Airmed wondered just what kind of experiences this black bear had been exposed to in its work for the Anarchate. “Oh? Were you at the Sector 14 Intelligence Base when it was attacked by someone?”
The short black fur of the Meligun stiffened into a full body alert mode that her studies said carried the meaning of Suspicion Confirmed. “Yes. But how did you know that base was attacked? It is remote and lies in Perseus Arm. Surely your people do not trade with human colonies in Perseus?”
Airmed sighed. This emissary for certain was a spy, a trained interrogator and someone who had come here with advance suspicions about her world and her people. Time to go on the offense she had worked on for the last year.
“You are mistaken, emissary. I knew nothing about the Intel Base attack until it was reported over the galactic tachnet by a researcher working at the IT Academy on Module,” she said in sharp, decisive tones calculated to send this creature the signal that her statement was factual. “As for our Trade relations, we are still colonizing this planet. We have only two million people on this green and blue world. The oceans are untapped, the forests hardly visited, and its mineral deposits are barely known.” She tapped her datapad. “I am ordering a pitcher of water for myself. May I order you some gysin to drink? Talking makes thirsty most bipeds.”
Rak alk-thorn’s pink eyes blinked rapidly, a sign of surprise for his species. “Gysin? You have gysin here?”
Airmed smiled in a friendly mode. “Of course we do! We brew twelve varieties of beer, two types of whiskey and our vineyard estates produce two dozen types of wine.” She laughed. “Our people, we call ourselves the Tuatha De Danaan, we are much focused on making merry, drinking good drinks, dancing over meadows and making welcome all visitors.”
The fact that her world possessed the golden alkaloid drink gysin seemed to have unsettled her Anarchate visitor. Its mouth opened and a small pink tongue touched its upper line of canines. “Yes. A small container of gysin will be welcome.” It looked past her to the wall window. “So this cultural pattern of boisterous hospitality is why your people surrounded this giant starship that returned your citizens? Even though it hung above them and could have smashed many if its pressor beams had failed?”
Airmed nodded agreement in the human mode. “Of course we welcomed Mr. Dragoneaux, his lifemate Eliana Themistocles, their holographic AIs and the 152 human refugees from the destruction of Omega Casino.” She looked up as her executive assistant brought in a tray with the water, gysin and crystal glasses. He set the tray down on the stone table in front of the bench couch they occupied, then left. The slidedoor hissed shut behind him. “We heard of the casino’s destruction from Mr. Dragoneaux, who explained his vaporization of it as retaliation for something the casino owners did that killed his first wife.”
“Such gratitude from so many lifeforms,” Rak alk-thorn muttered in low Belizel as his right waist arm reached out to pick up the glass with the gysin in it. In less than a second the gysin was down the pink throat of the giant bear. A deep sigh escaped its thin lips. “Can you provide me with the names, addresses and name sigils for these Omega Casino humans? And the same for your Rathfriland captives who spent time aboard the alien starship of this renegade?”
“Of course!” Airmed said, reaching for the Waterford crystal pitcher to pour fresh snowmelt water into her glass. “While we appreciate Mr. Dragoneaux’s return of our slaver captives, we wish to maintain our good relations with the Anarchate. We hope for the establishment of a commerce embassy soon. Would that be possible?”
The black body fur of the Meligun emissary relaxed and its two arm pairs moved down to rest on its heavy muscled legs. Was this indicative of how Meliguns got drunk? The pink eyes fixed on her. They looked sharp. She had to assume the brain behind the eyes was as alert as she.
“Has this renegade human Dragoneaux, or any of his allies, asked for help from your world?” The eyes blinked in the mode of Intense Trickery. “After all, he constructed a new Tachyon Pylon for you and emplaced a Defense sled in orbit to provide defense against future slaver attacks.”
Airmed deciphered the Belizel of her guest, seeing the two word choices that would trap her into admitting to her world’s help to Matt in his creation of a battle fleet. “Emissary, you confuse me. What allies do you refer to? We only saw Mr. Dragoneaux himself and his crossbreed lifemate Eliana. There were no other people with him of any species.” She paused and sipped the ice water. “And why do you refer to the genome harvester crew as slavers? That is how we see them of course. They attacked us. We defended ourselves, with the one time help of Mr. Dragoneaux. We have not heard from him since he departed almost a year ago.”
