Peace Talks (Adventures of the Starship Satori Book 12)

by Kevin McLaughlin

  “We’re planning to attack the base,” James said, lowering his voice as he spoke.

  “Attack it? The place is crawling with troops,” Owen replied in a hushed tone.

  “Well, not attack, maybe. Think of it more like a surgical strike. Get in, kill the alien, get out. If we do it right nobody will know we’re even there until we’re gone,” James replied. “Think you can help us?”

  Owen looked from one man to the next as they all watched him expectantly. They were for real. This was their great plan? It was going to get the bunch of them killed for nothing. No way they would penetrate the security Hereford had in place. They’d be wiped out. In a way that made things a little easier for Owen. If the attack planned was ineffective, the risk to Garul would be minimal to none at all. His friend was safe.

  But these people were not. It wasn’t going to be pretty. The base security wouldn’t be pulling punches after the shooting on the runway. They’d kill anyone who breached the fence. Those two little kids running around would lose at least one parent. Owen didn’t have a ton of sympathy for people too stupid to stop digging their own graves, but he felt some toward the kids who hadn’t done anything wrong. These grownup idiots might belong locked up in a cell, but he knew firsthand what it was like to lose a parent. Owen wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  “How are you planning to get in?” Owen asked.

  James looked at Neil, who stared at Eric. Eric shrugged and mimed a scissoring motion with his hands. “Cut our way through the fence, for starters.”

  “Where?” Owen asked. “Which part of the fence? And once you’re inside, where do you go next? Do you have any idea where the Naga is being housed?”

  Eric shrugged again. “We figured we’d creep along the fence until we found a place that looked unguarded. Snip, snip, we’d be inside. Then it’s just a matter of finding the right building.”

  Owen wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself. Making fun of these people and their naivety wasn’t going to win points with them. He needed to win their trust if he was going to save them from themselves. But that had to be the dumbest idea he’d heard of for a battle strategy in a long time. Like, since childhood.

  “I’m guessing none of you have military experience?” Owen asked.

  “I do,” Eric replied with a sharp voice. “So does James. We were both in for two years, Marines.”

  Two and out. The minimum time you could serve. They’d done their couple of years and jumped ship. Owen felt like he could respect that, but a couple of years would only have given them a couple of promotions. Neither of the men had ever learned how to lead or what was involved in planning out a battle. Whereas Owen had done quite a lot of that in the Air Force Academy, before he’d been kicked out. Time to put all that theory to use.

  “OK. There are a few issues with your plan as it stands. First, there are no unsecured areas of the perimeter fence,” Owen said.

  “But we’ve seen a few spots without guards...” James began to say.

  Owen cut in gently. “Which have cameras watching them at all times, along with motion-sensors that’ll trip if anything bigger than a dog goes near them. Getting in is going to be harder than you might think, especially now that they’re on their guard, what with that shooting earlier.”

  “I told you that was a bad idea,” Neil barked.

  “I hit the thing, didn't I?” Eric all but snarled back.

  Owen did his best to still his reaction to their words, but he was grateful for the near-darkness hiding the look that must have been on his face. So these were the people behind the shooting, after all. Owen had begun to wonder. What sort of terrorist nuts would bring their children with them? Apparently, these people had thought it was a good idea. He couldn't understand what they had been thinking. What if the military tracked them to this place? What if they came in shooting? This was no place for children, damn it.

  That was going to complicate the hell out of any sort of attack General Hereford's people might make on this camp. Which was perhaps the point. No, the best way to deal with these people would be to somehow pull the combatants away from the noncombatants. If Owen could get the violent members of this group separated, they could be taken down with little risk to their children.

  Owen raised a hand in the argument stopped, at least for the moment. All three men stood staring at him. “I have an idea. Getting in won't be easy, but if you're willing to take some chances, I might just be able to get us inside the fence.”

  “And then what?” Neil asked.

  “That's up to you,” Owen replied. “I can get us in. But you're going to need a plan for what happens after. I'll help any way I can.”

