Randolph Lalonde - Spinward Fringe Broadcast 08 - Renegades (7 page)

“Wait!” the agent
called after him. “I’ll put an eight million galactic currency
bounty out on him and target mainstream nets near his projected
destinations. That’s the best I can do.”

Jake stopped and turned
towards the agent. “Maybe I should wait until they assign me your
superior?”

“It’s not a matter
of how much pull I have with the Agency, it’s how much of our
operating budget you and your crew will be eating up.”

“We’re worth it,”
Jake said. “Wheeler’s a hard target, put ten million on his head
and maybe you’ll motivate the real hunters to go after him. People
who would stand a chance against me if I were the target.” The
thought of hunters who wouldn’t work for less than ten million on a
target pursuing Wheeler was more than amusing, it was thrilling.
Hunters like that made Jake nervous, and he was happy the Order of
Eden was no longer offering a bounty on him. There was always a
chance that they’d increase it to over ten million, then Jake would
be facing the most effective hunters in the universe, people who made
him look like an ill-equipped amateur.

“All right, ten
million, and we’ll advertise on the most popular nets from here to
the core along his projected travel routes. I’ll also put the word
out on the secondary nets, the Stellarnet and such.”

“Good. What’s this
favour?” Jake asked.

“Thank you, Captain
Valent,” Donner said with a sigh. “There’s a Regent Galactic
Governor that’s been causing a great deal of concern for us. He’s
reaching further and further out from his solar system using
subcontracted transport and militia companies. We’ve even found a
few nano-probes aboard supply ships coming into our forward posts
collecting data, which suggests he already has an agent collecting
that data.”

“Governor Tate,”
Jake said. He was the Governor of the Codis Solar System and
supervisor of a large portion of the Iron Head Sector and interests
near the Rega Gain System. “I haven’t run into him before, but
from the information we’re gathering, I know the day is coming.”

“We’d like that day
to come sooner rather than later. We want you to put the fear into
people looking to work with, or sign up with the Order of Eden. He’s
recruiting faster than anyone we’re aware of, and quickly rising in
the Order of Eden ranks, as far as we can tell. If someone doesn’t
slow his recruitment efforts, we’ll have an army millions of souls
deep by the time the British go to war, and the first confrontation
could be our last. Our parliamentary membership are too distant from
the war to appreciate how devastating Order supremacy would be in
this area. If our first engagement incurs too many casualties,
they’ll lose their nerve. Ideally, we need you to inspire new
recruits in the Order to abandon their posts.”

“Put us on the
record,” Jake said. “If I’m going to pick a fight with this
Governor, I want the British Alliance’s endorsement.”

“I saw this coming,”
Agent Donner said with a little chuckle. “You finish this trade
today and we’ll give you full license to act as a privateer for the
British Alliance. Just a little bonus I negotiated for on your
behalf.”

“Today,” Jake said,
pondering. “You have the credits with you?”

“No, but I can have
them delivered to the Triton today. Our people are standing by in the
Rega Gain System.”

Jake thought of the
grief Kipley was causing his crew. The main reason why he allowed
several members to serve aboard the Triton instead of the Warlord was
because of the morale deficit that man caused just by being aboard.
The only reason why they kept him close was to pump him for
information, and Jake was fairly sure they’d wrung him dry. “How
large is the British Alliance’s share going to be in this license?”

“Fear is what we
want, Jacob,” Donner said, “People are still paying their way
into the Order of Eden, even though they have dropped the cash
requirement to sign up. Their new recruits are giving away their
worldly possessions for the most minor privileges in the organization
and extra training. We need people to see that joining the Order of
Eden in this sector is a death sentence, a death sentence that the
Warlord carries out. We don’t care about a share of what you take
as long as you don’t trade slaves on the black market or start spy
hunting in the British Alliance ranks.”

“So, we sell our
captured materials to anyone and the British Alliance doesn’t want
a share?” Jake asked, it wasn’t something governments did unless
they were desperate.

“Exactly. The British
Alliance doesn’t want to profit from the work we’re asking you to
do.”

“I’m only going to
warn you once, Donner. If you want fear on that scale I’ll need
your support when one of the British Alliance’s allies accuse me of
going too far. You’re asking for blood and terror,” Jake said.

