by Sharon Lee
"After they routed an enemy on Liad, using their own battleships, Scout ships, and local forces led by Korval’s own leaders. Surely they are not without strength, and resource, this Korval."
Ochin paused, head cocked as if listening, then went on...
"This does seem a potential reason for Liaden revenge against Korval."
He paused, gained surety.
"I think, too, that the High Command must know, if even I do, that the Clutch are allies of Korval. Did you not know that Korval’s very headquarters building from Liad was delivered, in one piece, building and infamous tree, by a Clutch vessel cut from an asteroid?"
He paused, listened to silence yet again, went on.
"The Clutch have weapons no one can stand against. Troop lore tells us of ships of monstrous size appearing at will inside defense rings and absorbing the energy of the strongest beams, and of an invasion where songs sung by five Clutch soldiers brought down walls and destroyed weapons held by Troops. It is said that if a Clutch begins to sing it is safest to throw your weapon far away before it blows up in your hands. "
Ochin turned, looked meaningfully at Vepal.
"The Troop knows, mouth to mouth across the years, that Temp Headquarters itself, within a ring of five defensive moons, could not prevent the landing of a dozen Clutch vessels at Prime Base itself."
Vepal blanched. So much for security and the secrets of command!
Ochin plowed ahead.
"Will the High Command forget this?" He looked them straightly in the eyes then, a man secure in this thoughts.
"For that matter, there are mercenaries here, who fought ... for Korval. A man I spoke to, a Life Sergeant of the Lyr Cats, talked of being on the world called Surebleak when the Tree came down out of space in a rock bigger than Surebleak’s biggest city, to be installed at the top of a hill defending the city. So, Command probably knows."
Ochin laughed gently.
"It would be madness to take on this fight, unless it was all for one last shout of honor. We cannot be that desperate, the Troop. Our High Command should not listen to such an offer, for sake of history. Nor should any. I have read many of the melant’i plays and seen cites of the history behind them. Attack a world where Korval is the line of command and is backed by mercs in place and has these Clutch as allies? Only if the plan is to sing Honor’s Song while being destroyed. That I believe, but this is not my decision."
Then a sigh and he continued more quietly.
"In the plays, there is this: what some might call revenge the Liadens call Balance, and this sounds to me like an attempt at that – why not make the mercenaries who fought for Korval fight against them? Why not have the Scouts who fought for Korval destroyed fighting mercenaries. Why not weaken all of them, this Surebleak, this Korval ... so that those sitting on Liad can laugh and sweep up what is left without damage to themselves?
"In the most important Liaden plays – friends would fight friends and allies fight allies, all to illustrate proper behavior. And here? If the High Command could be drawn in and the Clutch destroy Temp Headquarters, Liad would be victorious and without enemies."
He was quiet then, Ochin, fully delivered of his thoughts.
"Rifle? May I quote you in this summation? Or use the recording?"
Ochin glanced sharply downward, but Cheladin was without a trace of humor on her face.
"If the Ambassador permits. My thoughts are merely those of a Rifle ..."
Vepal nodded at Cheladin.
"You may quote my second in command, who is Ochin, Master Rifle."
If Ochin drew in a breath at being so named it was drowned in a distant rumble. Above, distant echoes, as if someone ran two or three decks overhead, and perhaps a very slight mumble of voices.
"Forward," said JinJee, which meant of up, of course, with Ochin in the lead. "Quietly!"
CHAPTER NINE
Inago was a well-run station, smelling far less of plastics and paints than most; nonetheless as they climbed the stairs there was a slightly pungent odor. Ochin in the lead was first to see its source, which was a small man working at the door of the next slide hatch, one landing up, crouching. There was at least one other there, hand in sleeve all that showed.
Ochin held back and Cheladin was beside him, taking in the same sight. She nodded and ghosted downward.
Ochin thought if he had been doing careful work on a sealed door and caught sight of a man with open blade approaching stealthily he might take pause, or take alarm. Best not to have either.
The knife then went away.
Cheladin returned, nodding and whispering ... "Make just a little noise, we go up!"
