by John Bowers
Nick stared at him a moment.
“And you expect me to accomplish all that?”
DiGasse smiled and shook his head.
“No, that’s just the big picture. If Sirius allies with Beta C, we could have a major interstellar war less than a century from now. If we can prevent that, we still may have a war with Sirius, but it might give us a few more decades to prepare.
“Now—back to the present. You said you’ve been to Periscope Harbor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you know the layout, how the city is structured. It’s a coastal city surrounded by mountains on three sides. The only convenient way in is by air or by sea, and they shoved the airport over into a corner against the mountains, which makes it impractical to bring space shuttles in to land.”
Nick nodded. “I had to land at Molograd and take an airliner from there.”
“Exactly. That’s how ninety percent of the off-world tourists do it. It’s awkward as hell, but it’s the only practical way to get there, unless you take a cruise ship, but that’s a lot slower.
“Do you know who Allesandro Federico is?”
Nick shook his head.
“Federico is—I should say, was—the Federation ambassador to Beta Centauri. One week ago, Federico returned to Beta C after visiting Terra where he met with the President and me for a strategy session. He took that same route you described—landed at Molograd and took an airline flight to Periscope Harbor. But as the plane approached the airport, something went wrong and the plane crashed. Federico was killed, along with a hundred and eighty-eight other passengers.”
Nick frowned. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“No reason you should have. It wasn’t widely reported here. The problem is, crash investigators determined that the accident was not an accident. At first they suspected pilot error or some kind of malfunction, but the plane had just been overhauled a few days earlier and the yellow boxes indicated that everything was normal. Good weather, virtually no air traffic, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Okay…”
“But—the yellow boxes picked up some kind of electronic signal that was out of the ordinary. They’re still studying it to determine where it came from and what effect it had on the aircraft, but in the short term, we believe the flight was sabotaged.”
“Sabotaged? Because the ambassador was on board?”
“We think so. We can’t prove it yet, but that’s how it looks at the moment.”
“Why would someone kill the ambassador? How does that help anyone?”
DiGasse stared at him a moment, his expression suggesting he was reluctant to say what he was about to say. He glanced at Bridge and took a deep breath.
“The conference with the President I told you about—the President and I told Federico to deliver an offer to the BC Central Government. If they would cool their relationship with Sirius, we would extend them a number of trade benefits. Reduced tariffs, increased trade, and favored trading-partner status. Basically, we want to woo them away from the Confederacy, just to stretch things out.”
“Why would Beta C object to an arrangement like that?”
Marshal Bridge cleared his throat.
“The government on Beta Centauri is very weak,” he told Nick. “The real power on that planet is organized crime. They have a sort of mafia that has the entire planet by the throat. The government has been ineffective trying to fight them.”
“Right.” DiGasse nodded. “And that Rukranian mafia is extremely lovey-dovey with the Sirian Confederacy.”
Nick stared at both men for a moment, his mind working.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, it sounds like someone in the Solar Federation is lovey-dovey, too. Someone tipped off the Rukes what the ambassador was going to do.”
DiGasse sagged, as if all the air had been sucked out of his body. He nodded.
“Yes, we think that’s also true. We’re pursuing that angle as well, but it will take some time to investigate. In the meantime, the situation on Beta Centauri appears to be escalating. We’ve asked their government to take some kind of action on what we consider to be the assassination of our ambassador, but as Marshal Bridge said, they’re weak. Their position is that, until someone can prove it was deliberate, they have no grounds to proceed. That isn’t acceptable to us.”
Nick spread his hands.
“What do you want me to do? I’m not a diplomat. I have no idea how to talk to those people.”
DiGasse stared at him for a moment, then glanced at Marshal Bridge. His tongue traced across his upper lip.
“Marshal Walker…I’m not looking for a diplomat. What I need right now is a gunslinger.”
