. If we authorized terminations and anything went wrong, there would be an interplanetary diplomatic incident. It would be a shitshow of historically epic proportions. No—we need to play this straight, with no chance of blowback. At least for now.”

  “What about my team?” Lima asked. “Risking them that way? That was low, Cynthia. Even for those in our line of work.” Lima was angry. He was most angry with himself. He should have anticipated Cynthia deeming his team expendable. He should have seen it coming.

  “Leblanc is a treasure trove of intel,” Cynthia said, looking out over the pond. She held her empty oat bag in her hand. “And he has lives to answer for. The chance to have both he and Ramsey at the same time was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. And knowing what we do about Ramsey’s mad-on for your team? We couldn’t let that opportunity slip.”

  “And now you’ve lost them both.” Silvio shook his head. “You haven’t changed a bit, Cynthia.”

  Cynthia frowned. “You understand how this game is played. Or at least you should. Your team can handle themselves, as we’ve seen several times now. For intel that valuable, it was deemed a necessary risk.”

  “Necessary my ass,” Lima spat. Lima recognized his anger growing again and moved to extinguish it. Extinguish it, and replace it with something much colder. “The next time you use my people for bait?” he warned. “Well, I would not want to be you.” Silvio Lima stood, having heard enough. He straightened his jacket
before walking off toward the trees, all under the watchful, shaded eyes of Cynthia’s security detail.

  “Wait,” Cynthia called.

  Lima froze.

  “I have one more thing to share. If you’re willing to listen?”

  Silvio didn’t turn, but she had his attention. “I am listening,” he said.

  “My people are working this quietly. Word is that Leblanc still has ties in New Paris. He may go to ground there. Galia is too hot for any United Nations assets to be seen operating on-planet. But if I were going after Ramsey? That’s where I’d start my hunt.”

  -11-

  Jordan Ramsey gazed over the balcony at the street below. The narrow cobblestone lanes of New Paris didn’t so much run as they meandered, twisting and turning among stately stone buildings stacked several stories high. The music of a street violinist reached Ramsey’s ears as the old man serenaded passersby for credits. The arches of the Cathedral D’ Saint Marie rose in the distance, the ancient church’s peaks and towers reaching toward the sky.

  The apartment, though meager and dirty, afforded an excellent view. Further out, the edge of the city butted along the banks of the Batiste River. The great tributary wended its way south, flowing toward the mountains on the horizon.

  Like many Outer Colonies planets, Galia had been populated by those who’d tired of the overcrowded home world and yearned for open spaces. Over two hundred years before, the desire for freedom from the strict regulations of the UN drove Galia’s earliest settlers. Those first men and women, originally inhabitants of the Earth nation of France, hurled themselves through the jump gates and far past the edges of UN controlled space, deep into the relative unknown.

  They’d journeyed in search of the freedom to move and to breathe, to be and to think and to act as they chose. They’d searched for freedom from taxation, and from the regimented rules dictated by the UN member nations. What they’d found was a habitable planet rotating a C-class star. A planet suitable for humans and lacking sentient life. A planet offering them everything they’d been searching for, and more. They named their new planet ‘Galia,’ in honor of Gaul, the ancient name for France.

  But the freedoms the people of Galia sought turned out not to be all that they had imagined. Just as it was with the United Nations core planets and many other Outer Colonies worlds, the greed and avarice inherent in humanity followed the people of Galia on their journey among the stars. Their leaders, the new world making them even hungrier for wealth and power, eventually sold out to the United Nations, allowing the Earth government to rule in all but name. The result was the same old story—the enrichment of the few at the expense of the many. All around the major cities of Galia, tenement housing sprung to life. New Paris, where Ramsey now found himself, was no exception. The tiny balcony he stood upon was only one such place. One, among countless many others.

  Ramsey turned and entered the cramped, dingy apartment. Across the room, LeBlanc spoke softly into his personal comm device. Ramsey couldn’t hear the conversation, but Renee spoke in the typical animated fashion of most Galians. With all the gesticulating, Ramsey couldn’t tell if the conversation was going well or horribly wrong.

  Leblanc shook his head once. “Non,” he said, the Earth French soft. He listened, then nodded again hard enough to shake the dark hair into his eyes. “Oui,” he said, acknowledging whoever was on the other end of the wave. “That is more like it. So we are set then, yes? Very good. Merci.”

  Leblanc ended the call with a swipe of his hand over the device. He turned toward Ramsey. “My friend!” he said, his smile broad. “So sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “No need to apologize,” Ramsey said, helping himself to a seat on a ragged sofa chair. The furniture smelled of mold. “I was just outside admiring your city.”

  “My apologies anyway,” LeBlanc said. “And yes—she is beautiful, no? New Paris is the jewel of Galia.” Renee noticed the wrinkle of Ramsey’s nose at the musty odor. “I am afraid the place has fallen into disrepair. Being an involuntary guest of the UN these last two years has caused many things to go neglected.” He shook his head. Some years after the Separatist Wars began, Renee had been forced to abandon his family’s wealth. Now with his parents and siblings dead and their banking accounts frozen by order of the UN, Renee’s sole inheritance was this tiny hovel of a safehouse flat. That, and a legacy of rage and anger, solidified as acts of war through the Separatist movement.

