Tapper grinned. “So, does that mean I get to call myself a captain, now?”
Moorefield shrugged. “Or we become commanders and lieutenant commanders. No word on the scheme Murphy’s going to use. Although you ask me, I think Makarov is behind this.”
“Yeah,” agreed Bowden, “he’s a smart guy, but he’s got an extra measure of starch in his boxers.”
“Still,” Chalmers drawled, “couldn’t be happening if Murphy didn’t approve it. Like we have the time for that kind of pogue bullshit.” He smiled darkly. “It’s just another way for him to impress us by swinging his bureaucratic dick in our faces—since he doesn’t have an actual one.” When nobody laughed or even grinned, he checked the faces around him, noticed that most were looking away, or over his shoulder. Chalmers sighed. “He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?”
No one said anything.
“Yup,” Chalmers acknowledged with a nod. “He’s right behind me.”
“There’s probably a crude come-back about that being your favorite position,” Murphy’s voice speculated, “but as an officer and a gentleman, I would never indulge in that kind of humor.”
A few surprised grins sprang up, even a tentative one on Chalmers’ face. Jackson was trying very hard not to laugh.
Murphy walked around to stand in front of the view they’d all been enjoying. “Frankly, I’d probably feel the way you do. Like mushrooms: left in the dark and fed shit. So, I don’t expect any different when it comes to your opinion of me. I put you in a shit situation, gave you shit missions, and had shit support for you.”
He glanced at the scene behind him. “And yet, here you are: king of this hill and every other for hundreds of klicks in all directions.” He smiled. “So much for Murphy’s Law. You beat it. Every one of you.”
Jackson shook his head. “Ya ask me, sir, Murphy’s Law never had a chance of applying to us.” He looked sideways at Chalmers. “’Specially since some people here are a whole lot better at breaking laws than following them.”
Chalmers shifted uncomfortably. “Well, Jacks, it’s like the major says: we were supposed to break Murphy’s Law.”
“So, I guess that makes us Murphy’s Lawless,” Bruce quipped through a bubbling laugh.
Harry grinned. “Murphy’s Lawless. I like that.”
Moorefield nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard worse nicknames for a unit.”
Bowden hung his head. “And I was going to use that phrase for nose-art. Once I get a ride worthy of the paint.”
Chalmers cracked a lopsided grin. “So, what new shit missions with shit support are you here to dole out today, Major?”
Murphy was all business, again. “For a while, none. Right now, the objective is the same for almost all of you: squeeze and smother the satraps and take control of their turf, leaving the largest towns for last. After that…well, we’re getting ready for when we finally see inbound ships. Which we’ll detect long before they get to this system, thanks to the Dornaani microsats.”
Bowden nodded. “And when those ships pop up on those scanners?”
“We start putting the next major attack in motion. Until then, we gather intelligence for the operations we’ll activate when they arrive. You’ll get the intel priority list in a day or two. Other than that, you’ve got a lot of Ashbanders to train and units to stand up.”
“Gonna take these locals a long time to be anything more than an armed rabble,” Jackson observed cautiously.
“Very true, Sergeant, but if we can get just a few companies of modestly trained soldiers on the line, they can function as the tip of the spear. With their new weapons, the tribal warbands can rush in through whatever gaps those companies cut in our enemy’s defenses.”
“C’mon, Major,” Bruce leered sardonically, “training our guys and hunting down occasional satrap troopers? That’s it? Sounds like a vacation compared to what we’ve been doing.”
Murphy nodded. “I suppose it does. But I doubt it will work out that way. Still, if the present ‘do it yesterday’ tempo does ease off, well, that could be a good time to catch up on sleep. Get some R&R. Learn local customs. Make a life.” His look settled on Lee. “Wouldn’t you say, Captain?”
Upon him uttering the words “make a life,” her smile shifted from ironic to almost grateful. “I completely concur, Major.”
But Moorefield was frowning. “Something you haven’t covered, Major. Let’s say everything works out like we want and we’re in control of a bunch of satrap towns. How do we occupy, or at least control, them? That’s tricky duty for the best-trained soldiers. For the Ashbanders?” Bo shook his head. “There’s too much bad blood to leave them in charge. Almost all of them have lost relatives to satrap forces within the last few years alone.”
Murphy nodded. “There’s no way to control all of that, Bo. But in addition to having a stick—allowing the Ashbanders to ‘restore order’—we also have a carrot: anyone in the towns who cooperates with us will almost certainly get rich.”
“Where’s that money going to come from, sir?”
“The work of their own hands.”
Moorefield squinted skeptically. “You never struck me as a wild-eyed optimist. Sir.”
“That’s because I’m not, Bo. I just got a surprise package of new schematics that Nephew and Nuncle left behind. Those who cooperate get access; those who don’t, don’t.”
Bowden’s laugh was sardonic. “And how are the pre-industrial R’Baku going to make any use of replication schematics?”
“They’re not, because most of them are not replication schematics, and they’re not for military gear. These are plans for simple devices that most village craftsmen could make. Some—like crystal sets for radio reception—would require the better artisans in the bigger towns. But no matter the size of the community, you’ll be armed with information that will allow the locals to not only sell new products but will up their technology baseline in a big way. Not to our way of thinking, perhaps, but it will improve their lives—and give us a source of better basic tools.”