Suzanne Norgaard Park, Trimmer Springs – Alpha Centauri 2
Julio Castro was nine years old when his grandmother died. He didn’t remember his real parents, didn’t even know what had happened to them. His grandmother—his abuela—told him they were muertos, but gave no further explanation, and he was too young to question it. Abuela was the only family he had ever known.
They had always been poor. Abuela cleaned other people’s houses to put food on the table, and though they didn’t have much, it had been sufficient. Julio had a home, food, and a place to sleep. He went to school…and he was loved.
Then Abuela died and everything changed.
Tau Ceti 4 was a frontier world, lacking most of the programs and services available in more advanced cultures. There was no welfare system, no orphanage. At age nine, Julio found himself living on the street, sleeping in alleys or occasionally in the home of a friend. Food was usually available, but he had to scrounge for it. Some restaurants gave him leftovers, he raided garbage cans, and from time to time he went hungry. He no longer attended school, but roamed the streets in good weather and holed up during the bad.
The citizens of Lago, his hometown, tolerated him, but barely. He was a frequent guest of the local sheriff and was aware of unkind remarks at his expense. Most parents directed their kids to avoid him. By the time he was ten, he learned to travel by stowing away on trains that passed through Lago, and by age twelve had visited almost every city and town on TC4. But Lago was still home.
He barely knew his own name. Abuela had called him “m’ijo”, a Spanic contraction meaning “my son”, and when she died he continued to tell people his name was Mijo. Life was hard, but he was young and resilient. He made friends here and there, usually adults. He explored. He stole. Where he might have ended up was anybody’s guess, but the question became moot the day he met Nick Walker.
Nick had traveled to TC4 hunting a suspect, and the two met in the town of Hardwood. Had anyone asked, Mijo could not have explained it, but something about Nick struck a chord, and within days they had bonded. When Nick’s mission on Tau Ceti was over, he arranged to take Mijo home with him. To get past the immigration obstacles, Victoria Cross had put her legal talents to work. Within days, Mijo had his very own Yellow Card.
Life on Alpha Centauri 2 was a culture shock for Mijo. Technology was centuries ahead of Tau Ceti and the people more sophisticated. But things didn’t work out exactly as he hoped—Nick’s job and living situation precluded him taking on a juvenile, but Kristina Norgaard-Green had an extra bedroom and was glad for the company. That didn’t break Mijo’s heart—he had just reached the age where women were becoming interesting, and Kristina was a goddess of Vegan beauty.
Nick gave him a stern warning to behave himself, but it was hardly necessary. The boy was so thrilled to have a home again, and people who cared about him, that he was almost euphoric. He enrolled in school, and though he was several years behind and struggled, he blossomed. Partly because he was from another planet, and partly because he was the only Spanic student in school, he drew instant attention. With his friendly personality, he quickly became popular. Life had never been so good, and his only regret was that he didn’t get to live with Nick.
He continued to hope that would change.
On Founder�
�s Day, after Nick returned to Lucaston, Mijo was kicking a solarball with friends when he became aware of a woman watching him. He noticed her because of her racial difference. She was Asian, and like him, stood out in the mostly Caucasian crowd. In her early twenties, she was also very beautiful. She was standing alone near a tree watching the boys play, and when she caught his attention, she waved him closer. He left the game and walked over to talk to her.
“Are you Mijo?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He grinned. “How did you know?”
“I heard about you. You’re from Tau Ceti 4, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. What’s your name?”
“I’m Kiko. I’m also from Tau Ceti.” She smiled and reached out to touch his cheek. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I think we have a friend in common.”
Chapter 4
Cachet Hotel, Lucaston – Alpha Centauri 2
Nick sat in silence for several seconds, staring at Victor diGasse. He glanced at Marshal Bridge, then stared at his boots.
“I hate the goddamn Rukes,” he said in a hoarse voice. “We ran into some of them during the war, mercenaries fighting with the Freaks. At least we thought they were mercenaries—I found out years later they had trained the Freaks and supplied their weapons. I ran into a bunch more at Binary Flats.” He coughed into a fist. “I know it sounds bad, because you don’t judge an entire civilization by the actions of a few, but I’ve literally only met two or three Rukes that didn’t deserve killing.”
