Without Mercy

by Eric Thomson

  She turned a perilously sweet smile on Hersom.

  “I hold the power of life and death over you, Blayne. She who owns the high orbitals dictates the terms. And before you mention those defense satellites, Iolanthe’s targeting sensors are already tracking them. At the merest sign of hostile action, my first officer will open fire and destroy your ability to deal with anything bigger than an unarmed merchant ship. If I leave you to deal with the Shrehari after I shred everything that can shoot... Well, you get the picture, right?”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” This time, his growing anger was unmistakable.

  “I would. And once I’m done, who will complain? Officially, your little colony doesn’t exist. The Commonwealth government doesn’t run black sites, and the Hecate system is quarantined for scientific reasons. I wipe my logs and return to my patrol route. You’d be surprised how easily I can live with myself after doing things most civilians would consider highly questionable.”

  “I’ll see you in my stockade for this, Dunmoore.”

  “No, you won’t. We both know that. You don’t want your superiors on Earth to find out a bullheaded battlecruiser captain compromised this operation so easily. It might put the brakes on what I’m sure is a stellar career with the Bureau.”

  Dunmoore watched Hersom’s jaw muscles work as he chewed on his alternatives.

  “Reveal anything of what I’m about to say, and you will become the subject of an extraordinary rendition, Dunmoore.”

  “Make it worth my while. Give me the Kattegat Maru folks and satisfy my curiosity, and I’ll help fight off the Shrehari before forgetting about this place.”

  Hersom took a deep breath, then let it out in a controlled exhalation.

  “Since you and I are both professionals dedicated to preserving humanity, I suppose we can find common ground.”

  — Thirty-Three —

  “You are correct in assuming this is a Special Security Bureau detention facility,” Hersom said after swallowing a healthy sip of his coffee. “For future reference, no one uses the terms rendition site or black site outside of bad fiction, so I’d appreciate it if you dropped the term. My job is to detain and interrogate those deemed a clear and present danger to the Commonwealth. Once we obtain the information we need, we transfer most prisoners to regular facilities, where they await trial or prepare for release. Some, those who will always represent a danger to the Commonwealth, spend the rest of their lives here.”

  He paused to study her reaction. When he saw nothing, Hersom continued.

  “My agency received word one of those dangerous individuals was traveling along the frontier, aboard a tramp freighter called Kattegat Maru. I was ordered to arrange the person’s capture and detention by any means necessary, without regard for collateral damage. There was just one problem. No one knew our target’s identity, only that he or she was on that freighter. We’ve used Tarrant before this. His people are not really pirates in the purest sense but unregistered mercenaries. Crime syndicate soldiers if you wish. They don’t hunt for fun and profit but only on orders. Their main job is enforcing Tarrant’s will in the Kilia system and on those who deal with him in the Zone. You’d be amazed at how many hidden human colonies are out there, beyond the Commonwealth sphere.”

  Hersom took another sip of coffee.

  “In any case, we paid Tarrant to seize Kattegat Maru and bring the passengers to a rendezvous point where we would take them into custody. Once here, the plan was to find our person of interest and eventually release the others on one of the unregistered colonies. The contract with Tarrant included creating a mystery for our target’s employers by making him, or her vanish without a trace. But it didn’t go quite as expected and I’ll take some blame for not being specific enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They weren’t supposed to kidnap the crew and abandon the ship to be found by salvagers. Baba Yaga’s captain blamed the Shrehari corsairs when he met us at the rendezvous point. Apparently, they were in charge of the actual seizure and improvised.”

  “Considering those Shrehari were probably Tai Kan and not real freelancers, I’m unsurprised. The Imperial secret police enjoys doing things its own way and to hell with orders or legality.” She smirked. “They resemble the SSB in that respect.”

  Hersom’s eyes narrowed just enough for Siobhan to notice.

  “Careful, Dunmoore. We’re nothing like those thugs. But I agree with your assessment about the corsair being undercover Tai Kan.”

