by J. L. Curtis
When the funeral ceremony was completed, the Ghorka formed a line, each shaking their hands, or in OneSvel’s case, a pseudopod, with the exception of the little girl whose life he’d saved. She hugged one of his tree trunk legs, and thanked him in halting Galactic. Rima hugged each of them, and whispered to Fargo that she did not hold him responsible. Shanni had been Shanni, there was nothing he could do. He hugged her, “I’m sorry Rima. I’m sorry,” was all he could say.
***
Three divs later, Boykin brought the shuttle in to White Beach, landing at the compound, and saying, “Thank you for flying Ass and Trash Airlines. We do not assume any responsibility for lost luggage, misplaced body parts, or anything else. Don’t let the ramp hit you in the ass on the way out.”
Fargo laughed as he picked up his bag from the netting, “Always a pleasure WO. You’re in an awfully good mood.”
She smiled as she climbed down from the cockpit, “I had the pleasure of returning the Wizard to Lieutenant Edwards this morning, and he’s well and truly pissed.”
“Oh, the blooding, so to speak?”
She nodded laughing, “Yes, and the fact that I’m now an ace. And a woman. And a warrant.”
He laughed with her, “So a threefer, fourfer?”
Grayson said, “Ah shit. Here comes Palette.”
Since they were all in uniforms, they saluted him as he stomped up the ramp, “Late as usual. What did you do, Warrant? Take the scenic route? You were told to be back here ASAP.”
Fargo bristled, “Major, we came direct from the funeral.”
Palette snapped around on him, “And you! The colonel directed you report immediately, and you don’t bother to show up for three days? You should be court martialed and relieved of rank for that.”
Fargo started to answer when Palette spotted OneSvel, “Who authorized this thing on a GalPat shuttle?”
Boykin said sweetly, “Colonel Keads did. We are doing a medical assist for Rushing River, in addition to a medical assist for the Ghorka Enclave. OneSvel is a Galactic certified medtech, and he is approved for travel on GalPat transport. If you have any further questions…”
Palette glared at her, then turned to Fargo, “You and her,” pointing to Nicole, “Are to report to the Colonel at eight. Or should I tell him you’ll be there when you show up?” he said, his lip curling.
Palette took a step back when he saw Fargo smile. “We will present ourselves at eight as directed. May we depart now?”
Palette turned and stomped off without answering and Grayson said, “Well, guess that answers that. You’re still on his shitlist there, Captain.”
Nicole laughed. “I think we all are.”
OneSvel’s GalTrans twittered, “I can fix his problem. Permanently.”
Nicole batted her eyes at them, “Would you please? I think we would all be better off.”
***
At seven-thirty, Fargo and Nicole were standing in the hallway as Colonel Keads came in, “You have coffee yet? I haven’t. Let’s go to the mess.” He led them to a senior table in the corner, then came back with three bulbs of coffee, “So, sounds like things got a bit interesting out there. I’ve read the reports, is there anything else I need to know?”
Nicole asked, “Sir, were you aware of the Major’s insistence that we report immediately?”
Keads winced. “No, and that’s not what I told him. I… am not going to get into that.” He finished his bulb, “Let’s go to my office, bring your coffee with you.”
They followed him into his office, and he sat at the conference table, gesturing for them to sit. “Now, the issue I need your input on is this apparent ice mining on Eros, is it?”
“Yes, sir,” Nicole answered. “It meets all the indicators for a Trader operation, well inside the DMZ, and a prohibited action on the part of the Dragoons and Traders. The equipment and ship seen exiting a vent are not of GalPat design, as best we can determine.”
Keads leaned back in his chair, “That makes for an interesting situation. We need to respond, but there is only a destroyer that is anywhere close. We have a company of troops here, but I can’t transport a full company on a destroyer. Do you think we could use that ship you used for the Endine mission?”
Fargo nodded. “I believe that could be arranged, sir.”
“The next question is, would you be willing to accompany them? You haven’t actually had boots on the ground, but you’ve seen what is there, and you’ve seen hard combat in unfriendly environments.”
