by Chris Hechtl
“We might have particular use for your gifts. I want an inventory, and I want you tapped into the major's network. See to it, Major,” the admiral ordered, nodding to the major.
“Yes sir,” the major replied, clicking his heels.
“I'll need access to some of my materials in storage, sir,” the doctor stated.
“Only if we find something,” Captain Bordou warned.
“I meant to do the inventory,” the doctor replied smoothly. She scowled once and then nodded.
“They better match what we had when we first sailed or there will be hell to pay,” the admiral growled. The chief of staff grimaced. They all knew that sometimes the crew got into places they shouldn't and that some materials ended up on the black market. “I'll spot check it,” the admiral warned.
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Get on it. Dismissed the lot of you,” the admiral ordered.
All three men nodded once and left without a word.
>=,=@
Mara heard muttering and a lot of fearful looks when she came in from a swim a few days later. She was surprised that the lubbers were in a mood and some of the regulars were gone. The tourists were definitely not around, which was odd since it was the weekend. Normally they came out in droves and hassled the water dwellers to try to take their beach. As if, she sniffed, they were there first. No lubber who came in for a day at the beach was going to get someone like Matlo to move!
She shook her head, then shook it again before she bent and wrung some of the sea water out. She'd need a fresh water shower if she was going to keep her hair fresh she thought absently as she put it up in a pony tail and then jogged to the locker.
“What's going on?” Sydney asked, looking at her and then to the sky. “Someone said something about pirates?”
“Pirates?” Mara asked, stopping dead. The fishgirl nodded in earnest. “Yeah.” She pointed to the sky, making Mara turn. “Up there, a whole lot of them. They did a broadcast saying something or other. I didn't hear it, just heard of it,” she said.
Mara frowned thoughtfully as she unlocked the locker. Her long fingers dashed through the combination, then yanked up to disengage the latch before she pulled it open. Her free hand darted in for the tablet. “I'll just, um, look. Do me a favor, don't go spreading rumors, okay?”
Sydney snorted. “I know better. It's why I didn't get into some of the …,” she paused, staring at the sky again. Mara was looking at the tablet, willing it to boot up faster when she felt an imperious tug on her arm. She turned and saw the fishgirl pointing to the sky again.
The sky was relatively clear. There were a few scattered clouds, but they were high up. She frowned until she saw a streak of light come arrowing down and then a bright flash on the horizon, then another and another. “What the …”
Her tablet buzzed and then started to scream. She looked at the offending thing to see it flashing bright red and yellow colors and a discharging a keening wail of warning, loud enough for Sydney to cover her ears and for others nearby to turn to look at them. “What the …,” Mara frowned as she read the emergency bulletin. She'd seen them before when a storm came in, but this one was different. Her head came up. “Sydney, get your dad and the others. Tell them I need the leaders now.”
“They are out fishing. Most of ‘em won't be back until tonight. You know that,” Sydney said in exasperation. “What's going on?”
“Bad things. Go find your dad. Stay out of the water but round the kids up as you do. Tell them to …,” she frowned.
“Storm warning?” Sydney asked.
“Yeah. Something like that,” Mara said, latching onto the concept like a lubber grabbing a life ring. “Now get moving, gal. I've got to get to the lubbers, get them moving too. We've got trouble. And by WE, I mean everyone.”
“Oh, geeze,” Sydney said, shaking her head. “Dramatic aren't you?” she asked, but her tone of voice was curious and a bit scared.
“Not necessarily,” Mara murmured as the girl moved off. She licked her lips and then went to work scanning the feeds to find out what was going on. Undoubtedly everyone would have questions.
She did too. But she needed answers as well. Answers she got right away, but she didn't like them, not at all.
>=,=@
Doctor Milgram cocked his head as the major finished reading a report from the partisans he had activated on the planet. Every planet the empire had visited in the centuries of the dark times had been seeded with operatives. Sometimes there were just a few; they were given the minimum support and given the same orders as the others, to dig in, find human malcontents, and then to twist them to the will of the empire.
It was a practice that some thought as distasteful but that the doctor reveled in. As a psychologist he had cut his teeth on indoctrination studies before doing his internship monitoring various long term projects like the Vinatelli program.
He knew most of the methods used in basic indoctrination from inducing traumatic bonding to methods of behavior modification, to attachment theory, Operant and classical conditioning. He much preferred the simple tried and true methods and left the dangerous pharmacology and more rigorous conditioning methods involving torture to others. They were … more reliable, if slow to enact and sometimes sticky. Yes, the subjects tended to rebel from time to time, but handling such tantrums was a part of the process. Using fear and demanding instant obedience was a recipe for disaster. It induced avoidance thinking. It prevented bonding with the authority figure.
He was going to have his hands full if, no, when they found a subject. He'd already written careful rules on how to approach such subjects. They would need to be carefully vetted for mental and physical health. He'd have to build a profile on them while also shielding them from the excesses of the marines. In fact, he was counting on that act to help cement a traumatic bond with the subject, a variant of friend or foe, which was more commonly known as good cop, bad cop.
