“Then send it,” Neola ordered.
She paced around the giant room until she came to the window and looked out over Varnar City. The Varnar didn't know it, but she had orders about them too. Once the humans were gone, once the Coalition had been brought to heel, the Varnar would also be forced under the yoke. There was no alternative. They had proved incompetent as a proxy race, unable to handle a challenge from a bunch of upstarts, and so they had to go. She would rule the sector in their place and then ...
The holographic star chart winked at her. There were countless stars beyond the rim of explored space, holding ... who knew what they held? Once the war was over, she would find out and then embark upon a new war of conquest. And then ...
She clicked her fingers, smiling unpleasantly. The Old Ones would be unable to deny her anything, once she’d made them the masters of a far larger empire.
***
“They’re keeping us away from the Tokomak ships,” Captain Sadie Justinian observed. “I think they’re worried about spies.”
“Then they’re doing it wrong,” Kevin grunted, as the Kirk’s Dirk slipped into orbit around Varnar. “Everyone with a passive sensor can see their ships sitting in orbit. And they’re already in weapons range of the orbital fortresses.”
The formation looked impressive, he had to admit, but no human commander would have risked a handful of heavy cruisers in trying to emulate the Red Arrows. Hell, he wouldn't have risked a handful of gunboats. Kevin had the uneasy feeling that, if the Tokomak were called upon to manoeuvre suddenly, their ships would actually have collided with one another, something that rarely happened outside movies where the scriptwriter was more interested in exploding starships than reality.
“They’re definitely impressive,” Sadie said, after a moment. “But are they anything else?”
“Probably not,” Kevin said. “Call the people on the surface and see if you can get us somewhere to stay for a few days. The Tokomak can take care of themselves.”
“Aye, sir,” Sadie said. “Do you have anywhere in particular you happen to want?”
“Somewhere secure, but not too secure,” Kevin said. Officially, they were selling Tendon Bolts, spare parts that were only used by bulk freighters or small warships. There would be some time, he was sure, before they actually managed to sell them all, giving him and his team plenty of time to find somewhere else to hide. “And send the pre-recorded message to the embassy.”
He sighed, then walked down to the team compartment and nodded to the small group of operatives. Chester had been joined by Flies, another Hordesman; the remainder were all human, as before. Kevin waited until the Captain had confirmed they would have a place to stay, then led the way to the teleport chamber. When they materialised on the planet, they found themselves in a giant warehouse with direct links to the spaceport and the city itself.
“Make sure everything is secure,” Kevin said. The Galactic traders were quite prepared to spy on their fellow traders, if only to see what they were bringing to Varnar and planning to undercut them in the local markets. “And clear out any bugs you find.”
“Yes, sir,” Julian said. “You want to cosy up to the local criminals?”
“Probably not,” Kevin said. He’d used criminal contacts before; some tended to be honourable, but others suffered from unexpected bouts of patriotism or would simply sell out the intelligence agents for money. “I think we’d better remain as simple, unassuming traders until it’s too late.”
He watched the team do their job, then walked up to the living quarters. As he’d expected, they were dirty, grimy and unsuitable for prisoners on death row. Shaking his head at the sight, he moved back downstairs and linked his implants to the nearest processor node, then sent his message to Sally. He’d just have to wait and see if she responded. It was quite possible that she was reluctant to become attached to anyone – after all, she never knew when she would see him.
And what, he asked himself, do her feelings matter? You’re gathering information to use against the Galactics.
The reply arrived two hours later, while he was in the middle of scrubbing the living quarters into something reasonably clean. It was simple and straight to the point; Sally invited him to her apartment, as soon as he could make it. Kevin’s eyes narrowed; it was the middle of the local day and, unless there was something else going on, she should be at work. But there was no point in refusing to go. Instead, he spoke quickly to Julian and then walked to the nearest teleport hub. The team would know something was wrong if he didn't check in within the hour.
Sally had moved apartments, he noticed, when he arrived and made his way up the stairs. It was quite possible she was being paid more, he decided, or that she’d been promoted ... if intelligence brokers saw fit to promote their assistants. Or she could have saved up ... he pushed the thought out of his head and touched the pistol at his belt, then knocked loudly on the door. His most dangerous weapons were implanted under his skin, but if someone was trying to kidnap him, they might think there were no implants if he was carrying a pistol ...
The door opened, revealing a business office and Sally, sitting on the far side of a desk.
“Please, be seated,” she said. The door hissed closed and locked behind Kevin as soon as he stepped inside. “This room is completely secure.”
Kevin gave her a long considering look. “How secure?”
“We can keep out everyone,” Sally said. “Please, take a seat.”
“Thank you,” Kevin said.