Nicole looked sharply at Fargo as he sighed, “Sir, can I have time to think about that? If I go, what would I go as?”
Keads looked closely at him, “I could activate you as a Lieutenant Colonel, or send you as the local liaison. Your choice. We’re looking at sending them in two weeks, as soon as the destroyer gets here. I’ll need your answer by next week. And a contact point for the ship you used.”
“Can I have that week, sir?”
Keads nodded. “Certainly. I know this is over and above, but you’ve exhibited all the qualities I’d expect of a senior officer. And you have the respect of everyone here.”
Fargo nodded. “Thank you.”
Keads stood, “Dismissed, if you have nothing else.”
They got up, “No, sir. Thank you.”
They heard a knock on the door, followed by Major Palette saying, “Colonel, I haven’t seen those two militia…”
“They were waiting when I got here, Palette. We’ve completed what we needed to do. Have you completed the assignment I gave you?”
Palette gulped, and Fargo and Nicole took the time to exit, closing the door quickly behind themselves. They heard the colonel’s voice raised, and smiled as they walked down the hallway.
Decisions, Decisions
Boykin dropped them at Rushing River. OneSvel thanked her and quickly left the shuttle, his GalTrans twittering, “I must get these medications to the clinic and into the refrigeration. Will I see you tomorrow, Fargo?”
Fargo nodded. “I’ll come by in the morning.”
He and Nicole walked off more slowly and Nicole put a hand on his arm when they got to the edge of the ramp, “Are you going to go?”
“I don’t know. I know the colonel wants me to, but I’d be a fifth cog.”
“What was this about activating you as a light colonel?”
He grabbed her hand, “Come on, let’s go to your place. I’ll tell you there.” Twenty segs later, they were in her quarters behind the bar at the Copper Pot. She’d set one of the honey and nut desserts on the table and they both had bulbs of coffee. He said, “I’m going to let you into my mind, you can see everything. It will be easier than trying to explain. He lay is hand over hers and reached for her mind, “I’ve dropped all my barriers. Here’s the story.”
Nicole convulsively grabbed his hand as she saw his memories, all of them. She sensed his pain from the loss of his wife and son, the loss of his troops in combat, his fears, and the depth of his feelings for her. Tears rolled down her face as she saw his recollection of the vid from General Cronin, and she jerked away, jumped up from the table and ran to the bedroom.
Fargo sighed, finished his bulb of coffee, and sat quietly, Well, that didn’t quite go as well as I’d hoped. I guess telepathy with no barriers isn’t the right thing to do, but what else could I have done? I’d be here all night trying to explain…
Nicole came back and wrapped her arms around him, “I’m so sorry. You… have to go. Oh Deity, I’d never realized what a command neural net entailed. How do you live with that… level of detail in your mind?”
Fargo reached for her arms. “I seem to be able to compartmentalize the memories. And it’s like having an on call AI, with tactics and other things loaded. I know in combat it… makes time slow down? I don’t know another way to describe it. The other… stuff, it will never go away. I’m sorry, but I didn’t…”
Suddenly she was in his lap, her arms around him and kissing him hungrily. They came up for air, a
nd she replied, “All I know is I do love you, and I don’t want to let you go, but I know I have to.”
She got up, trailing her hand across his chest, and pulling lightly on his arm. He got up and followed her, momentarily looking back at the dessert left of the table, then smiling as he followed her into the bedroom. Divs later, they lay tangled in a nest of sheets, exhausted by their lovemaking, with her asleep on his shoulder.
Fargo looked at the ceiling, letting his mind run free. I think we’ve just made a life commitment to each other. And she’s right. I do have to go, for myself if no other reason. If I can save lives, I owe it to them. Captain Jace is supposed to land at twelve, and I need to meet with him about this op. And McDougal’s meeting, need to be there for that. Got to go see OneSvel too. He faded off to sleep, thoughts still churning.
He got to the clinic so early it was still locked up, and he leaned against the wall next to the door. He felt OnSvel’s touch and projected, “I’m outside. Take your time.”
