Renegade Patriot

by Oscar Andrews

  A strange place for someone who could once have been a Peacekeeper to end up. Raj-Henry had been through the Federation Peacekeeping Academy but had left government service for the private sector. The money was better in the private sector of course, but Raj-Henry had done it less for money than for a chance at power. DeMarques considered this mentality a useful attribute and had been assisting his career ever since.

  But Raj-Henry still bothered him. DeMarques sighed. “Are you worried, Raj?”

  “Yes, my lord. Of course. But the prize is worth the risk.”

  With his lilting Indian accent and his little smile, Raj put DeMarques in mind of some imperial counsellor at the Mughal court back when T3 was still called Earth. The man would be better suited to the back corridors of the Federation Council than to the operations room of a working spaceship. Especially one on a mission like this.

  But it was time to focus. DeMarques knew that Neffy Klingerman, the Federation Peacekeeper in this situation, had seen the device plans. If Klingerman knew about the device’s potential, then he was certainly a liability and would have to be dealt with.

  “And the negotiator? Where is he now?”

  Raj-Henry shrugged. “According to our man in the field, he’s on the Troy, negotiating his way right into our crosshairs.”

  DeMarques smiled, pleased with how the situation was unfolding. “Talk about being able to kill three birds with one stone!”

  His father had often told him that grand strategy was just like chess – the player who thought the most moves ahead would always win. Masterminding complex strategies was the family art, passed down from father to son for generations. When the Puppet Master warned him not to underestimate Neffy Klingerman, DeMarques had initially dismissed the warning. Now he decided to take it more seriously. It was better to account for all the variables.

  Raj-Henry walked across the operations room and peered into a holoscreen that showed the surface of New Atlantia. “Two heat signatures should appear on the surface any minute now. Hold on, I’ve got a holo message.”

  He checked his message, then looked over at DeMarques.

  “Our man on the ground wants to know what to do with Klingerman once the packages are secured. Is he still to terminate him?”

  DeMarques thought about it. If Klingerman was dead he could hardly expose them, but Klingerman alive might be still more valuable. It was better to put off a final decision until they had their cargo.

  He leaned back in his luxury chair and folded both hands behind his head. “No. Not yet.”

  Raj-Henry looked anxious, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he answered. “My lord…things might get messy. Down there on the surface would be the perfect opportunity…”

  “Are you questioning my orders, Raj?”

  “No, my lord.” Raj-Henry turned back to his console with a muttered curse at his own stupidity and sent the reply to their man in the field: Commander Brad Cramer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The desert of New Atlantia was an ocean of sand-dunes, almost garish under the reddish light. Neffy and Brad were wearing their suits, which didn’t make it any easier to put one foot in front of the other through the heavy sand. The air was technically breathable but far too dry. It would take another century of terraforming to get enough water into the atmosphere for comfortable breathing, and unlike a few of the richer planets they were in no position to mine their system for ice.

  Neffy paused to rest for a moment. The wind kicked up, blowing a spray of red dust across his field of vision. “I can’t say I’m a fan of the desert here. How much further?”

  Brad pointed out across the nearest dune, which still loomed up above them in the strange twilight glow of New Atlantia. “Just over that dune.”

  Brad tried to check his holo to read an incoming message but seemed to be unable to see it clearly because of the dust. Neffy waited until he gave up, then the two of them trudged up the last of the dunes together.

  Something moved up ahead of them. Neffy stopped and squinted, trying to see what it was. “I think that’s the ground team.”

  Brad slipped his weapon from his shoulder and powered it up, a macho gesture of combat readiness that made Neffy smile. You were right about that one, Fred. Fits a military profile.

  The men up ahead of them came into view, clothed in the same unstylish pink and yellow desert camouflage Neffy and Brad were wearing – standard issue for a red star system like this one. Someone waved them over and Brad started walking forward again. “I guess it’s the good guys.”

  The men of the Federation ground team were lying in wait behind boulders and sand banks, about 200 meters away from a bunker-like concrete building with no windows. The metal doors of this grim structure looked battered and scarred, the result of countless desert sandstorms. The officer in charge of the breach came over to them and saluted. “I’m Captain Dunham. I understand one of you is a Federation Peacekeeper?”

  Neffy gulped. Captain Dunham’s dusty red hair and piercingly blue eyes made him a dead ringer for Mr. Fuson, Neffy’s frighteningly strict teacher back in second grade. The resemblance was so uncanny it took him a moment to respond, and Captain Dunham gave him a funny look.

  “I’m Captain Klingerman, the Peacekeeper. This is Commander Cramer. We’re mainly here to observe and process the aftermath, but we’re also armed. We can help if you need it.”

  Captain Dunham took this in, knowing that a Peacekeeper was not a combat soldier. He turned to Brad, perhaps hoping at least one of the two was a real soldier. “We could use some cover fire just in case.”

  Brad nodded. “Happy to. I have some sniper experience.”

  Dunham was pleased to hear this. “Yeah, okay! We have one guy up on that ridge already, but more is better. Can you find a likely spot?”

  “Will do.”

