“That’s part of their operational plan, which has been drawn by higher-higher. I haven’t seen it yet.”
Obannion made a face. “Certain elements of this mission are being divulged only when they have to be known. I’m not sure yet whether I’ll be privy to those details.”
Tevedes shook his head; matters seemed more serious every time he heard something new. Lytle showed no reaction; matters were every bit as bad as the worst he’d imagined.
“Any other questions?”
“Nossir.”
“Is the platoon ready to mount out?”
“On about one minute’s notice.”
“Then, gentlemen,” Obannion rose to his feet and held out his hand, “good hunting.”
Obannion followed them to his office door and watched until they left the outer office. He turned to Periz.
“Sergeant Major, I’m sorry, but they’re very serious about this.” He left the door open as he returned to his desk. When he sat he saw Periz standing in his doorway looking as stern as he’d ever seen him.
“Sergeant Major, this is an instance where I think you really are better off if you don’t know what’s going on.” He called up the status report on the deployed elements of the company so he could look busy. Periz continued to stand in the doorway for a moment, staring at his company commander, then snorted and returned to his own desk, muttering about, “There’s nothing a sergeant major is better off not knowing about what his Marines are doing.” He sat at his console and got busy. One way or another, he was going to find out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fast Frigate CNSS Admiral Nelson
Second platoon, Fourth Force Recon Company, shipped out on the fast frigate Admiral Nelson . The only contact the Marines had with the ship’s crew was with the bo’suns who conveyed them to their compartments, and messmen during their mealtimes—the rest of the ship was off-limits to them, except for the library and one gym, which were designated for their exclusive use during specific hours. The Marines didn’t chafe under the confinement, they were too busy tending to their weapons, uniforms, and gear, studying the operation plan and keeping themselves physically fit with isometric exercises in their cabins. And the Admiral Nelson ’s sailors were just as glad they didn’t have to deal with the Marines. The Force Recon Marines projected an even more calm dangerousness than the Marines of a FIST did—if such a thing was possible—and most sailors thought ordinary FIST Marines were entirely too dangerous to have around.
When the Marines hit the ship’s library, they were particularly interested in maps of their area of operations. Atlas, they found out once they were given their destination, was almost unique among members of the Confederation of Human Worlds in that it didn’t have a globe-girdling satellite system other than its orbital port, Kraken Interstellar. Because, again almost unique among Confederation member worlds, Atlas didn’t have a planetary government, but rather a number of independent and often antagonistic nation-states. No nation-state was willing to allow satellites belonging to another to overfly its territory. And nobody in the Confederation congress thought Atlas was significant enough to press the issue, so when Atlas’s most powerful nation-states jointly requested that visiting Confederation navy ships not deploy their string-of-pearls satellites, the congress so ordered. The navy wasn’t happy about that order, and the Marines less so; for one thing, the lack of a string-of-pearls meant there were no up-to-date military-quality maps available. But there were other recent maps, and the Marines of second platoon endeavored to commit them to memory. Additionally, everyone from squad leader up downloaded the maps to their personal comps to carry along on the mission.
Company Commander’s Office, Fourth Force Recon Company, Fourth Fleet Marines, Camp Howard, MCB Camp Basilone, Halfway
Commander Obannion had to wait until the Admiral Nelson made her jump into Beamspace before he got Annex 2 of the second page of the orders. Special Presidential Order, page 3, Annex 2
Annex 2
a) Cover: The Marines, one male and one female, assigned to Mission Objective Two will travel as a recently married couple.*
All relevant documentation (see section b) will be provided to them in sufficient time prior to their departure from MCB Camp Basilone, Halfway, for them to memorize the necessary details. They will travel in civilian clothing (provided, see section c), under civilian passports (provided, see section b). They will not carry any Marine Corps identification, uniforms, or insignia. They will leave their identification brace-lets behind.
