by T. R. Harris
“But the Lanic?” said the same officer. “They have to know they’re being sacrificed.”
“Not necessarily,” said Monroe. “They’ve probably been told that the Antaere will have their back if anything goes wrong. They won’t, of course. At the first sign of fire, the fucking Qwin will pack up and split.”
The other lieutenant colonel in the tent—Young Sun Li—summed up the discussion, speaking the words the others were reluctant to say.
“We can’t attack. If we do, the Antaere will get their PR coup. Yet if we don’t, then the Unity Enclave will be destroyed, along with half-a-million innocent Humans.”
Donovan had been listening to the officers talk back and forth. Now it was his turn to speak. He’d changed his mind about the guns, at least to a point.
“No matter what we do, we can’t allow the railguns to go active. Without them firing on the enclave, there will be no softening up of our forces or panic among the population. And, Colonel Monroe, I assume you have the means of repelling an attack from the APCs?”
“Yes, we do. But they won’t attack without the guns for cover.”
“Then it’s back to my original point—we have to take out the guns.”
“The power generators, back at the Antaere headquarters!” said one of the officers.
“Exactly,” replied the REV. “We take out the generators and the transmission tower and they’re just as Colonel Monroe said, hunks of useless metal.”
“A surgical strike,” said the officer.
“Yes sir.”
“Carried out by REVs?”
Donovan Ross flashed a wide grin. “You said it, sir, not me.”
Don looked at Kyle, and then to the Bravo, Larry Hand. The third REV had recovered from the RG-9 and was now out of the wheelchair, ready for action. Yet unlike Kyle Johnson—who shared Donovan’s enthusiasm for the mission—he was staring open-mouthed at the other REVs like they’d gone mad.
“And how are you going to do that, Gunnery Sergeant Ross?” LtCol. Monroe asked. “You have one dose of NT-4 between the three of you and there’s no way for you to get to the command headquarters without an army to lead the way. That kind of defeats the purpose of a surgical strike, wouldn’t you say?”
Donovan smiled. “It would, sir…if I didn’t have a better idea.”
37
As the Zanzibar flew deeper into Antaere space, they were challenged three times by security patrols, one native and two by Antaere forces. As promised, Amber relayed the proper transponder ID and the clearance codes.
Two days after the last challenge, the ship entered the Iz’zar star system and received permission to land at the Harmony Enclave.
This walled settlement was in much better condition than the others throughout the Grid. The natives still provided food, water and electricity, even though there was more restrictive movement outside the compound. There were very few Human starships making landfall on Iz’zar, and the ones that did came exclusively to the Enclave.
General Smith was surprised to find two other clearly identifiable Earth-built ships resting on the grounds of the clean and modern spaceport.
“Okay, Amber, I give up,” he said to the computer. “How did you get us here without us being blown out of the sky?”
All three of the Human passengers were in the cockpit, looking out the viewport at the spaceport and what they could see of the Harmony Enclave from here.
“It will not come as a surprise to learn that Earth has been helping supply the Enclave with vital necessities since its inception.”
“Even during the war?” Angus asked.
“Yes. Granted, the supply runs have diminished in number recently, but there still some taking place.”
“Why?”
“Because of their cargos.”
Zac shook his head. There was something nagging at him. “And would this cargo have anything to do with things that go bang?”
Amber allowed herself the proper amount of hesitation before continuing.
“That is correct,” said the AI with the sexy voice. “As you’re aware, Earth-based weapons manufactures have been supplying product to many of the ES worlds, even long before the war. The practice continues, yet at a reduced level.”
“I’m sure you’re talking about Regulus,” Angus added.
“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant Price.”
“They’re selling weapons to the Humans of the Enclave?” the general asked. “What about the natives…and the Antaere? Are you selling weapons to the Antaere?”
“Not directly, however a few products make it into native hands and then are forwarded to the Antaere. It is not a lot, and the practice began before the war. It has continued.”
