Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Reprisal Read online

  On Avenger, all was quiet. Captain Elco roamed the bridge, stepping down from the main platform to the navigation area, then down again into the port side walkway to stretch his legs a bit. Repairs were the order of the day, with crews still working around the clock to catch up with the damage they had left port with.

  “Captain Elco,” said the communications tech from the sensor area up at the rear of the bridge.

  Elco turned and walked back to the railing, looking up at the Drisk Ensign who was standing near the Captains’ chair with a datapad in hand. “What is it, Ensign?”

  “There’s a communication from the Presidential Committee, Senator Dennix presiding. It’s marked Immediate.”

  Elco nodded and walked back up to his chair, retrieving the pad from the crewwoman. He set the pad on his worktable, data transferring automatically to his communications queue there. He tapped the surface and opened the message. He was pretty sure he briefly lost consciousness when he started reading it, but managed to not react visibly, lest the crew see how he was affected.

  It was a directive from the Presidential Committee alright, commanding the Confederation Navy to integrate all available Enkarran assets into the fleet. The Enkarrans were officially allies of the Confederation now, and since the Ninth Fleet was decidedly low on combat ready hulls, there were five Enkarran warships slated to join them in orbit around Delos before their next deployment.

  He was, in fact, speechless. Tabling the Enkarran issue while Confed fought the Primans was one thing, but inviting the Enkarrans into their home as it were was insane. These people helped the enemy blast their way through the Confederation, and now that they had been left hung out to dry, they suddenly wanted to make peace with Confed? Elco could only imagine how this would pan out in the fleet, and made a note to tell the comm techs to leave that bit out of any databursts they might have to send out towards Loren and his people. Loren could do without that news until they were off Callidor.

  “We need to break into what?” exclaimed Loren in amazement.

  “The most heavily defended and secret Priman military location on Callidor,” Halley replied calmly. “I’ve spent two weeks chasing data all around the planet and into the outer reaches of this system, and I’m convinced the weapon we’re looking for is in the complex I have targeted. We need to get in to manually verify the DNA weapon is there. Data only flows in, not out, so there’s no way to check except the old fashioned way. We break in, smash a few things, and take what we need on the way out.”

  “No chance of just bombarding it from orbit?” Cory asked.

  “Not until we know for sure. But after that, yes, I requested Torino for just that purpose.”

  “I assume this will be more difficult than just wearing a clever disguise?” asked Loren.

  “Actually, you’re on the right track. What I need is just one, real, verified, legitimate ID package. From that, I can use some hardware here to cook up valid IDs for all of us, but I need the legit code first. I’ve been watching the place, and I have a plan.”

  It didn’t take her long to outline the operation. The research lab was located in part of a large military/civilian complex outside of the city. Local scientists and security (some willing, some not so much) were working on the civilian side of the ex-Callidorian military base. Located within that complex was a smaller Priman area of several new buildings. If they could gain access to the civilian side, they’d have access to the Priman areas at the heart of the complex.

  “I can get the ID from the man I’ve picked, but I’ll need Garrett’s help in securing equipment and arranging our escape.”

  “You’re going to go after this guy alone?” Web asked.

  “No reason I can’t handle that, is there?” she asked innocently.

  “Well, I figure as long as you asked us here for backup, one of us might as well go with you. We really don’t have anything else on our schedules, after all.” Without giving her a chance to speak out either way, Web pressed on. “So, who’s our target?”

  Halley gave Web points for persistence, so relented with no further argument. “Private security contractor, one of the willing few who gladly guards the base for the Primans. We’re going to surprise him at his home late tomorrow night, grab his ID and make new ones, and head right to the lab after that.

  “Which means tomorrow we need to get us equipped for the mission, place some escape vehicles, and find a way to get off-planet so your pickup can grab us from orbit before the Primans get us.”

  “Can this Garrett character get us a ship?” asked Cory.

  “The problem is we need one in place before the operation, because our escape route needs to be set in stone,” Halley explained to Cory. “That means stealing something is not very desirable, since we don’t want the local police stopping us before we make our break. So I am going to use up the last of my stash here and send you and Merritt out to buy a short range private ship. Tell them you’re about to be newlyweds and just need a ship with a Class II hyperdrive. That will give us enough boost to clear the planet fast, and even make a microjump out-system if we have to. And yes, I’ve been watching the registrations; it’s sort of a custom on this part of Callidor for a newly married couple to take off on a trip to see something new together, so you’ll blend right in. I have fake IDs ready for you now.” Halley had walked over to her desk and retrieved several items- a small datapad, communications tab, and credit stick for each of them, already bearing their faces and fake IDs.

  “Should I be alarmed that you somehow obtained my Confed service file picture?” Merritt asked, holding up the data pad and showing her the photo on his long term travel documents.

  “I only use my powers for good, so you have nothing to fear,” she smiled in return.

  The hours passed quickly, with Halley making a call to Garrett and arranging for him to come over later that evening. In the meanwhile, everyone had something to attend to, which led to Halley and Web out in her small garage space equipping her hovercar for their op the next evening. She handed him a Confed issue HMR-12 assault rifle to stash in the backseat.