  The three men began a heated discussion again, but this time the debate was around objectives, weapons, and targets for their raid. Any indecision the trio might've felt before vanished the moment Owen opened the door for them. He provided them the means to achieve their goal. Did that make him complicit? Would they have actually attacked, if he hadn't offered his assistance?

  There was no way to know for certain. But at the same time, he couldn't afford to take the chance. Too much was riding on this peace conference and the treaty which might come out of it. Besides, Eric had already fired a shot. He was ignorant and full of anger. Owen saw a lot of himself in the older man. Or the person he had been before, anyway.

  He wouldn't allow himself to be like that. Not ever again.

  Eleven

  It was well after midnight by the time the band got themselves together enough to launch their attack.

  They'd brought in more people, two more men and a woman. All of them brought their own guns. In fact, now that the children were long since asleep, the camp was beginning to look more like an informal gun show. The only place Owen had seen this much ordnance was in a military operation. These people might be civilians, but they were armed to the teeth and loaded for bear.

  In addition to a selection of automatic pistols, the picnic bench was now home to three shotguns, one scoped rifle, four other rifles, an old but apparently still serviceable machine-gun, and a small pile of home-made explosives. Owen glanced at those last bits warily. He knew next to nothing about explosive ordnance, but to his eyes those things looked incredibly unsafe.

  “Are you sure those things aren’t going to blow up in our faces?” Owen asked, still eyeing the bombs speculatively.

  The woman laughed. “You must be new. Yeah, my babies aren't gonna blow your hands off. Not if you treat 'em right, anyway.”

  “Yeah, I'm the new guy. Name's Owen.”

  “Larissa. Hey, you the soldier-boy Eric was talking about?”

  “That would be me,” Owen admitted. He shrugged like it was no big deal and tried hard not to blush. Not that she'd see it in the dark, but she was cute. And played with explosives. He had to admit, that was a dangerous combination in more than one way.

  “So how're you gonna get us in there?” Larissa asked. “Eric says you've got a plan, and the rest of these guys seem to have faith in you, but I ain't seen shit yet. What's the story?”

  “Second-oldest one in the book, actually,” Owen grinned at her. He'd had plenty of time to figure out how to get these folks into a position where they could be taken down easily and ideally without too many casualties on either side. “I'm going to call a buddy at the north gate and tell him I'm drunk as a skunk and don't want to catch flak for it. He'll go take a leak for long enough to let me in so I don't end up on report.”

  She laughed. “OK, that's a good one. What if he doesn't cooperate?”

  “Well, I've got a backup plan that involves a distraction and those little firecrackers you made, but I hope it won't come to that. Better if we get in silently.”

  She nodded. “Hey, you said that's the second oldest trick. What's the oldest one?”

  “A girl, instead of too much drink.”

  Larissa smirked wide enough that Owen saw it even in the shadows. “Better not start getting ideas...”

&nb
sp; “Nope. Wasn't on my mind,” Owen lied.

  Eric's voice broke into their chat. “Psst! You two! Come on. We're arming up. Get ready to roll.”

  Owen and Larissa went over to the table where the other raiders had gathered. They were all picking up weapons, getting themselves prepared for the coming fight. When he'd first come up with this idea Owen hadn't known how well armed they all were. This was going to be tricky. Oh, the base could handle the attack. Even one Armor unit would make mincemeat of this whole lot. But Owen hoped to keep the carnage to a minimum. If he could.

  “You got a gun?” Eric asked. He'd picked up a pair of pistols and the scoped rifle.

  Owen thought about the Naga gadget tucked in his jacket pocket. “No. Couldn't bring a weapon out of that place. Firearms are locked down six ways from Sunday.”

  “Take this, then,” Eric handed him a Colt .45. “You know how to use it?”

  Owen pulled back on the slide just far enough to see the round already seated in the firing chamber. The safety was still on, though. “Yeah, I've fired weapons like it enough times before.”

