The Harriers Book One: Of War and Honor

by S. N. Lewitt

  "Still," said Group Leader Lentzer, who was also the protocol officer.

  Yuen would not be distracted. "If we can verify these rumors directly, then and only then will the Twelve decide what action is to be taken. We will be there as investigators, nothing more. Mr. Lentzer will be in command. Any questions?"

  "What's our cover?" Lentzer asked, trying to sound casual.

  "The Mromrosi has provided that: a tour for the Emerging Planet Fairness Court. We're the formal entourage and bodyguards," Yuen answered smoothly, little though he liked the notion.

  "They'll think we're Grands," Gregori Rasidov griped. "And the Bunters'll want us in class two dress or above all the time." He pantomimed sticking a finger down his throat.

  The Mromrosi went bright leaf-green.

  Why the Mromrosi was cooperating was anyone's guess, Rasidov thought. Maybe on general principles, if nothing else. The Emerging Planet Fairness Court was always going on about principles, though not everyone understood what they were talking about. Not even brass always agreed with the aliens. Everyone knew that, too. But there was plenty to gain if the alien court accepted them, and, hell, they beat going it alone in the big wide galaxy. He winced inwardly at the warning the Emerging Planet Fairness Court issued from time to time: that without the Court's continued endorsement humankind wouldn't be allowed out in the big wide galaxy at all.

  Yuen remained impassive. "It's one of the sacrifices one makes, being in the Petits," he stated, deadpan. "Anything else?"

  The Nada Solis/2 jumped in immediately. "What's he doing in charge? He shouldn't even be here. Not the way he drinks. AIO or not, he ought to be posted to the grid station on Buttress." She pointed at Jaanu Lentzer and glared. "And Tek isn't an officer."

  The other two Nada Solis nodded in unison. The three New Gaia clones preferred to work as a team without outsiders. But this time they weren't objecting to Gregori Rasidov and Tek going along. Lentzer offended them; Piasidov and Tek were just inconvenient.

  No one knew Tek's full name; the Bunters insisted it was improper to say it aloud. He was barely a Petit Harrier at all. He was nothing more than a Supplies/Tech in the Quartermaster's command. On a smaller skimmer than this Broadsword his work would be done by Bunters.

  Lentzer flinched. That the three Solis would consider a mere kitchen clerk his equal, that was worse than the threat of being retired without ribbons and full pay.

  "And what about them?" Rasidov responded, referring to the Solis. "In a traditional culture like Zamalah, clones are not acceptable. Not at all. Let alone female ones. The imam at home called them an abomination, and if they can do that on Vladimir, where they're a very small minority, then you can believe they're going to be a whole lot worse on Zamalah."

  "No problem," Lentzer hissed. "On Zamalah women wear veils anyway. No one'll see. 'Course, they could all dye their hair different colors and stuff—their Bunters would have a field day making them look different." He grinned nastily, pleased to get back at the clone's remark. Or as pleased as he ever got, which wasn't much these days. At least not without a good stash of Standby Hooch at hand. Life on the Kinderkinyo had been deteriorating since the Line Commander went strange.

  The Mromrosi, who sat at the table with all of his legs dangling a good three inches above the floor, remained an uncommunicative peach-pink. Yuen was just about to apologize to the alien when the Nada Solis/3 went over to him with a smile. "At least there's one being on this mission we can approve of," she said, grooming the alien's long curls with her fingers.

  She caught Lentzer's eye as she ran her fingers through the mass of pink tresses to make sure the mission leader knew perfectly well why she was showing such unaccustomed regard for the Mromrosi. Anything, even an alien, was better than Lentzer. He couldn't mistake the meaning if she had broadcast it in fifty-two frequencies.

  The Mromrosi, who usually was treated with far more reserve, turned a shade brighter. Yuen was shocked that he permitted the Nada Solis/3 to touch him at all, but then the clone practically glowed around the curly alien.

  "Nothing like a little ass-kissing," Lentzer mumbled. "Assuming Mromrosi have asses and you can find them."

  The two clones not preoccupied with the Mromrosi turned hostile glares at him. The one nearer hissed.

  Lentzer didn't care. All he wanted was a drink. He had been too close to sober when this briefing had started, and now he was the rest of the way there. It was not a state he enjoyed anymore. It made his temper short and his memory too sharp. If he'd had a decent shot or two of good Standby Hooch he wouldn't have commented on the Solis' behavior.