  Captain Dunham went over the assault plans with Brad – their own numbers and positions, all known entrances and exits, expected number of hostiles, and so on. Neffy was only half attentive to the military planning aspect. As a Peacekeeper he was not expected to be in the front ranks when they went into combat. Instead Captain Dunham asked him to hold back behind the second wave and wait for the signal.

  Considering how tired he was after slogging through the sand dunes, Neffy had no issues with this at all. Although he had insisted on coming down here, it wasn’t because he had any strange urge to be shot at. He just wanted to be the first person to get near the device before anyone accidentally set it off.

  Brad picked out an effective sniper position and got into place, and Neffy crouched down in the sand some distance behind. The men in the ground team were reviewing the blueprints for the outpost, pointing at different rooms on the diagram as they discussed their plans. Captain Dunham walked over.

  Neffy gestured at the men with the blueprints. “Figuring out how to get in?”

  “Oh, we know how we’ll get in. We have a battering ram we can use for that. The building was only designed to resist a sandstorm, not an armed assault. Say, listen Captain. I just wanted to remind you not to move until I give the signal. Okay?”

  “Have you been talking about me with Commander Grace?”

  It seemed like everyone knew about his impulsive reputation. Captain Dunham didn’t answer him, forcing Neffy to acknowledge the request. “Of course, Captain. I’ll hold back until you call me over. I’m only here because I’ve seen the device schematics, and I’m in a better position than anyone else to make sure it doesn’t get activated – as long as I’m the first one to examine it.”

  “Okay then. Hold onto your hat. If you’ve never seen combat before, this might be kind of intense.”

  He waved his hand, and the first assault team ran forward with the ram. They slammed into the door once, then twice. A slot opened in one of the other doors and a bright beam shot out, just missing Captain Dunham and several others. Someone in the bunker had a laser. Brad’s weapon blazed, and Neffy caught a glimpse of head and arm
as the shooter fell.

  That person just died. Neffy had never seen anything like that up close before. Whoever that was, whatever had brought them here, their life was over. Neffy’s heart started beating faster, and his breathing became ragged. He had to fight to control himself, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do his job if he had one of his blackouts.

  The ram was working. The door to the bunker hung off its hinges, and the soldiers were slamming it again and again. As the door collapsed, someone pushed it hard from behind and knocked the soldiers sprawling along with their battering ram. New Atlantian warriors poured through the doorway, firing wildly in every direction.

  They didn’t last long. Whatever the fighting skills of the New Atlantian warrior, the situation was stacked against them. The Federation ground team was in position, and the New Atlantians had no cover and no chance to pick their targets. They just ran out shooting, and every member of the ground team opened up on them all at once. Two soldiers from the Troy went down, but the six New Atlantian warriors were virtually plastered to the wall by gunfire. A few seconds later, the fight was over.

  Captain Dunham waved them forward, and the men ran up for the final assault. From his sniper position, Brad kept the second doorway covered in case anyone inside decided to pick up the laser weapon. The team went in, and the sounds of battle were replaced by the near-silence of wind blowing across the sand dunes.

  Neffy breathed out slowly and shook his head. He noticed his hand was shaking. This was all a new experience. Captain Dunham had it wrong. Neffy had actually been in combat before – but not like this. His past experience of battle had been ship-to-ship combat, a clinical affair that never felt quite real unless you took a hit. The closest he had come to something like this was the occasional potshot in his direction when negotiations went bad.

  The scene he had just experienced had no humanity. The people in the bunker had been trapped and desperate. They came out shooting because they wanted to live, but they’d been killed almost instantly. They never had a chance. And that was exactly the way it was supposed to be. No honor, no glory – just survival. Neffy knew better than to judge it, but he didn’t like it.

  Captain Dunham finally gave the all-clear signal. The outpost was secured, meaning that all hostiles were dead or captured and all weapons deactivated. It was time for the Peacekeeper to do his job. Neffy stood up from the sand dune and shook the red dust from his body, willing himself to get his head clear.

  Brad waited until he passed and then followed behind him. They went in through the broken door. The cool air inside the outpost struck Neffy’s face, a welcome relief from the desert sun. He noticed a flash of green in a soldier’s eyes and realized the Federation soldiers all had implanted laser sights to ensure they would never miss a shot.

  He felt strangely embarrassed, as if his own lack of implanted laser targeting was the main thing that marked him out as different from these soldiers. Brad stepped up beside him, and Neffy was pleased to see no glint of green. At least he wasn’t the only odd man out.

  They moved through the outpost, a sparsely furnished and grim little place with no family pictures or other personal touches. The warriors occupying this structure must not have expected to be here for long – and they were right about that. Bodies lay sprawled here and there with their weapons in their hands.

  On the concrete floor, four New Atlantian women sat with restraints on their wrists. Captain Dunham stood over them, and two members of the ground team kept their weapons trained on the women. The prisoners were tall – at least a foot taller than any member of the Federation landing team.

  Neffy was back in his element. He walked over to the captain. “Looks like you’re making friends.”

