Guerilla

by Mel Odom

  “After the ambush that killed Sergeant Terracina the first day I got here, we had no choice but to go on the offensive. Things changed.”

  “Of course. You did find the beings responsible for the attack on the fort?”

  “We did.”

  “And that led you to the storage bay in Cheapdock.”

  Sage thought about the question for a moment, turning around all the possibilities.

  “You are not giving away any true secrets, Sergeant. Simple logic dictates that the beings were responsible for your appearance at the storage bay.”

  “Because there were weapons there?”

  “Yes.”

  Sage leaned forward a little. “I didn’t see what was inside that storage bay, Captain Zhoh, so how did you know what was in there?”

  6259 Akej (Phrenorian Prime)

  Too late, Zhoh found that he’d been trapped by Sage. The sergeant was more quick-­witted than he had any right to be. Zhoh stared into the human’s two eyes and had to tamp down his anger. For a moment he considered killing the sergeant. Sage was going to be dangerous in the future. He’d proven that time and time again.

  In fact, Sage was dangerous now. Even if Zhoh succeeded in manipulating the sergeant, knowledge of his work with the human would reach the Empire. If they were successful in their coming endeavor, that would prove to be only an inconvenience.

  “We watch what is going on,” Zhoh said. “We were tracking the weapons as well.”

  “You weren’t tracking them along the same lines I was, Captain.” Sage’s voice remained flat.

  “No, I wasn’t.” Zhoh thought quickly and came up with what he believed was a simple enough lie with enough truth to hook the sergeant. “Yesterday, three of my warriors were killed out in the jungle. I began an investigation. From what was discovered, it appeared the murderers who killed my warriors were Makaum.”

  “Not the same men I went after.”

  “No. This was another group.” Zhoh knew the sergeant would believe that. The attack on the fort wasn’t a singular event. Maybe others hadn’t happened yet, but they would as long as those weapons remained unsecured.

  “Did you find out who they were?”

  “We tracked them from the scene.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Those beings no longer need names, Sergeant. Phrenorians are not known for their mercy.”

  Sage paused for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. So these men told you about the storage bay?”

  “No. They told me about a Voroughan black-­market dealer.”

  “Erque Ettor?”

  Zhoh considered the question. Ettor had no connection to General Rangha. Sazuma would not have given Ettor Rangha’s name. She would have kept her business private. He could give the sergeant information about Ettor.

  “Erque Ettor will no longer have need of his name either,” Zhoh said. “He gave me the location of the storage bay and the passcode to get in. We went to Cheapdock with falsified identification and opened the storage bay. It was filled with weapons.”

  “I could tell that from the way it blew up, and that explains how you knew shooting that building would set off the munitions.”

  “Yes.”

  Sage’s gaze consumed Zhoh again. “But it doesn’t explain why the Green Dragons allow a group of Phrenorians onto their starport.”

  Zhoh suddenly realized that lying to a Terran was much harder than he’d expected. “I went there under the guise of a customer.”

  Lieutenant Fu and his men were dead, even if the Green Dragon Corp decided to share information with the Terran Army. The lie could not be unwoven.

  Zhoh decided to plunge ahead and lay down the bait he was hoping to use before the sergeant could pick at his story any further. “I claimed I was meeting with the person who owned the storage bay. Her name is Ellen Hodgkins. I believe you are familiar with her from your involvement with Velesko Kos.”

  Sage’s expression remained unreadable to Zhoh, but there was a slight shift in his body language. He leaned back in his chair a little. “I’m familiar with Ellen Hodgkins. She was part of Velesko Kos’s drug cartel.”

  “I know where she is,” Zhoh stated.

  A moment passed as Sage considered that. Zhoh let the sergeant think about the information as long as he wished.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t gone after her, sir.”

  “I plan on going after her, but in order to do that, I need your help.”

  “My help?”

  “I can’t go where she is.”

  Sage was silent for a moment, thinking. Zhoh watched the sergeant and knew that when the day they were true adversaries came, Sage would make a dangerous opponent. Killing the sergeant here and now would be a wise move, but he couldn’t do that. Not yet. He needed Sage for now, and there was a matter of honor between them. He might have saved Sage’s life in the club against Velesko, but the probability was greater that Sage and his soldiers had saved not only Zhoh, but his warriors as well. The debt was not yet balanced.

  “She’s not on Makaum,” Sage said.

  “She is not.”

  “But she’s within your reach, otherwise we wouldn’t be having this discussion. So that means she’s on one of the space stations.”

  “Yes.” Zhoh didn’t feel threatened giving away so much information. Chances were good that Sage would be able to find the female on his own, but it would take time, and he would know that might not be time he had to give. News of the attack on Cheapdock would spread, and it wouldn’t take long for ­people to figure out what had happened there.

  “You’ll tell me where she is,” Sage said, “but only if you get what you want.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what do you want, Captain?”

  0426 Hours Zulu Time

  “Zhoh’s not telling you everything,” Kiwanuka said over a private comm link as she walked beside Sage along the road leading from the Venom of the Ightskel.

