Chapter 10

Never So Few
Chapter 10 Draft (12-12-08)

The display stuttered, lost a few frames, then settled down. More and more stars filled in the edges while the automatic systems hunted for planetary bodies and a more exact fix. A pale line led from the jump point to Alkes. It was the off tangent component of the Africa’s trajectory that needed firming. Twenty seconds from the time they reentered normal space and Alkes-3, the Colonists new home was identified.

Captain John Bradford gave a sigh of relief; he had made a hundred jumps, and this same one on three separate occasions. Still, the slight jolt to the nervous system accompanying each was getting harder and harder for him to handle. He vowed for ground duty upon return to Earth as he watched and double checked the navigation data, that and the command program the comp was sending to his console, while waiting for his authorization before killing the current vector and setting the new course.

It looked like a fist-sized chunk of stone. It looked like any one of hundreds and thousands of similar rocks, many larger, most smaller, normal to all known systems. This particular rock detected the Africa as soon as she exited the jump point and flashed a cross system signal to a relay station, another larger rock, and thence to Chulmu itself. The signals officer receiving forward the feed at once to military headquarters where Heplar Sinktaw composed orders for immediate action then went to see the Decision Master.

“Kuimur Heplar Henita—Pledge obedience, then may you enter.” A first order relation, Heplar was awarded the patronymic of Kuimur, by all inside the Warren; outside it was only his siblings who had that privilege.

“I obey my father in all things large and small,” was his ritual response as he unbent his arms and relaxed spread hands. “Conduct me at once to his presence.” No further explanation was given nor was one needed. The Decision Master’s ‘Personal Security Service,’ had but one mission, to protect the life of the Decision Master.

Years of controlled breeding had produced a racial subspecies devoid of personal ambition and initiative. They were useless as front line troops but as defensive forces in familiar surroundings very formidable, but more importantly, reliable unto death. Heplar had grown up around them. He even knew this particular guard from his early life in the Warren, and even so, the guard’s eyes never left him as he traveled the short distance and went through another two checkpoints on the way to the Decision Master, his father’s chambers. The pale blue phosphorescent light radiating from the rough-hewn walls of the innermost areas of the palace were comforting after spending too much time in the glare of the Human quarters on the Ki-Tigan

“Heplar Sinktaw, you may arise and approach.”

Wasting no time Heplar placed his dagger on the table, handle towards his father, point towards himself and took a seat. “Would there were more time but most of the plan is in place. There are three ships out beyond the transit point. The Humans,” Heplar translated the term by creating a new Chulmurian word, adding a phonetic ‘Hu’ to their own word for stranger, “They did not detect the presence. They made course at once for In-3.”

“I have read with interest your reports my son. I find it hard to comprehend a race such as you describe.”

“The more I learn the more like us they become father. Like us many hundreds of generations ago but traveling a similar path. There tribes become larger and less numerous as the stronger subsume the weak. At the rate they are evolving, within a few more lifespans one tribe, likely one of the powers on their home planet, will prove triumphant. At that time their natural aggression will turn away from war for racial supremacy, and as we do deal with dynastic succession. Yet this too is something they do contend with even now on a small scale.”

“We will talk later of drives and motivation. Continue with your plan. If it meets with my approval, and to this point it does, I will grant you blanket authority to act in my name in this matter.”

This was what Heplar had been waiting for. A sure sign that his progeny were in the running when the time came to choose a new Decision Master.

“The Colony Ship Africa has sent signals to In-3 there has not been time for them to receive a response. When they find there is no reply forthcoming they have but two choices. A return and retreat to the jump point, in which case our ships though we have vastly greater firepower, lack the speed of he Humans reactionless drive and cannot be in position to stop them. The more likely scenario, a virtual certainty, is that the Humans complete their trip to In-3 and investigate.”

“And then they are ours!”

“Yes. Once in orbit that far from the jump point our ships may power up and reach positions denying them an exit from our system before the Humans can react. When they do their choices will be limited to surrender or die.”