By setting himself up as their protector, they would become emotionally invested in his welfare, his pleasure. In their desire to please him to avoid the marines, he could then use it as a lever to mold them as required.
Many years ago as a child he'd stumbled into psychology and indoctrination when he'd innocently done a search on his family name in the computer archives while performing a genealogy project. He'd taken an interest in the Milgram experiment. It had utterly fascinated him. Delving deeper had drawn him into the web of psychology and methods to turn people to aid the Horathian cause. In seeing how the process worked, he'd torn apart the veil that he hadn't seen before and seen the process in action in his own society. He knew such knowledge was dangerous and that he wasn't immune to its charm after a lifetime of being exposed to it. But it had awoken a desire to be a part of the process.
“Problems, Major?”
“The usual,” the intelligence officer stated. “A few of our contacts moved or are deceased or they got caught by the authorities. The process is slow, but we are awakening a few groups.”
“Ah. And news of my targets?”
“None so far. We are still getting reports coming in. Their communications are spotty, and we can't have them broadcast everything in the clear.”
“Of course not,” the doctor said with a dutiful nod. He knew he was anxious to get going.
“You also need to understand, Doctor, we lost many contacts during the plague. Some died, but some are now wary of contact with us. Reforging those contacts are proving difficult as well.”
“Ah. Well, anything I can do to help I suppose,” the doctor said. He frowned thoughtfully, aware the intelligence officer wasn't keen for his help but pretending to ignore it. “You tried the carrot and stick approach?”
“Um …”
“Not threats directly. I mean a more subtle threat. The threat of exposure for one,” the doctor stated.
The intelligence officer scowled. “They'll be doing that anyway when they come out. And I'm getting news of a New Federation? My people ar
e still processing that.”
“I heard similar talk,” the doctor admitted. “So they are on the fence, but at one point they were in your corner. Exposing them or the threat of exposure may make them think twice about going against us.”
“Or, it might make them decide to go against us and cut ties,” the major retorted.
“True, if improperly handled,” the doctor riposted. “I leave it in your capable hands on how to execute the idea of course.”
“Why thank you, Doctor,” the major said sarcastically.
“It's a thought,” the doctor replied with a theatrical sigh. “Do please forward me the information about the coastal people—anything you have, even the raw material. I'll filter it myself.”
“Understood,” the major replied with a grimace and nod. “Anything to get you out of my hair I suppose,” he said.
“Tut tut, Major. We are on the same side. Do try to remember that,” the doctor said sweetly as he departed the compartment.
>=,=@
“This is Planetary Security Chief Nohar Rajestan to all ET citizens. We are under threat of invasion by hostile forces. They are intent on stealing anything they consider of value. They will kill anyone who resists or exposes themselves. Any nonhumans will be executed on the spot. Any Neos will also face torture and execution. It is in your best interest to get to shelter. Get indoors. If possible, get away from any cities or towns. Do not clog the roads or freeways. Travel under cover as much as possible. Do not, do not, rob or harm your fellow citizens. I know some of you may become desperate, but we are in this together. The enemy is up there, not down here on the ground. Remember that.”
“If you wish to fight back, do so without endangering civilians. Remember though, if they catch you, killing you is just the least painful thing they can do. They can torture you to get you to expose others and torture or execute your family. These … people are well known for raping women and small boys. They are scum people and deserve to be destroyed. If you wish to fight as I am doing, do so. But fight smart,” he growled.
Mara grimaced as those around her listened with hushed breath to the radio broadcast in the seaside diner.
“For those of you hearing this who are in industry or are holding a potential valuable target … if they come for you, destroy it. Hide it if possible. Bury it. Take it apart; make it worthless to them.”
“For those of you keen on helping the enemy, don't. They will use you. They will take what you give them and laugh. You who wish to betray your friends, remember others have friends as well. If you help them, you are a traitor to your friends, family, and neighbors and will be treated accordingly,” he snarled. “Eventually, justice will be done. We will see the light of day in this dark hour once more. Count on that. The sun will rise again.”
“But for those of you who are listening who are not human, I implore you, don't take your anger out on your human friends without cause.”
The more they heard, the more they didn't like what was going on. The more things looked bleak for all around. Mara shook her head as the broadcast ended. The group quietly broke up. She turned to some of the leaders who lingered with her, drawn to her for support and possibly guidance; she wasn't sure.
People had disappeared, staying indoors and close to home. But when the broadcasts of the pirate bombings hit the air waves, thousands flooded out of the cities and towns and into the countryside.
Eventually some of the pressure sent some to the shore. That was where Pico, Mara, Malto, and Quin hatched a desperate plan.
“It's got to work,” Mara said, watching the sloops depart. Each was ladened down with about a dozen hatchlings and younglings. Their parents anxiously swam alongside as each of the boats was guided out to sea.
“It has to,” Malto said. Emory nodded.
“But we can't all go on that. There isn't enough for those two ships. And some of the younglings that are older just can't handle the journey,” Emory said, looking to Sydney.
“I know.”
“We'll have to make hard decisions if it comes to survival,” Malto rumbled in a base voice. “Children can be replaced.”
