by Peter Grant
Dave made a moué of distaste. “We certainly won’t be able to afford many at those prices.”
“You may not need to buy any. Gandaki has assault shuttles. They might agree to provide a few as part of their deal with you, or at least lease them to you at reasonable rates.”
“That’s good to know.” Dave hesitated. “The second question may sound weird, but remember I’m just a ground-pounder, not a Spacer. Did you ever read how our people used assault shuttles to ram Bactrian ships?”
“Yes, I did. Commodore Wu gave me some background material that described it. They took out two Bactrian troop transports when they invaded, and the Satrap’s yacht during your escape last year. Your pilots were very brave people indeed.”
“They were. That started me thinking. The kinetic energy released by a head-on collision between those masses at those velocities exceeded even that of a thermonuclear warhead. I read that many powers, including the Commonwealth, convert old main battery missiles into targets for use during training. They retain guidance and maneuvering systems, but lose the ability to carry warheads. They’re very low-cost; under a million francs apiece, compared to many times more than that for a brand-new missile. I suppose that’s because their initial cost was amortized long ago. They’re freely available, because they’re not classified as weapons. I figured that if we launched them as kinetic energy missiles, to hit a Bactrian ship and damage it through the collision alone, it might be as effective as those assault shuttle collisions.”
Steve looked at him with sudden respect. “You’re absolutely right. They’d have to be fitted with updated guidance systems to be able to home on a target and score a direct hit. That’s not an easy thing to do in the face of modern defensive fire and at space combat speeds. Bomb-pumped laser warheads can be detonated ten to fifteen thousand kilometers from the target and lace it from bow to stern with laser beams, making them much harder to intercept. Still, if you launch a barrage of, say, fifty or sixty target missiles against a corvette like Bactria’s, armed with only forty defensive missiles, at least some will get through her outer layer of defenses. Unless she has lots of laser cannon for point defense, some of them should reach her.”
“The Bactrian corvettes have three or four laser cannon, I understand.”
“They’d be lucky to hit all the missiles closing in at high fractions of light speed. I think your idea is a good one. Even better, if you manage to get some nuclear-tipped regular missiles, you can launch an initial wave of target missiles to soak up the enemy’s defensive fire. They may get most of them, but then they won’t have enough interceptor missiles left to deal with your second wave carrying nukes and bomb-pumped lasers.”
“D’you think your Fleet will sell Laredo several hundred target missiles?”
“Probably not that many, but as you say, there are far fewer export controls on missile targets than on missiles themselves. They’re available from many planets. If you ordered twenty here and thirty there, you could build up a useful stock over the next year or two. We can modify their electronics and integrate them all with your fire control system.”
“Great! That moves up the priority list, then. What’s the next step?”
“Over the next two to three months Commodore Wu and I will be making arrangements in our respective ways. I’ll be back here in about three months to collect you, then we’ll spend two months traveling to various planets before I return you here. After that there’ll be an ever-increasing amount of travel for you and your associates as everything comes together.”
Dave sighed. “I can see I’d better find a communications frigate of my own as well. How much is a used one?”
“That’s not a bad idea, but they’re expensive to buy, costly to run, and you don’t have a trained crew for one yet. I’d let that ride until you’ve got enough money to buy one and enough spare crew members to operate her. If you need one in a hurry, you can charter one.”
“Fair enough.” Dave came to his feet. “Thanks for everything so far. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“I’ll look forward to your company on board my ship in a few months’ time. I want to hear all about Laredo’s war with Bactria. You were there from the start, weren’t you?”
“Right from the beginning – and, please God, I’ll be there at the end as well!”
Neue Helvetica: April 27 2851 GSC
NEW GENEVA
“That’s the place,” Bill said softly as they turned into Lagerstrasse. The street lights gave an orange cast to the buildings lining it.
“Looks pretty nondescript, just another workers’ lunch counter,” Dave murmured as they passed the target building.
“Yeah, but that’s just the cafeteria up front. The warehouse behind it is where everything happens. They park their cars on the lower level, then take an elevator. The upper level’s the most opulent private club on the planet, if rumor’s correct.”
“We’ll see for ourselves soon enough. When do they start arriving?”
“Most of them are already here. Don’t turn your head, but a swanky runabout’s just turned in behind us. He’s… yes, he’s turned off into the side street next to the warehouse. The entrance is at the rear.”
“Security?”
“Ten people in and around the warehouse, including a team in the cafeteria when it’s open – it closes at twenty. The staff in the club are probably armed as well.”
“Can we handle them?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
Dave grinned. “I guess that was a silly question. They may be good crooks by local standards, but they can’t hold a candle to the kind of enemies we faced on Laredo.”
“Yeah, State Security makes the Gesellschaft look like a church choir on Sundays. Don’t worry. Rusty Higgs and his team can handle anything they try.”
Captain Deacon turned into another side street. “We’re five blocks away here, outside their surveillance zone.” He expertly steered the car through a narrow gap between the doors of a derelict warehouse, its few intact windows grimy, panels missing from the roof. The car’s lights illuminated a small group of men waiting against the far wall, where three vehicles were parked facing outward. Bill turned the car around, reversed it to park next to them, and they got out.