He sat down, using his implants to test the room’s security. No processor responded to his pings, while a static field made it difficult for him to send a message outside the walls. If there were any bugs hidden within the room, it should be impossible for them to pick up anything. Or so he hoped. He knew, all too well, that human surveillance and counter-surveillance technology was advancing by leaps and bounds.
“I wasn’t too surprised to hear from you,” Sally said. She gave him a thin smile, which became wider as he smiled back. “Can we talk bluntly?”
“We can try,” Kevin said, carefully.
“Mr. Ando says you’re a spy,” Sally said. “You’re working for Human Intelligence.”
Kevin felt an odd sense of ... wrongness, the sense of suddenly being naked in public. It had happened once, during one of his early missions; his cover had been broken and it had almost got him killed. If Sally knew who he was, Mr. Ando probably knew who he was too ... and then ... who knew what would happen? His implants flickered to full alert, ready to bust out of the room and flee ...
Angrily, he damped them down. There was no threat. Not yet.
“I can’t answer that question,” he said, finally.
“You’re from the Stuart Family,” Sally said. “Mr. Ando identified you. I don’t think you’d be buying vital intelligence if all you were doing was bumming around in an aging freighter, trying to sell Maple Syrup to the locals. He doesn't think so either.”
“I see,” Kevin said. “And is there a reason for ... tugging off my cover in public?”
“This isn't public,” Sally said. She leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk. “Mr. Ando wishes, completely off the record, to assist you in your work.”
Kevin’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“There are reports that the Tokomak don’t plan to merely restore the pre-humanity Status Quo,” Sally said. “They plan to take over the entire sector. The Varnar will merely be the last to be forced to submit to them. This will be fatal for everyone.”
“I would agree with that,” Kevin said. The Coalition – and the economy Earth had tapped into – only existed because it was close enough to the Tokomak to draw on their technology without attracting their attention. They’d been content to let the proxy war splutter on without attempting to intervene, on one side or the other. But now ... “They don't want the Varnar growing too powerful.”
“That was our conclusion too,” Sally said. “We believe that some officers in t
he Varnar Navy may share it.”
She met his eyes. “Mr. Ando has an offer for you,” she said. “He will give you intelligence ... and access to sources you would probably be unable to match, including several at the highest levels of the military. Some of them are even Tokomak.”
Kevin blinked. “They are?”
“They seem to have problems grasping the fact that younger races can actually hurt them,” Sally admitted. “With the right level of access, you can pull quite a bit from their datacores.”
“I suppose you could,” Kevin said, carefully. Inside, his thoughts were racing. The right level of access ...? Did Mr. Ando know what had happened to the Supreme Flower of the Delicate Evening? There was no way he could ask. “And what would Mr. Ando like in return?”
“In the event of you winning the war, Mr. Ando would appreciate it if you left his organisation strictly alone,” Sally said. “There will be no further charge provided you allow him to continue to work in the field he loves. If you lose the war, of course, there will be no charge.”
“Of course,” Kevin agreed, dryly. “It wouldn't be easy drawing any money from a radioactive pile of ash.”
“No,” Sally said. She reached into her pocket and produced a handful of datachips. “As a gesture of good faith, these are the latest reports on the planned deployment. I say planned because there have been delays in actually sending the starships to Varnar. There are also other pieces of intelligence, all of which might be helpful to you. You can have all of this, free of charge.”
Kevin thought, rapidly. Mr. Ando certainly had good reason to want the current status quo to continue, if only because one side coming out ahead would make it harder for him to play both ends against the middle. But the Tokomak wouldn’t allow him to continue his work, no matter how useful he could be. Kevin had seen reports from societies the Tokomak controlled, where everyone knew their place and no one was allowed to try to shape their own destiny. Mr. Ando would probably find himself hauled off to a re-education camp or simply executed if he didn't abandon his business.
And he can't abandon it, Kevin thought. It’s practically his life.
The alternative, of course, was that it was a trap. Mr. Ando could be supplied with false information by the Tokomak and told to pass it to humanity. The information could then lure the Solar Union into making deadly mistakes. All hell could break loose – the war could be lost – because Kevin believed what he was given. The prior information – the reliable information – could merely have been gravy to ensure he swallowed the false information, when the shit hit the fan.
Intelligence work, Kevin reminded himself. There were times when he understood why both Steve and Mongo disdained the spooks. They were, alarmingly often, wrong with confidence. There’s no way to take anything for granted.
“It sounds like quite an offer,” he said. “Do you believe Mr. Ando is doing the right thing?”
Sally met his eyes. “What will the Tokomak do to Earth if they win?”
“Destroy the entire planet,” Kevin said, keeping his voice even. “The human race will be wiped out, or reduced to handful of people like yourself.”