“Why don’t they blasted answer?” Bradford scowled then ordered. “Keep us headed in but get me some hi-res pictures of the Colony site as soon as possible. Put the rest of the crew on alert but make sure this doesn’t get out to our passengers. I don’t want to waste time on distractions!”

Five hours later Bradford was puzzling over the digital scans. “What the hell happened? Bare ground and what might be freshly leveled dirt. Get us into orbit and send down a lander.” Bradford was thinking waited too long, taken one trip too many before requesting that transfer to ground duty.

The landing crew was down and the Africa on the sunward side of the planet when the three Chulmurian ships beyond the jump point broke out of power down mode and activated maximum acceleration. For another three orbits, even when the Alien transport got out of the planet’s shadow those aboard would still be unable to detect the blockade ships. Their emissions, even at lightspeed would take that much time to propagate from the jump point to the Africa.

The Ki-Tigan, with Heplar and his first order descendants Etramel and Philomel, and a sister ship, the Ki-Henita, driving inward from Chulmu, was going to show up both obvious and unexpected, hours sooner.

“Damn, Damn, Damn!” Earhardt Kimmel wondered how long the Africa had been up there. Maintaining secrecy and a desire to conserve power meant he only listened to his receiver twice a day. He clicked to transmit and spoke, “Kimmel to Africa, prepare for attack, Kimmel to Africa. Respond Africa.” He repeated the message several dozen times before even the alerted ship above filtered the static from the weak signal and locked on.

“Africa to Kimmel. What the hell happened down there?”

He was on the lander on his way up to the Africa when the two ships coming from Chulmu were detected.

“Get him aboard and blast for the jump point. We’re getting out of here.”

“Why not leave the lander behind Captain? Minutes, even seconds, might count.”

“Because if we leave Kimmel behind, with what he knows, and made it back to Earth, all of us would wish we hadn’t.”

“I will do all of the talking,” Heplar said to Etramel as he made his first transmission. “To UN Federation Ship Africa. You will power down now. We are Chulmu, this our system is ours. All your base are belong to us!”

Bradford looked at Kimmel, and a sorry sight he was, his time alone gave him a haunted look. “I see no evidence of anything but fusion drive. Do they have anything else?”

“I don’t know, we never even saw them till the base was attacked. Afterwards I had no way of even tracking them. But I saw how they attacked and killed. Don’t surrender! Then louder, hysterically, “You can’t surrender!” Kimmel was shaking and out of control.

“Get him out of here,” Bradford told the Federation Sgt of the guards. See he’s sedated.” Then to his Navigation Officer, “Mittelman, plot us a course around that ship, no closer than a five light seconds, just get us back to the transition point. Let’s be ready for evasive action if she opens fire.”

He then keyed his own mike, making sure that his frequency was a match and said, “This is Captain Bradford of the Africa, you have me at a disadvantage. To whom might I be speaking?” He could see the stars in the view ahead begin to drift as Mittelman made a slight course adjustment. The monster he could see so clearly on the comm screen would see the course change shortly after his message arrived.

“I speak with the voice of the house of Henita. You will shut down your drive or your siblings will die!” On the screen Bradford saw a picture showing some of the missing base personnel. They were in a small closed room but did not seem to be aware they were under observation. A doorway slid open and an armed, suited figure entered. “Your time is up!”

Bradford did not hear the command but saw the bolt from some type of plasma weapon light the screen and blank it for a moment. When the view readjusted the armed monster was leaving and a body was on the floor.

The picture switched back to the monster, gray of face with lidless, expressionless eyes, doing the talking. “We will repeat this each one of your hours until you halt or all of your siblings are dead.”

“What now Captain?” It was Mittelman the pilot/navigator taking, “They will see the change any moment.”

“Keep us on course for the jump point. I’m not surrendering for nothing.”

No further communications from the aliens ship except three pictures showing dead bodies, some long-range beam weapons as they passed at too long a range for a focus to hold. Even so, as they were brushed ever so briefly, some of the external antennas and sensors were destroyed. There was no way these Chulmu could keep up with them so long as they had nothing but fusion drives.

Bradford was the first to see the three ships guarding the jump point. “Damn, what now! Send for the Governor, it’s time to get him involved.”