“We will be there in a moment.” Shortly the front door was unlocked and he stepped quickly inside, “Getting a little chilly out there. Winter is coming.”
OneSvel’s GalTrans twittered, “We still do not understand this seasonal component you humans seem to enjoy.”
Fargo laughed. “We don’t like the same weather all the time. Seasonal changes invigorate us, and being both warm and cold reminds us we are alive.”
“But what about the people on the stations, and on the ships?”
“Well, not everyone likes to be reminded of seasons, or they don’t particularly like being hot or cold. Just like there are people that don’t like to smell the outdoors, or have significant allergies, or get bitten by bugs.”
If OneSvel could have, they would have shaken their head, instead they continued, “What is your plan?”
“I am planning on accompanying the GalPat company. Half the company will go on the destroyer, the other half will follow in Hyderabad. This is an older destroyer, so they are limited in passenger capacity.”
“May we accompany you?”
Fargo stiffened, “You? Why?”
OneSvel’s pseudopods rippled in what Fargo thought was embarrassment, “This is a place no Taurasian has ever been. And there is always the possibility…”
“You realize this is an ice moon. There is no atmosphere. You will not be able to get out of armor. Speaking of, do you have your armor stored somewhere?”
“My GalScout armor is at the spaceport. Also, there is only one medic with the company. If there are problems, we may be of assistance. The destroyer is a Liberty Class, the Lincoln. She only has three medboxes, and a four bed sickbay.”
Fargo knew OneSvel was right, but he wasn’t sure how GalPat would take it, nor whether Captain Jace would allow it, “Let me check with the powers that be. I’ll talk to both the ship captain and the GalPat major today.”
OneSvel extruded a pseudopod, touching his temple lightly. “GalScouts want both you and us to go. Apparently there is a chance of collecting data from the site that might lead to discovering other incursions deep within the DMZ.”
“Understood, I will push it, but we may not get to the surface.”
“If we get close, we can collect data. That is better than what we have now, which is nothing.” Retracting the pseudopod as Doc Grant came in, he continued, “This injection will help that knee heal. You are not forty-one anymore, and don’t need to be out hunting in the wild without backup.”
Fargo winced as the injector shot the nanites into his knee, as he said, “Morning, Doc. How come OneSvel’s injectors hurt, and yours don’t?”
Doc laughed. “According to most of my patients, it’s the other way around. And listen to them.”
Fargo got up and tested the knee, “Okay, I’ll take it easy.” Fargo nodded to both of them and walked slowly out of the clinic, debating whether to go by the store on the way to the spaceport or after. After, that way I’ll have a better idea of what’s going to happen, and I can get Luann to feed me lunch.
***
The Hyderabad’s shuttle landed promptly at twelve, and Captain Jace and a blue tinged Kepleran from 62F carrying a document pouch walked off together. Fargo met them at the door, and nodded to the Kepleran, “Have we met before?”
“I am Klamat. You were the bodyguard last year when I bought the wine from Mrs. Levesque. Where is this senior sergeant?”
Fargo glanced at Jace, “I’m assuming they are in the conference room. And I wasn’t a bodyguard.” Frikkin Keplerans are all alike, assholes of the first order. Almost could be a brother to Keldar, but I’m not about… Oh, damn, that is just plain sneaky, if he’s what I think he is. He preceded them up the steps, and dilated the entry, “After you, gentlemen.”
Jace winked at him as he went by, almost as if he knew what Fargo was thinking. He shook his head, Damn, how many of those simulacrums do you have hidden away Jace? And what’s your real role in De Perez Galactic? He led them down to the conference room, and saw Major Culverhouse and McDougal standing looking at the holo map of Hunter. “Major, Mac, this is Captain Jace of Hyderabad, and Mr. Klamat, a representative of De Perez Galactic. Major Culverhouse is Senior Sergeant McDougal’s commanding officer.”