  “Don’t tell me you bought that at the local grocery market,” Web began with a concerned look. There weren’t any Confed personnel on Callidor, so where did she get it?

  “Actually, I was making a deal for some weapons when the seller offered me two of these. High grade Confed weapons turning up on the black market concerns me, especially since their ID chips were removed allowing anyone to fire them, not just DNA profiled Confed troops. It concerned me enough that I arranged for him to be arrested the next day during another of his buys.”

  “Hopefully he doesn’t enjoy the prison system here.”

  She handed him the other rifle, which he also placed in the backseat. When he first started loading the hovercar, he had noted two hidden knives plus switches for what must have been some sort of booby-trap, and Halley had confirmed with a grin that the thing was rigged to explode in spectacular fashion if stolen.

  “So, what does a girl on an unofficial cover bent on destroying the Primans do in a city like Harkor for fun?” Web asked by way of conversation.

  “Not much, I’m afraid. The holovids all lead people to believe we lead glamorous lives, eating in posh restaurants, living the high life while we mingle with the upper crust. It’s pretty far from the truth, to be honest. Most of my contacts here are scumbags, I have to stay away from anything popular or overly successful since I don’t want to turn up on any surveillance systems. I eat bad food out of greasy diners or freeze dried packages from the market. The dating scene here is pretty barren, too.” She grinned, trying to egg Web on a bit.

  “So tomorrow will be the closest thing you’ve had to a date in a while, you’re saying? I’m honored.” He bowed theatrically. “I will endeavor to make the night special.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it a date, exactly,” she said as she dropped a set of night vision/infrared glasses in the car for Web’s use. “Being in comb
at together is not the ideal place to have a deep and soul-baring conversation.”

  She noticed the look on his face, almost laughed at the tortured look there. She knew what he was wondering. “And no, I haven’t really been on a date with Mr. Drayven, either. It’s just business.”

  “Excellent idea. I highly suggest you continue to treat him as a business contact and nothing more.”

  “So, Web,” Halley said, covering up the load in the backseat with a pile of dirty laundry and leaning against the car next to him, “what is it you would like to know about me? Apparently you volunteered to sneak through enemy lines into certain peril to be here. We have a few minutes.”

  Web already knew what he wanted to ask, had known for months. “How did you get into this? A SAR operative, life of danger, that sort of thing. I suppose I could ask your favorite cuisine, but I think your reason for being here would tell me more about you. Besides, like you said, I have willingly risked my life for our date tomorrow. If I have to take out some security guard to do it, that’s a price I’ll pay.”

  “Right to the heart of the matter, eh? It’s still not really a date, by the way,” Halley added as a disclaimer. “Well, I can appreciate the direct approach. Mother was in the service, Father in Defense, so I was exposed to it at an early age. I was pretty girly growing up, but after I got a degree and started working I realized I was bored with it. I was a software engineer, and I just had the epiphany one day that, while my life was successful, I wasn’t happy with it. I wasn’t ever really accomplishing or creating anything; I wanted to be able to look back years later and see that I did something important, made a difference, maybe made myself real useful and helped someone. After that, each day was just something to tolerate as I plowed through the weeks.

  “One day, I met an old friend who was in the service, and he told me all about the SAR troops. Not the special detached duty I’m doing now, of course, but the standard Special Forces routine. I realized that’s what I wanted to do. So I quit my job, told the recruiter I was going to be a SAR trooper, and signed up. And here we are, in a dingy garage on Callidor about to go take some things from some bad people. I’m happy with my career.” She paused thoughtfully for a second, as if remembering something, then looked back over at Web. “Ghorm shellfish, by the way. My favorite food. How about you?”

  “My favorite too!” replied Web. He noted her doubtful look. “Seriously! My dad loved the stuff, mom hated it, so he’d make it just for the two of us on special occasions. Anyhow, my family was very stable, which meant very boring. Smallish town on a colony planet-turned mainstream, life was finally getting interesting as I was finishing school, what with the increasing traffic from the rerouted spacelanes and all. But I always ended up going back to my small hometown. Every time I went out, whether across the planet or to the next system, I never felt like I was going to get out and be my own person. Then I found Confed. Just by signing your name with them, you could go from bored, listless kid to fighter pilot, Marine, explorer, anything. I couldn’t resist- it was a way to make my own life and get into something that kept my interest.”

  “Well, I think we will be able to keep you interested during the next couple of days here, Mr. Exeter.”

  As promised, Garrett arrived about an hour later with a duffel bag of gear Halley had requested. As he lugged it through the front door of Halley’s apartment, Loren was struck by how dragging the big bag made him stick out.

  “Do you always transport gear in such an open way?” asked Loren.

  “You’d be surprised how easy it is. Here of course, since there’s no real crime in the neighborhood, people don’t give it a second glance. I do have a secret, though, that I’ll share with you free of charge.” Everyone except Web leaned in to listen. “When I’m moving gear into someplace public like a hotel room or some sort of conference, I play on their perceptions. I use a disguise I call ‘The Stressed Out Dad’. I load up a luggage cart with bags, then toss in some kids’ toys and a pink suitcase. People assume I’m some stressed out father carting his family’s stuff around, and people either ignore me completely or actually make an effort to help me get into their facilities. It works wonders. I keep the explosives in the pink suitcase, by the way.”