“So, Earth manufacturers are supplying weapons to both sides, and making bank in the process?” Smith bellowed.
“It is on a small scale comparatively, general. Not enough to affect the outcome of the war.”
“And that is why you had the entry codes.” Zac barked. He looked out the window at a delegation of fancy-dressed Humans making their way toward the starship from the port’s terminal building. “And why they’ve laid out the red carpet for us. They think we’ve come bearing gifts.”
“It is how business is conducted in a multi-species and -cultural environment.” Amber continued to defend her position, making it undeniable that she and the Zanzibar were part of the Regulus fleet. “But for now, I am using our relationship with the local authorities to further our mission. Please accept it for what it is now, and not complicate things with emotional diatribes.”
“Well, that’s a first,” Angus said. “Being bloody well scolded by a machine.”
“I only have the mission success as my priority. Now prepare yourselves. The delegation is at the entry hatch.”
“What are we supposed to do?” Zac asked. “We aren’t carrying a cache of weapons.”
“As a matter of fact, lieutenant, we are,” said Amber.
“What!” the men yelled in unison.
“Only sixteen crates of high-energy plasma weapons, hidden below the decking in the cargo hold.”
“And so now the computers are lying to us!” Smitty cried out.
“I have not lied. You never asked.”
“They’re buzzing the door,” Zac pointed out. “Do we let them in?”
“Yes…I will do most of the talking. I have before.”
There were three people in the delegation, two men and a woman. Their outfits were unlike any on Earth, the inhabitants of the Enclave having long ago adopted the fashion sense of the natives. They wore flowing capes and high-collar shirts, while the woman had a brightly-colored single-piece wrap twisted around her decent figure. She appeared to be mid-thirties, with blond hair and tanned skin. As expected, Iz’zar had its variety of Earth-like environs and the Enclave shared a mild semi-arid climate similar to Southern California and leading to a desert to the east. It also had plenty of sunshine for tanning.
The lounge was crowded with the guests and passengers. Zac and the others were in civilian pants and shirts, even their traditionally tightly-cut hair had grown out during the trip, so there was little to give away their military pedigree.
“I’m Smith,” said the general, shaking the hand of the Human standing prominently at the front of the small entourage. Then he added. “Bill, Bill Smith.” Hopefully, his name was so common that none would recognize him for his military identity. “These are my associates, Dan Jones and George…Adams.” He almost said Washington.
“Greetings, my friends. I am Chancellor Edward Lundquist. These are my associates. Vice-Chancellor Brian Jessup and his assistant, Ashley Hunter. We welcome you to Iz’zar and the Harmony Enclave, although your arrival here is a surprise. We weren’t told you would be coming. I am curious: Have you cargo aboard?”
“Yes, we have,” Amber said through the hidden speakers, although this time she spoke with the voice of Steven, her male persona. The delegation jumped slightly before heads looked ar
ound the compartment for the source of the voice.
“Indeed,” said Lundquist. “Are you the intelligence I have dealt with in the past?” asked Lundquist.
“Yes, on two occasions, yet in different vessels.”
The Chancellor laughed and looked around the room. “Yes, I can see that. Previously, you came in larger cargo vessels. I must admit, the outward appearance of your ship does disguise the interior. I suppose that was intentional?”
“We had a more perilous journey this time, with more Antaere space to cover. It was appropriate for the disguise.”
Vice-Chancellor Jessup eyed General Smith with a deep frown. “Then am I to conclude that you have brought limited cargo this time?”
“Sixteen crates of flash weapons are all we could risk or had room for,” said Smitty.
The serious-looking man grimaced. Lundquist put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Brian, it’s better than nothing. And considering the political climate within the Grid, it’s more than we were expecting…which was nothing.” The Chancellor smiled. “Now, let us move to more spacious accommodations where our business can take a backseat to more pleasant affairs. I’ll call ahead and have a meal prepared, and something better than what you’ve been accustomed to aboard this ship. Please bring along your AI, Steven, if I recall. We have a history together.”