  “So you admit everyone taken off Katie is here? Did you discover who your suspect might be?”

  The SSB officer shook his head.

  “Not yet. Despite your low opinion of my agency, I can assure you we don’t use illegal interrogation methods on people who might be innocent. It means identifying the target will take time.”

  “But you’ll use illegal methods on the guilty.”

  An air of exasperation twisted Hersom’s face.

  “Let me guess. You were a barracks lawyer at the Academy, right? I’ll take care to choose my words more carefully from now on. We won’t use coercive methods with people who have a one in fifty chance of being our target.”

  Dunmoore gave him an ironic smile.

  “Glad to hear it. And the crew? I mean there’s a zero chance your target is among them, so why are they detained?”

  “They’re not. We didn’t take them from Baba Yaga. I gave its captain strict instructions to release the crew at a safe port inside the Commonwealth, on the assumption that their damned salvage scheme was already in motion.”

  Siobhan’s heart sank. The sort of enforcers who worked for a boss such as Tarrant were just as likely to find a slave market and earn extra coin on the side. But she took care not to show her dismay.

  “I temporarily designated Kattegat Maru a naval auxiliary, assigned a relief crew, and took her with me. She’s not in Temar orbit but hidden nearby. I want to put her crew back on board. Her passengers as well, minus your arch-criminal, of course. It’s a shame you didn’t accept the crew. That means I’m forced to continue my chase, and I can’t keep going back and forth between Kilia and here. There’s a war on, as you might remember, and Iolanthe is a warship.”

  She was pleased with her cool, even tone. Part of her wanted to grab Hersom by the throat and ask how he could be so callous as to let known criminals decide the fate of innocents. Something must have shown in her eyes because his exasperated look returned.

  “They’ll carry out my orders and land the crew at a safe location. Tarrant knows he can’t afford to alienate my agency, and not only because we pay well.”

  “Since Tarrant showed no qualms at giving me the rendezvous coordinates, I doubt he cares about your agency. He probably gave or sold those same coordinates to the Shrehari, considering he employed a Tai Kan spy ship pretending to be a corsair.”

  That should help precipitate a permanent break between the SSB and their tame mobsters, if not worse, she thought.

  “Should anything happen to Captain Fennon and her people, I will hold you personally responsible.”

  Hersom waved away her threat.

  “Please spare me the moral posturing. Considering how many died in this war so far, what are another two dozen? Especially when your own actions are probably responsible for taking ten, twenty, or even a hundred times more lives.”

  “Kattegat Maru’s crew didn’t sign up to fight in this or any other war. They signed up knowing about the dangers of traveling through the galaxy’s more perilous sectors, that’s a given. But they damned well did not accept the risk of getting fucked over by an agency of the government that’s supposed to ensure their safety.”

  This time, a quiver of righteous anger colored her voice, and she immediately felt annoyed with herself at showing emotions in front of this automaton made of soulless flesh.

  “I understand, but what’s done is done. All we can do now is hope for the best. Feel free to pursue Baba Yaga or squeeze Tarrant for more
information. I don’t care. And if that was it, perhaps we can discuss the inbound Shrehari strike force.”

  “We’re not done yet. You need to find your suspect among the passengers between now and when I’ve chased off those Shrehari because I’m taking the rest back with me.”

  Hersom sat back and crossed his legs in a gesture that convey both weariness and disdain.

  “Shall we discuss your options for early retirement on Parth again, Captain? I’m sorry, the detainees leave this place when I’m good and ready to let them go, not before.”

  “If you can’t figure out who the target is by now, don’t you think he or she might not even be among Kattegat Maru’s passengers? What if your information was wrong and you hold forty-five innocents? Or is the SSB’s fearsome reputation for always getting a confession vastly overblown? If you don’t know the person’s identity yet, I doubt you ever will. Mainly because he or she isn’t on this moon.”