  “My mamman would be sad to see me in such a state,” Renee lamented. “She rose from humble beginnings.” He turned to Ramsey. “Did I ever tell you that abut her? She became wealthy later in life, but she never forget the hard lessons she learned while poor.”

  Ramsey nodded. He had heard the stories of Renee’s family. Several times, in several different warzones. “No need to explain, Renee. I understand.” Coming from humble farm beginnings and later being orphaned, Ramsey certainly did understand. Not about the wealth, of course. But the humility. He could see that Renee’s mother had instilled that in her son. A common sense of humility was one of the reasons he and Renee had become fast friends during their time in the OC Militia Special Warfare division.

  Renee smiled. “You are too gracious my friend. Ah!” he exclaimed. “But my manners? Where have they gone? That drink I promised you.”

  LeBlanc hurried into the tiny section of the apartment that served as the kitchen. Ramsey stared at the green tile, stained brown with decades of grease and smoke. The broken oven, one burner missing completely, and the battered yellow refrigeration unit. The smell of aged cheese lingered about the place, like the ghosts of the people who’d once lived there. He wondered how many meals someone prepared for their family in that kitchen? A sharp pang bit into him as thoughts of his own parents, also long gone, floated to the surface.

  LeBlanc pulled aside a curtain underneath the countertop. He produced a bottle from a shelf, wiping the dust away as he glanced at the label. “Oh yes. This will do quite well.” He discovered two glasses in a cabinet above the stove. With great care, he ran water from the ceramic sink and rinsed the dust of the years from the glass. Then he opened the bottle and poured. Ramsey watched, fascinated, as the midnight-blue liquid, a local wine produced just outside the city, slid into the glasses. Leblanc picked the glasses up by their stems and carried them over, handing one to Ramsey before taking a seat next to him.

  Leblanc raised his glass. “So good to see you again, old friend.”

  Ramsey raised his glass in turn. “And you as well, mon ami.”

  Ramsey sipped the local wine. The blue liquid was warm and thick and sweet, with a tart, tangy aftertaste reminiscent of blueberries. The vintage was excellent. The azure grapes of the planet were one of their chief exports. Ramsey could easily see why as the alcohol danced across his tongue.

  Leblanc closed his eyes and swallowed. “Mmmm,” he murmured. “It has been too long.” He opened his eyes. After he’d taken a second to enjoy his wine and his newfound freedom, he clapped Ramsey on the back. “And too long since we saw one another as well, no?”

  “It has,” Ramsey agreed. He took another sip of the wine.

  “Not since the battle of Peaceful Canyon?”

  “Yes,” Ramsey said, smiling at the memory. It was one of the few battles the Separatists had won outright. After Peaceful Canyon, the UN had hit back hard, forcing the Separatist cause to abandon open battlefield and space-to-space combat. Instead, they’d been forced to turn to the hit and run tactics of guerrilla warfare.

  “We gave the UN hell there,” LeBlanc said. “We lost many good people.”

  “Many good friends,” Ramsey added.

  “Yes—many good friends.” Leblanc raised his glass a second time. “For the cause,” he said.

  Ramsey nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “For the cause,” he echoed.

  They touched their glasses with a clink, both men draining them in a single gulp.

  Leblanc set his glass down and stared at Ramsey. Leblanc tou
ched his own face, indicating the change Ramsey had undergone. “And what is all this, then?” Renee asked.

  Ramsey stroked his jaw, not quite conscious of the movement. “It was a necessary step to secure your freedom, Renee. And it was something I had to do in order to take care of some personal business.”

  “And this personal business of yours. . .was it taken care of?”

  Ramsey’s face hardened at the thought of the men and women who’d so wronged him. Him and his cause. His vengeance had been so close he’d practically tasted it, only to underestimate his enemies and have it snatched away at the last moment. Mallory was a hell of a lot tougher than he’d anticipated. And how the hell had their initial reconnaissance runs missed that APC stationed near the prison gates?

  “No,” Ramsey replied. “It remains unfinished.”

  “Well, perhaps I can help you with that? If not to render aid when needed, then what are old comrades for?”

  The hint of a smile touched Ramsey’s lips. “Yes, perhaps you can.”

  “I like it,” Renee said, pointing to Ramsey’s new face. He shrugged. “A new face. A new war.”

  They both laughed at the joke. Renee poured again. They had another drink.

  “Alright,” Renee said, his second glass almost empty. “Let us get to business. We are friends, yes . . . but to go to all the trouble of infiltrating a fortified UNIA prison site?” He shook his head. “Not even I am worth that.”

  “You underestimate your value, Renee. Although I have to admit, I didn’t spring you only because of our past.”

  Leblanc nodded. “I had assumed as much. That wave I was on—I am already gathering material for something. Something I am certain you will need. We are ready to go. The materials are to be retrieved tonight, at the New Paris docks. We will meet just past the cathedral, near the mighty Batiste. As soon as we retrieve the items, we can begin the work.”

  Ramsey shook his head in admiration. “You always did have a nose for what was coming down the pipe. It’s what made you such an invaluable leader on the battlefield. That, combined with your obvious talent for making things go boom.”