“You’ll have our
support. This isn’t my request, it comes from someone well over my
head. We only have to finish our deal today, and you can start
ripping a piece out of the Order.”

“I can deliver Jack
Kipley in five minutes.”

“What?” Agent
Donner said, visibly startled. “You’ve actually kept him nearby?”

Jake pointed down the
alley to the broad entrance of Alt-Mecca across the street. “He’ll
be coming through those doors any second.”

“We can have a
retrieval team here in less than a minute,” Agent Donner said. “You
transmit your intelligence files to me and allow us to take your
living proof and we’ll have thirty five million galactic credits in
the hands of your representative aboard the Triton before the day is
out. We can honour the rest of our deal when you arrive in the Rega
Gain System.”

“You’ll transmit
our privateering license today.”

“Yes,” Agent Donner
said. “Absolutely.”

“Then we have a
deal,” Jake said. He watched as Jack Kipley stormed from the doors
of the entertainment complex with Minh-Chu not far behind. With a
thought, Jake overrode the controls to Kipley’s suit and ordered it
to restrain the crewman. With a startled wail, Kipley fell over.

“He’s all yours,”
Jake said.

* * *

To Minh-Chu’s
surprise, Kipley’s light vacsuit armour stiffened, snapped the
man’s arms to his sides and clasped his legs together. He watched
in amused silence as the man cursed and toppled over. “This isn’t
funny! I was kidding before, but now I’m really going to kill you!”
Kipley shouted.

“I didn’t do it,”
Minh-Chu said as he pulled Kipley’s sidearm out of its holster. He
moved on to his left arm to unlock the man’s command and control
unit. “You know, if you had better people skills, maybe Jake
wouldn’t have sold you.”

“What? What the hell
are you talking about?”

Minh-Chu pocketed
Kipley’s command and control unit and moved on to the survival kit
attached to his left thigh. “You just couldn’t help but talk
about Wheeler, and everything you saw aboard those Order of Eden
ships. Helps that you downloaded everything you could from those
computers too, it really helped us round out the intelligence package
we’re selling today.”

“What the hell are
you talking about?”

“You never caught
on,” Minh-Chu said, kneeling down so Kipley could see him from
where his face was half pressed in the mud. “Frost and I piss you
off, wind you up, and you go cry on someone’s shoulder, like
Stephanie, or Kadri, or whoever else was in on it. Ever notice that
so many of those conversations turned towards things you saw while
you were with Wheeler?”

“I didn’t tell
anyone nothin’ about nothin’, man!” Kipley protested.

“Doesn’t matter
now,” Minh-Chu said, standing up as he saw the lights of descending
combat shuttles. The crowd that was starting to gather began taking
steps backwards.

“All high-and-mighty,
with your old wisecracks, and you’re just a goddamned slaver!”
Kipley shouted. He breathed in enough water from the puddle forming
around his face to send him into a coughing fit.

“Here’s one for
you,” Minh-Chu said, standing up and taking a step back. “‘If
you can wish all your enemies well, you may someday only have
friends.’ I don’t know if that’s true, but good luck just in
case. I hope you find all the happiness you deserve.” Minh-Chu
found it impossible to suppress a grin as he watched a half dozen
armoured British Alliance soldiers drop from the shuttles, attach a
harness to Kipley’s stiffened form and disappear with him into the
belly of the combat shuttle in a quick, orderly fashion.

A Disturbance In The Council Chambers

“Commander Ayan,
Military Liason and Chief of Haven Shore Structural Development,”
the automated record keeper announced to the council members as she
entered their modest chambers. Ayan glanced at the silver lettering
over the doorway just as she passed under it.

FOR COMMON SAFETY, WELL
BEING, AND HAPPINESS, it said. It was a goal that was proving more
difficult to adhere to than Ayan could have ever imagined. Lacey
Rosendale was right behind her. The automated system announced her
entire title as well, “Lieutenant Lacey Rosendale, Aide to the
Military Liason and Chief of Haven Shore Structural Development.”
Ayan could almost hear the woman sneer at the announcement. Lacey
hated all the time the automated announcer wasted by spouting her
over-long title as she entered the room.