The intense pink eyes of the Anarchate emissary blinked in a pattern that her studies said had the meaning of Investigate Further. “Your confusion is unusual for a Newcomer species. Most new arrivals who attempt to participate in the Trade that the Anarchate makes safe and reliable are able to properly relate to Anarchate customs.”
“Oh?” She sighed. “The gysin was not satisfactory?”
“Most satisfactory.” The bear set down his glass and stood up, his black elfin ears pointing straight up in the sign of Duty Calls. “You will provide me with an office in this skyrise. It must possess encrypted tachlink transmitters. And also possess the usual furniture that fits most bipeds.”
Airmed set down her water glass and stood up, adopting the stance that the alien would understand indicated she would defend her world with her life. She leaned forward, her lips tight. “As you wish. The office will be provided. Your access to all humans on this world will be ensured by my office. However, please understand that our knowledge of Mr. Dragoneaux is limited to what we hear on the galactic tachnet.
“If that is the truth, my visit here will be short,” Rak alk-thorn said. It lifted the datapad that hung from a waist belt. “My device has transmitted my access code to your datapad over on your work space. Provide the requested data before the local star disappears into the night.”
Airmed watched as the strong, muscled and suspicion-loaded Alien marched through the open slidedoor, past her executive assistant, and into the marble lined hallway that led to her office.
“Well! That was not fun!”
“Madam,” called her assistant Gerald. “I have an incoming comlink call from General Balor O’Leary. Will you accept the call?”
Airmed grinned, then waved at the monitor Spy Eye set into the ceiling of her office. “Yes, Gerald, link his call to my work desk AllCall. And assign one of your programmer people to set up an intelligent office for our Anarchate guest. Make sure the office contains every device needed by any executive.”
“Including the passive listening devices?” he called as the slidedoor began to close.
“Of course!” She turned to her work desk and the AllCall, wondering what Balor thought of the meeting he had just heard and watched over the office Spy Eye. Maybe the two of them could ensure that no sign of the new class of pilot volunteers became known to this sneaky spy of the Anarchate.
Sytoon inhaled the salt water of his work basin as his four eyestalks fixed on the holo image of his assistant Rak alk-thorn. The agent who worked the Sagittarius-Carina Arm as his Earth colony survey venue had just tach-called with a report on his progress. Of which it seemed there was some.
“Yes, assistant Rak? You have productive news to share?”
“Productive yes,” the hairy dryland biped grunted in basic Belizel. Its two poor pink eyes looked at him from the confines of a dry as dust executive office. “The Human colony world Morrigan, in Kappa Crucis cluster, was visited a Belizel cycle ago by our renegade Human! The Human retrieved some genome harvester captives taken from this colony and returned them to the people of this world.” The Meligun biped inserted four thumbs into its chest straps. “Their governor, a strange female with the name sigil Airmed O’Davoren, says her people are inclined to spend part of their lives in drunken celebration accompanied by music. They provided th
is Dragoneaux renegade with a giant appreciation party in the open space of their capital city’s Park habitat.”
Sytoon felt his mouth palps go dry. His manipulator cilia caressed the tachlink controls for the holo that now provided him with a real-time link to a star thousands of light years away. “This news is productive. The only other Human world he has visited since his attack on Trade traditions has been his birth world of Thuringia. And that only recently. Every other spot he has appeared has not been predicted. With the exception of your prediction of the attack on the Flesh Markets of Alkalurops.”
Rak’s two narrow ears moved into the body language of Appreciation. “That is correct, my leader. However, the visit of the renegade to this star system of fellow Humans may offer options for covert surveys. For example, was a boisterous party and food supplies the only reward given to this Dragoneaux? In view of the emotional attachment of these Humans to their offspring and progenitors, perhaps the local Humans did more for the renegade?”
“A valid point,” Sytoon said with hurried clicks of his palps. “What else did this Dragoneaux do while present on the colony world?”