“Everything’s ready, Boss,” Bujold told them with a smile. “Rusty’s keeping an eye on them until you say the word.”
“Good. No trouble infiltrating the place?”
“None. They’ve got pretty good security against things that walk on two legs, but that won’t help them tonight. I guess they’ve never had to deal with anyone like us before.”
“It’s a good thing for us they haven’t!”
Another man whistled admiringly as he looked at what Dave was wearing. “Camo fatigues, body armor, webbing, a fancy pistol – you’re loaded for bear, Boss.”
“Yeah, we never had it this good on Laredo, did we?” Grins and headshakes. “The Sergeant-Major was worried in case I mussed up his gear, so we upped the ante. We’re paying him ten cases of beer to borrow it instead of five. That eased his mind real quick.” Laughter.
“What’s he drink, Sir?”
“Anhalter Bock. It’s expensive, but I reckon it’s cheap at the price to be able to have this stuff. It’ll help to convince the Gesellschaft we aren’t bluffing.”
Hopefully, “You didn’t bring any of the beer with you?”
“What do you think this is, a Founders Day barbecue on Laredo?” More laughter. “Just remember to keep out of sight until the bad guys are out of it. We don’t want them to realize that we’re not all wearing this stuff. Come on, let’s go.”
Deacon remarked as they started walking, “That was a stroke of genius, Sir, going to Neue Helvetica’s Special Forces squadron soon after we arrived and offering to show them some of what we learned the hard way on Laredo. They were real grateful.”
“They sure were. Neue Helvetica’s military has a very limited budget for training with fo
reign forces, and they tend to spend it on their Fleet rather than their Army. That’s why I made the offer. When the Squadron saw us demonstrate what we used to do on Laredo all the time, they were hooked right away – and we made some real useful friends, like Sergeant-Major Gerhardt.”
“Yeah. He came through for us tonight, in spades.”
~ ~ ~
“You all set?” Dave asked Staff Sergeant Higgs as he moved up beside him on the rooftop.
“Ready to go, Sir.” Higgs indicated the four consoles in front of him. “Over the course of the last two days I’ve sneaked the nanobugs and flitterbugs into each location one by one, whenever I came across an open door or window. No-one noticed anything. I’ve moved them into position under and on top of furniture and inside light fittings. They’re ready when you say the word.”
“How many of the big shots have arrived?”
“They said all eight were in town, and eight luxury cars have arrived.”
“That should be all of them, then. Guards?”
“Three on the perimeter, Sir.” He indicated their positions on a roughly-drawn diagram as he spoke. “Four more have just left the cafeteria up front, now that it’s closed. They’ll join three others inside the warehouse.”
“How many of them will be in the club itself?”
“Three or four, usually – the rest look after the vehicles and offices downstairs. There’s also a manager, two hostesses, two cooks and two assistants in the kitchen, and seven wait staff and busboys. I’ll bet some of them do double duty as extra guards if needed. Each couple came with a bodyguard of their own, who usually doubles as their chauffeur. Three brought an extra bodyguard.”
“What are they up to now?”
“The aperitifs and soup have been served. The fish course is coming out now.”
“We’d better not let them eat too much. The watchers in the street had just eaten when we chilled them. They vomited their guts out when they woke up.”
Higgs made a face. “Can’t have been good for the carpet.”
“What carpet? We knocked them out, drove their cars around to the rail yard, dumped them there, and put the watchers in a freight car with some water and emergency rations before we administered the antidote. They’re probably pounding on the sides right now, trying to get out.”
“As long as they stay locked up long enough for us to do our job here.”
“They will. We used nanoglue on all the doors before the train pulled out of the yard.”
“Wait – you put them on an actual train, not just in an empty car?” Higgs’ face was alight with glee.
“Yes. I’ve no idea where it was going, but it took the main line south. At mag-lev speeds even a freight train can be half a continent away by morning. Sooner or later someone’ll find them and call a wrecking crew to get them out. That’ll be interesting, because we left them stark naked with no ID, money or comm units.”
Higgs spluttered with laughter. “Let’s hope they’re headed somewhere warm!”
“Yeah. All right, let’s get this show on the road. How – no, I won’t ask questions. You know these things better than I do. I’ll just watch. You do your thing.”
“Thanks, Boss.” Rusty glanced at the other console operators lined up on the roof beside him. “Everyone ready?” A chorus of muted affirmatives came back. “Right. Hein, take out the perimeter guards and those in the warehouse.”
Dave found the assault intensely frustrating. He wasn’t using virtual-reality goggles to show him what the nanobugs and flitterbugs were seeing through their lenses, so he was dependent on what little was visible to the naked eye. From his position on the rooftop he could see only one guard, halfway down the alley running alongside the target building. In the gloom no movement was visible except the man’s slow pacing, his head turning alertly from side to side, scanning from the ground to the rooftops – until he suddenly staggered, reached out a hand to the wall beside him for support, shook his head violently, then crumpled noiselessly to the ground. A few seconds’ pause, then two dark figures emerged from further up the alley. They hurried down to him, picked up his limp figure and half-carried, half-dragged him back to the place where they’d emerged. They disappeared from sight around a corner.