  “Ever been caught?” asked Web.

  “I’ve been noticed, never caught.”

  “I have to ask,” Web continued, “how do you become a Fixer? Not like there’s some accredited school for it, is there?”

  “Not really. It’s all about who you know. And even then, it’s tough to get started, since the first rule you learn is not to trust anybody. Not that I’m antisocial or anything, but look around you. Most of the masses are ignorant, impolite, and would sell you under if it benefitted them. I can trust me, and that’s enough.”

  “Not us?” Web asked innocently.

  “In a manner. I trust Halley, and I trust her credits and her code that she will honor her contracts, one caveat of which is to not turn on me. The rest of you, I’m not sure yet.”

  Halley, hoping to defrost the icy tone the conversation could take, pressed on. “So tell us how you got into the business.”

  “You realize I must be somewhat vague with my information so it doesn’t get turned against me, but here it is. I had a job while going to a large university; I worked for a friend, who asked me to run errands for him. Turns out he was involved in some less legitimate business, but I realized I liked having people depend on me and wasn’t as concerned with the business as well as I was with how well I did my job. After a while, people remembered me, and eventually I was approached to do some work independently of my friend’s business. Now, because I’m the honest sort, I did it with his permission and he even got his cut. After a while, I think he realized I might be a problem to him, because he tried to kill me.

  “Now, I wasn’t naïve about what I was doing, but I figured if you played by the industry’s rules, others would, too. I also figured you don’t get second chances in this line of work, and I’d been paranoid from the beginning, keeping several hideouts and some resources independent of my former employer. So, I ran him out of business, took over the contracts, and vowed to always be honorable, but above all, be the boss.”

  “That’s beautiful,” commented Web after a few moments of silence. “How’d you get him to close up shop?”

  “Another time. That part of my life gets to remain a mystery to all of you.”

  The next day passed quickly. Merritt and Cory acquired the group’s ship, Loren ran a final weapons check, and Halley and Web had scouted the residence of one Oren Noth, a human who worked for the security firm contracted to guard the non-Priman portion of the base.

  That evening found Halley, Loren, Web, and Garrett in one of Halley’s cargo carrying hovervans. They were parked just down the block from the home of Mr. Noth. Halley and Loren were up front discussing the plan, since Loren and Garrett would stay in the hovervan ready for a quick extraction and getaway. Web and Garrett sat in silence in the cargo area, having long since satisfied themselves that their own gear was ready.

  “So,” started Garrett slowly, “do you and Halley have something going I should know about?”

  “I guess I’m not sure yet,” replied Web cautiously. “What with that pesky war and all, we haven’t had much time together. But yeah, we’ll see.” He eyed Garrett. “Is that a problem you and I are going to have?”

  “You’re direct, I’ll give you that, Mr. Exeter.” Garrett leaned back all the way into his chair, letting out his breath while studying Web. “Shouldn’t be a problem, though. Besides, you’re all leaving together when this is over anyway. I get to stay here and try to make a living without getting caught in the crossfire between you and the Primans.”

  “Or the authorities.”

  “To a point. I’m still not sure if you don’t like me because of what you perceive I do for a living, or because you’re defending your territory around Halley. I will tell you that what I do isn’t all that horrib
le. I don’t go around killing people, burning down homes, destroying families or anything like that.”

  “I just like to keep things more black and white; you seem to live in a world of grays, where most things can be justified if you try hard enough.”

  “Interesting perspective. How about we agree to at least get along for now? We’re professionals, at least, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I can live with that.”

  They all waited in the hovercar, still parked just down the skybridge from Oren’s apartment. It was a nice neighborhood filled with low-rise apartments and condominiums, a few trendy restaurants, and the typical little shops that popped up in middle class neighborhoods.

  There were very few elevated roads in the area, the layout having been designed to stay at ground level, unlike the more densely populated worlds where things tended to be more crammed into smaller surface areas and rose upwards instead of outwards. It was an example of why Callidor had a P/T rating of 5 on the Population/Technology scale. Across the galaxy, very few standards existed which were universally recognized, but the P/T scale was one of them. It was a measure of how developed and populated a planet or region was. A 1 on the scale meant it was a start-up or colony, where people tended to live in dwellings constructed of natural materials, rode beasts of burden, and probably banged rocks together for entertainment. A rating of 7, the top of the scale, was reserved for densely populated and technologically advanced planets, such as Delos or Toral, Loren’s homeworld. Technology was at its’ peak and readily available, and the population was very large. Most populated planets fell into the 4 to 6 range, and the rating system made for better classification of a system’s prosperity and importance.

  Callidor was firmly in the 5 category, and in a generation its’ increasing population would probably move it into the 6 category. Still, for now, it struck what most people saw as a perfect balance of technology, population, and administration. Being an independent world had most likely benefitted the planet when the Primans took over, since they were worried less about an uprising or an attempt to retake it by Confed or the Talarans.