"Exactly our problem."
"Exactly our answer! The overall society is amalgamated, fused, but in larger than village-sized there is still factionalization along tribal lines. That stretches back to the original settlers and it's so ingrained it won't go away, ever. Likewise individuality is stronger in the larger amalgam and it extends to family-and-friends. Some elements are also local and will not migrate or scale upward. This leads to minor differences, all of which require some degree of uniform tolerance in order to avoid bloodshed. Or even lesser conflict.
"Friend-of contact chains are all well and good but there isn't always time to bring them into play. As of now we don't know what these tolerances are because we haven't really experienced their society from the inside. Modulo the shunned ones, who don't count. In order to locate what we want we need a place where it will be most present. The pious question then becomes finding where the individual differences are greatest, hence where the necessity of tolerance is greatest."
Micah chewed on this. Then he smiled. "Mek-Bellos!"
"Dead on the beam, my love. Not only is tolerance necessary, it is critical! The officers and gentlemen there are expected to trust their fellows exactly as they would their family, otherwise their entire command structure fails."
"So that's where we go."
"That's where we start, impatient one. Once there we learn how to manage ourselves elsewhere, and possibly where else we need to go. We can also establish enough of an identity to forge others as needed." She wrapped his coin in a five-bill and handed it over. "Let's tell Ted and Charlie."
After Ferrel got the basic idea he began working his terminal.
"All of that," he said, "plus ready access to trade and military data. Incidental data on different planets and systems if we finesse it properly. With two colleges around we should be able to compromise plenty and let the hapless students take the splash."
"So we know what and where," said Ionoski, "What about 'how?'"
"Tourists again," suggested Micah.
"Possible but not the first choice. Tourists have money and it's hard to hide when people want that."
"Traders," asked Kidwell.
"Again not the first option. We'd be tied to a ship and with the Merchant Academy there we might get some questions we don't want to answer. We'd also be facing the Brothers of the Table without the advantage of Unity."
"What about hopeful students working for tuition," said Micah.
"Or professional students," added Ferrel.
"My brother Deke knows a dozen of those," said Micah, "They're one or two courses away from ten degrees and showing no signs of graduating."
"Better," said Ionoski, "but if or when we try to get in, maybe before, we'll have to undergo checks."
"Try this for a hat," said Kidwell, "Same basic plan but squelch the 'hopeful student' part. We're ordinary folks looking for a good job. We're from far enough away to cover any faux pas we make and two really big schools implies a lot of supporting businesses and infrastructure."
Ionoski nodded. "That sounds optimal. It would also cover an odd assortment of skills, especially if we had to travel a long way to get there.
"I'm actually thinking of a multi-pronged approach. Workers will cover you three perfectly since you'll be the main investigation. Katie and Dave may try the tourist approach with a mod or two. I'm seriously considering starting my own company. I haven't done one recently and it might open some doors, too. I'll tell Katie and Dave, you three work up some infiltration plans."
Chapter 8. Work and School
al'Vooshi examined the dully-glowing wire critically. Not hot enough yet. He placed it back into the coals.
"Ahh, infidel, you test my patience. Why do you resist so?"
He began rubbing a pungent, acidic cream into the fresh burns and wounds on the infidel's body. Many more and he would have marks to rival the wisest of Dhu. Sacrilege and impiety! He ran a scrape over the infidel's half-healed wounds for penance and applied the burning cream to them afterward. Dhu forgive his servant such impure thoughts! At least now the man grunted with pain more often.
"Surely the secrets you bear do not merit this suffering, Micah Stone. Unburden yourself and your final days will be free of suffering. Upon my marks I promise this! Very few put to the question have gained such honor. Speak, Micah Stone, and you will know the truth of it!"
The clouds before Micah's eyes slowly coalesced into Jennifer's face. Part of him wanted to hold on to her but the rest stayed focused on his mission. She knew every scar on his body. How would he explain all these new ones?
No! Mission! Familiar music played in his ears as he realized he'd started humming some of her favorite songs. The look in al'Vooshi's eye spoke fury, frustration and denial so Micah concentrated more on the music and kept humming.
His body felt more pains now and he welcomed them. They sharpened his mind and his focus on Jennifer and his mission. Let them come! He decided he didn't really need to explain the new scars. She'd accept him with them as well as without. He felt his face form a smile and al'Vooshi snarled at that. Let him! Jenn would understand.
***
Micah, Ferrel and Kidwell rode a crowded linear toward the large and bustling city of Bellovis. Behind them Mek-Bellos' civilian starport dwindled and shrank as they moved away from it. Officially the three of them hailed from Shaiga, an agrarian backwater world on the far side of the People's Republic of the Jengiil from Mekhajan space. Micah fretted about their identities but Siffai assured them that SIF7 would have impeccable identities created for them by the time a query could reach the place. Even then, she said, given Jengiil bureaucracy and the lack of proper bribes it would take a long time for the answer to return, assuming anyone bothered to check.
"Nice," said Kidwell, lighting a 'stick.
A few vendors hawked their wares in the linear terminal but none of the crowd around the League agents, including themselves, looked to have much money.