“That’s it, Sir,” Rusty murmured, eyes invisible beneath his goggles. “We’ve taken out all seven ground-level guards.”
“Just like that, huh? No noise, no fuss?”
“None, Sir.”
“Okay, I’m impressed. What’s next?”
“We take out the big shots and everyone else upstairs, Sir.”
“Go for it.”
Rusty nodded absently, eyes already focused into his virtual reality goggles. He maneuvered the ten nanobugs and flitterbugs under his control to the edge of their hiding places, positioning each of them where it had at least one enemy target within range. He knew that his colleagues would be doing the same alongside him, preparing their bugs to strike simultaneously. The views reflected in his goggles were sometimes disorienting, distorted by looking through the fine gauze of a tablecloth overlay or inverted because the bug in question was clinging upside-down to the edge of a table or serving trolley. He lined up all of them, one by one, and locked each in on its designated target. It would fire one of its drug-laden needles into its victim, then stand by to fire its second barrel if necessary.
“In sequence, confirm when ready,” he muttered.
“Console Two, ready.”
“Console Three, ready.”
“Console Four, ready.”
“Console Five, ready.”
“Console One, ready,” he affirmed. “On my mark… stand by… three, two, one, mark!”
~ ~ ~
Dave looked around the bottom level of the warehouse. Over against a wall stood a row of posts supporting chain-link wire storage cages. One of them was much larger than the others.
“That big cage over there should be large enough to hold all our guests of honor.”
“You got it, Sir.”
Grunting with the effort, they dumped the men draped over their shoulders onto the plascrete floor of the cage. Dave waited while more bodies were carried in, until eight men and women, all in expensively tailored evening dress, were lined up on the floor. He administered the spray-injected antidote, then left the cage as they began coughing, spluttering and choking their way back to consciousness. As he did so, the others in the team set up several powerful lights in a line along the front of the cage and plugged them into wall sockets. As Dave padlocked the gate behind him, they switched on the lights. The eight struggling victims were suddenly bathed in brightness, forcing them to shade their eyes as they looked up, rendering everyone standing behind the glare invisible and unrecognizable.
Dave waited until he was sure they’d all regained their senses and those worst affected by the neurotoxin had stopped vomiting. At last he said calmly, in the German he’d learned with the aid of hypno-study since arriving on Neue Helvetica last year, “Guten abend, damen und herren.”
The eight were suddenly alert, heads and eyes turning as they hunted for the author of the voice. “Wh – who are you?” one of them spluttered. “How dare you –”
“Shut up!” Dave’s voice cracked like a whip as he stepped forward into the light, all their heads swiveling to look at him. He gave them a moment to look, then said, “You know who I am.”
Eight heads slowly nodded. If looks could kill, he thought irreverently, I’d be dead right now.
“You made a mistake. You took Bactria’s money to spy on us, then take action against us when they said the time had come. That was a fatal error of judgment – or almost fatal. You’re still alive… for now.”
“Ja – because you are afraid of us! You don’t dare to kill us!” one of the men snapped.
Dave shook his head in mock-sadness. “How did someone as stupid as you end up as a member of the Lenkungsausschuss? This ‘steering committee’, as you call yourselves, is supposed to regul
ate the Gesellschaft and provide wise guidance to its followers. An idiot like you would lead everyone straight to Hell in a handbasket, you dumbass piece of SHIT!” He bellowed the last words, and his audience couldn’t help recoiling in shock. He had to fight down a grin. They probably hadn’t been spoken to like that in years. He made a mental note to remember the translated version of the insult. The German ‘Trottel stück SCHEISSE!’ sounded much more impressive than its Galactic Standard English equivalent.
“Observe.” Dave held out his right hand, palm upwards, and waited. Within seconds there came a faint rustling sound. A tiny insect-like metallic creature descended out of the darkness, mechanical wings fluttering, and landed on his hand. He walked closer to the wire and held it up for his audience to see. “Do you know what this is?” Some heads nodded, some were shaken. “It’s a flitterbug. Its crawling cousin is called a nanobug. See the twin tubes beneath its glass ‘eyes’? They fire neurotoxin-laden darts. That’s what put you out for the count tonight before we brought you down here.”
All the heads were nodding now. One of the women said, “I remember now… I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, something small, then I felt a sting at the back of my neck.” Her hand went to the place. “Was that one of those darts?”
“It was.” Dave reached for the spray injector at his belt and held it up. “Consider yourselves fortunate that we used a temporary paralyzing agent instead of a lethal poison. This is the antidote. We injected you with it once we got you down here. Your partners, the club staff and all your security people are still unconscious.” He held out his hand again. The flitterbug took off and disappeared into the darkness behind the floodlights as he returned the injector to his belt.
“We infiltrated this place with no trouble at all, and brought in enough flitterbugs and nanobugs to take care of everyone. You never even saw them coming. Tell me, dumbass,” looking at the man who’d snapped at him earlier, “what was to stop us killing you all? Why should we be afraid of you after we’ve penetrated every one of your defenses so easily?” The man glowered, but made no reply.