“Says the man without any to begin with,” Emory accused. “You have no right,” he said glaring at the merman.
“No attachments,” Malto replied with an indifferent shrug.
“You leave the children to the cows to handle and …”
“Enough,” Mara said. “Not helping here, Emory,” she warned, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We have thousands to evacuate and not just them, but also belongings. Then there are the others here.”
“They aren't our problem,” the merman said.
“Finally something we agree with,” Emory said.
“And you discount medics, medicine, and other things so blithely,” Mara said in exasperation. They scowled but didn't relent. “Okay, here is how it is. Pico and Quin said they know a couple of islands we can shelter at. Fine and dandy. There are some caves our people have used, but we abandoned them in ages past because the tides tended to send people into the sharp rocks to get injured.”
“Drawing the sharks,” Malto grumbled.
“Right,” Mara said. “So, we evacuate those we can now. All the adults need to be dispersed.”
“But the parents won't abandon their children,” Emory pleaded.
“And we've got the sick and old to deal with as well,” Mara mused. “So, we need to work with the lubbers. Find a way to help them to help us. A simple exchange.”
“Barter for life. Typical,” Malto snorted.
“We do what we must to survive,” Mara replied with a glower his way. “I'll go talk to the fisherman. I know they have families here. I bet they wouldn't mind relocating them to another place,” she said.
“How do we … oh, great, crowd them in why don't you,” Emory said sourly.
“They'll go inland,” Mara said. “But many of the islands lack ports for the larger ships to dock at. Some have none at all, and they don't have dinghies or other craft to get people and gear to shore. So, we can do that. Just move it from ship to shore.”
“I see where this is going. It's a lot of work,” Malto said, sounding dubious.
“But if we can save many, it's worth the calories,” Mara said. “And from small things we build bigger things in the future—contacts, for example, favors …”
Malto nodded his massive head. “All right. You have my blessing.”
Mara smiled and then turned her eyes to Emory. When he hesitated she cocked her head. “Sydney can be on one of those ships, Emory. Anita too since she has trouble swimming long distances,” she implored.
Emory hesitated, inhaled, then exhaled slowly as if he was giving up on something. “Damn it, you've got me.”
“Let's get busy then,” Mara stated with a clap of her hands.
>=,=@
Doctor Milgram read the intelligence as it came in. His main interest was on Neo and alien groups near the water of course. Unfortunately, there were none near the first landings. There was the one video of his quarry but nothing on when it had been recorded or by whom, or most important of all, where. There was even supposition that it had been faked by the person who'd handed it over in order to gain favor with them.
There were maddening other clues of possible water dwellers, but the hints were vague. It seemed the only way he could get anything out of the intelligence section was to go down in person. They certainly took their time ignoring his emails! Usually a face-to-face demand would get him a short response for a brief time.
He had gotten a bit from Colonel Bericus but not enough. His second call to the ground had been cut off; the good colonel had told him bluntly to leave him alone to do his job. He shook his head in frustration as he passed through the corridors. Didn't they understand what an Alpha One priority meant? It was an imperial decree direct from the emperor and the admiralty! It took precedence over any other directive! But no, apparently not. He grimaced as he knocked on the hatch combing. “I
t's open!” a familiar voice called as his hand dropped to the latch and yanked the hatch open.
“Oh, Doctor, I was planning to …,” Major Eichmann grimaced.
“Save it. I thought I'd save you the trouble and come in person. What are you … is that a Neocat?”
“Yes,” the major said, turning slightly to give the doctor a better view of the subject on the screen. “Can you believe that red bastard?”
“Who?”
“Solimax something or other.” he waved an airy hand as if the name really didn't matter. “A red Neocat with a black mane linked to the ET lieutenant governor. I wanted his pelt on my wall, but Colonel Bericus tore it apart in his public execution,” the major growled. “He and a Neocat Mayor Manx gave us intel in exchange for us to leave certain populations, namely their own, alone. Once we had it, the colonel made a public display of the red cat. Unfortunately, it was premature. The video was valid, but the location he gave was wrong. I had to resort to other measures, namely this loathsome brown cat. He just gave us what we needed. We'll deal with him and his people later when we are certain you have what you are looking for and when the colonel's troops have finally reduced resistance in Mega City and taken what we want there.”
“And what did you do with the intelligence?” He already knew about the video. It was grainy and rather poorly shot with poor equipment in bad lighting. It had been incredibly frustrating to see it yet not recognize anything he could get from it to use to nab his quarry.
“Oh, well, in the first instance the colonel forwarded it to me and the navy. They targeted the population centers with KEW strikes of course,” the major said, smiling a nasty smile. “All but those on the coasts of course,” he said when the doctor inhaled sharply. “Now that we have confirmation, those we are handing over to you, good Doctor.” He handed the doctor a tablet.
The doctor stared at it, reading fast. His mind raced. He looked up, face bursting with hope and eagerness so much that the major chuckled. “It is confirmed? We have the location down to the kilometer?”
The major nodded. “Confirmed from their postal databases. Navy sensors are running a check for bio and thermal signs now. We'll have it before you get clearance to launch, Doctor.”