*Neither the President of the Confederation of Human Worlds nor the Commandant of the Marine Corps expect the Marines assigned to Mission Objective Two to maintain the cover of being married when they are in private, that cover is directed to be maintained for public consumption only. b) Documentation: The Marines assigned to Mission Objective Two will be provided with:
1) civilian passports in their names and with their likenesses issued by the Foreign Ministry of New Genesee (see attached package*);
2) travel permits and passport stamps issued by the Ministry of Tourism of The Union of Margelan, Atlas;
3) a marriage certificate issued by the Home Ministry of New Genesee (see attached package*), and
4) up-to-date health and innoculation certifications issued by the Ministry of Health of New Genesee (see attached package*);
5) employee identification cards from Imperial Industries and Starcraft Crafts bearing the names and likenesses of the assigned Marines are included in the clothing packages en route to MCB Camp Basilone.
*If the referenced package is not attached to this annex, notify the Director, Central Intelligence Organization immediately and directly. Do not go through the normal chain of command.
c) Clothing: Appropriate civilian attire is en route, in parcels addressed individually to the Marines assigned to Mission Objective Two.
d) Tickets (tourist class) for passage to and from Halfway and Atlas via civilian freighters and cruise ships are enclosed with the clothing allotment en route. A reservation in the married name of the Marines assigned to Mission Objective Two has been made at the New Granum DeLuxe Inn in New Granum, Union of Margelan, Atlas.
e) Credits: Open-limit cred-sticks* are included in the packages (see section c) en route to the Marines assigned to Mission Objective Two.
*It is understood that although the assigned Marines will make all expenditures necessary to maintain their cover as recently married individuals on holiday, they will not undertake to make unnecessary or frivolous expenditures.
f) Weapons and special equipment: Surveillance device detection units are provided, along with instructions for their use. (See attached package*) An M14A5 maser sniper rifle will be secreted in a location marked in the Tourist and Visitors Guide to Atlas (see attached package*) to be found in the cabin assigned to the Marines assigned to Mission Objective Two aboard the Crimson Seas , along with a P6 radio to be used for oneway communications with the command element of Mission Objective One.
*(See note to section b.)
Commander Walt Obannion read Annex 2 behind a closed and locked door, which would have been a very good thing if anybody had looked in when he reached section b of Annex 2. The documentation in the names of the Marines assigned to the mission had to have been made out before the orders had even reached Camp Howard. Yet the assigned Marines weren’t named in the orders. That had shaken him. The orders were over the signature of the President of the Confederation of Human Worlds, but the annexes were attached and not over the president’s signature. Who could have determined who was going on the mission before he—or even Lieutenant General Indrus for all he knew—had received the orders? The Commandant of the Marine Corps and his staff could have easily determined that there was only one woman sniper in Fourth Force Recon Company. But surely they wouldn’t have made a personnel assignment without somehow notifying the commanding general, if not the company commander. The Combined Chiefs and their staffs would have had access to that info
rmation, but they also weren’t likely to make a personnel assignment without informing the office of the responsible commanding general—and he thought it equally unlikely Lieutenant General Indrus would have failed to inform him if he’d known.
There was that reference to the Director, Central Intelligence Organization, in the footnote to section b. That told him where the annex had to have originated, and why the CG Fourth Fleet Marines hadn’t alerted him. He wondered what the CIO knew about his Marines, and why they knew it. For that matter, why couldn’t the CIO do its own dirty work?
But his wasn’t to reason why, his was to do or . . . Well, he was a Marine. Marines don’t do or die, they simply do .
