Starforce Ganymede

by Nick S. Thomas

  Nowak grinned. He was too streetwise and experienced to fall for the recruitment line.

  “Lieutenant, no matter how much someone gets paid they’ll always want more.”

  “Maybe, but please, just work with me here. You’re not going anywhere in this precinct and we need your help, please consider it. As you know, we’re working a tight schedule, the gang will likely strike again in the coming days. I’ll need your answer within the hour. Whatever you choose, I’ll need you to remain working with us until we are done in the city.”

  “I’ll think it over, Sir.”

  Kaufman nodded in gratitude but he knew he needed this man’s help more than ever. His last case had plagued him for months, a seemingly unbreakable task, but this was much worse.

  “Ok, Max, I want Units A and B back here, C is to remain on patrol in the city and D at the ship. I want all the info we have, we need to run through it as a team and see what we can come up with.”

  “I’ll get on it.”

  Barski walked to the edge of the room to give them some peace as Kaufman hit the intercom and a speed dial to the IBI office in Los Brezos.

  “You’ve reached the IBI office.”

  “This is Lieutenant Kaufman, please put me through to Commander Denton.”

  “Please hold, Sir.”

  “This is Denton.”

  “Sir, we need more info on the crime scenes of previous robberies. I don’t care how you do it, but without those facts we are flat on the floor as far as detective work goes.”

  “I’m already working on it, Lieutenant, information is being sent directly to your ship’s database as I receive it.”

  “Thank you, Sir, Kaufman out.”

  Up to this point, none of them had much of an idea on the facts of the previous cases, no more than the rest of the public knew from watching the news coverage after the incidents. Kaufman tapped another button on the intercom connecting him to the ship.

  “Denver, this is Kaufman.”

  “Sir.”

  “Sergeant, Commander Denton is having files from the previous crimes sent to the ship’s database as and when he can get them, I want you to forward them to the workstation I am using here. I also want your team to go over the information yourselves as well, we are looking for any clues we can find to both predicting the next heists, as well as any leads on the locations of these gangs.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Kaufman pulled out a chair from the conference table and sat down with a sigh, signalling to Sergeant Nowak.

  “Get the map up again please, Sergeant.”

  The table flickered and then lit up edge to edge with a diagram of the city, the banks still displayed as before. Kaufman sat staring at the city plan. It was a vast area for them to cover with so few men.

  “Now that the city can see a threat is on their doorstep, will we receive the help we need?” he asked.

  “You’ll get some more resources, but few cops want to risk their lives in a gunfight, nor risk angering such vicious criminals and gangs, Sir.”

  Kaufman shook his head, he’d hoped for more from those employed to protect and serve the city.

  “We know that these gangs tend to do several jobs on a single colony before moving on, perhaps even more on Mars, it being such a huge money pot and vast area for them to cover. We don’t even know if they’ll hit this city again.”

  “There are plenty of other banks around the world, Sir, but none of them as substantial or well stocked as those found here.”

  “Well that’s some relief, if that is the case then they’ll likely keep to this city for now.”

  They sat in the conference room all afternoon and into the evening, desperately trying to make some prediction on the next target. They were gradually beginning to receive information from heists on other colonies, but the details provided were often sketchy, useless or simply confusing. With so many gangs operating at once it was incredibly difficult to identify any kind of pattern. Finally they had reached the point where nobody had anything left to say, all jacked up on coffee and feeling utterly exhausted.

  “Let’s call it a day, we’re not going to make any progress now, any good bars around here, Sergeant?”

  * * *

  Kaufman awoke to the sound of his alarm ringing violently next to his ear. His head hurt, not through too many drinks, but the uneasy sleep and tedious and wasted day before. He knew that the gang may strike that afternoon, and that if he could not stop it then it would be the end of the line for his new career.

  Pulling himself out of bed, he stared around the luxurious room of his. Any other time he could appreciate the splendour in which he had been living, but not at this time. Getting showered and dressed, he clipped on his gun and shambled out to the mess room. He was greeted by the heart-warming smell of toast and bacon. Going into the hall he found half of the crew had arrived and were sat eating freshly cooked breakfasts.

  “Hey, Sir, Commander Denton got that cook you requested.”

  Kaufman nodded, it was good to have positive news first thing in the morning and the very smell of the food had already lifted his spirits. He went through the doors to the kitchen from where the cooking sounds and smells were emanating. A man in his mid thirties stood at the cooker, perfectly dressed and in good shape.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Lieutenant Kaufman, I lead this operation.”

  “Sir, good to meet you, I hope you’ll understand if I don’t shake your hand right now, but I’ll gladly serve you some food.”

  “Sure, what’s your name?”

  “Adrian Fletcher.”

  “Well, Fletcher, can you use a gun?”

  The man looked at Kaufman with a puzzled expression.

  “No, Sir, far from it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I used to be a doctor.”

  “And now you’re a cook?”

  “Not by choice.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  “I was disbarred from medical practice, Sir.”

  Kaufman laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Fletcher asked.

  “That you can’t be trusted with people’s health and yet you can to prepare their meals.”