They shook hands, and when Fargo shook hands with Klamat at last, sent a quick probe. There was no empathic or sense of any thoughts, confirming Klamat was a simulacrum. They took seats at the end of the table, and Klamat pulled a package of documents from the pouch, sliding them across the table to McDougal, “Please verify this is your design, and you are solely responsible for this design. It was not done by anyone else, nor did anyone else contribute to it.”
Fargo just sat back and watched, marveling at Jace’s ability to control the two simulacrums independently. I don’t know why I should be surprised. He’s controlling an entire ship full of them. But he’s doing this outside the ship. Is there a limit when he doesn’t have… Huh, interesting question for later.
Mac nervously picked up the documents, reading through them carefully, even though the Kepleran did everything but pound on the table and tell him to hurry up. Major Culverhouse sat quietly, watching everyone else and doing her best to keep her curiosity in check. Finally Mac put the last document down, cleared his throat and said, “Yes, that is my design. I never intended for it to…”
Klamat rudely interrupted, shoving another pile of documents to Mac. “De Perez Galactic, as authorized in the JDA with GalPat dated twenty-eight thirty-five Septober twenty-eighth, extends the following offer to one Ian Sean McDougal, Earth Four, for rights to device two three eight one three alpha. Said rights are irrevocable once signed. Royalty agreement starts on page six, and is set at standard rate of two point two percent of sale value, reviewable in ten year increments. Ancillary agreement offer is for software modifications to items one six nine six quebec, zero three six three zulu, and one nine two four echo. The ancillary agreement is also irrevocable with no royalty attachment.”
Stunned, Mac took the documents, “JDA? Device? And what did I do to the sonics, cabling and control functions?”
Klamat replied brusquely, “Joint Development Agreement. You know what you did with the midpoint entry exit modifications.”
“Oh that. It needed to be done. Security breakdown if you have single point entry/exit.” He started reading through the documents slowly, then looked up white faced, “One million credits?”
Klamat shifted impatiently, “That is the offer. Accept or refuse. No negotiation.”
Fargo and Culverhouse exchanged confused looks, and Jace held up his hand, miming he would explain later. Mac kept reading, page after page, his hands shaking by the time he finished. He finally looked up, staring blindly around as if in a daze, he came back to the Kepleran, “This is no shit for real?”
“Is real. Accept or refuse. No negotiation.”
“Where and how do I sign?”
“Pages five, eleven, thirteen, and seventeen. Sign and date,” turning
to Major Culverhouse looking her up and down, “You are serving GalPat, so you will suffice as witness. You sign with name, rank, serial number.”
She bristled at his tone, and Fargo shook his head minutely at her, as she stepped around to McDougal’s side. Once he finished signing, she signed as the witness, and Klamat took the documents back. He stamped them with a holostamp, then somehow split the pages, and holostamped them again, handing the second set to Mac. “Where do you want the credits deposited?”
Mac held the documents for a moment, shook his head, then said, “Uh, I guess my GalPat pay account.”
Culverhouse interrupted, “What about the tax hit? Is the senior sergeant going to be responsible for that? And how many units are you talking about delivering at what cost?”
Klamat almost snarled at her, but visibly calmed himself, “The one million credits will be after tax. De Perez will take care of that. For the royalties, part of the provisions on page eleven and thirteen specify that taxes will be withheld from royalty payments.”
Fargo jumped in, “So when will he expect royalty payments? And how often?”
“Twice yearly. At six month intervals on delivered systems.” He took the documents, returned them to the pouch, and got up, “We are done. I am ready to return to the space station, I have other work to do.”
Jace stood, “I will escort you back to the shuttle, but I have a short meeting with these folks, it should take less than a div.”
Mac looked down at the documents, “I’m… Fuck… Sorry, Major. What am I going to do? A million fu… credits! And two hundred credits a unit. Shit… What do I do with the paperwork? I…”
Culverhouse said gently, “Senior, we can log the paperwork in for you, that makes it a part of your record, and we can keep the copies in the company safe for you. As far as what you do, that is up to you, but I wouldn’t go overboard spending those credits.”
Mac shoved the documents to her, “Please, ma’am. If I may, I’ll walk back. I… need to think.”