  “Perhaps. But our sources are usually accurate and trustworthy.”

  “Does that include Enoc Tarrant?”

  “Could we stop harping on about him? My agency will talk to Tarrant about his failures in due course.”

  “Hopefully your colleagues will do more than just talk, but you’re the one facing an unpleasant Shrehari infestation, and I hold the key to saving your rendition — pardon me, detention site from orbital bombardment.”

  Hersom, elbows on the chair’s arms, fingers steepled, stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he said, “Tell you what. While you deal with the Shrehari, I’ll urge my people to redouble their efforts. Once you’ve chased them off, we can see how things stand and talk again.”

  Dunmoore held his gaze for an equal amount of time before replying.

  “Agreed. On one condition.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, inviting her to continue.

  “I want to visit the Kattegat Maru passengers before I rejoin my ship. Perhaps a new pair of eyes can spot someone who doesn’t seem to belong.”

  “And it’ll allow you to see where and how they’re housed, in case you decide to send those fearsome Marines on a daring raid.”

  She gave him a thin, mocking smile.

  “Whoever said SSB officers were as thick as two short planks obviously never met you.”

  He uncrossed his legs and stood with slow deliberation.

  “It might be interesting to see you try. We’ve not run a real test of our security measures against armed intruders. My guard droids do okay against detainees, but I suspect your Marines aren’t particularly impressed by them.”

  “They’re not.” Dunmoore climbed to her feet as well. “The passengers?”

  “We’ll go see them right away. You may even bring your tin man along with us.”

  — Thirty-Four —

  As Hersom led Dunmoore and Vincenzo down the spiral staircase and through the main corridor, she said, “I never thought to ask, but where’s the ship that carried the detainees from the rendezvous?”

  “On another errand. I’m afraid my agency has only so many to go around, and beyond a handful of sub-light shuttles, I’m bereft of long-range transport. Before you ask, my craft are in a hangar next to this building. And no, they’re not sufficiently armed to be of use against a Shrehari strike force, nor are my pilots capable of flying combat against anything other than run-of-the-mill marauders.”

  They stopped at a double door similar to the one on the tarmac side, and Hersom touched a control panel. The panes slid aside with a soft groan, allowing the chilly outside air to wash over them.

  Dunmoore stepped through, then stopped as her eyes took in a deceptively large installation. The tall, flat-topped native trees didn’t just hide one stockade but several square compounds surrounded by high, opaque fencing and separated by broad, rammed earth paths.

  “We keep detainees separated into small groups, depending on their reason for being here. It reduces the risk of cross contaminating information. The Kattegat Maru passengers are in their own enclosure. They don’t know where they are or suspect who we are. Other than the target, I suppose.”

  “If that individual is among them.”

  Hersom didn’t reply. Instead, he walked off without looking back. After a moment’s hesitation, Dunmoore and Vincenzo followed.

  She spotted guard droids in most of the side passages, near what seemed like openings in the slick, pearly gray fencing, but no living beings. Nor did she hear any sounds betraying a human presence. It was as if a dampening field further isolating the inmates from their surroundings smothered each compound.

  The camouflage nets strung overhead to cover gaps between the treetops let through a surprising amount of light reflected by Satan’s Eye, keeping the stockade in a partial twilight.

  Finally, after passing several enclosures on each side of the main path, Hersom turned left and approached a silent guard droid standing by a closed gate. The setup was in all respects identical to those she’d seen along the way, with nothing to show this part of the stockade housed the SSB’s latest batch of detainees.

  Hersom made a few quick hand gestures, and the droid backed away. A minute passed, then the gate opened to something that resembled an airlock except the inside walls and doorway were transparent, allowing for a clear view of the compound within.

  Four buildings, each made from shipping containers fused together and pierced with openings for windows and doors occupied the center of a surprisingly spacious and clean open space.