  "Shared grooming is an indication of goodwill among your kind," the Mromrosi said evenly. "This includes clones."

  Rasidov smiled, his mouth thin. "It brings out their maternal nature," he said softly. Tek looked away.

  "I would like to make it clear that I do not regard this inspection as cover. I have never seen a traditional culture of this Moslem kind before. My report will be fascinating to the member-species of the Emerging Planet Fairness Court. I am very curious. Traditional Moslems of the African tradition, I believe they are called?"

  Executive Officer Yuen nodded. "We hope there are aspects of this culture that you find interesting, aside from the possibility of slave trade." Yuen looked at the rest of the staff. He proceeded more briskly. "Zamalah is ruled by a group of religious jurists known as the ulama. There are several of these councils but the most important is the ulama at Moustar. They are interested in meeting an alien jurist and 'discussing matters of legal scholarship,' is how they put it. So you have immediate access to the ruling body."

  Lentzer, all three Nada Solis, even the Navigator looked bored. Yuen, who, like several others on this mission, had trained aboard the Semper Alpha Cygnis, was used to having more crew to draw from; he had to resist the temptation to order them all out and reconstruct the team. He knew when he had planned this mission for the Line Commander that they should have scrapped it when they had the chance. The landing party as it was made up now came up red on the group psychological scan.

  But the Alliance Intelligence Organization had insisted on Tek and Rasidov, and what AIO wanted, they got: Rasidov had been educated in a mosque school as well as public and had memorized the entire Q'ran. Tek was the most traditional Moslem on board and both were fluent in Old Earth Arabic.

  Not that Arabic was the main language of Zamalah, but it was spoken among the educated and religious, as Latin had once been for Old Earth Christians. Translator packs could be considered heretical by the most extreme of the Zamalah Moslems. Especially on a mission as delicate as this. Thus Rasidov and Tek were ruled essential to the Zamalah visit. The Line Commander had insisted on the clones. AIO had selected Rasidov and Tek. And Lentzer was protocol officer.

  Executive Officer Yuen did his best to conceal his dismay.

  Over the vigorous objections of the Group Line Chiefs, Line Commander Nazaipha had volunteered his ship for the clone experiment and he would not reconsider, despite growing evidence that it wasn't working. Even on skimmers as big as their three Broadswords, each with a human complement of forty-two, with forty-three cyborgs, the clones stood out. The Nada Solis group were second generation, the epitome of New Gaian state-of-the-art, all flaws removed. They were unparalleled martial artists, excellent tacticians, and breathtaking examples of New Gaian beauty.

  "In a religious society like Zamalah," the Line Commander had said slowly, when Executive Officer Yuen had presented the Group Line Chiefs to protest the presence of the clones on the mission, "we might need to display some old-fashioned skills, including the martial ones. We'll send the best."

  Yuen had argued against it though he knew the Nada Solis were the best hand-to-hand fighters among the Harriers, Grands and Petits; it was something of a coup for the Petits, for clones were not permitted in the Grands. So the best kickboxers in the Alliance were all Petits by default. To Yuen's mind, this advantage was outweighed by the nature of the clones thems
elves. The Nada Solis only liked to work together, didn't get along well with anyone else, and were not subtle in their preference.

  Group Leader Lentzer had backed him up. "The AIO doesn't use them."

  "They're too volatile," Group Line Chief Xer M'kaba of the Zuruchmasu had protested. "And they don't follow orders."

  The Line Commander remained adamant.

  "We need someone with experience, someone from the Alliance Intelligence Organization, with an AIO brain implant for Old Earth Arabic," Group Line Chief Laeo Ghano of the Waldashita had insisted.

  All to no avail.

  Full of trepidation, Executive Officer Yuen brought the news to Line Commander Nazaipha. The mission would proceed as planned. Pog it all anyway.

  Line Commander Nazaipha was delighted for a good five Earth Standard minutes before his attention drifted.

  Yuen would have flung up his hands if he had thought it would do any good.

  Line Commander Nazaipha had served on the Semper Alpha Cygnis as a Group Leader for nine years. His sudden promotion to Line Commander of Broadsword-class skimmers was on record as being for outstanding service. That didn't stop the rumors that it was a reward for keeping his mouth shut about some scandal in the Grands.

