Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Reprisal

  Birthright:

  Battle for the Confederation

  Reprisal

  Ryan Krauter

  Copyright © 2011 by Ryan Krauter

  Cover art by Ryan Krauter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Novels by Ryan Krauter

  (hyperlinks)

  Birthright Series:

  Invasion

  Reprisal

  Crusade

  Turmoil

  The Out of Nowhere Series: (Young Adult)

  Out of Nowhere

  Shadow of Doubt

  The Fixer

  My Own Prison (short story)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Appendix

  Chapter 1

  Garrett Drayven walked into the bar and was greeted by the crowds of the midday lunch rush. The bar, called The Night Out, was fairly popular with the locals in this part of town, which was essentially a suburb of Callidor’s capital city, Harkor. Mostly working class, the neighborhood’s demographic was primarily industrial and interstellar shipping related, and the buildings tended towards plain, functional, and a bit run down. Not the sort of place a high end realtor and relocation specialist might have clients, but it wasn’t incomprehensible, either.

  Garrett was a human male in his early thirties, clean shaven, with closely trimmed hair, and wearing somewhat expensive Callidorian business casual wear. He was around six feet tall, with an athletic build, and prided himself on being able to stand out or blend in just about anywhere, whichever he preferred to do.

  The bar itself, like the city around it, was in a state of mild disrepair. Painted a plain earth tone like the other buildings along the heavily traveled street, the inside was larger than one would think from seeing the exterior, with a large bar along the left side as one entered. To the far right were raised booths for semi private dining, and in the middle of the room were round tables, currently filled with lunch customers, that folded in half and sunk into the floor for the evening when crowds got larger and dancing was the primary reason for being there. Along the back wall was the typical arrangement of bar games, from arcade style video games to various table games that would suit most anyone who was looking for a diversion of that sort.

  But Garrett knew that. He’d been here a few times before, knew the building, its’ layout, exits, and almost the entire staff.

  Garrett Drayven was in the real estate and corporate relocation business, and had offices on several worlds including Callidor, Delos, Talar, Toral, and a few others. It wasn’t a huge company, but he made a respectable living off it. He only had employees in two of his offices- on Delos and Talar, but he also had condos and vehicles on each planet with an office. He owned his own ship, too, and flew it himself because he preferred to not depend on others.

  The relocation professional in him would never have picked a place like this. But that was because being a relocation specialist was just what he used to give himself a cover for his real job.

  Garrett was a Fixer. It was a generic term, applied to a wide range of abilities. In general, he fixed problems for people. It involved information gathering, smuggling, espionage, research, money laundering, introductions with other parties and professions, even weapons brokering for the right customers. The profession had wide boundaries, and some fixers were known to hire out as assassins, bounty hunters, and worse. But he had some limits, and tended towards specialties that would have less chance of getting him arrested or killed in rapid fashion.

  Since he had to travel a great deal in his line of work, he had started the real estate company for use as a legitimate cover to explain all the travel, and if he timed things right he could even make time for both businesses on most of his trips.

  Today he was meeting a new contact, a local woman who apparently wanted to hire out some information gathering expertise. He had checked her out thoroughly, as he did with all of his potential clients. She had been referred to him by one of his cutouts, a person who did the initial meet and a basic background check. She had a pretty solid ID, which showed she had lived in Harkor for two years, having moved there from Delos. She worked as a low level data entry specialist in one of the large, faceless companies that dominated the skyline of the capital city. For all intents and purposes, she was a normal, uninspired person with nothing that would turn any heads, other than her obvious good looks. That’s what made him interested- her ID was too clean, too ordinary to be true. If someone was trying to blend in, her information and documents were exactly what he himself would produce. It was too tempting to pass up, so he had arranged the meet.

  When doing Fixer work, he preferred to meet in crowded, anonymous places. College campuses, strip clubs, bars and cafes, anywhere that there were lots of people who weren’t interested in paying too much attention to those around them, and wished the same in return.

  He walked into the bar a few steps, out of the way of traffic going through the door, and took a couple moments to let his eyes adjust to the lower lighting inside. Seated at one of the booths along the right wall was the woman he was here to meet. She made eye contact and inclined her head a bit, then went back to concentrating on her sandwich, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully.

  Garrett walked to the booth and took a seat, making himself comfortable. Taking off his lightweight jacket, he spent a second arranging it neatly next to him on the seat. Having accomplished that, he slid back in the booth until his back was straight up against the seatback. He didn’t do this for good posture; he did it because in doing so he could feel the small heft of the compact blaster in the concealed carry rig in the back waistband of his pants. You could never be too careful, of course, and habit of making sure he could feel the blaster was an old one.