“And you can’t get by them to enter the jump point?” The Federation High Governor caught on in a hurry Bradford thought. It had only taken a glance at the screen and a brief explanation for the situation to become obvious. Kenyeta M’Dinka was taking this rather well. That shouldn’t be a surprise; nepotism alone hadn’t earned him the slot.

“We can stay away but if we slow down enough to line up for a jump we are dead. These monsters can’t catch us but by the time a ship from Earth could arrive, even if they knew we needed military assistance. Our live support systems will have failed and we all are dead.”

“And that leaves?”

“Spacing most of the Colonists, getting a long way off and praying help arrives before a ship’s system failure we cannot deal with.”

“I see. . . Captain we will surrender. Make contact. This time I do the talking.”

* * *
“Damn Dave, there he is and five minutes early!”

“No Shit Liam and he has the case, you ready for the endgame?”

“Cripes, I might be more interested than most. I think you are right in the assumption that we have not peeled this Onion yet, we still are not sure what makes yon Yuri tick.”

“Liam truer words have never been spoke, but we have to figure him out or as the Boss said ‘Lose Him’. I am kinda leaning towards keeping him!”

“Me too Dave, and I can’t tell you why. It’s more a Feel than a Know! I just can’t explain it, something about him just feels right.”

Rachel was as efficient as always as she brought Yuri into the room, “I assume I am to shut up, go away and turn this place into a black hole, Right?”

“Why yes Rachel, that would be the drill,” Dave grinned.
Yuri was predictably nervous as he took the indicated chair, and little did he know that it was a sensor platform designed by Chris Webb and engineered by Andrew Webb. He was sitting into a chair that would literally allow Liam McMasters to peel his nervous system like the Onion he claimed.

“I am rather pleased to see you Yuri, in case you have not seen your exam results; let’s just say that Freehold wants you!” Dave could see the relief on his face as the man slumped into the chair. “In our investigation we got a search warrant and while you were in class tore your place apart. Yes we found all your telltales including the hair in the trapdoor latch. I have people with any color hair you care to name.

“All I need out of you is why the extra five sets of FG Identification papers, they were not going to do you any good here?”

“That hit him Dave,” said Liam in his ear.

Yuri was clearly uncomfortable then suddenly seemed to straighten out. “OK, worst you can do is throw me out. I told you I came out here to go back to school, I came out here because you can learn stuff you can’t on Earth anymore.

“I fully intended to get good enough that I could go back and get into Detroit Central Exchange. My cover would not last long, but long enough to fuck Redmond financially. Money and power are all that matter to him. I could at least screw half of that.”

“He’s telling the truth Dave and he’s probably good enough to do it. Damn Dave I want him!”

“Yuri, your new Boss will be here in just a moment. Here’s your new case, as promised there are four bricks. I even threw in a decent carry holster. Ah, here he is.”

As Liam walked through the door Yuri’s jaw actually dropped as he stared at what he thought was the Lord High Guru of Hackers. “So son, you want to be a combat Hacker. You will have to stand in line for Redmond though. The two best Hackers there are have first dibs on his ass and I mean in the flesh! If you pass the grade with them your ass just might be back in uniform.”

* * *
Sgt. Anthony Chiba was probably the most bored person on Kie station that day. Recently pulled from his beloved 442nd and told to go be a Colonial Ranger, he had passed with flying colors. So much so that he had been asked to volunteer for SOCOM selection. Having lived his life being known as the Redneck-Nisei, he really had no choice.

Distant son of the family’s that formed the core of the 442nd, his family had grown up in the Deep South of the old USA. Wounded in ancient WW II his distant grandfather had followed the Army Nurse he had fallen in love with, to of all places Alabama. Thus Tony spoke better Redneck than he did any smidgen of Japanese. So here he sat, sum of all those strange circumstances, guarding the hatch to Kie stations Command Deck while he waited for his SOCOM assignment to come down. He guessed there could be worst things than dieing of boredom!