“Then yes, he is doing the right thing,” Sally said. “But there are hundreds of warships coming your way.”
“So there are,” Kevin said. He took the datachips and pocketed them, then gave her another smile. “Can we go eat somewhere?”
“Tell me something,” Sally said. “Did you try to seduce me so I could become one of your sources?”
Kevin hesitated, then picked his words very carefully. “I am always interested in meeting new people, particularly ones with such interesting life stories,” he said. “But I believe you seduced me, rather than the other way round.”
Sally coloured. “But you were definitely available ...”
“Would you have gone to bed with just anyone,” Kevin asked, “if he happened to be human?”
“I would like to think otherwise,” Sally said. “But being so alone here doesn't really make it easy to resist.”
“You could buy a sexbot,” Kevin said. “I hear they can be either male or female now, with the right modifications.”
“They’re not human,” Sally said. She shook her head. “It's silly, you know. I work beside creatures who are utterly indifferent to me as a person. The Galactics think of me as a particularly well-trained dog – a doggie running errands for its master. And yet there are times when I grow so desperate for someone who will understand me. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Kevin said. He forced down a flash of guilt. It would hardly be the first time he’d manipulated someone into betraying their masters – and besides, Sally’s master wanted to help the human race. But at the same time, it still felt wrong. Steve and Mongo would have been united in their disapproval. “I do understand being lonely.”
He smiled at her. “You could probably write a book, afterwards,” he added. “A tell-all that tells all.”
“That’s terrible,” Sally said.
She looked down at the desk. “No more lies, all right?”
“I’ll do my best,” Kevin said. “But there are things I can't share with you.”
He sighed, inwardly. Being able to talk to Sally openly would be helpful – more than helpful. But it would also put her life in danger and risk the entire operation ... he’d have to speak to Julian, then get him and the team to move their location. Perhaps even go back to Earth, if he’d been tagged. The team would be safer without him.
“I understand,” Sally said. She looked up at him. “And yes, I need a drink after this.”
“There’s no percentage in shipping in alcohol,” Kevin observed. Finding trade goods was always a problem. In some ways, that was a blessing. Earth wasn't important enough for the galactic traders to really start eying the Sol System with covetous eyes. “Not to here, in any case.”
“No,” Sally agreed. “Only three races enjoy human alcohol. That we know about, at least. I bet there are others.”
“You could probably find out,” Kevin said. The SIA would want Sally – she had a great deal of experience – but so would the interstellar corporations. “And I think you will do fine in the future.”
“If the human race survives,” Sally said. “If.”
She stood. “Come on,” she said. “You owe me that drink.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
A number of paintings were stolen from the Louvre Museum, Paris, by a group called the Sons of Bonaparte. In their statement, uploaded to the datanet along with images of the stolen paintings, the criminals assert that the paintings will not be returned until France has cleansed itself of immigrants. The French President has stated, in response, that France will not bow down to terrorists and that the paintings will be recovered shortly. However, outside observers question the ability of the French Government to do anything as the political paralysis enters its fifth year ...
-Solar News Network, Year 53
“Well,” Admiral Mongo Stuart said. “That’s us told.”
“Yes, sir,” Commodore Gordon Travis agreed. They sat together in his office, on Freedom. “They’re quite determined to have us submit.”
He looked down at the datapad displaying the Tokomak ultimatum. If it had been printed out, he calculated mentally, it would have taken over two hundred pages, mostly wasted on fluff about the glory of the Tokomak Empire and the historical inevitability of human submission. It had taken a team of analysts two days to boil the message down to something more understandable, although Gordon felt the effort had been wasted. All the flowery language in the universe couldn't change the fact that the message was nothing more than ‘submit or die.’
“And they don’t have their fleet in place to threaten us,” he said, slowly. “Did they think we would surrender to their courier boat?”
“I imagine so,” Admiral Stuart said. He looked up at the star chart. “Is your task force ready to move?”
“Just about, sir,” Gordon assured him. “
We should have enough firepower to smash Hades and capture their supplies, then bug out the moment they send reinforcements.”
“The War Cabinet agrees,” Admiral Stuart said. “We’re not going to surrender to mere threats, Commodore.”
Gordon nodded, relieved. “When is their main fleet expected to arrive?”
“Around three weeks, allowing for timing problems,” Admiral Stuart said. “They’ve already been delayed twice.”
“I see,” Gordon said. He shook his head in disbelief. “Shouldn't they have waited for the fleet before sending ultimatums?”
“Probably,” Admiral Stuart agreed. “But most of the Galactics are hypnotized by the sheer number of enemy ships. They would roll over if threatened, I suspect, instead of trying to call the Tokomak bluff.”
A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons Page 26