  In contrast to a typical business meeting, they didn’t stand up and shake hands, carry on extensive introductions, or the like.

  “Mr. Drayven. Thank you for coming,” the woman started. Her picture didn’t do her justice, Garrett thought. She had hazel eyes, brunette hair that hung just past her shoulders, and an air that said she was very comfortable doing this sort of thing. Her clothes, typical for a fashionable younger woman, were well suited to her flattering figure, but not too flashy that she’d stand out.

  “Ms. Kira Malix, I presume,” Garrett started.

  “You presume correctly. Would you like something to eat or drink?”

  “I’ll just stick with water, thank you.”

  Kira nodded and touched a few buttons on the edge of the table facing the bar proper, and a short while later a server appeared with a glass of the requested beverage.

  “At least this meet won’t cost me a fortune, Mr. Drayven,” she said it with a smirk, and Garrett couldn’t help but smile in return.

  “Can I ask you, do you stand on Callidorian custom regarding business meetings of this nature?”

  “That depends,” he replied. “I can spend the afternoon here doing a traditional meet and greet, talking about the weather, our families, and the like, not talking any business at all because it would be rude to discuss such things with a total stranger. Or, we coul
d get right down to it and see if I can help you with your request.” He was being wordy, but he also wanted to show Ms. Malix that he knew the local customs, and by extension knew his craft.

  “I’ll take what’s behind door number two, thank you.” She seemed relieved, and Garrett felt the same. Callidorian custom dictated a lengthy ‘getting to know you’ meeting before business was dealt with. It was cumbersome to someone in his field, because you could often spend an entire day accomplishing nothing of real value, other than to get the promise of another meeting soon.

  “So I’ll get right to it, then. I have some information I’ve acquired. I need to get it off-planet, but what with the Primans and their total communications blackout, that’s going to be hard for me to do. Frankly, all I need you to do is deliver a small bit of data to a dead drop on just about any planet you do business on, other than Callidor, of course.”

  So that was it. It made sense, of course. Six months ago, the Primans had occupied Callidor. It had taken almost four months for them to secure communications, but they had finally locked it all down. Nothing got in or out of the planet now unless the Primans approved it, whether it was communications or people themselves. Transmissions were limited mainly to Priman military traffic, and anyone who had tried had learned that you couldn’t piggyback data on their signals. As for actual living people, the Primans had secured that entry point, as well, though they were still allowing people to come and go from the planet in a gesture of goodwill. To get dirtside, a traveler needed to dock at one of Callidor’s moons- no private ships were allowed through to the surface. There, the passengers were screened through traditional scanners as well as DNA profiling. Nothing more than a carry-on was allowed, and once through screening, they were allowed to board a conscripted passenger liner for the short trip to one of Callidor’s spaceports. The return trip was just the same- screened both ways, the model of tight security. If Kira couldn’t get off planet to deliver this data herself, she must be other than a passing interest to the Primans and the Callidorian security that was being forced into their service. While prosthetics and some chemicals could get people past a cursory security screen, DNA profiling couldn’t be spoofed under tight scrutiny. Which meant Kira was more than just a data thief.

  She appeared to notice him come to this deduction, as she put down her sandwich and waited for him to speak.

  “So you can’t get this out yourself, you say.”

  “Come on, Garrett, you know better than to ask me too much. You figure I can’t get past security myself. You’re probably intrigued by my ID being so squeaky clean. You must assume Kira is of course not my name, so I’ll tell you. It’s Halley. No need for the last name, of course, but it’s something, isn’t it?”

  She seemed so reasonable and in control, he couldn’t help but want to hear more. He had heard and done a lot in his day, and had run across professionals like himself before. Not the flashy, holovid sort of secret agents people identified with, but the real deal. Calm, quiet, and low key. She struck him as the real deal.

  “Someone with that much reason to avoid security probably has a bounty on them, as well. There might be more money in it for me to collect that than to get your data off-planet.” He threw that out to see how she’d react.

  “You won’t do that, Mr. Drayven. It’s not your style. To my knowledge, you’ve never turned in a client, prospective or otherwise. You’ve refused to do business with them, but never turned one in. It’s one of your codes of honor, I believe. Other than the fact that it’s good for business that people know you’ll always hear them out, you want people to trust you, even though you don’t really trust most people back. Take me, for instance. You’ve had me followed for two weeks now, rotating through three different people- two human women and a male Drisk. You’ve pulled all sorts of data, but again, you get nothing other than the fact that I’m a wonderful, ordinary, dull, law abiding citizen. I’ve watched you, as well. Not in a creepy stalker sort of way, don’t worry.” She smiled again, and despite everything he instantly believed her. “I needed someone to do this, and of course you’re not the only Fixer on the planet. I like your style and clientele, and I hope we can do business. Maybe you can find a house for me on Delos when this is all over, as well.”