Then a figure walked down the corridor from the last checkpoint, Tony was sure he was useless, the guy had been past four Police checkpoints to get here, why did they need him. It was just another Boyd Jockey in the old atmospheric flight suits that all pilots affected. Until the figure got closer and Tony could see the Hogleg on his hip that meant Officer and the freaking four Stars on his collar. Dear God, clean-shaven and hair cropped that was Chris Webb. Check that idiot; this is why you are here, as he slapped the annunciator button.

“Attention on Deck, Aero-Space Force on Deck!”

Stepping past the Sergeant, Chris bellowed, “Carry On.”

System Commander Isao Sasaki grinned in his seat as he turned to the man he knew was behind him. “Wondered how long you could stay away, don’t worry we don’t got shit yet.”

“Well Saki, somebody told me not to come back till I was ready to change roles. Do you have any data on how they got back through? What is your search status and what is your Circular Error Probable on your search to this point?”

“General, my sensor crews have run the time in question three times over and we can find nothing out of normal Point variation. We suggest that the tapes go to New Texas for further evaluation. My search CEP is down to 100,000 miles and narrowing with no hits at this time!”

Chris leaned on Isao’s Command chair and spoke very softly, “This is your place to run Saki, send the tapes to New Texas, I will be there real soon. I promised Andy 10,000 miles so we have a long way to go. I think your Hotshot is gonna make us come find him!”

“Hell Chris, if he is half as good as I think he is, he’s gonna try to beat us. If he can, it’s time to settle back and start training hard.”

“No shit Saki, if he beats us I am going to tell Andy, Hank, Walt and Rob that it’s time to freeze the designs and finish the build out. We have to do it some time and if your boy wins, can you think of a better time?”

“Not in this Century Boss!” Saki had to grin at the single digit salute he got in return.

Ten hours later Isao thumbed his microphone, “Chris, we are down to 15,000 miles CEP!”

“He’s going to have to make his move soon Isao.” Even as Chris spoke the spotting screens flared with energy signatures 11,000 miles from the target asteroid. At .5C those signatures had spent 0.002 light minutes in transit. The nadir aspect of the asteroid exploded in energy, objects at that speed did not penetrate; they transferred their energy into the impeding object in boils of hell.

The entire nadir aspect of the asteroid became a boiling cauldron of molten matter. Then the two hammers hit home. Grasers are light speed weapons, there was no trace at all from the firing ship to impact at this range. Asteroid 25,193 became space dust in an instant as the full power of the two Graser shots from ONE Boyd blew it away.

Isao turned in his seat, “Good God Chris, what have you built?”

Chris turned his tired face towards Command Central, “The hammer that will set us free Saki. Stand down the alert, I am going home. It’s time to tell the Council we built their Hammer. Now can Andy manage to man it?”

Chris turned and walked towards the hatch, He did not see the entire room stand and salute his back. Nor would he have cared at this point in time had he seen it. His promise had been kept, could the others say the same!

* * *
Riding in one of the Leatherneck Transports beat cramped Earth style shuttles, especially one designed to be a Command ship Paul thought as he lay on the bunk. Paul ached; he had been dumb enough to try to stay with Andy Webb during one of his workout sessions in the on-board gym during one of the pauses of their two-week tour of every facility in New Masada and Bolthole.

It was upon reflection, the stupidest thing he had ever done. Webb was a machine, he had to be! It wasn’t much for size but, the gym had a complete circuit training rig built in; it was a hell of a workout. Paul’s jaw had drooped when Andy started a second round. Gasping against the wall halfway through that round Paul had watched as Andy went through 3 and ½ complete rounds.

The crazy Son-of-a-Bitch was up to four. His dress had never changed at any of the site’s they hit, Jeans, Old Western shirt, boots and an old-style baseball cap with “Don’t Run, You’ll Just Die Tired” on the front. There had never been a question of who was in charge, the Sheepdog was starting to show his Half-Breed Wolves fangs. Hearing the announcement for landing, Paul groaned his way up and moved into the corridor hearing Eddie coming out of his room he turned towards him; the look on Eddies face was priceless as he stared over Paul’s shoulder.

