“We would like to stay with you,” she said, shortly. Fitz smiled, in delight or relief; she couldn't tell which. “What do you intend to do on Greenland?”
Fitz grinned at her.
“Ideally, pick up a line that should lead me to another recruiting centre,” he said. “It’s difficult to be sure, of course, but Greenland is definitely a good place for anti-Imperium rebels to be recruiting. Auntie Jo may not have even scraped the surface when she started worrying about the prospects of real trouble on her world.”
Mariko sat down beside him and studied the star chart. “Was it worth...what I did to get the information?”
“I’m not sure,” Fitz admitted. “There was a routine programmed into the system which would automatically handle certain incoming freighters, without letting the operators know that the freighters were even there. That’s dangerous as all hell on a system like Homeworld, with hundreds of thousands of ships visiting every day, but reasonably safe on a planet like Tuff. The freighters were even stacked up on the other side of the planet from the complex – not a perfect way to hide anything, yet more than good enough. Very few visitors would see any reason to question OTC’s account of what was going on in orbit.”
He shook his head. “Assuming the worst, seventeen bulk freighters visited the system within the last three months that could have been bringing in new recruits from somewhere else,” he added. “That suggests an army numbering in the millions, one that is likely to be a serious headache for even the Imperial Marines. But if that’s the case, why haven’t we heard anything by now?”
Mariko considered. “The longer they have the army without using it, the greater the chance of someone stumbling across their existence?”
“Even so,” Fitz agreed. “Of course, they could be hiding their army in interstellar space, or on one of the primitive worlds without even a token presence from the Imperium, but it’s still risky. That suggests that there’s a timetable here we can’t see yet. Why would they risk a delay when every day they wait increases the chances of discovery?”
“I don’t know,” Mariko admitted. All of the possible explanations seemed to fail when exposed to logic and reason. “Perhaps Lady Mary intends to take the war directly to Homeworld...?”
“She’d have to be insane.” Fitz grunted. “Even in these days, Homeworld and the Core Sector are the most heavily defended worlds in the galaxy. The strongest units of the Imperial Navy are based in orbit around Homeworld and there is a massive Imperial Marine presence backing them up. There’s no way they’d get through that kind of firepower and survive. Besides, it would take years to get there without the wormhole network and ships heading to Homeworld are always searched first.”
He shook his head. “I hate this moment,” he told her. “The sense of seeing part of the puzzle, but not all of it – not even enough to be sure that you’re not just looking at the tip of the iceberg.”
Mariko placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles under his skin. “Can you tell where the freighters came from?”
“I can tell you where they officially came from, according to the manifests hidden within the OTC system – Jericho,” Fitz said. “But they could have altered course at any point once they left the system. They could be going anywhere, and no one would know for sure.”
He shook his head. “I’ll see what we turn up on Greenland,” he said. “Until then, it’s time to get you checked out on some of the equipment on this ship.” He grinned, in a boyish manner that made him looked younger than Mai. “Some of the toys I have here are really cool.”
***
“I feel naked,” Mariko said, twenty minutes later. “Why do I feel naked?”
“Because the suit is clinging to your body,” Fitz said. Mariko looked down at herself and flushed again. Her nipples were clearly outlined against the black material that made up the suit. Every curve of her body was visible to his inspection. She felt even more exposed than when they’d both been naked and showering together. “It’s actually only a bare few millimetres thick, but it provides a surprising amount of protection from energy weapons fire and active sensor sweeps.”
He looked over at Mai, who was struggling with her own suit. “Relax and let it adapt to you,” he said, firmly. “It won’t fit properly unless you give it a chance to adapt.”
Mai was flushing even brighter than Mariko, ashamed of what she was wearing. Fitz, on the other hand, seemed to be completely professional, barely glancing at them long enough to be sure that they were donning the suits properly. Mariko did her best to relax and tried moving inside the suit; it moved almost as smoothly as if she were genuinely naked. The garment seemed to be adjusting to her surroundings, its colour changing to match the images displayed by the holochamber. She would be almost impossible to spot once she donned the hood and slipped into the darkness, or even against a patterned background. If they’d been wearing this on their trip into the jungle, they would never have been spotted by the guard.
“They have a chameleon effect, but it isn't perfect,” Fitz said. “You can spend the next two days practicing until you understand just how they work – and when they don’t work very well. A standard sensor network won’t notice you unless you get very unlucky, but an advanced sensor network will probably deduce your existence through subtle clues and start vectoring security guards towards you. Leaving a trail of footprints behind you would be very careless, for example.”