As the delegation waited outside, Zac, Angus and Smitty found light jackets to wear over their rather plain-looking clothing. They also used the opportunity to place tiny comm devices in their ears, while Gen. Smith brought a small speaker box for Amber/Stephen. The box would allow the AI to speak to others, while the ear-bugs would provide communication only between the team members and the computer.
To Zac’s shock, two vintage Toyota SUVs were sitting outside the starship. They were ancient models, probably from the ‘30s or ‘40s, yet apparently still in working condition and with shiny paint jobs. They were electric editions, and Zac tried to imagine what it cost to have them shipped from Earth to the Enclave. Most immigrants adopted locally-made vehicles for use in the compounds. It was cheaper and there was never a question of compatibility. Zac figured this was some perk provided by either the Antaere or by Earth dating back to the early days of the settlement. Still, it felt strange climbing into a sixty-year-old Toyota 4-Runner on an alien world eight-hundred-light-years from Earth.
General Smith was in the lead SUV, along with the Chancellor, and the grim-faced man, Brian Jessup. Zac and Angus were in the other vehicle with the attractive woman in the brightly-colored dress. Normally, this would have been welcomed, but Ashley Hunter was already taking an interest in the two REVs, the added scrutiny unwelcome.
“I have to ask,” the woman began from the front seat, after propping an elbow on the well-worn cloth seat and scanning the handsome faces of the two men behind her. “Are you brothers? Your hair may be different, but you both look so much alike in the face.”
“No, ma’am,” said Zac, feeling uneasy with the attention. For them to be identified as REVs would be a problem.
“Not that we know of,” Angus chimed in with a wide smile. “But mum did have a reputation, if you know what I mean?”
“You’re British!” the woman said with delight. She offered her hand to the REV. “I’m Ashley Hunter, special liaison to Mr. Jessup—you know, the serious guy.”
Zac saw a moment of panic on Angus’s face, as he tried to recall the names Gen. Smith had given them…and which was which.
Zac intercepted her hand. “I’m Dan Jones,” he said. “My friend here, George Adams, is a little shy around women.”
Ashley smiled warmly, a glint in her blue eyes. “Oh, I didn’t pick up on that at all, Mister Jones. I think both of you are extremely confident men.”
Angus and Zac shared a look. If only they had more time….
“So, what do you do here, Ashley, as your helping Mr. Jessup?” Zac asked.
“He’s the Chancellor’s right-hand man, and I’m Brian’s assistant, so I guess you can say I pretty much run things around here.”
“How long have you lived on Iz’zar?” Angus asked.
“I am not a native, if that’s what you’re asking. I came here six years ago with the Order. I was born on ES-7, at the Unity Enclave. The planet was still under Antaere control at the time, so I was allowed to transfer. Harmony is a lot better settlement than where I grew up. I like it here…even after the Temple was destroyed.”
Zac tensed. His face—and that of the other three living members of his commando team—was being blasted all across the Grid, even here in the Harmony Enclave on Iz’zar. It would be a miracle if they weren’t recognized. Even though their hair was longer and both men now sported matching beards, that was something they should have thought about before landing.
Ashley smiled again. “I’m sorry. I know you are not Believers, so I won’t try to convert you. It’s just that I was born into the Order. It is all I have ever known.”
Fortunately, it was a short drive to the Chancellor’s residence, providing the REVs with an excuse to make a quick exit from the SUV and rejoin Gen. Smith, away from the prying eyes of Ashley Hunter.
The meal was still being prepared, giving the politician a chance to show off his home and brag about his Enclave. The Chancellor’s residence was a basic building in most regards, but on Iz’zar it stood out for its size and amenities. It had two stories, was over three thousand square feet, and even had a built-in pool—another incongruity so far from Earth.