“Much,” said Rak as it raised a datapad and pointed it toward the tachlink receptor. “Attached to this tach signal are images of a new Tachyon Pylon he built for the locals after the genome raiders destroyed their pylon. Also, the renegade left a Defense sled behind, in orbit, to protect the planet against future genome harvester attacks.”
“Major expenses those are,” Sytoon clicked, inhaling deep the salt water of his work bowl. “Any other actions by this Human?”
“Yes,” said Rak alk-thorn with a guttural rasp. “He delivered 152 fellow Humans to this world as new colonists. They were the Human employees of Omega Casino that we and fleet command have long wondered about. Until my visit here, we did not know where they had been taken after this Dragoneaux’s warship incinerated the casino dome. Now we know. I will pursue interviews with each Human since they spent weeks or more aboard the T’Chak warship of this renegade. The same for the 15 Morrigan captives that Dragoneaux returned to their homeworld. You will be advised of any new developments.”
Sytoon blinked his eyestalks in synchrony in the body sign of Task Well Done. A gesture he felt this Rak would understand since it had been a creative Intel employee since its work for the former Commander Chai. “Highly productive information, my assistant,” he clicked slowly in conversational Belizel. “Do you recommend we ask the sector fleet to station a battleglobe on station at the system’s heliopause, in stealth mode, to see if this Human or one of his T’Chak war fleet suddenly show up for a visit?”
The Meligun’s ears leaned forward in the body sign of negation. “Not yet, High Commander. I hear that Sector Captain Running Leader is repairing and adding new weapons to his battleglobe fleet. Perhaps later, if the fleet can spare a battleglobe, it would be worthwhile to put an Anarchate ship on long-term monitoring of this system.”
Sytoon rose up on his six pincer-feet. His eyestalks bent forward in his people’s sign of amiable connection. “A useful observation. Continue the survey of this Human colony world. Perhaps it is the world supporting this renegade. Or perhaps another world in Orion or Perseus arms is supporting him. However, systematic intelligence surveys like yours will reveal that answer sooner than later.”
“As you wish, High Commander.” The holo image of Rak alk-thorn blinked out.
Sytoon considered whether to make a short report of this productive news to his supervisor, Sector 14 Leader Mindstorm. The fellow amphibian had been greatly exercised by the likely death of its chief assistant, Medun the Spelidon. He decided against an early report. Better to present facts over speculation. And facts with his name sigil affixed to them would properly impress his sponsor Sooteen and other members of the Council of Sixteen.
Moving his ingestion cilia, Sytoon activated several holos that gave data on Trade routes, ship movements, conflicts between Ancient and Newcomer species, the output of the last naval shipyard in Orion Arm, and the activity of Running Leader’s fleet at protoplanetary disk CC32415 in the Orion Nebula. His sector colleague had access to the needed raw materials, tech workers, automated Supply Tubes and construction devices needed to outfit other battleglobes with the Black Hole Ejector device that had vanquished the Alcubierre shield of a T’Chak ship during the Antares B battle. Adding that weapon to the Thermonuke sleds, Assault Asteroids and antimatter-laden Supply Tubes should provide his small fleet with a substantial offensive strike ability.
Sytoon hoped so. This Human fixation on one’s progenitors and siblings was so strange to him. Why didn’t every sapient species do as the Loglan did? You simply deposit your egg-sacks in the surf at the ocean’s edge, let them float away to the continental shelf, then welcomed onto land the three or four survivors of thousands of eggs sent off. The renegade Human’s obsession with outlawing cloneslavery was equal to some Loglan insisting that every egg of every egg-sack be allowed to survive! What chaos that would create on his homeworld!
Matt looked at the bipolar planetary nebula of M2-9. It showed a small white central globe of harsh light, with two polar jets of ejected star material that stretched out a half light year to either side. The jets glowed with green, purple, blue and red light from the ultraviolet heating of ejected particles and gases. Earth and Anarchate records told him that around 1,200 years ago a small red giant star had blown off its outer layers, then collapsed into the white dwarf star that dominated the binary star system at the center of the two lobes.