  Despite her reassuring words, he began to get a little nervous. It was not discomfiting that she had done her homework- frankly he was impressed that she was careful enough to do the research. She definitely had the drop on him, however. He took a sip of his water, using the distraction to quickly eyeball the exits. No goons or security waiting, at least.

  “You don’t have to worry, Mr. Drayven. You can leave that blaster in your back holstered, as well. I’m not with security or a Priman sympathizer, just someone who knows something, and I need to share that little tidbit with others.”

  Garrett thought for a while. Well, she came up clean, and if this was a sting, he’d have been in stuncuffs by now.

  “How do you plan to get the data past screening? You know they scan for electronic media.”

  “No problem,” she replied. “It’s on this.” She produced a small but powerful flashlight, the kind you could tuck in your pocket. “The batteries work, but they’re also a form of bio-organic storage. It won’t show up on any scans. All I need to know is where you’re going next, and I can tell you where to drop it off. A simple dead drop, no problems for you. I just watch the local news feeds for a particular classified ad to tell me if my message was received, and then our deal is completed. Easy money.”

  “Wait a second,” he countered evenly. “That kind of technology is not only hideously expensive, but it’s also tightly controlled. Which makes you government, military, or maybe some kind of merc.”

  “Or maybe I work for an employer with really deep pockets. Who knows? Would you like to see my business card? It says ‘Halley, Jack of All Trades. Specializing in corporate espionage, starting riots, and life insurance’.” She looked him straight in the eye and finally adopted a dead serious tone. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t, I was just curious how you’d react.” Garrett only thought for another second, then made up his mind. “Alright, it’s a deal. I’m headed to Talar next. You can imagine my office on Delos is somewhat inaccessible at the moment. Will that planet work?”

  “Yes. There’s a small gym near your office there, called Fit26. You know it?”

  He simply nodded, not surprised anymore by the fact that she was ready for his answer.

  “Go to the attendant at the front desk; it doesn’t matter who’s working. Tell them you found that flashlight in a locker by the zero G aerobics room. They’ll take it from you. That’s it.” She smiled reassuringly again.

  “You know a lot about me. That might tend to scare off some people.”

  “But not you, I presume? I’m telling you all this to let you know that, even though I have some pretty good resources here, I still need your help. I’m hoping that builds a little bit of trust between us. I do need your services, and I hope we can do business again.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow, so this should make it there the day after. The fee will be ten thousand, five now and five upon confirmation. I have a Galactic Bank account number you can deposit the funds into.”

  Halley was prepared for him to ask for more, and ten thousand felt like a bargain. She slid a credit chip across the table, which he palmed in one smooth motion and then held on the table while waiting for her explanation.

  “There’s fifteen on there. Frankly I thought you’d ask for more. Keep the change. Can I consider that a good faith deposit on another meet sometime?”

  She was smooth, he gave her that. She would either be an easy client to work with, or bring down some sort of horrible trouble on him for merely being associated with her. Oh well, either way was fun and profitable.

  “I assume you can find out how to contact me,” he said with a wry grin.

  “No problem. Will you be back soon
?”

  “Probably a week or so.”

  “Great. I’m going to finish lunch here. Care for anything? Last chance. My treat, of course.”

  “No thanks. I have some realty work to do. Need to keep up appearances, of course, even though you apparently already know everything there is to know about me.”

  “Nice meeting you, Mr. Drayven.” Halley concluded the meeting with a smile.

  Garrett got up and walked to the bar, where he stayed for a few minutes while appearing to watch the shows on the monitors hanging from the ceiling there. In reality, Halley knew, he was taking the time to check the exits and look for people who were watching him. Whether he was concerned about being followed by her, the Primans, or any other party, it was good tradecraft. She felt reassured that she had been right in choosing him.

  She in fact had selected him from a half dozen Fixers available for contact. Other than good references, business practices, and an even temperament, she had chosen him because she felt that she could eventually convince him to actively help out Confed in their efforts against the Primans. She had a feeling that, while he played neutral in galactic matters like anyone in his trade should, he might be willing to be more active when it came to helping toss out some folks that were trying to conquer the whole galaxy.

  She took another bite of her sandwich, and analyzed the meet. She had been honest about her being unable to leave the planet. She had tested her nanites’ abilities to mask her profile by walking past enough random checkpoints that she was sure a cursory scan didn’t flag her presence. But the DNA profiling that Priman security pulled to leave the planet would be almost impossible to defeat, stranding her here; she had to assume that her data from her brief imprisonment here six months ago was part of every watch list on the planet.