"Do you think Ted's in place yet," asked Ferrel.
"Bet me he isn't," said Micah, "Money speaks its own language and everybody understands it."
After discussing their plans with Siffai and Barstein, Ionoski elected to start a company. He planned to begin as a well-off paper trader and speculator with a case of wanderlust.
"You are trading paper," an incredulous Siffai had asked, "Where is the value in that?"
"Not paper, Kate," Ionoski had explained, "It's physical cargo in the form of certificates of value. I can sell the merchandise and have it shipped, but the price will increase. Or, my customers can buy the certificates and travel to the League to retrieve them."
"What kind of cargo," wondered Barstein.
"Whatever I need. Intelligence keeps plenty of paper on hand for just such ventures."
In addition to trading his merchandise Ionoski would act as a communications anchor, relay and emergency fallback. Siffai and Barstein would pose as a married couple, not rich but not poor either, ostensibly awaiting the arrival of her brother-in-law's sister's first cousin at the Merchant Academy. Blankenship and his team waited aboard the Jenni Silver, now retagged the Nerissa, a microjump away.
The Brotherhood of the Open Tent maintained several complexes around Bellovis, one of them a block from the transit station. The representative there explained to the new arrivals that they had four weeks to find a jobs and residences, during which time they could stay in the Brotherhood billets. Meals were served at six, twelve and six, be there or be hungry. He also gave the location of the various hiring halls within Bellovis along with other likely places to find employment, to take skill tests or to connect with the more prominent sects or trade brotherhoods. He spoke with interest but also the stiffness of many repetitions. Then he took their names, retinals and such skill information as they would give.
"Not the worst place I've stayed," said Ferrel, "Nor the fanciest. They do have a net, though!"
While Micah unpacked their meager mundane belongings Ferrel po
wered up the room's terminal and acquainted himself with it.
"Plenty of jobs for those willing to work, my brother and sister. They have a nice, vibrant economy here, too! Heh. Low taxes and low cost of living. Not a bad planet at all! I foresee great hope in our near-term future."
"Anything interesting," asked Micah.
"Quite a bit at both academies." Ferrel took out a coin. "I'll flip you for... Nak and purge! You want the military academy, truth?"
Micah stepped out of fighting - or flipping - stance and grinned. "All truth and no blather there."
***
Fazool Parnaud examined his terminal critically.
"Micah Shale from the Jengiil, eh? Looking for work. What makes you think you can handle my warehouse, eh?"
"I have experience, sir."
"What kind of experience, eh?"
"Loading and unloading. Operation of related equipment, trundles, lifters, lofters, atlas suit, just about anything. Manifest generation and verification. Inventory control."
"Stock level management?"
"A little bit. Not much, though. Mostly I worked in and out and let someone else worry about that."
"Hmf. At least you're honest about that. What about computer skill?"
"Basic modules with some warehouse management protocols. Jengiil and Vezieri mostly."
Parnaud nodded. "Your application says you're still in the Tent billets. Why is that?"
"I need a job. I got four weeks to get an address."
"That says something." Parnaud almost smiled as he eyed Micah critically. "Start tomorrow." He handed Micah a datacard. "Here's what you need to know and where and when to know it. Show it to your billet steward. Be here at six tomorrow and be ready to work." He didn't offer his hand.
"Yes sir! Thank you, sir."
Back at the billets Ferrel wore an extra-wide grin.
"Junior data maintenance tech plus hardware configuration and repair," he said, "Good pay, too."
"Even for doing real work?"
Ferrel raised him a finger at that. "Let's find Vera."
"Good news," she said when they found her, "I have a job as a server at the Twin Academies Food Court. Apparently lots of civilians eat there too because it's huge."
"Now about these billets," started Ferrel.
"We have three employment verification cards," she said with a smug smile, "That should count for something."
***
Micah scanned the labels on the crates in front of him. His datapad beeped at every one except the last; he had to scan that one again. Though the datapad and scanner looked ratty and battered both were, in fact, Ferrel-modified and very sophisticated. After their first week at work the League trio retrieved the luggage they'd had shipped separately: their not-so-mundane belongings. Ferrel then wasted no time gutting and upgrading his and Micah's locally-purchased gear: Micah's scanner and 'pad and his own portable terminal.
Now Micah's scanner not only functioned perfectly with Parnaud's net and modules, it also recorded everything it scanned and, when possible, queried and stored all the information about it. Parnaud actually complimented Micah his third day there and admonished him to keep up the good work. Though monotonous, Micah's job wasn't hard; he did it well and maintained Parnaud's good opinion of him. His most difficult assignment to date involved handling a large shipment they received during Parnaud's lunch break. Micah didn't mind, though; Parnaud knew when the shipment would arrive and left his own ID in Micah's care. Micah returned it when he came back but only after making a copy for himself!
Today as Micah worked the seconds ticked slowly by. They had an op planned for tonight and anticipation had its claws set deep in his flesh.