"Yes," he said in Terran, "I will."
With Cheladin a step behind, Ochin continued upward, allowing his boots to scuff a step, and then another, as she did the same. A turn of the steep stairs and by then there were five visible on the landing, several with guard hands close to holstered guns, the one working, now with an assistant, and another still in half shadow, all of them dressed in the uniforms favored by Perdition Enterprises.
"Hello," Cheladin said. "Can we all get through here, do you think? "
She and Ochin moved forward into the light, "We have two Commanders..."
Consternation, then a voice from the shadows: "Who is here?"
From below came the ambassador’s firm voice:
"Vepal and Sanchez, Agent ter’Menth. Have you also been caught out on the wrong side?"
"Come ahead," said the Agent, "we believe we make progress. This station administration could use some reordering, could it not?"
#
The landing was crowded now, the walls giving back the noise of work going forth on the door as well as people too close together in a small area. Vepal recognized Recruiting Agent pen'Chouka, among those gathered, as well as ter’Menth.
Introductions included only the principals; with Cheladin as an administrative officer, the others being pointed to as Rifle, tech specialist, staff. Progress had been made, after all – the specialist had a knack and certain specialized tools permitting door access, and in the end it took that and Ochin’s extra muscle to help force the thing, there being no pressure differential between the sides to speak of.
Agent ter’Menth spoke as the hatch was secured.
"Shall we find you at the Paladin’s camp, Ambassador? Do you not have another staffer, your pilot? I had left a message ... for you, a reminder, at your ship but have had no reply ..."
Vepal loomed close, straight lipped.
"Another pilot on staff, Agent? Oh, the former line pilot. I had forgotten. I will need to amend my troop listing with you, for I am my own pilot now."
Agent ter'Menth's eyes went wide, but she recovered quickly.
"Do you say so? Has he been stolen away by one of the units we’ve signed here, then?"
"His location is of no moment, Agent. He is no longer of my unit."
Uncharacteristically, grim emotion played across her face before that expression went bland – or decisive – and the querying voice gave way to an artificially light tone.
"Well then, we may all – no, let us speak privately. The others may move forward. If we step this way for a moment ..."
The Agent bent close to the specialist, who was gathering tools, She spoke rapidly in quiet Liaden and then to the other agent, waving at them peremptorily as if shooing them on, then in Trade saying, "Walk together so that you may explain to any of the station personnel ..."
"Please, Commander Sanchez, excuse us for this moment – we shall catch up with you shortly."
JinJee looked unhappy at this, but nodded, with Cheladin staying well back.
"Commander Vepal," Ochin began stridently, but Vepal signed for silence as the Agent gave another round of rapid instruction in Liaden to her minions.
"Commander!"
Vepal turned on Ochin, then.
"Master Rifle, you have your orders. We shall be along shortly!"
Vepal and 'ter Menth both l
eaned somewhat in the direction of the hall when motion caught Vepal’s eye.
The agent may also have seen the motion; her shoulder rose, her left arm reached, her mouth tensed as if she was going to say something, but all stopped at once as the motion was followed by the distinctive cough of three pellet gun shots, and the rustle of the agent, ear bloody and throat glistening red, falling lifeless to the floor.
By the time Vepal finished his turn two other Liadens were dead, the others thrown to the floor and held under threat of weapons.
Ochin’s face was grimly pale as he spoke to Vepal in the quiet aftermath, breathy with rage.
"Sir, she’d commanded our execution and promised yours. I have protected the combined command, sir, as ordered."
Breathing was the only sound for a moment, and then the air system picked up a notch.
"We are defended, as ordered," Cheladin remarked, pulling the comm to her face. "I will report this to the station, immediately."
#
Cheladin brought tea from the dispenser for Vepal; he stood by JinJee, taking comfort from her presence. They had called the station for assistance and assistance had arrived.
Ochin was under arrest. The others were witnesses or material witnesses, and possibly uncharged co-conspirators, but at the moment they were all locked in together while the stationmaster and her staff "checked the records" to decide what to do.