  "We have to include the Mromrosi in all briefings," Yuen reminded Nazaipha.

  "It would be the best political move," the Line Commander said unhappily, as if he were empowered to change this. He had his eyes fixed on the blank vid screen in his quarters. He leaned forward as if watching. "Slavery is one of the Big Three for the Emerging Planet Fairness Court, according to the Marshal-in-Chief. It's better if they see us doing something to stop it rather than trying to hide it."

  "My thoughts exactly," M'kaba agreed. She looked uneasily at Yuen.

  "And having the alien off the ship will give us a little more breathing space with Yosinero, if he does arrive. And we get Lentzer out of the way at the same time." Line Commander Nazaipha smiled a horribly meaningless smile.

  Again Yuen bit back his response. Yosinero is dangerous, he wanted to shout it at Line Commander Nazaipha. Privately Yuen was convinced the Line Commander was making a bad situation worse.

  "We're all aware that Lentzer has a personal axe to grind with Yosinero," said Line Commander Nazaipha with a lucidity that was increasingly rare in him. "If Lentzer does something stupid with Yosinero around that won't be our responsibility. Get rid of the drunk—he's so much baggage anyway—and remove Yosinero all in one very elegant sweep."

  Group Line Chief Ghano didn't see it that way. "Dangerous or not, Line Commander, Yosinero has been my personal friend for a very long time. The fact that he was Strategy Marshal of the Grand Harriers, protégé of one of the Twelve, and richer than the Hubcorp Group were all perfectly good reasons to want to bring him down."

  "A Grand!" scoffed the Line Commander. "Do we have any courberries?" He fiddled with the red horse-head tab on his collar. "How far are we from the Semper Alpha Cygnis? They're expecting me back."

  Yuen shook his head.

  M'kaba kept her mouth shut. She had her orders, and if Lentzer interfered he had to go. Yosinero had been getting away with too much for far too long. And his mentor on the Twelve had enemies, just as Yosinero himself did. The Group Line Chief of the Waldashita had private coded messages containing information she was not permitted to reveal to Yueri. And she knew better than to tell Line Commander Nazaipha anything. She could feel sorry for Yuen Tsimu; he was in an untenable position with the Line Commander gone strange. But she wasn't about to lose her perspective. Not if it meant the end of Yosinero forever.

  Group Leader Jaanu Lentzer hoped it was the end. All he wanted was one last, easy assignment: tame, simple, nothing that would throw him off stride before he left the Petits with retirement and ribbons and honorable memories. They might give it to him, too, the string-pullers back at the Hub, just so long as he didn't pog up this one last job. He had done a few decent things in the past. And as protocol officer, he knew enough to protect himself. And he needed to be protected, with all he had learned over the years.

  What if he drank? By Old Hardy, a Harrier was supposed to be able to drink. Petit or Grand, it was part of the tradition. He had once met up with a couple of Grands in Dickens on Victoria Station and had gone shot for shot with both of them until they passed out. Then he'd stripped them both down to their socks and left them, face down, on the bar. That was sure a sight when their Line Commander had caught them out.

  It had been a great joke aboard the Semper Alpha Cygnis for almost a full year. Of course, that had been twenty-six years ago. And very little had changed for him since then, aside from being assigned to the Kinderkinyo. Not a good sign, no matter what the Protocol Marshal told him. He was close to early retirement, no longer ambitious enough to press for more, still only a Group Leader and Protocol Two. Once he'd thought he'd do great things, show up his cousin Reike in the Grands. Now all he wanted was to get shut of the job and find himself somewhere he could drink in peace and forget.

  His Bunter interrupted his miserable reverie, telling him that Executive Officer Yuen wanted a word with him as soon as possible.

  "We've been told that you'll be given the full diplomatic treatment, in spite of the Zamalah aversion to aliens," said Yuen with a distracted frown. "I don't quite know what that entails except some sort of traditional skill demonstration and a very long feast. You'd better make sure to take an anti-bug before you go. Who knows what they've got in the soil and the stock down there."

  "Of course," said Lentzer. "I've done this a few times before, you know."