He opened the attached package. All the documents specified in section b were there, in the names and likenesses of Sergeant Ivo Gossner and Lance Corporal Bella Dwan. Of course, their ranks appeared on none of the documents. The parcel also included two wigs. One, shorter-haired, was obviously for a male, the other, longer-haired, was just as obviously for a female. Something about the wigs felt odd. Obannion looked in the package and found another sheet of paper. He shook his head; he’d never before seen a mission on which so much was consigned to paper. For all he knew, he had the only copies of the Mission Two orders and annexes in existence. If so, it would be easy to burn the orders to ash and scatter the ash, leaving no evidence they had ever been received. The latest sheet of paper was instructions for use of the surveillance-device detection units, one slender, flexible, wand hidden in each wig, which explained why the wigs felt so odd. The instructions also claimed the wands were not detectable by “any electronic means known to be available to the authorities on Atlas.” That gave Obannion pause. Finally he decided that if the wands’ cloak of invisibility did not work, Gossner and Dwan could always take their failings up with the manufacturer. After they got out of jail.
Obannion’s office had two visual and four audio recording devices, which he could activate at will to make a record of anything that took place in it. He routinely turned them on when he left for the day and off when he returned. Following the detector’s instructions, he was able to find all that spyware even when the units were turned off.
He replaced the wands in the wigs and looked in the box again. One item remained, a copy of the Visitor and Tourist Guide to Atlas on crystal. Yet another sheet of paper was attached to it. The sheet gave specific instructions for finding data hidden in the book. Who is going to put an exact copy of this crystal in their cabin on the Crimson Seas ? he wondered. According to the instructions, when the crystal was inserted into a standard reader, certain pages would show additional information in ultraviolet. He could put the crystal in his reader and look at it through his helmet to see the UV, but Gossner and Dwan wouldn’t have a Force Recon helmet with them, so there must be some other way for them to see in ultraviolet.
An ultraviolet viewer was the last item in the package. He opened his office door. Sergeant Major Periz was at his desk, busy at his console. “Excuse me, Sergeant Major.”
Periz looked up at him, quickly toggling his console to a different display. Obannion noticed but said nothing; he knew that Periz had to be deeply offended by his exclusion from what was going on. Someday, he vowed, he would find a way to make it up to the Sergeant Major.
“Yessir?” Periz gave him a blank look.
“Have Sergeant Gossner and Lance Corporal Dwan report to me immediately, please.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Periz returned to his comm and Obannion to his office. Ten minutes after Obannion sent for them, the intercom buzzed and Periz’s voice growled, “Sergeant Gossner and Lance Corporal Dwan are here.” Obannion noticed the lack of a “sir.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Major. Send them in if you please.” The two snipers marched into his office and stood at attention in front of his desk. Obannion leaned back in his chair and studied the pair. What did the CIO know about them? Did they know anything more about Dwan than that she was a woman? Why would they think she could successfully pull off a masquerade as a newlywed bride? Sergeant Gossner as a new husband, sure; he could have been the model for a Marine Corps recruiting hologram. He didn’t have the steely, blood-freezing eyes that Dwan did. No, despite her elfin face, Bella Dwan definitely didn’t look like a blushing bride—or anybody’s kid sister. He took a different tack than he had with Lieutenant Tevedes and Gunnery Sergeant Lytle.
“Lance Corporal Dwan, it is my understanding that you consider yourself the best sniper in the Confederation Marine Corps. Is that true?”
“Yessir. Nossir; I am the best sniper in the Marine Corps.”
“What about you, Sergeant, do you think she’s the best sniper?”
“Well, sir, I haven’t seen every sniper in the Corps, but she’s the best I’ve seen.”
“And you’re willing to be her team leader on any sniping mission she’s assigned to?”
Gossner’s lips hinted at a smile. “Sir, Lance Corporal Dwan is a, ah, an enthusiastic sniper. She does better when I’m there to help her keep calm and focused.”
Obannion noticed that Dwan’s jaw clenched at that. “Then the two of you are willing to take on a most unusual assignment, one that has more than the normal complement of hazards, and—most importantly—one that you’ll never be able to brag about on penalty of Darkside?”
“Sir?” Gossner said.
“If you’ve got a tough one, sir, I’m your sniper,” Dwan said flatly. “I’m the best in all of Human Space.”
“Did you say Darkside, sir?” Gossner said.