  “Good enough. Now, about getting in?”

  “Like I was telling Larissa,” Owen said. The rest of the group hushed as soon as he started speaking. “There's two ways to do this. One is silent. The other is loud as hell. I'd prefer option one. You all know they have enough firepower on that base to hold off a small army. They get wind of what we're doing and it's over before it starts.”

  “All right, what's the quiet way?” James asked.

  Owen pulled out his cell phone. “I make a call to a gate where a buddy of mine is posted right now. Tell him I got drunk at the bar. He'll leave the post for a couple of minutes so I don't have to go on report. We get in while he's gone.”

  “You're calling the base?” James asked, his eyes narrowing. “How do we know you're not just gonna tell them what we're up to?”

  “The kid's been solid so far,” Eric said, surprising Owen with his quick defense. “Give him a break. Either we trust our fellow humans or we don't, right?”

  There was a general murmur of assent, and James took a step back, still scowling. Owen felt a pang of guilt at tricking Eric. The man clearly believed in him, felt like they were kindred spirits or something. But he had to be stopped. Owen just hoped he could stop them all without killing them.

  “James, you can stand right next to me when I make the call. Then you'll know every word I'm saying. Sound OK?” Owen asked. He hoped that would be enough to satisfy them, anyway.

  “Sure. That's fine.” James seemed a little embarrassed, which strangely made Owen feel even worse. Damn it, these were the bad guys! He needed to get his head on straight.

  “If we're ready to head out, I should make the call now. Much later and I won't be able to say the bars just closed.” When no one protested, Owen dialed a number on the cell.

  It wasn't to the north gate or any other gate. But no one listening to him talk was going to have any idea who he was actually speaking with.

  “Yeah, ish me - Owen,” he said, slurring his words to sound drunk. “Can ya do me a favor? I had a little to drink - yes, again, dude - and I need you to sneak me into the base. You're at the north gate tonight, right?”

  Owen paused for a moment to see if the person on the other end had any instructions for him, but nothing came through the line. Damn it, this was Hereford's personal cell number. Or it had better be. If he screwed up putting it into his phone he was in a pile of shit. No choice but to continue the ruse, anyway. “Can you do me a solid, buddy?”

  “McInness, you still sound sober,” Hereford's voice came back to him at last. “You need extraction?”

  Owen's knees buckled a little in relief. “Nah. No fights tonight. Mebbe later, right? Never know. Got to get into my bunk before I'm missed, though. Can you sneak me in?”

  “You've found the shooter? Does he have company?” Hereford asked.

  How to answer the question? Ah, he had an idea. “Yeah. Only had six...maybe seven drinks. Don't call me a lightweight! C'mon, man. Help a buddy out.”

  That ought to let Hereford know what he was dealing with. There were at least six people in this camp heading out on the raid. Owen wasn't sure if the woman he'd met on arriving was coming or not, so it might be seven.

  “We'll have the welcome wagon laid out. Watch yourself,” Hereford said. He chuckled. “Garul will kill me if you get hurt. Literally, I think.”

  Owen stifled a chuckle of his own. “OK, what is a good time for you to step away so I can sneak in?”

  There was a pause. Hereford was probably speaking to someone else, off the phone. Then his voice came back. “We can be ready in half an hour. That work?”

  “That's awesome, man. Thanks. I owe ya,” Owen said. As he spoke the words, his mind was racing. How to tell Hereford that these were regular people, not some sort of crazed terrorist network? Non-lethal munitions ought to be enough, but Hereford might go full-bore and bring in heavy guns just to make sure he nailed the shooter. He had an idea. “Oh, I saw your girl out with another guy tonight. Sorry, man. Just remember, don't kill the messenger, right?”

  Another pause. “You're suggesting non-lethal actions? Yes or no will do,” Hereford said.

  “Yup. See you soon.” Owen cut off the call and put the phone back in his pocket. He looked around at the crowd gathered near the picnic bench. Had they bought it?

  James clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, son. So we hit the base in half an hour?”