  “I am. These ladies were just about to tell us where the device is, so we can get on with saving the world.”

  The women glared, but despair was plain on their faces despite their bravado. All their friends had just been killed, and the killing had not even been much of a challenge for the Federation team. There was nothing the New Atlantians could do.

  He wanted to question them himself, knowing that they would probably be more reluctant to talk to the soldiers they had just been fighting. But how could he get control of the interrogation?

  Captain Dunham gave him an opening. “So far they’re not saying anything. I’m not sure they understand what we’re saying.”

  They understood perfectly well, and Neffy knew that. New Atlantian warriors were taught International. But there was no reason to reveal that fact too quickly. “They may not speak International very well. I can handle the initial questioning if you want. I’m familiar with the New Atlantian dialect.”

  Captain Dunham slung his weapon over his shoulder. “Okay, Captain Klingerman. But don’t take too long. We need to find this device of yours as quickly as possible.”

  Captain Dunham went to join his team, and Neffy crouched down in front of the women. He scanned their faces, looking for any sign of potential weakness. They all looked fierce, but not everyone is capable of holding up under pressure.

  Although they all glared back at him like proper warriors, he knew that one of them must secretly be close to cracking. Of course, she would want to conceal this from her enemies, but even more so from her New Atlantian comrades. He zeroed in on a woman with brown eyes and black hair whose facial expression didn’t seem to quite match her ferocious glare. A thought flickered through his mind before he could suppress it - this would be so much easier with Ally here.

  There it was – the micro-expression for fear, a cultural universal among all humans regardless of home-world. Academy training had come through for him again. Neffy stared directly into the woman’s eyes, his own expression blank and neutral. He held her gaze, a universal expression of dominance. She opened her mouth, and one of the other women turned and glared at her. Her eyes suddenly darted back and forth, trapped between fear of the soldiers and fear of her fellow warriors.

  Neffy leaned in. “Where is the device?”

  She broke, and the self-loathing she felt in that moment was plain on her face. “I don’t know where the device is now!”

  Neffy knew he had her. “Where it is now? What do you mean?”

  “Some men in dark clothing came and took it away.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “During the attack. They came in an armored car. There’s an underground access tunnel for bringing in large items. They must have…they must have broken in through there.”

  Neffy cursed beneath his breath. All that planning, and the ground team missed this? “Who were they?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Which way did they go? Land or air?”

  “I don’t know! I didn’t see much. Everyone was shooting at each other!”

  One of the other women made a disgusted sound, clearly unimpressed with this performance. It didn’t matter. The only important thing now was to catch up with that armored car.

  Neffy stood up and flicked open his holo, opening a connection with Commander Grace. Her face appeared on the holoscreen, though she looked a little surprised and perhaps displeased.

  “Captain Klingerman? I was expecting to hear from Captain Dunham. Is the outpost secured?”

  “We don’t have time to worry about protocol. The device isn’t here. I need you to check for anything that left the building in the last fifteen minutes.”

  The Commander was visibly irritated. Chain of command was important in the military, and Neffy was neither the highest ranked officer present nor the officer in charge of this particular mission.

  She let it go. “We’re checking that now, but I need to know casualty figures.”

  Captain Dunham leaned over Neffy’s shoulder. “Three wounded, one KIA. About fifteen New Atlantian warriors plus four prisoners. Not all the bogies were killed by us. There was a third team in play.”

  “Acknowledged, Captain.” Grace turned and spoke with someone off-screen, then turned b
ack to face them again. “A car was seen leaving the building during the firefight, but then vanished shortly after takeoff.”

  Neffy punched his leg in frustration. “They have the device.”

  Grace frowned. “That’s unfortunate. I’ll have my people check it out, but they probably have cloaking capabilities. Keep working from your end and keep us posted.”

  Grace signed off.

  Brad had suddenly lost his cheerful attitude. “This is not good. Not good at all.”

  Neffy didn’t have time for obvious pronouncements. “Get these women into separate rooms. I don’t want them talking with each other.”

  The soldiers complied, treating Neffy as the officer he was despite the fact that he was not their own.

  Dunham didn’t seem to mind. “The standard script? Offer each of them a deal to flip on the others?”

  He was offering to resume responsibility for the interrogation. Neffy nodded. “I’m going to go check out the getaway scene. They must have had an access tunnel that wasn’t in the blueprints.”

  Captain Dunham pointed. “It’s down that corridor. We found it too late to do anything about it.”

  As he went down the corridor with Brad behind him, Neffy pondered the turn of events. The men who took the device away had a cloaking device, an expensive piece of tech by any measure. That meant they were well-financed – too well-financed to be just anybody. And to know the device was here they must have someone on the inside working with them. Either one of the Feds was a traitor or one of the Atlantians.

  The underground access tunnel stretched out into the darkness, with a square of red light just visible in the distance. The car was gone, and following this tunnel into the desert would tell him nothing.

  Time to message Fred.

  NEFFY: No time to chat, I need a list of all Federation personnel who were operational when we found out the device was on the surface. Also, a list of everyone who works at the Federation building on New Atlantia.