Bowden still sounded doubtful. “Such as?”
“Drill improvements, easy lighting solutions, time pieces, wagon designs, basic lathes and looms designed for hook up to basic mechanical power sources, smoother and modular gearing for both water- and windmills. All the stuff that apparently hasn’t changed in centuries here because, between oppressive and secretive guilds, a Searing which knocks over industry and the knowledge base every century, and Harvesters who raze any progress they consider threatening, the R’Baku can’t achieve anything like true industrialization.” His gaze swept the sere horizon. “Not that this place makes it easy to begin with.”
“Yeah, well,” Jackson muttered, “woulda been nice if your bosses had shared all that out at the start.”
Murphy surprised everyone by nodding. “It would have been, but it would have also been too big a risk.” When frowns sprang up around the group, Murphy expanded. “Look, let’s say they shared it at the start. Then let’s say that we—all of us Lost Soldiers—got plowed under by the SpinDogs—”
“Damn near happened,” Bowden muttered with a glance up in the very general direction of the Spins.
“—or that someone ratted us out to the Kulsians, or they were early arriving and caught us while we were trying to achieve all this.” He waved a hand at the horizon behind him. “If any of them got their hands on this basic tech compendium, that would have been like sending them an outline of our—and our bosses’—strategy and ultimate goal—”
“To take the whole planet,” Tapper said through an exhale. “And they’d have started to craft their own ambush to spring on Olsloov. Because by distributing those basic tech plans, your bosses would have sent a clear message that they actually do intend to return, to use R’Bak as some kind of base or staging area.”
“So,” Bruce asked in a quiet voice, “are the SpinDogs with us on all this?”
Murphy shrugged. “Everything that I’ve told them ab
out. I’m still working out some details. The biggest problem is time.”
“You mean, how soon you can bring the SpinDogs around?”
“No, Bruce: how soon the next group of Kulsians—the surveyors—will show up.”
“I thought we had about two years,” Bowden muttered.
Murphy shrugged. “Except that timing is based on the operational status quo. But this time, their coursers disappeared after signaling that they were about to investigate an anomaly.”
Bowden nodded. “Yeah, the Kulsians are going to accelerate their operational timetable. Probably add some stiffening elements to the usual surveyor TOO.”
“So,” summarized Moorefield with a sigh, “the clock is still ticking.”
Murphy’s nod was slow, regretful. “Never stopped, Bo.”
“Now there’s the R’Bak I know and hate,” Jackson snarled softly as he started to rise. “Well, I guess it’s about time to get back to work.”
* * * * *
Chapter Eighty-Five
Spin One
Murphy had just thrown his duffle on his bunk when the door paged. Knowing that Max had already seen and approved whoever it was, he shouted. “It’s open.”
Naliryiz strode in. Without preamble, she declared, “Our trip has put me in a difficult position. I need to tell Anseker and the Family council something about why we traveled into deep space and what we did there. And I cannot lie.”
Murphy made a gentle wave for her to sit. She looked at the chair but did not use it. He shrugged and fell into his own. “There’s no problem with that, Naliryiz. I understand. I felt the same way when Bru—er, Captain Lee started spending more time with your Family than she did with us. A commander—a Bo’Skelm of whatever rank—needs to know what his subordinates do when they spend time alone with someone from a rival power…or even an ally.”
“So, you will tell me what was in the buoy you retrieved?”
He nodded. “More schematics than you would—than I can—believe. And from a lot of different sources.”
“You mean the different cultures of your planet?”
“Well, that too, but I was talking about different species. Some of the stuff is pretty amazing, the simple solutions other races came up with long ago for problems that we kept bouncing our head into. I suspect they’d feel the same about some of our solutions, but the bottom line is they’re all right at our fingertips, now.” He considered. “There are some more advanced designs that could be of use to SpinDogs and RockHounds, but it’s mostly basic tools and devices that can be built by any metal-working culture, and they’ll improve everything from communications to mining to transport. Hell, the list is endless.”
She sat. “So, this compendium was compiled for the benefit of the R’Baku, more than us.”
“It looks that way, yes.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” She fidgeted.
Murphy smiled. “I get the feeling we are not done.”
She tried to smile back. “I am not sure. Logically, the data would have been stored inside the buoy itself. But the device you removed from the container that was attached to it did not resemble a data storage device. And its manufacture, the shape of the device, did not look the same as that which was used to construct the buoy.”
Murphy shrugged. “I won’t deny that.”
Naliryiz squared her shoulders. “I am of Family Otlethes. Its full trust has been conferred upon me as its most accomplished Healer. I already suspected the purpose of that device was not data storage, and so, am honor-bound to ascertain if I am correct and if its actual purpose and capabilities might bear upon the security of my Family.”
Murphy considered. “How it bears upon their security or their strategic considerations?”
Naliryiz frowned. “How are those even different?”
“As I mean them, security concerns would be limited to ascertaining if the device poses a threat to your people. Strategic considerations would include acquiring and relaying all the information you could gather on it, even if your Family had no way to use it and was not threatened by it.”