He chuckled as he passed Mariko the hood. Pulling it on was difficult, for there were no eyeholes or even anywhere for her to breathe. She started to panic before she realised that she could breathe right through the material, almost as if there wasn't anything covering her mouth at all. Pressing a finger against the suit, she could feel something blocking her path to her mouth, something that felt too strong to allow oxygen to pass through the material. Her vision cleared suddenly and she found herself looking at Mai, who was little more than a dark shadow. And then the chameleon effect cut in and her sister became almost invisible.
“The suit automatically filters the atmosphere for you, allowing you to breathe even if the enemy fills the area with nerve gas,” Fitz said, “but it won’t supply you with oxygen if there isn't any in the air. You will need to take oxygen packs with you if you suspect that you will be going into vacuum. It’s also tough enough to withstand a standard knife, but a monofilament blade will cut right through it as if it were made of paper. Someone who tries to cut the suit slowly, instead of through naked force, will also manage to stick a knife into your body. There are training simulations in this holochamber and I expect you to work your way through them.”
He shrugged. “Take off your hoods,” he ordered.
Mariko obeyed, not without a sensation of relief.
“The other thing you need to practice with are the stealth battlesuits,” he told them. “If you will come with me...?”
Bruce Wayne had a dozen hidden compartments, Mariko was starting to realise. She’d deduced the existence of a couple of them when she’d realised that Fitz was much more than he seemed, but others had been completely unnoticeable until Fitz had pointed them out. Even in hindsight, she couldn't see how she could have found them without disassembling the entire ship. The experts who had put the ship together had done a wonderful job.
One compartment housed no less than seven light battlesuits, of a design she’d never seen before. Combat infantry had been wearing battlesuits for centuries and the designs had been improved over that long period, but these suits were odd. They might have been specially designed for Imperial Intelligence. Mariko couldn't understand why he’d brought seven of them on his ship. Had he expected to lose some suits along the way?
“These suits are designed for both stealthy operations and active combat,” Fitz said. “In theory, you can enter a planetary atmosphere completely undetected and land safely on the planet’s surface. When active, they are a match for everything short of Marine Heavy Combat Armour, but don’t get cocky! One di
rect hit from a plasma cannon and you’ll lose most of the stealth coating that gives you your advantages. A second hit means you’ll probably lose active shielding. And then a third hit will kill you stone dead. You’re going to be running endless simulations until you’re fully checked out on these machines, just in case we need them. I hope we won’t, but if we do I need you to be ready.”
He looked at Mai, who stared at one of the combat suits as if it were her dream man.
“You won't find it easy at first to handle them,” he added. “The Imperial Marines lose more people in battlesuit operations than they do in other missions. These days, enemy forces reprogram automated systems to cope with battlesuits as they plunge from the sky, taking advantage of enemy surprise to get into the midst. Try looking up the disaster on Heavenly Gate one of these days. It’s what happens when someone thinks that a battlesuit makes them invincible.
“And while you’re taking a break, study Greenland carefully,” he concluded. “I shall expect you to know everything about the planet once we arrive. I’ll see to packing the shuttle – I just want you to be ready to use the equipment if we need it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Mariko said, quickly. She had a feeling that it wouldn't be easy. “Do you think we should wear them down on the surface?”
“I think we’ll be taking the camouflage suits down to the surface,” Fitz said. “I sincerely hope that we won’t need anything else. But I’ll discuss contingency plans with you once I know how much you’ve learned about using a combat suit.”
***
The next four days passed very slowly. Mariko found herself left with a new respect for the Imperial Marines after she failed, time and time again, the basic tests for operating an armoured combat suit. It was easy enough to use it violently, slamming armoured fists against holographic opponents and tearing them apart effortlessly, but the more delicate operations constantly failed, no matter how hard she tried. The training simulation insisted that she should be able to shake a person’s hand without crushing it like an eggshell, yet every time she shook hands with a holographic representation she crushed their hand or pulled their arm right out of its socket. Frustratingly, Mai seemed to be much better with her armoured combat suit, graduating quickly to training simulations that matched her against any number of opponents. Mariko hadn't realised how many weapons were crammed into the suits until she saw Mai deploying a dozen different weapons against as many opponents.
“Women generally do better than men without biofeedback augmentation,” Fitz said, that night over dinner. He seemed more than willing to play the harsh taskmaster, constantly reviewing their performance and commenting on how it could be improved. “There was an argument for the combat suits that claimed that they would allow women to take their place on the battlefield alongside men.”
Mai considered it. “Did it work?”
“Of course it worked,” Fitz said, dryly. “But the moment someone else invented a system that countered the suits, the women found themselves in deep trouble. Warfare is a constantly evolving state; every time the Imperium makes an advance, its enemies make an advance of their own. The Secessionists have been sharing data on resistance tactics right across the Imperium, making each new rebellion considerably harder to put down than the last.”