“It isn’t all the Rukranians,” Marshal Bridge said. “Those mercs you ran into were probably part of the BC mafia.”
Nick nodded. “I’m sure that’s true, but I still don’t like them.” He lifted his eyes to meet diGasse’s. “Exactly what do you want me to do?”
“We need someone to penetrate the underworld at Periscope Harbor and find out who’s really running things. And then…we need you to take him out.”
“Him?”
“Them. Whoever you find is behind it.”
“And what does the FIA do? Isn’t this more their job description?”
“No. The FIA collects data and analyzes it, but they don’t have field agents that do what I’m asking you to do.”
“You want me to murder someone.”
DiGasse lowered his face and scrubbed his forehead with his knuckles. He released a sigh.
“Call it executive action. Call it liquidation. Call it…I don’t care what you call it, but when it’s used to prevent a war, we don’t call it murder.”
Nick felt his skin tingle. His mouth felt suddenly dry. For just a moment he was tempted to get up and bolt from the hotel suite, and might have if Marshal Bridge hadn’t been present. Instead, he released a sigh of his own and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
“Let me guess. I’ll go in as a civilian, I won’t have backup, and if I get caught, the Federation has never heard of me.” He opened his eyes and glared at diGasse. “How am I doing so far?”
DiGasse’s eyes glittered with intensity. His cheeks flushed red.
“One hundred percent. But you won’t be alone. As I said, FIA has agents on the ground and they will be at your disposal, just as long as you don’t expose them.”
“Good. They can notify you where to collect my body.”
“Walker…”
Nick turned to Bridge.
“Marshal Bridge, this is insane.” He jerked his head toward diGasse. “He is insane!”
Bridge glanced at the Vice President, then back to Nick. He looked trapped.
“Maybe it’s not as bad as it sounds. You went to Tau Ceti under similar circumstances.”
“This is nothing like that! Okay, I had no legal authority there, but at least I was able to talk to local law enforcement and get their cooperation. In this case, I would be a criminal hunting criminals. And if I remember correctly, the last time I was in Periscope Harbor, they demanded to know if I had any weapons. I didn’t, because of the court order, but if I had, they were going to confiscate them. Which means—” He looked at diGasse again. “—I will be completely unarmed.”
“We have that covered,” said the Vice President. “The FIA will supply you with everything you need.”
DiGasse glanced from Nick to Bridge, who stared back at him with troubled eyes.
“You have something to add, Marshal Bridge?”
Bridge cleared his throat.
“To be absolutely frank, Mr. Vice President, this does sound like a suicide mission. I’m inclined to agree with Nick that the whole idea is crazy. As I said earlier, I’m reluctant to order him on this mission and the more I think about it, I’m inclined to recommend that he decline it.”
“They murdered our ambassador!”
“You think they murdered our ambassador. That hasn’t been proven, and in any case, we don’t have the legal authority to run around their planet assassinating people, not even mobsters. The more I think about it—the more you talk about it—I think it’s a bad idea.”
DiGasse scowled. His mouth snapped shut. He turned to Nick again.
“This could mean the future of the Federation,” he said, his voice tight with barely-controlled anger. “If we don’t take action, we’re looking at a possible war.”
“Could be,” Nick replied. “Possible war. You think they did this or that. You’re speaking in abstracts, Mr. Vice President. You don’t have proof of anything. No absolutes.”
“You’re right. We don’t have proof, but I’m asking you to find proof. That’s why I need you.”
“Why not just issue an ultimatum to the BCs, then? It’s their planet. They know the layout, the people, and they have the resources to do the job. Make it worth their while, or threaten them, or whatever you have to do.”
DiGasse sat shaking his head, his face slowly burning red.