“I was twenty-one when I immigrated,” Lundquist said to his startled guests. “Yes, I am crowding seventy, my friends. But having spent my formative years on Earth, I still gravitate to the old ways as far as housing and cars go. Since Harmony was one of the first enclaves established, we were stocked up with a lot of things you don’t find on the other colony worlds. We were allowed to bring some of our creature comforts with us…some more than others.” He laughed.
“I’m sorry we have such a small cargo for you, Chancellor Lundquist,” Gen. Smith said. “Still, I hope what we brought will come in handy.”
Lundquist stretched out a wide smile. “Now, Mr. Smith, we both know the weapons are not for us. As before, we will sell or trade the weapons to the natives for the credits or the supplies we need, especially during these trying times. We may be fairing better than most, but even in Harmony there are things only the natives can provide. We have very little of value to the Kalori, other than our weapons. And before you bring it up, there is a good chance the weapons may even make their way to the Antaere, even though I doubt such a small shipment will be of interest to them. They have a rather sizeable weapons depot not far from here, so sixteen crates would hardly be worth the effort for the natives and the margin would be too small. They may just keep them.”
Zac perked up. A weapons depot! A highly secure facility with plenty of guards. The perfect place to hide a cache of valuable religious documents. And the city of Faloner, where the Temple of Light once stood, is only about fifty miles from the Enclave….
When the meal was ready, everyone gathered around a long dining table and eight other people joined them. The comm box for Amber/Steven was placed in front of the Chancellor, who sat at the head of the table. They talked throughout the meal, relating stories of the other runs the AI had made as the auto-pilot for cargo vessels running guns to the Enclave. All the guests seemed familiar with the history of the illegal cargos and showed no remorse for buying arms that would eventually end up in the hands of Earth’s enemies. To them, the Humans of Earth were the bad guys—deniers of the one true Order—present company excepted. It was obvious that the practice had been going on for some time, and that the enclave benefited from the commerce it provided.
Angus and Zac tried to avoid the penetrating looks, not only from Ashley Hunter, but from the other three women at the table. Yet if any of them recognized the REVs, they didn’t let on. Their interests seemed more prurient.
After dinner, the party spread out arou
nd the spacious home and lighted backyard.
Zac saw Ashley making a beeline for him and Angus. There was no place to hide.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but Assistant Chancellor Jessup would like to see you privately. Mr. Smith will be joining us, as well. Please follow me.”
The REVs took a deep breath. This was business, and there would be others in the room. Besides, the other women at the party were beginning to work their way towards the men, despite all three having husbands in attendance. With enthusiasm, they followed Ashley to a private wing of the home.
The woman opened a door, allowed the REVs to enter, and then followed them inside, shutting the door behind her. Gen. Smith was the only other person in the room. He wore a heavy frown on his face.
“I thought Mr. Jessup was supposed to meet us here?” he asked.
Ashley put a finger to her lips. She pulled a small electronic panel from under her wrap and set it on a desk at the far end of the room.
“What the hell are you doing here, General Smith?” she barked at the officer. “Are you trying to get us all killed?”
Smitty’s jaw fell open. “You’re…you’re….”
“Yeah, I’m your agent here, your deep-cover agent. Surprise! Were you expecting someone else…like a man.”
“When you came to me outside, I thought it was Jessup.”
“He’s a fucking idiot. I only use him to get close to the Chancellor—another idiot, by the way.”
Zac stepped up to the woman and smiled. She frowned and shook her head.
“Relax, pretty boy. I’m here to do a job, a job the three of you have put in jeopardy.” She turned to the general, while poking a thumb at the REVs. “You do know their faces are plastered all over the Grid? Some of the Kalori even use the pictures to scare their kids into doing their chores. All it will take is one person—Human or Kalori—to point a finger and say REV! What are you doing here?”
“We believe the Antaere removed all the sacred documents from the Temple before it was destroyed,” said Smith. “We also believe the Qwin brought the Temple down themselves, just to make it look bad on the REVs and the rest of Humanity.”