Mariko rubbed her aching arms. Despite her best efforts, she was still getting an uncomfortable level of feedback from the armoured suit, suggesting that she wasn't ready to take it onto the battlefield.
“Maybe we can surprise them,” she said. “They won’t expect to see armoured soldiers in a ship like this, will they?”
“The Grenadier Guards used to deploy from a mangy old freighter,” Fitz observed. He looked over at Mai for a long moment. “I’m afraid that you will be staying on the ship this time, just in case we need backup.”
Mai started. “I can't come down to the planet?”
“You wouldn’t like it,” Mariko reminded her. She’d been reading up on the planet and the kindest word she could think of for Greenland was hellish.
“And beside, Archie is known for his wandering hands,” Fitz added. “It will provide an excuse to keep you in orbit, out of sight and out of mind.”
Chapter Thirteen
From orbit, Greenland didn't look any different from countless other worlds that had been terraformed into something suitable for human life. It wasn't until Mariko brought the shuttle down into the atmosphere that she started to see signs that something wasn't quite natural about the planet. Great plantations of green crops were understandable, even recognisable, yet there were also vast ruins that marked the existence of a pre-technology intelligent race. Beside her, she heard Fitz grunt in dismay as the extent of the devastation became clear. The humans who had settled Greenland had largely crushed a flourishing alien civilisation to suit their needs.
Greenland had been perfect, except for an atmospheric balance that was ill-suited to human settlement. Instead of either engineering a race of colonists who could live naturally on the planet, or simply leaving it and its inhabitants alone, the settlers had embarked upon a terraforming effort that had turned the atmosphere into something humans could breathe. The aliens, seemingly more adaptable than humans, had somehow survived the transformation of their world, but that had only been the start of their suffering. Human settlers had transformed vast sections of their land into giant plantations and put the aliens to work for the benefit of their human masters. What remained of the alien civilisation had been shattered by contact with the Imperium. Some of them worshipped their human masters as gods, a concept that Mariko found faintly blasphemous. Others would do whatever it took to have the humans removed from their world. Just because they hadn't developed any serious technology before they’d been discovered didn't mean that they were stupid.
But, as the report had made clear, it was unlikely that the planet’s owners would ever leave Greenland to its own devices. By a sick twist of fate, the terraforming program had created a grape-like fruit that could be turned into wine, a wine that had rapidly become Greenland’s greatest export. Anyone who wanted to free the locals and send them back to the life they’d enjoyed before human contact would have to contend with the aristocrats who had grown rich on selling the wine. Water of Life, they called it. Absently, Mariko wondered what their customers would have thought if they’d known the truth of its origins.
“That's the beacon there,” Fitz said. Unlike most worlds, Greenland had no proper spaceport while OTC was handled by an independent company in orbit around the planet. Each of the giant plantations had their own landing pads, allowing them to invite their customers down for a drink and a chat before assigning them sections of each year’s crop. There was no futures market on Greenland; once the prices were set, it was a matter of first come, first served. “And that’s Archie’s residence just behind it.”
Mariko lifted an eyebrow in disbelief as the colossal white house came into view. It was situated neatly in the midst of an elegant garden, one showing both human and alien plants from a dozen different worlds. A handful of children, all human, played a game of catch through the foliage, watched by a pair of matrons who seemed to divide their attention between knitting and watching the children. There were no aliens in the innermost compound at all, not even someone from one of the more trusted alien races. The natives were all on the outside.
She saw them working on the crops as the shuttle floated overhead and came down towards the landing pad. They were roughly humanoid, but their skins were slimy, as if they were used to more water than was in the air. There was no data in the files on just what Greenland had looked like before the terraforming had begun, yet Mariko was convinced that the world had been cooler and wetter. It might take centuries before the locals evolved into something that found the new climate comfortable, unless the humans helped them out with genetic engineering. But that would have required an empathy that the settlers seemed to lack.
“They simply don’t care what hap
pens to the aliens,” Fitz said, when Mariko pointed that out. “As far as they are concerned, the good times will keep rolling and the aliens will remain happy and contented to be oppressed...and in the meantime, this world serves as a recruiting poster for the Secessionists. They can just point to Greenland and ask if anyone expects that their worlds will be shown any more forbearance if there’s money in it.”
The shuttle touched down and Mariko stood up, donning the utility belt that Fitz had produced for her. No one would question her carrying a firearm, thankfully, and even if they did Fitz had obligingly produced a pair of blank permits for them to carry. The other devices in the belt might come in handy if they managed to track down the recruiting station the Secessionists had installed on the planet, somehow. Right now, Mariko wouldn't have been surprised to discover that every non-human on the planet was a die-hard secessionist.
On The Imperium’s Secret Service (Imperium Cicernus) Page 12