***
Micah waited patiently at the transit station as the linears left for the party parts of town. The cadets at the Naval Academy had a weekend pass and he intended to do some crowd-reading. So did Kidwell, she assured him, but she had her own agenda. He planned to shadow a small group, but not too small, and inveigle himself into it. One thing he knew for certain sure: cadets and boots from any military anywhere, when released from the rigors of their training, would gladly drink or eat on the coin of a friendly civilian with a taste for their stories!
A group of five cadets separated from the general crowd mass and headed for a less-crowded tran. Good enough! Micah followed them onto the linear and sat close enough to overhear their conversation. As he expected they discussed the minutiae of their training, the pleasure of time to themselves and the relaxation of the rigors of military discipline. Micah smiled at the memory of his own training and his comrades there.
He debarked when the cadets did but stayed at the terminal examining the schedules to give them a lead. He also called up an area map. They planned to visit a club where one of them had an obscure relative so Micah knew their ultimate destination. Half a block away from the transit station showed a decent neighborhood with ample businesses, a few residences and plenty of teenage and slightly older groups and crowds so Micah relaxed and concentrated on his group.
As the now-boisterous group stopped at a street vendor something else caught Micah's eye. He turned his attention to a larger group of cadets. Rather, he focused behind them. They were being followed! One, two, three... Micah counted eight people shadowing the larger group. He instantly dismissed his five and concentrated on this new one.
None of the cadets in the larger group paid any particular attention to anything else as they walked, slowly, and took in the sights and vendors. The size of their group offered more than sufficient protection from the nonexistent threat on this particular street and none of them piqued Micah's curiosity in the least.
Not so the followers! They might have escaped notice by the cadets but not to Micah's trained eye. Then he made another discovery: two of them did a much better job of it than the other six. Micah faded back into the shadows, ducked into a fresher, changed his appearance and caught up with them again. He had his holocaster ready and active and managed decent images of all the sloppy tails and one of the good ones. Then they all stopped as the group they followed decided to visit a food cart so Micah changed appearance again.
When he re-located his group he saw two of the poor shadows and one good one well behind the rest. By their postures the two committed some grievous error and the one had sharp words about it. After a moment the two started back up the street with no attempt at stealth and the one ghosted his way back to the group. Micah had a good idea what happened. He waited for the two dejected shadows to pass then continued following the others. Just in case he checked his six, clear, and worked extra hard to avoid detection.
***
"Treasure ship," said Micah before Kidwell or Ferrel could speak. After he helped himself to nibblers and chog he recounted his evening.
"Polarity, my brother," said Ferrel, "You should have blipped me. I was bored to orbit!"
"My duff," replied Kidwell, "You had plenty of data, it just didn't come from burning a net."
Kidwell slirped Micah's images and she and Ferrel began enhancing them. Before long they had them more lifelike than the originals. Unsurprisingly neither recognized any of them.
"I received a message from Ted," said Kidwell, "He said he's sitting on a potential thalyssium mine of information concerning trade goods that pass through the port here. He's also optimistic about turning a profit, both in metal and information.
"Katie and Dave are settled in and in solid at the library. No one twitched a milli at their cover and once their neighbors heard it they accepted them as family. So far they haven't uncovered anything we need to follow up but they have located plenty of agricultural information. That's on all the Mekhajan worlds in general, Mek-Taniston and Mek-Soulda in particular. Ted's planning to blip Davies as soon as we make a report."
"Slib. Package what we have now and we'll send it raw. Charlie, what's the best way we have to identify these folks?"
"Check the Academy records. That's a low probability but it
should be easy. I'll need access to the Naval Academy net, the closer the better. Life would be golden if I could hit the internal net there. Take me to work with you?"
"Can you work through my 'pad?"
"Almost golden, and yes. That's half a milli more challenge but not without its advantages. When, exactly, do you do your transfers?"
"Ten-thirty, fourteen-thirty and sixteen-thirty plus or minus jitter. That's not solid-set; I can do 'em any time."
"Eminently polar, my brother! Hand over your datapad and let me cuddle with her a while."
Kidwell scowled at Ferrel, then pointedly ignored him in favor of her own nibblers.
***
Micah put his hand in the small of his back, stretched and checked his chrono. He eyed his rows critically and walked to the office. He swapped words with Parnaud and his secretary, sat at a row of terminals and jacked in his datapad. It beeped contrarily when it connected and Micah grinned. Though it might act slow the opposite was true. Though it would log the morning's work under Micah's ID the external connection and other access would show under Parnaud's.
The 'pad beeped again and began the transfers. Slowly. A small icon flashed at the bottom of the display, twice then once. Success! Ferrel had connected and started his burn. Micah scowled at the machine and left for a cup of tea and a 'stick. By the time he finished the transfer had as well. Ferrel flashed a quick success code and disconnected. Micah printed some hardcopies, jacked out, powered down and went back to work. He left the papers with the secretary who gave him a wink.
***
Micah watched the crowd gather at the Twin Academies Food Court. He spotted the cadets easily, even the ones not in uniform. He spent a moment surveying the place, spotted Kidwell and headed for her section.
"Good evening, sirra," she said with a friendly smile, "May I help you?"
"I'm hungry but not rich," said Micah, "Surprise me. I also have a friend coming, same for him."
The Radical Factor (Stone Blade Book 3) Page 17