What mattered most to him was not the nebula’s beauty but the dusty disk of silicate material that circled the inner binary stars. That disk lay at right angles to the polar lobes. Beyond that disk of loose sand and rocks lay three rocky planets. Only one planet held an oxy-nitro atmosphere and it orbited the binary stars at a distance allowing liquid water. That planet had been colonized by members of the Spelidon species about a thousand years ago. Their population had grown and their Trade relations with other stars expanded rapidly when they set up a Flesh Market in the center of their largest city. Cloneslavery was their primary Trade business. But they also sold emotionally-neutered clone people willing to work as labor slaves, plague viruses, nerve gases useful against any oxy-nitro species, eco-toxins, Hunter-Killer weapon systems, cyborg vessels for AIs wishing to stroll among organics, brainpaks, psychosis-inducing software, and Remotes loaded with tactical nuke warheads. The cloneslavery was reason enough for him to strike the planet.
“A planet strike? Graviton Beamer or Sun Glow?” growled the mind avalanche of BattleMind who assumed holo form to his right, as Matt studied the forward holosphere.
“Matthew! Are you going to kill everyone on the planet?” called his Mom from the accel-couch behind him.
Mata Hari took holo shape beside the giant black dragon of BattleMind, this time resembling a smaller female T’Chak dragon. She reached out with one wingtip to touch the larger wing of the truly alien AI of BattleMind. “Elder, not this time. There are millions of Spelidon and other species not involved in the Flesh Markets of this planet. Matt will be more selective in his destruction.”
“Exactly,” Eliana said from behind Matt. “Mother Kristen, we try to leave normal people unharmed by our attacks against the Anarchate. We only demolish a planet if it has just Anarchate personnel on it. And then only if it is relatively lifeless.”
“Oh,” murmured his mother. “Glad to hear that. Sorry, Matthew, for talking like a Mom.”
Matt smiled to himself. The days he had spent with Eliana, his Mom and his sister Charlotte had been priceless. He had shed tears as he heard the details of their lives in labor slavery. They had cried too when he hooked them into a neurolink device and shared his memories of being a cloneslave decanter at the Flesh Markets of Alkalurops. Good Eliana had brought them all glasses of golden Morrigan wine to share and that had helped each of them cope with the horrors of existence in the Anarchate. But now, after a week spent traveling the 2,100 light year
s from Thuringia inward to Sagittarius Arm and the M2-9 Nebula, it was time for him, Eliana and the other seven warships of Hexagon Prime fleet to do the work he’d sworn to do when he’d declared war on the Anarchate.
“Matthew,” called Charlotte in her soft contralto voice from her accel-couch next to the Memory Pillars that contained the mind of Mata Hari. “Is there more than one Flesh Market on this world? And what about any captives who have been sold into labor slavery, like me and Mom? Will you rescue them?”
He bit his lip, accepted the mental hug he got from both Mata Hari and Eliana over their tachlink connections, and said what had to be said. “No, Charlotte, I will not try to rescue labor slaves on planet three of M2-9. Our fleet must move quickly from star to star, in a series of Hit-and-Run attacks on Anarchate installations. They are the true enemy. But I will leave a ComRemote in orbit advising the Spelidon people to free their labor slaves and give them a free trip to their homeworld if demanded. I will show a vid image of the way we vaporized the slaver asteroid as a suggestion that the same could befall them if they do not release the labor slaves.”
“Oh.” Matt turned in his Interlock Pit chair and looked across the flexmetal floor of the Bridge to where his sister reclined in her accel-couch. Her red hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. Her cheeks showed a touch of pale pink makeup from Eliana’s stash. And her thoughtful look fixed on him. “But you won’t return here, will you?”
“No.” To his right his Mom and Eliana turned to watch him and Charlotte. “I cannot do the predictable. I cannot be seen on other human colony worlds.” He hoped his sister understood what it meant to lead a war campaign, versus acting like a small-time conspirator. “And I have to trust that our agitprop vidcasts on the galactic tachnet have gotten people of all species thinking about how corrupt the Anarchate and its officials really are. And how they work hand in pincer with genome harvesters to harm new colony worlds. While ignoring the planetary damage caused by the galactic conglomerates, like what Halicene tried to do on Eliana’s world.”
Anarchate Vigilante (Vigilante Series 4) Page 20