For Ochin, wearing the silly restraints insisted upon by the station staff, she brought a foamed double hotchoc. Ochin being seated at the table before a view screen, she sat next to him, and said, "Have you found it?"
"Exactly as I told them. Act three, scene three, Of dea’Feen’s Necessity, by pel’Gorda."
"Show me."
He awkwardly touched the control, and – a little too loudly by the way JinJee shrank at the rapid Liaden dialog – the action continued.
Surely Cheladin knew Liaden, but the Rifle translated along with the recording, "So take them down the hall, and kill them quickly around the corner, while I take the treacherous one this way, and he will know his throat is cut."
Vepal winced, JinJee grimaced, Cheladin blew out a deep breath.
"She said that?"
"Yes, she was being amused, it seemed to me, to rush us all to death using a famous line from a most famous play. I could not ignore such an obvious threat! My orders ..."
"Oh, jeez!"
That was Cheladin, watching as the play continued – "Bloodthirsty bunch, were they?"
Ochin turned the sound down on the video play, finally.
"Balance was involved. Revenge, you see, revenge with malice and ..." he fought languages for a moment "... perhaps expert cunning. More than that, cunning with prideful cruelty. I’ve known someone like that, but he is gone."
Cheladin turned to them, JinJee and Vepal together.
"What do you think?"
JinJee shrugged, looked toward Vepal, came to the table.
"I’ve seen people like that myself, but this is frightening as much as enlightening. If this is an example of Balance done properly I’m not in favor of being involved with any of it."
"I would be pleased not to deal with these people," said Vepal, with sudden energy, coming to the table and nearly back-handing the screen. "Not the ones who want this."
He turned to JinJee, earnest.
"These people – Perdition and those who foment such things – they deserve enemies who are strong and who are forceful and who are ...aware that there are bounds of action. That is what The Troop was meant to insure, that cruelty would not win every time. That’s why we were born and came through from the old universe to found Temp Headquarters."
Into the pause came noise from the hall outside, likely another escort to take the prisoner somewhere else. There’d been a holding cell, there’d been another holding cell, a division of the Liaden survivors from the mercs, and then there’d been a hearing in front of a tired woman with three tired confederates asking the same questions . . .
And there’d been experts who spoken to the remaining Liadens. Things had taken longer than they ought to have, what with the station dealing with a hurried exodus of dozens of ships, with the several near riots when some who’d signed the NDAs discovered that there was no kill-fee for the operation crashing without warning, that Perdition Enterprises had no more behind it than the willful conniving of a failing scheme throwing the last of their money at an operation meant to justify centuries of sabotage, intrigue, and deception.
Ochin touched the controls, freezing the screen on the image of a satisfied man sipping on tea, victorious. Two handed, Ochin raised the cup of hotchoc and sipped.
The door slid open, with a low sound of a crowd waiting outside. A woman walked in, closing the door, waving a card and wand.
She approached the only one wearing restraints.
"You’re Ochin? The man who made the speech we’re all hearing?"
He stood.
"That’s Master Rifle Ochin, of Vepal’s Small Troop?"
"Yes," he said. "Master Rifle Ochin. I understand I have been quoted."
"Yes, you have. Which one is Vepal?"
The Ambassador stood tall then, and came forward.
"You, sir, are to take charge of Master Rifle Ochin during the remainder of his visit to this station . You’ve got one station day to arrange . . ."
She stopped, took a crumbled sheet of hard copy from her pocket...
"Here it is. You’ve got one station day to arrange your necessities and get on your way. Master Rifle Ochin has the same. Stationmaster says you, Master Rifle Ochin, aren’t to brandish, threaten, or be involved in any fighting. We’ll deliver your weapons to ship side when you're on the way out."
"Other than that, all of you are free to go. Stationmaster and the security committee have reviewed camera and sound recordings of the incident where the deceased ordered her crew to illegally force open the door and then ordered them to kill your group, one and all – the Liaden was quite clear that this was meant to be carried out immediately, by stealth, and without provocation from your side."