  “Of course he’s not.” Sage’s stomach growled but he knew it would be a while before he had a decent meal. He pulled a protein-­sub bar from his pack, opened it, and bit into it. “We’re not telling him everything either.”

  The road was mostly deserted at this time of the morning, but there were a few stragglers limping or lurching home. Insects and flying lizards continued pelting Sage’s faceshield. His eyes burned from going so long without sleep.

  “I’ll bet he knows more about the black-­market weapons business than we do,” Kiwanuka said.

  “That’s a sucker bet. He knows why we’re here, but we don’t know why the Phrenorians are interested.”

  “You’re not buying his story about three Phrenorian warriors getting killed out in the jungle?”

  “Not for a minute. If that had happened, they would have put the heads of someone out on poles in front of the Phrenorian embassy.”

  “Exactly. So explain to me why you’re letting him accompany us—­”

  “Us?”

  “Somebody’s got to watch your back, Top. That’s me. Noojin and Jahup haven’t spent any time in space, even on a space station, so taking them out of their element wouldn’t be smart. Pingasa is a tech jockey and he was out of his element tonight except when it came to breaking and entering. I’m better than anyone else you’ve got here.”

  “There’s Culpepper.”

  “Culpepper alone with Phrenorians for backup? No. Not gonna happen. He’d drive himself insane trying to look in two directions at once, not knowing who to trust.”

  “You don’t trust the Phrenorians.”

  “No, but I won’t let it get in the way of taking care of business and you know that.”

  “I do.”

  “So I’m in?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me?”<
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  “Something this risky, Sergeant? I only want to take volunteers.” Sage shifted gears. “I want Ellen Hodgkins and whoever bankrolled the attack on the fort off the board. We’re drawing a line tonight, and nobody’s going to think twice about what we stand for.” He paused. “In the meantime, we hold Zhoh close to us, try to figure out what he’s really doing here.”

  Sage flagged down the two crawlers he’d sent for while an aircar floated down to settle in front of Zhoh and his warriors.

  “Still following the rabbit hole, Top?” Halladay asked over the comm.

  “Yes sir, and we’re going offplanet to do it.” Sage quickly explained the situation as they boarded the crawler. Halladay wasn’t happy, but he didn’t call off the op.

  THIRTY-­THREE

  North Star Spaceport

  South of Makaum Sprawl

  0518 Hours Zulu Time

  On every planet Sage had ever served on, there was a “North Star Spaceport.” He’d heard that the actual owners were an interplanetary criminal syndicate that used the small spaceports to launder credits, or maybe to ship their own black-­market goods. Or maybe there was a small corp somewhere that had licensed the name throughout the known star systems, spread the gossip themselves, and charged licensing fees to the ­people who wanted to set up shop under the North Star name.

  Sage wasn’t sure what the true story was, and he didn’t really care. He and Kiwanuka left the other soldiers at the spaceport. Culpepper didn’t care for the idea, but he was a soldier who followed orders.

  Faceshield lifted, Culpepper scowled at the Phrenorian warriors milling around the aircar. “I’ll be here till you get back, Top.”

  “I know you will, Corporal. I’m counting on it.” Sage walked toward the spaceport office, a small plascrete block that had the name painted across it.

  The spaceport was only large enough for four shuttles at any one time. There were no storage areas. Refueling and repairs were done in space in rented mechanics’ bays on space stations. Profits were taken through quick turnover traffic, dealing with regular deliveries as well as taking in overflow from other corps’ ports.

  One of the shuttles sat out on the field. It was a no-­frills scarred box with a rounded nose, stubby wings, and three large thrusting engines. There wouldn’t be anything comfortable about the ride.

  The small man in the office window had white hair and bowed shoulders, and age had written a story in the wrinkles on his face. He was a man who had been countless places and seen countless things, but now he stared out at Sage with bewilderment.

  “Sergeant Sage?” the clerk asked.

  Sage responded that he was. He had called North Star because he hadn’t wanted to use a Terran Army shuttle and risk tipping off Ellen Hodgkins.

  “You requested four seats on the shuttle?”

  “Yes.”

  The clerk motioned toward Kiwanuka and Zhoh and the Phrenorian warrior that accompanied them. “For the four of you?”

  “Yes. Round trip.”

  “For all of you?”

  “Yes.”

  For a moment longer, the clerk stared. His bewilderment became disbelief, then he firmed his jaw, processed Sage’s credstick, and handed them the tickets. The little man continued staring after them as they went to the shuttle.

  Near Space

  6259 Akej (Phrenorian Prime)

  Zhoh endured the launch, felt the giant primary of gravity pressing him back into the foam seat, and concentrated on the mission he had set for himself. Breathing was difficult, but he worked at it and kept himself calm.

  Being in space was no problem, but leaving a gravity well or returning to one came close to unnerving him—­though he would never admit that to anyone. Give him his patimong and a place to stand and he would battle any being, but he dreaded the excess gravity because it always felt like his exoskeleton would give way under the increased forces. He had never seen that happen to anyone, though there were those who claimed to have seen such a thing, and he did not think it could happen under normal conditions.

  But he only had to remember Sage and the female sergeant lying in other foam seats to know that these conditions were not normal.