  “Sir, I was never dishonest or cruel. I helped some people end their lives of pain and misery when they asked it of me, it was the morally correct thing to do.”

  “Alright, alright. All I care about is your work for me.”

  Fletcher threw some food from a pan onto a plate and handed it to Kaufman who looked more than a little thankful.

  “Thanks. I appreciate you coming on board with the organisation.”

  “How could I refuse, you’re paying me as much as I got as a doctor.”

  “Well, welcome aboard. I expect you to take weapons training within the next twenty-four hours and from then on carry a weapon at all times.”

  “Sir, I’m just a cook.”

  “No, you’re aboard one of the most dangerous vessels in the Solar System. We are hunting for some of the worst violent gangs of our time. You will not be sent into dangerous situations, but that doesn’t mean they won’t find you!”

  Kaufman walked back out through the door, leaving Fletcher speechless. Eric was well aware of the restriction of twenty officers in his team, but that didn’t mean that everyone on board could not be trained in weapons. He stopped as he left the room, noticing Nowak stood before him in plain clothes.

  “Sergeant, having not heard from you I had assumed you had turned down my offer.”

  “Sorry, Lieutenant, it was a lot to think about.”

  “So you’re in?”

  “For as long as you find me useful.”

  Kaufman smiled as he reached out his hand in appreciation to the sergeant.

  “Glad to have you aboard, Sergeant. We have a few hours before a potential strike, we need to do everything in our power to make sure we stop it.”

  “Then let’s get to work, Sir.”

 
Kaufman pushed the door back open.

  “Barski, get your guys, we’re heading to the precinct!”

  The crew of the ship had sprung to life, thirty minutes from wake up and they were getting to work. Kaufman led Nowak down to the garage level, storming into the armoury, Barski close behind.

  “We’ve seen first hand what these bastards are capable of, let’s not get caught out again.”

  “Sir, Mars Colony prohibits anyone out of uniform from carrying anything larger than standard calibre handguns.”

  “Really? Barski, were you attacked with low calibre handguns yesterday afternoon?”

  “No, Sir!”

  “Sergeant Nowak, these criminals do not play by the rules, and we are paying the price as a result. I couldn’t give a shit what the planetary regulations are. The IBI has been given carte blanche to get the job done!”

  “Your gonna make some enemies, Sir.”

  “Not like we have many friends right now. I want everyone armed with shotguns or WARB guns, as well as their side arms.”

  Within seconds they were carrying handfuls of hardware to the back of their cars. The WARB gun was a submachine gun used by the police assault teams and for certain military applications. They used the same railgun technology and ammunition as the handguns that all officers carried. The advantage over the handguns was in their ammunition capacity, range, accuracy and fully automatic ability. They had no chemical ignition like guns of old, but still made a loud crack as the bullets went supersonic as they left the barrel.

  The shotguns used very much the same technology, but with a large solid round that separated and dispersed as it left the barrel, the timing of which could be programmed on the weapon to adjust spread and range. Kaufman and Barski had been trained to use both weapons throughout their careers, but never had to use either in anger.

  Teams A and B spent the rest of the morning going back through the same material they had the day before, along with an ever-growing amount of information that Denton was providing for them. It seemed that despite the previous lack of co-operation, many colonies were finally starting to appreciate quite how much damage was being done and how much help they needed.

  At 11am that morning a police courier delivered a package to them addressed to Kaufman directly. The men all sat around eagerly waiting to see what was inside, as it almost certainly related to all of them. Kaufman lifted off the lid and the shine of metal glinted in their eyes. The mysterious box contained twenty cast metal badges. The shields had the name of their organisation and a statue of Themis, the God of Justice at the centre.

  Kaufman picked a badge out of the box. Each had a unique serial number engraved into the metal. The men around him stood, mesmerised as he stared at it. The heavy and beautifully cast shields were nothing like the flat Perspex badges they had used as police officers. Before anyone could say a word, the intercom rang out. Still with the cold steel in one hand, he tapped the flashing button.

  “Sir, I have commander Denton for you.”

  “Put him through.”

  “Lieutenant Kaufman, by now you should have received a parcel I had despatched to you.”

  “We opened it just moments ago, Sir.”

  “Good. Please distribute them among your men immediately. The serial numbers are not yet assigned. You will need to log your numbers on the ship’s computer before the end of the day.”

  “We’ll get it done, Sir.”

  “Do you have any further leads?”

  “We are following up one currently.”

  “Excellent. Kaufman can I talk to you privately?”

  Eric lifted the handset from the intercom.

  “Ok, Sir, go on.”

  “Lieutenant, I hope the new shields can go some way to boosting morale and performance, because one way or another, we need a success before the end of the day. Without it, many people high up will be raising some serious doubts as to whether this task force is worth it.”

  “I understand, Sir.”

  “Alright, good luck today, and keep me notified of any updates, Denton out.”

  Kaufman looked around the room at his officers who were eagerly awaiting any news that he might have, He could not bring himself to tell them how dire the situation was, it would only cause further problems.

  “Alright, take a badge each, have the rest sent on to the ship with instructions. Nowak, as I said before, you do not currently hold a position on the team and will therefore not be allocated a badge. For now, you are officially working as a police advisor to me.”