The woman looked at her hard copy again, and saluted Ochin Master Rifle.
"You sir, are exonerated of any charges of murder, manslaughter, or wrongful death in this situation as you were acting in self defense as well as under orders to protect command. If the future returns you to Inago Prime you will be welcomed. Thank you for helping preserve peace on this station."
Apparently she’d run out of things to crib from hard copy notes, so she tucked the page away and smiled at the group.
"You are all free to go, if you can get past the folks waiting to thank Mr. Ochin. We’ll give you a couple minutes to see if some of them will go away, or you can go out the back door, if you like."
Vepal looked to JinJee –
"One station day!"
As the messenger left they could hear the shout of honor from the waiting Paladins: "Ochin, Ochin, Ochin, Vepal, Ochin, Ochin, Ochin, Vepal!"
Ochin looked down at the restraints still wrapped around his wrists, took a deep breath, and with a sharp motion pulled them apart, leaving his arms free to move, and wristlets dangling.
"We can go now, Commander," Ochin said firmly. "I am ready."
CHAPTER TEN
They’d left through the front door, giving Master Rifle Ochin an opportunity to be celebrated by those wise enough not to blame the unmasking of a scheme with the failure of the scheme’s promises to be true.
Not all of those interested in Ochin were waiting to congratulate him on his release for doing proper duty. Some, already plotters, were willing to plot again, or at least to blame.
Those people, hoodwinked as much by their failure to perform due diligence as by the deceased, were still at the bar and certain that they’d been sold out of the richest pay credits of their lives by a know-nothing newbie with too fast a gun hand.
The stationmaster pointed out there were no more accessible funds in Perdition accounts held o
n station. The two associated Perdition ships, locked tight as they were, were being held for inspection by a Scout and a Merc technical team still to be assembled – and thus not available to be auctioned off for any of the debt, real or imagined, that those who’d signed the NDA claimed. In other words, no recourse.
While the bars were going straight cash or backed credit only the headaches got worse as the braver – or more foolhardy – of the former Perdition allies shared what they’d agreed to, discovering over and over again that they’d contracted to accept the same thing – shares of a planetary treasury, for example, where the shares added up to multiple hundreds of percents . . . .
For his part Vepal was pleased enough to let Ochin take credit for what was, after all, the accident of their meeting ter’Menth’s crew. He could but salute the purity of the Rifle’s understanding of his orders.
Still, still he might need to talk to Ochin, who’d felt the need to apologize to him, twice, for shooting without warning, for – Well there, the battlefield had come upon them unbidden if not entirely unexpected, and Ochin, long away from an active front, had fallen back on his Rifle’s training to take the most important target first. It had shaken Vepal, in the end, to discover his lapse and see the result, and now keeping Ochin ... he would talk to him.
Of their day’s grace before leaving, the first hour was spent returning to the Paladin’s bivouac, the way made more difficult by the churning in the hall of the several corps rushing for their ships before station’s demand for payment and even back-payment became burdensome.
Chelly left them, her people and the station’s – backed with the addition of a contingent of Paladin specialists – taking full command of the rapid dispersal of the unemployed mercs to points elsewhere. Chelly having gone in the interim from Lieutenant Cheladin to Lieutenant Commander Cheladin of Admin, she'd personally overseen the of removal Vinkleer's crew along with the implements they'd meant to use to take over the station once the expeditionary forces had gone. Altogether, ter'Menth's ambitions had been immense!
Vepal and JinJee sat side-by-side at a hasty snack thrown together to honor Ochin; the pair smiling on the troops and quaffing careful amounts of beer while reports flowed in on the progress of the station’s shedding of Perdition’s effects. JinJee wisely pointed out to the Master Rifle that among the mercs was a tradition of drinking a hero into such drunkenness that might not be to the best interest of Ochin’s head, nor the needs of safety. Ochin, accustomed to the ambassador's gentle hand with his crew, took that suggestion seriously, carefully losing track of his beers after a sip or two so that many of the Paladins might happily recall giving the hero yet another cup.