  “When we find Ellen Hodgkins,” Mato said over the comm link from the foam seat beside him, “we cannot control what she will tell the sergeant.”

  Zhoh didn’t know how Mato could think to speak at the moment, or how he found the breath.

  “What if she tells the sergeant about General Rangha’s involvement in the weapons dealings?”

  Zhoh already knew the answer to that. “Then we kill them all, Mato. At that point, we will have no choice.” He felt angrier that he had to find these loose ends and deal with them so carefully. This was Rangha’s mess, and it should have put his head on a pole. But Zhoh’s honor would not allow him to let the Empire be embarrassed in such a manner. A Phrenorian warrior was a fighter. Not a thief or profiteer. What a warrior did when he took up his weapons was to further the interests of the Empire, not himself.

  For a moment, Zhoh caught himself on the horns of that dilemma. There might be some who would say his actions now were to further his own interests, not the Empire’s. His future and that of the Empire were aligned. He would not think—­could not think—­any other way. Whether the Empire admitted it or not, it needed him to clean up Rangha’s dishonor, and it needed him to take Makaum.

  Finally the shuttle broke free of the planet. Zhoh breathed deeply while his body was suddenly weightless. Then the shuttle pilot kicked in the nose jets and started the spacecraft spinning fast enough to provide 0.3 g. The weightlessness went away and Zhoh felt comfortable.

  The Hooded Vorol

  Orbiting Makaum

  0746 Hours Zulu Time

  “I can’t allow you to carry arms aboard this ship.” The tall, thin Cheelchan female looked imposing in her black smaup-­hide coverall. Her own dark skin looked leathery and jaundiced. Her eyes were slits and sat too far apart on either side of her head to be considered attractive by Terran standards, but it echoed the fine bone structure of her body.

  Cheelcha was a small backwater world that came naturally to crime, especially smuggling. It was a stopgap planet, a place between Gates where ships would meet and trade in illicit goods that were outlawed at the end of one Gate or the other.

  The ­people had lived in clans and fought each other for the resources, till the offworlders had discovered them. Then they had banded together, more or less, in the sprawls and had stolen from those who came among them. Once they had ships, they spread to the stars, usually in the same line of work.

  Sage gave her a flat stare. “You will step out of my way and allow me to do my job.”

  “You have no right—­” the Cheelchan said.

  “I have every right,” Sage roared in his drill instructor’s voice. The Cheelchan ensign drew back from him. “The Terran Army signed on to protect Makaum.”

  “This isn’t Makaum.” Her voice took on a strident tone.

  “You’re in orbit around Makaum and you do business onplanet,” Sage replied. “As such, that makes you part and party to Terran Army peacekeeping efforts, including the right for Terran Army personnel to board and search your ship at any time.”

  That was why Zhoh had needed Sage, to pull rank on the ship while they looked for Ellen Hodgkins.

  “Check your manifests, ensign,” Sage continued, “or pull the ship’s captain away from breakfast and break the news to him. Either way, I’m going to do my job.” He strode through the hatch to the small security area and the young Cheelchan stepped back from him.

  She tapped her comm badge and connected to the captain. Sage didn’t stay to hear the conversation. He’d done enough raids to know how that would go. He stopped in front of the ship’s computer, tapped the keyboard, and scowled at it as the device immediately locked down.<
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  “Wishing you’d brought Pingasa now, Top?” Kiwanuka asked over the comm.

  “Do you know anything about breaking into these things?”

  “If it doesn’t involve a sledge or explosive materials, no.”

  Sage turned to the Cheelchan female. “Open these rec­ords.”

  She stood up to her full height and quivered a little. “I have sworn to protect the rights of our guests.”

  “If I search through this computer and match it against warrants on this planet and others, I may end up taking all of your clients into custody.” Sage knew that was probably true.

  “Tell me who you are looking for,” the ensign said.

  “That’s not happening.”

  The Phrenorian warrior with Zhoh stepped forward. “Perhaps I can be of assistance, Sergeant.” He held up a PAD configured for Phrenorian use.

  Sage looked at Zhoh.

  “Mato is good with electronics systems,” the Phrenorian captain stated. “He got us through traps set in the storage bay.”

  Sage remembered how impressed Pingasa had sounded when looking at the locking mechanism on the storage bay in Cheapdock. If Mato had gotten through problems there, then the warrior had to be good with tech.

  However, allowing the Phrenorian to access the data first was risky. Sage didn’t trust Zhoh to share everything.

  Time was also a concern. Ellen Hodgkins, if she was still on the Hooded Vorol, could hear about what had happened at Cheapdock at any time, realize that the storage bay had been at the center of that, and elect to jump ship. The only thing Sage was banking on was that she wasn’t an early riser and that no one had tipped her off.

  Sage stepped back from the computer to allow Mato access. “Get it done.”

  Mato moved into the space, opened the computer with a small screwdriver he handled like a surgeon, then attached clips from his PAD to the circuitry within. In seconds, he had access to the computer network and appeared to be scouring screen after screen of information.

  “I have the information.” Mato took his leads back and deposited his PAD into his chest pouch. “I can take us to our destination.”