“The penalty for telling anybody about this assignment is summary sentence to Darkside, yes.”
Gossner sucked in a chestful of air and noisily blew it out. Dwan kept her hard gaze on her company commander, but didn’t say anything. The fingers of her right hand began twitching as though she was firing her maser.
“Well, Sergeant Gossner, Lance Corporal Dwan looks like she’s ready to take on the assignment. What about you?”
“Sir, if Lance Corporal Dwan’s going, I guess I have to go along to keep her out of trouble.” He ignored the warning look she flashed him.
“Pull a couple of chairs close together and sit down.” He waited until they had done so and handed them the orders and annexes for the sniper mission.
“This is what you want us to do?” Gossner asked when he finished reading the first page.
“Yes it is.” Obannion nodded at the orders. “Keep reading.”
“This says we’re masquerading as a newlywed couple,” Dwan said almost immediately after she began reading Annex 2. “What’s on Atlas that tourists would want to see?” Interstellar travel was expensive, both in monetary cost and travel time. Other than the idle rich, not many people could afford the time or money involved in casual interstellar travel.
“Have you ever heard of Niagara Falls?” Obannion asked. He noticed that she hadn’t objected to the newlywed masquerade and wondered if that meant she simply accepted it. Dwan looked blank. Gossner said, “Isn’t that on Earth? A big waterfall or something?”
“That’s right. For a couple of centuries, people thought it was a very romantic place. Many newlyweds went there for their honeymoons. There’s an even more spectacular waterfall close by New Granum, where you’ll be staying. It’s a popular honeymoon destination for the people in that quadrant of Human Space who can afford it.
“You’ll be masquerading as honeymooners.” Obannion said that calmly. Gossner kept his face blank and didn’t look at Dwan. The look she gave Obannion almost made him tense to dive for cover.
“I saw that in section a,” Dwan said. “Is this somebody’s idea of a joke?” she demanded. “If it is, it’s not funny.”
Obannion shook his head. “Those are the orders as they came from Earth. I doubt the bureaucrats there have that kind of sense of humor.”
“Do they expect us to, you know . . .” Gossner said uncertainly.
“No. That’s covered in the note to section a. But you have to act like y
ou’re newlyweds anyplace where people can see you.”
Gossner sighed and Dwan shot him a look that Obannion was glad wasn’t directed at him. Otherwise, it was going better than he had feared. But how would she act once they were undercover?
“Finish reading the orders,” Obannion said. He waited until they were through, then got out the package that had come with Annex 2 and opened it again. Sorting through the documents, he made two stacks, one for each.
“These are your documents.” He waited while they inspected them, then got out the wigs. “Put these on.” He was surprised at how well the wigs fit; Dwan hardly even had to tuck any of her own hair under hers. “Now feel them, probe with your fingers.” They quickly found and withdrew the wands. He walked them through operating them. Within two minutes, they had found all the concealed recorders in the office.
“You’ll need to check your hotel room, and every other place where you want to talk privately, to be certain you aren’t under electronic observation.” He then pointed to the two bulky parcels. “There’s one for each of you, your names are on them. Open them now.”
They did. Gossner whistled at the clothing his parcel held. “Do I get to keep these when the mission’s over?” he asked.
“I don’t know, the orders don’t cover that. We’ll have to wait for further instructions.”
“What’s this?” Dwan asked. She held up an ordinary-looking purse mirror and pressed a slight indentation on its back. The mirroring vanished and it became a clear glass. The crystal that had come in the package with the documents and wigs was still in Obannion’s reader. He opened the book to one of the pages with hidden data and took the now-clear mirror from her. When he looked at the reader through the mirror, he saw things that weren’t there when he simply looked at the screen.
“This is what you use to see the hidden instructions,” he said. “The indentation is keyed to the print of your right index finger and that of Sergeant Gossner. Take care not to open it in the presence of anyone not cleared for knowledge of the mission.”
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