  They believed him. A look at the faces of the other raiders told him they all felt the same. He was worried about adding that last bit. It didn't match the rest of the narrative. But it was worth the risk if it kept these people's stupidity from getting them killed.

  “That's the plan,” Owen said. “About twenty-nine minutes now. We need to motor if we're going to make it on time. He won't give me a second chance.”

  Eric chambered a round into his rifle. “Load up. We'll take my truck.”

  Twelve

  Hereford placed his phone carefully down on the table in front of him. McInness was taking some serious chances, first with the call and then with setting up what was clearly an ambush for the terrorist group. Why Owen wanted them taken alive, he had no idea. It was enough that he did. Hereford trusted the kid had a good reason. Maybe there were more of them out there and they'd need to question this group.

  It shouldn't be too hard to take them down without casualties. Six or seven hostiles wouldn't be any serious threat, especially since they were forewarned. The hardest part might be getting McInness out in one piece. If he got caught in a crossfire between their forces he could get cut down, best intentions aside.

  “Was that our prodigal warrior?” Garul asked. He was seated across the desk from Hereford. They'd been going over plans for the meetings the next day and swapping war stories. But truly, they'd both have called it a night hours before if McInness hadn't been out there somewhere. They were both worried about the kid.

  “Yes. He's found our shooter. Apparently there's a little band of terrorists and he's going to help us round them all up,” Hereford replied. He picked up the cell phone again and dialed base security. A few minutes later he'd filled them in on everything he knew about the situation and how he wanted it dealt with. “Take them alive if at all possible, Captain. We want prisoners, not bodies.”

  “Yes, sir. Understood,” the man on the other end of the line replied.

  Hereford shut down the call and looked up. Garul was standing, stretching his muscles. Oh, shit. The Naga was going to want to be out there for this, wasn't he? Hereford closed his eyes and tried to will away his growing headache. “You shouldn't be anywhere near this fight and you know it. You're too important to this treaty.”

  “There are more Naga up in space on my ship who can take over if I am killed. General, I am a warrior first and foremost. Not a 'politician'. You cannot truly expect me to sit on the side while my student is in danger,” Gar
ul rumbled.

  “No, I shouldn't think you would. I know you better than that. All right, come with me,” Hereford said.

  He left the office at a brisk pace, Garul following close in his wake. A glance at his watch said there was still time. He'd need to hurry, but they could still make it to the gate before the fight broke out. He took the stairs two at a time on the way down to the armory, which was buried in the basement of Base One. He might be an old general on the verge of retirement, but Hereford was far from toothless!

  An entire platoon of security was arming up as he arrived. Captain Jenkins was in charge of the men. Most of them were already wearing body armor and carrying the strange-looking Naga rifles they'd...acquired...from some of their early engagements with their former foes. Those rifles were something he hoped he could get more of as part of this pact. They fired little pellets of raw energy - somehow. Hereford didn't understand the tech. Hell, nobody on Earth had been able to replicate the tech yet, and they'd been trying like hell. But as few of the weapons as they had, they were perfect for this fight. They could be set to fire big, soft pellets that would bruise and knock a target out - or smaller, harder rounds that would pierce armor and skin just like a bullet.

  Garul caught his eye and flashed his teeth. “Showing off? How did you acquire so many of our weapons?”

  Hereford laughed. “Two captured battlecruisers, remember? Both of them were well stocked. Don't worry, we've been putting them to good use.”

  “I'm sure you have,” Garul replied. He stepped up to the armory door. “One for me as well, please.”

  The sergeant inside the room blinked rapidly several times. He wasn't expecting to see a Naga at his door. Hereford sighed and waved at the man. “Just give him one, sergeant. He's already checked out on the weapon, trust me.”

  “Before this one was born, I suspect,” Garul said as the arms room sergeant handed him the weapon.

  “You get yourself killed, I'm going to be mighty pissed at you,” Hereford said. He walked up to the arms room door and motioned to the men working inside.