“In short, you are asking if I am just trying to protect my people or am acting as a spy.”
“Well, you’re not being deceitful, so I wouldn’t call you a spy. But an intelligence-gathering asset? Yes, if you are obligated to learn and share every detail that you can.”
Naliryiz frowned. “It is an interesting question that has never arisen before. Our relations with other Families and factions have been more clearly and rigidly defined.”
Murphy just kept looking at her.
“I can make you no promises, Major,” she concluded. “If I am called upon to give an exhaustive accounting of everything I did and saw while with you, then I would be honor-bound to comply.”
“And if you weren’t explicitly ordered to do so?”
“Then I would not feel compelled to add unnecessary details to my report unless my assessment and conscience told me that what you reveal does negatively impact the welfare of Family Otlethes.”
“Well, then, I’ll tell you…because unless Family Otlethes decides to attack us, there’s no way this device would reasonably figure in their security considerations.” He smiled. “And if Family Otlethes does decide to attack us, this little toy probably wouldn’t matter much at all. If you decide to, er, ‘eliminate’ us, we Lost Soldiers would just be a speed bump.”
“A what?”
“An almost unnoticeable obstacle.” Murphy shrugged. “The device is a translator.”
“You mean, such as your leaders used to teach your men our language—well, Old Ktor?”
Murphy cocked his head. “Not as advanced as that. This one is from a less advanced alien species called the Arat Kur.”
Naliryiz shook her head. “Then I do not understand how that is of any strategic significance at all. To anyone.”
Murphy smiled. “It’s a really sophisticated, compact computer. Consider what it’s designed to do. Starting with just bits and pieces of a language, it listens to more of that language being spoken in response to statements and questions conveyed in a different, already known language. The more equivalences and vocabulary it learns, the faster its progress in mastering the rest.”
She frowned silently for five seconds. Then: “So does that mean it can be used to decrypt coded communications?”
Murphy managed not to start in surprise. Damn, she is smart; really smart. “Correct. It’s not actually designed for that purpose, so it’s a ‘low-end’ substitute, at best.
“But then again, no one in this system uses anything but the most basic computing technology. You have spreadsheets and calculators and word processors and basic image-capturing, but nothing that aids or performs analysis. Which is basically how and why computers can produce—and can crack—really complex cyphers. So, your cyphers, while pretty robust against human codebreakers, wouldn’t stand a chance against this translator.”
Naliryiz nodded. “So, this is what you meant at the Acclamation when you spoke of having access to the Kulsian secure codes and monitoring their communications.” She smiled. “But you’re not going to tell me where you plan on finding the warships you promised, are you?”
Murphy smiled back. “A guy has to have some secrets.”
At the word “secrets,” her glance flickered toward his left hand. Suddenly, neither one of them were smiling.
“It seems wrong,” she said slowly, “that you are the only one who is sharing secrets.”
Murphy shrugged. “I am pretty sure that if I asked about any of the ones I’d like answers to, that would be considered rude, threatening, or both.”
Naliryiz shared a wan smile. “Most…but not all.”
Talk about bait trailed in water. Murphy decided to bite. “Such as?”
“Such as why our Matriarch Kelrevis was down on R’Bak at all; why she placed herself at such risk. Surely, you have wondered. Captain Lee has intimated as much.”
Murphy frowned. “I w
ondered, yes. But I never felt it urgent to discover the answer. I presumed it was a private matter concerning your Family. And I learned a long time ago that nine-tenths of human wisdom is knowing when to mind your own business.”
Her smiled widened. “That is indeed wisdom. And Kelrevis’s visit was partly a Family decision, but it was one that concerned you, as well.”
“Well, if it has to do with the welfare of the Lost Soldiers, then I—”
“No, I mean it concerned you, Major Rodger Murphy.”
Oh. Well, in that case… “I would be grateful for whatever you feel it proper and prudent to share, Doct—Healer Naliryiz.”
She seemed to flinch at his use of her formal honorific, but she pressed on. “Matriarch Kelrevis was not just a Breedmistress and our Guild-mother. She was a healer. One of our greatest.” Naliryiz paused, as if that revelation alone would be meaningful to Murphy.
He shrugged. “Yes. And so…?”
“So, she saw the signs in you. The first time you came aboard one of our habitats with your two Terran leaders, to meet with us after the space battle.”
“The signs?”
Naliryiz glanced at his left hand again.
Murphy nodded. “I see.”
“I’m not sure you do. She understood that you were to become the only link between us and your leaders. I believe they revealed to her that there were some secrets—and some resources—they would share only with you. That they could not answer for what the Lost Soldiers might do, or with whom they might ally, if you died. No matter the cause.”
“And that’s why you trusted Maximilliano Messina with so much information, so quickly?”
Naliryiz shrugged. “It was better that your bodyguard should be one of your own. It was far better that ours remain distant.”
“Wait, you had a bodyguard watching me?”
She nodded. “How could we take the risk of not protecting you, when so much was at stake? And that is also why the Matriarch traveled to the surface of R’Bak: to try to find a cure for your condition.”
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