  Yuen shrugged. "Just had to make sure." His expression changed, becoming less angry. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about the mission. I tried to get it changed. I'll show you my evaluations, if you like. But the Line Commander—"

  "The Line Commander's gone strange, and everyone knows it." Lentzer wasn't in the mood to coddle Yuen or anyone else. "You could file evaluations from now until we go nova, it wouldn't matter. This whole mission is—" He stopped himself before he said what he really thought. "It's no good for anyone."

  "Uhm." Yuen lowered his eyes. "I'll do everything I can to keep the Line Commander out of this. But you know what he's like. And I can't get the Marshal-in-Chief to authorize formal removal. I've tried. They don't pay any attention to my zaps, or the vids I've provided." He looked very tired.

  "The Line Commander's got hidden credit. That makes it hard to get rid of him. Or they want him gone, and they're letting us do it for them." He was disgusted at everything he said. "Maybe they want us all gone, and set up a trap for us. But we have orders, right?"

  "Try to do your best. It isn't going to be easy."

  "No kidding," said Lentzer. He stared at the wall that separated Yuen's quarters from the Line Commander's. "Moslem slavers or Nazaipha. What a pogging awful choice."

  The Broadswords cut silently above the glittering aquamarine ocean of Zamalah. On the surveills a fishing boat lay below, its occupants leaning back in their seats, concentrating on their lines. The shadows of the Broadswords passed over them, making enormous fish-shapes on the water.

  The bridge of the Kinderkinyo was silent. At least they weren't arguing anymore. Rasidov was in his Navigator's station with the Nada Solis/1 beside him, checking all the monitors as he guided the Broadsword over the ocean.

  Lentzer's head throbbed. Watching the surveills was making him dizzy. His Bunter had insisted that there was no Standby Hooch anywhere in seventeen mega-li. Which was a lie. He decided there was nothing more humiliating than being offered Merkonic tea by a cyborg when he'd ordered something stronger. A stiff Loch Ochie Scotch would do in a pinch.

  But his Bunter refused to serve him anything alcoholic at all. Lentzer took the Merkonic tea, some Xiaoqing analgesic, and all the fruit juice he could got reinforced with Buttress pepper—his mother's recipe for a hangover. For once the recipe didn't work. He put his hand over his eyes and wished he could sleep it off.

&
nbsp; An alarm shrieked as a message came onto the hoard. Rasidov didn't consult the clone beside him. lie toggled the hailer for all three Broadswords, which was tuned way too loud for Lentzer's liking.

  "In the name of Allah, the All-Compassionate, the All Merciful, we welcome you to the First Port of Zuinalah, which is called Shaifa. We trust you are well—may Allah be thanked—and looking forward to greeting us in Shaifa. If you open your navigators to I he frequency on your monitors, our field plotting will direct you to an appropriate place. We happily await your arrival."

  Lentzer groaned. He hated rigamarole.

  "It is not a correct and polite greeting?" the Mromrosi inquired.

  "It is very traditional, but not very enthusiastic," Tek said softly. "Really, it's too short to be polite. To be completely proper they should have inquired about the health of each of our families, our friends, all the units of the Petits. But I suppose they know that most people don't care so much about manners. Most people in the Alliance just want to do business." Tek sighed and shook his head.

  "This is a landing port," said Executive Officer Yuen. "They may save the formalities for when we are safely on the ground."

  Rasidov locked the navigator into the Port and leaned back. The Nada Solis/1 looked at him nastily, then shifted her gaze to Lentzer. Solis/3 picked up the embroidered and hooded garment that was considered modest feminine dress on Zamalah.

  "I won't wear that thing," Solis/2 said in a tone that accepted no argument.

  Lentzer could feel a migraine coming on. I'm too old for this kind of thing, he thought. "You'll wear it if the Senior Bunter says it's the uniform of the day for those of us on the mission."

  All three Nada Solis looked at him as if they were ready to use him for free-fighting practice. They were exactly—exactly—the same, all with the identical blond hair, full lips, and large blue eyes. New Gaian bedroom fantasies with very nasty fangs. Lentzer didn't find them at all appealing. Give me one of those brunette Amazons from Lontano, or a skinny pixie from Westward Ho, or a rangy hill woman from Hydeyama, he thought, anyone there's only one of. Anyone who looked so utterly perfect and came in threes, whatever the type, he distrusted.