“Marshal Bridge said it best—their government is weak. It’s also corrupt. We have pretty good intel from our own FIA sources that organized crime has infiltrated their highest levels, which means we don’t know who we can trust, and neither do they.”
Nick spread his hands.
“Then I don’t know what to tell you. If this were a criminal matter—”
“It is a criminal matter! Someone assassinated our ambassador!”
“Let me rephrase that—if this was a Federation matter, and Marshal Bridge thought it was justified, I would go in a heartbeat. But I don’t especially feel like sticking my head into a noose in what sounds to me like an illegal operation.”
DiGasse sat back and stared at him, clearly agitated. He looked at Bridge.
“Marshal Bridge?”
“Like I said, I can’t order him to go on this one, and even if I could, I wouldn’t.”
“Not even to prevent a war?”
“If war was imminent, I might reconsider, but with all due respect, you’re speculating. Nobody knows for sure that the Sirians are even planning a war, and if they do, you’re talking about something that might happen long after we’re all dead. I just don’t see the urgency.”
DiGasse hopped to his feet and returned to the wet bar. This time he poured himself a whiskey. He took a healthy slug, then turned to face the two marshals again.
“What if I told you that President White Wolf is going to visit Periscope Harbor in three weeks? Would that make a difference?”
Nick frowned. “Why would she do that?”
“To deliver the same message that Ambassador Federico was supposed to deliver. Because it’s that important to the Federation.”
Nick felt a tingle shiver across his body. His resolve began to slip.
“Based on what you’ve told me so far, that would not be a smart move. I would hate to see her take such a risk.”
DiGasse, sensing victory, nodded.
“Believe me, I’ve tried to talk her out of it. So have several members of her cabinet, but once she sets her mind to something, changing it is like trying to crack through cement.”
“I still thin
k you need a diplomatic solution.”
A door slid open on the right-hand side of the room and a woman stepped through. She was in her early fifties, short and petite, dark complexioned; her nearly-black hair was pulled tight against her skull, held in place with a beaded headband, and long braids dangled down her shoulders. She wore a snug, form-fitting buckskin dress embedded with agate and turquoise beads patterned after the constellations; her feet were encased in expensive leather boots that looked soft as moccasins. A single white feather emerged from the back of her headband. She wasn’t an especially beautiful woman, but the colorful, overall effect she presented was gorgeous and unforgettable.
Nick recognized her at once, and came to his feet in absolute astonishment. So did Marshal Bridge. Before either man could speak, the woman did.
“What if,” said the President of the United Solar Federation, “we promoted you to diplomat, with full diplomatic immunity? Would that make a difference?”
Vivian White Wolf smiled as she strolled toward the recessed seating area. Her dark eyes scanned the marshals as she approached. She shook hands with each of them.
“So you both think I’m crazy.”
“No, Ma’am,” said Marshal Bridge.
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Nick. “This time, I do.”
Vivian White Wolf laughed.
“You should talk, Marshal Walker. I looked you up. You’ve pulled some of the craziest stunts I’ve ever heard of.”
Nick managed an embarrassed grin.
“I guess I can’t dispute that.”
“No, I guess you can’t. The good news is that you’re still alive to talk about it.”
She gazed into his eyes with a look of frank admiration.
“Victor told you that sending you on this assignment was his idea—and that’s true—but he didn’t tell you that I agree with him.” She took a step back and settled onto the edge of diGasse’s sofa. “The BCs are a complex people. Right now their population is fairly small, but it’s expanding rapidly and we can’t afford to lose them to the Sirians.
“You were right, Marshal Bridge—we think a war with Sirius may be coming, and although it isn’t even on the horizon yet, it’s my job to protect the Federation in whatever way I can. Since I can’t fight the Sirians now—and will probably be, as you put it, ‘long dead’ before it starts—the least I can do is try to push it as far into the future as possible. Keeping Beta Centauri neutral—or better yet, making them an ally—is the best way to do that. At least, in my opinion.”