  “Three are barracks for fifteen apiece, though they could easily accommodate thirty, and the fourth is the mess hall and recreation facility. The inmates don't lack for space.” The outer gate slid shut behind them. “A few armed officers would normally come with me, but I expect your bodyguard’s presence will suffice to discourage any foolhardiness. Besides the detainees wear bracelets that not only allows us to check their status and communicate with them but also to shock anyone attempting violence into submission. And of course, my control center has eyes on every cubic centimeter of every compound.”

  “Charming,” Dunmoore muttered. Then, in a louder voice, “Where is everyone?”

  “The guard droid ordered them to go into their respective barracks via the bracelets. One of the first things we teach detainees is the importance of obeying orders.”

  When he noticed the expression on Dunmoore’s face, Hersom chuckled.

  “No, not via shock therapy. Disobedience entails loss of privileges and may even result in reduced rations if it persists. Our procedures are very much in line with the Commonwealth Correctional Service’s methods. One last thing before we enter. Could you and your bodyguard please remove all naval insignia? It wouldn’t do to let the detainees think they’re being visited by members of the Armed Services. It’s better for everyone if they return to their regular lives not knowing the government detained them. We prefer to avoid the need for memory wipes. Not everyone can handle those without suffering side effects.”

  She indicated the transparent walls.

  “Shouldn’t we have done that already?”

  “No. We can see in, but anyone on the other side can’t see us.”

  “Ah.”

  Dunmoore gestured at Vincenzo to peel the leading spacer’s rank insignia, Navy badge, and ship’s crest from his armor, while she did the same to her battledress and field cap. Hersom gave both a once-over, then nodded his approval.

  “That should do.”

  They entered the compound proper, and the sound of wind rustling through the high canopy vanished, confirming Dunmoore’s suspicion that a dampening field covered the enclosures.

  The detainees in the first of the three dormitories variously sat or were lying on their cots. Fifteen pairs of eyes anxiously examined her and the formidable looking Vincenzo as they passed through. Dunmoore met each gaze with as much warmth as she could muster, silently promising to arrange for their release. But none triggered the slightest bit of suspicion he or she might be Hersom’s elusive target.
>
  The adjoining dormitory also resembled nothing so much as a platoon barracks in an Armed Services primary training center. None of the men and women in this one caught Dunmoore’s attention either.

  They seemed equally bewildered, frightened, and lost. But they appeared healthy and well fed, and none bore visible signs of abuse, which was primarily what she wanted to see. Though Hersom might not realize it, Vincenzo was the one recording every detail with the help of his sophisticated battlesuit in case a raid became necessary.

  She was preparing for the same disappointment in the third dormitory, thereby dashing her hopes of helping Hersom find his suspect so she could retrieve the other forty-four abductees. But when she walked down the center of the barracks, meeting each set of eyes in turn, a middle-aged man caught her attention.

  Silver-haired, with a vaguely aristocratic profile, his face was not one she knew or might even have seen in passing, but it triggered an eerie sense of familiarity nonetheless. Cognizant of the video pickups watching her every move, she took care to keep a blank expression as she continued her quick inspection of the last fifteen detainees. Once back in the chilly air Dunmoore shook her head.

  “Sorry. No one seemed out of place. I still think whoever told you the suspect was traveling in Kattegat Maru lied or knew nothing. Otherwise, you’d have noticed by now that one of those sad sacks in there wasn’t quite as sad as the rest. I may not be fond of your lot, but you are good at this sort of thing.”

  “Pity.” Hersom gestured toward the gate. “Can we now discuss how you intend to deal with the Shrehari?”

  “Certainly. It’s simple. I will take Iolanthe to Temar’s trailing Lagrangian point and go silent. If your sensors didn’t detect me until I went up systems, the boneheads won’t see my ship until moments before I open fire. You will act as if nothing was happening and wait for my signal to activate your own defensive platforms. Make sure your gunners don’t shoot before I tell them and make damn sure they don’t aim at my ship.”