  They eagerly passed the box around the room, each staring at their new badges, their symbol of power.

  “We’ve got two hours before they will likely strike again, let’s make sure we are ready for them! Now, tell me what we have,” said Kaufman.

  “Sir, I maintain that the banks I outlined yesterday are the most likely targets,” said Nowak.

  “Less one, Mars Group will be out of action another day whilst the scene is investigated. Nowak, are you still absolutely confident that your shortlist of six was accurate?”

  “As much as anyone can be, Sir, yes.”

  “Then I want everything we can get on those five. That means blue prints, staff details, security systems, road access, everything you can get! Barski, take five agents, allocate a bank each to them to assemble the data, you have thirty minutes.”

  Barski nodded as Kaufman turned to Nowak who was sitting next to him. The old sergeant was quickly becoming a vital part of the team, on a par with Barski, but nobody minded. Everyone among them wanted results more than anything else, however they were achieved.

  “Nowak, our agents will get what they can, but you are the only one with us that lives and works these streets, we need to take a closer look at the potential locations.”

  The sergeant hit the controls on the table and brought up the city map as they had seen before, the six potential banks still highlighted.

  “The five we have left are the Bank of Marsau, Citicorp, Marsbank, TYSE and Money National. Are you sure they’ll strike in the city again? Seems a hell of a risk to take.”

  “Everything we have seen so far tells us that these gangs hit multiple targets per location. They get a substantial haul from a robbery, but nothing that would allow them to retire for life. They target multiple banks in a city or colony, then move straight on to the next. They’ll most likely be here for a week before re-locating to either another city or off world.”

  “Can we up security and try and funnel them towards one particular target?”

  “Not this late in the game, Sir. If they think we’re on to them they will walk away. We need to use a process of elimination on the remaining five.”

  Nowak zoomed in and rotated around the banks one at a time, desperately looking for any indicator as to why one would be a more likely target than another. Kaufman knew that the fact the sergeant was able to narrow it down so successfully to six was impressive. To ask for more was perhaps unrealistic, but it was all they had to go on.

  “TYSE is opposite a few investment banks and brokers, as well as cafes.”

  “And?” asked Kaufman.

  “With such vast businesses they work flexible hours with shifting lunch breaks, meaning that the street never really sees a quiet time, taking vehicles anywhere near it during daylight would be tough.”

  “That’s a good start.”

  “Do you want to have your agents stop the enquiry into information on it?”

  “No, we have eliminated it for now, but I want a thorough look into all of them by our team, let’s move on.”

  “Money National is flagged as under construction, they must be having some kind of refit.”

  “Will they be closed?”

  “Probably.”

  “Barski! Whoever is looking in to Money National, find out if they are open today!”

  “Yes, Boss!”

  “That’s good work, Nowak, we have three left. I was at the Bank of Marsau yesterday, I can’t s
ee any reason why that wouldn’t be a target for this gang.”

  “Agreed, then we just need to look at Citicorp and Marsbank.”

  Kaufman reached out to the intercom and hit the feed to the ship.

  “This is Denver.”

  “Sergeant, we are narrowing down the banks now, we have maybe ninety minutes until a potential raid. I want your team to get to the Citicorp and set up surveillance. Make sure you’re well armed, but do not give any indicator as to your presence there.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Kaufman turned off the intercom and looked to Nowak who was again studying the map intently.

  “We need more info, I can’t see anything between these two.”

  Barski walked back up to the two men who were staring at the map, desperately trying to glean some information from it.

  “Kaufman, I have info from three of the banks so far, they’re being sent to the conference station.”

  “Do you have Citicorp and Marsbank?”

  “Marsbank yes, Citicorp will be a little longer.”

  “Alright, good work. Nowak, bring up everything we have on Marsbank.”

  The table map dissolved and faded into the blueprints of the bank, with pages of information displayed beside it. The two officers looked desperately for an answer in the information, but there was nothing to choose from either of them. Kaufman sat back in his chair, rubbing his weary eyes.

  “Christ, they hold about the same amount of money, security is about the same, both have good highway access. We need to find something!”

  “Sir, look at the schedule for their money drops.”

  “Why, what is it?”

  “Marsbank does not take delivery from cash trucks until 3.30pm each day.”

  “And?”

  “Well, they’d be low on cash during the typical hours that our gangs work at.”

  Kaufman’s expression completely changed, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it himself. He was finding it ever harder to focus on the menial task of pouring through data and analysing it. Maybe it was that he’d become tired of doing so, or perhaps because people’s lives were not on the line he didn’t have the same dedication.

  Working homicide had always been rewarding for Kaufman, knowing that he was stopping murderers, a clean cut and simple crime for him to comprehend. Financial crime never had the same appeal. He had to continually remind himself of the pain and suffering it brought to a far larger amount of the population than a single murder. The gangs were bringing financial sectors to their knees, and it would not be long before many colonies were in ruins. Partly from financial ruin, but as much from the increase in lawlessness and lack of trust for authority, which was growing across the colonies.