Liam Grady stood at one
end of the ten person conference table in his old fashioned cotton
blue robes. The red belt at his waist bore impressions from Earth,
the Triton, and Haven Shore. Along the sides of the tables stood
Victor Davis in a grey Haven Shore security vacsuit, Iloona Murlen,
her big brown eyes conveying worry from under caramel and black
furred brow, and Cory Greene didn’t look at her at all, the
delicate jewellery chains crossing the chest of his formal Carthan
uniform jangling as he adjusted his coat cuffs.

On the other side of
the table stood Mischa Konev in loose skirts and uneasy poise. It
looked like she had been crying. Beside her was Sunny Zinnes in his
navy blue British Fleet uniform, a sensible garment that was much
like Freeground’s vacsuits, but with a discernable pant and closed
jacket. He was watching without being intrusive, and his assistant,
Nuto Yann, an Issyrian who lived in a slim containment suit at all
times, stood stiffly behind him. It was impossible to find out what
he was feeling without asking directly, but his presence was always
made known by the gentle sounds of his gurgling suit.

As Ayan took her place
at the head of the table, a woman with long, multi-coloured hair and
bright blue eyes took a place beside Liam at the opposite end. She
was Tyra Kim, Liam Grady’s immediate underling in for the position
of South Haven Shore Representative. “Glad you could fit us into
you busy schedule, Commander,” she said.

“Careful, or you’ll
drool venom all over the table,” Lacey muttered under her breath.
Iloona squeezed her eyes shut as if to hold a chuckle in. The British
Alliance observer, Sunny, looked at Lacey briefly, raising an eyebrow
in comment on her inappropriateness.

Ayan was preparing to
ask what they had been summoned for in her most passive tone when
Liam Grady spoke up. “Early this morning, I was approached by a
concerned constituent who had heard a rumour that I’ll be leaving
Haven Shore and the Rega Gain System.” Tyra stared at Ayan, her
lips pressed into a white line, brows furrowed and jaw flexing as
Liam spoke. Liam pressed on. “This is true. I was quietly making
preparations, getting my office in order so succession could be
seamless, but someone must have discovered my intentions early. My
plan was to depart a few days after the vote and leave a good interim
public servant in my place.”

“If you leave, our
connection to Earth, though scant, will be gone entirely,” said the
Carthan Observer, Cory Greene. “I don’t approve, and we will not
permit it.”

Ayan failed to catch a
rueful laugh before it escaped from between her lips. She managed to
cut it short but not before it had drawn everyone’s attention. The
whole situation was so ridiculous that laughter had somehow become
the only sane response. Thanks to a few malcontents, Ayan had been
virtually hoisted up as the enemy to Liam Grady after they drifted
apart and broke things off romantically. It was true that she wanted
little to do with him, but she respected his philosophy, education,
and engineering prowess. He was also very well liked by Haven Shore
civilians, and people like Tyra, with her accusing eyes, led the
anti-Ayan brigade with irrational vigour, no matter how Liam tried to
temper her efforts. Cory Greene, the Carthan Representative, who had
inspired her laughter, was an irritant, but he made it obvious that
he didn’t like her either. His largest problem was that he didn’t
find much evidence that she was qualified to be the Military Liason.
He refused to acknowledge that she carried memories of a predecessor
with command and diplomatic training. She didn’t let him or the
Carthans get anything from Haven Shore that they didn’t earn, and
they were constantly trying to renegotiate for more than they
deserved. It didn’t help that she found his observer post laughable
in the first place.

“Did I say something
funny?” asked Cory Greene, slowly turning towards Ayan.

“You’re an observer
here,” Ayan said. “Please keep your comments to yourself.”

“They’re not
comments,” Cory Greene insisted. “The Carthan Government is still
the primary holder of power in the space around Tamber and-“ he
stopped, wide eyed as he watched Ayan slowly raise her finger and
place it across her lips, in a shushing gesture.

Victor Davis and the
British Alliance Observer, Sunny Zinnes, were both doing their best
to suppress grins at Cory Greene’s silent outrage.

“I want to be the
first to say that Haven Shore needs strong leadership,” Ayan said,
ignoring Tyra, who rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “You’ve been
there for your constituents, Liam, and you’ve been good on the
council. Is there anything we can do to convince you to remain here?”
Ayan felt as though she was lying by putting on a brave face and
asking him to stay, when it was against her every instinct. It was
the right political manoeuvre, however, and he was good for Haven
Shore.