Paul turned half-way expecting what he was going to see. Andy had changed into uniform for the landing and until they were near you and in those uniforms, you just did not remember how big and powerful the Webb boys were and Andy in the midnight Blacks of SOCOM was particularly scary.

Andy grinned at them, “Guess it’s time for me to go eat a little crow for Col. Wilkins. I sure underestimated him as Commander for the Academy.” The ramp dropped and they started down and Andy stopped halfway down and stared at the trio in front of him and started shaking minutely.

Paul was afraid he was going to see the legendary temper explode until he stepped slightly in front of Andy, who was literally biting his lips in an attempt to not bust out laughing. Paul turned and looked at the group Col Wilkins in a dress version of Cadet Greys was standing slightly in front of a man in Army Dress Blues with the stripes of a Command Sergeant Major and a second in Marine Blues with the stripes of a Chief Master Gunnery Sergeant. Andy reached the bottom of the ramp and as his foot swung for the ground the loudspeakers around the field blared, “Colonial Forces on Station!”

“Col I was just discussing having a crow sandwich. Afraid that’s going to have to be a seven course dinner. How in the world did you manage to keep these two hidden when Chris and I were scouring 16 worlds looking for them?”

“I cannot take credit for that General. After our little spat years past, I went to Rob Williams to offer my resignation because you were right. Rob just gave me that silly grin and said, ‘Now Jeff, Andy never said a word about your ability to teach, he was screaming MILITARY,’ he just happened to introduce me to a man who works for you.” The two in the rear chimed up, “Yeah Boss, Dave knew where we were. Hell he sent us!”

Andy turned to Paul, “Proving again that the Officers only think they run the show. Paul may I introduce you to Clarence J. Wilmot, Cal to his friends, soon to be the Command Sergeant Major of Colonial Ground Forces. The goofy jerk to his right is Buford T. McCaskell, Terry if you want to keep walking, soon to be the Master Chief of Aero-Space Forces. Both of who I owe an ass-kicking!”

The one called Terry spoke up, “Not when you see this graduating class Boss, who are marching into the stadium as we speak.”

As the group moved to the stadium Andy remarked to Wilkins, “You only lost half of them, that’s not bad for the standards Chris, Warrick and myself demanded. If it will make you feel any better your drops and kicks are filling the Police Forces and Fire Departments of most of the Colonies!”

Wilkins just shook his head ruefully, “Strange as it may sound the three that I had to recommend not be allowed in a uniform anywhere, are the ones that bother me. That’s a change from years back for you!”

“That it is Jeff but, of those three you made the best choice. All three of them are doing well, you did your job even if there was no way those three could meet the cut. One works for me in the Black Hole, one works for Chris out on Kie and the third one is going to make Ditmar’s more of a billionaire operation than they already are. Warrick likes to joke they were too smart to be Cannon fodder!”

They reached the platform steps as Andy grinned, “You know, I really suck at this stuff!”

As Andy walked up Paul turned to the Colonel, “Can you record this?”

“Yes I can, why?

“I just have a scary feeling, good scary, but scary none the less!”

“What do you mean Paul?”

“I think we are going to be the first people other than the Council to hear his soul. Get it on the chip!”

General Webb just approached the lectern, stood quietly, and stared out over the assembled Cadets. Then he smoothly moved away and began to speak.

“Cadets, in two hours you will assume the responsibilities of Ensigns and 2LT’s with the various arms of the Provisional Government Forces. More will change for you than just your Uniforms. You will begin to train on the actual systems that we intend to use to bring down the Federated Government of Earth. These are not the best than we think we could build, nor the deadliest we could conceive of!

“They are in fact the deadliest that we could build in the time frame we believe we have and that is crucial to our plans. The war that causes the fewest casualties on both sides is the one that is won in the least amount of time with the minimum of commitment of human lives. That was the decision that faced the legendary Harry Truman back in 1945.

“We will not unleash Nuclear Hell on Earth; they will just think we did. Understand that no Government built the weapons you are about to crew. Free Men and Women did in an effort to remain Free. And By the Grace of God they will!

“You will be asked in a much shorter time frame than we had originally envisioned to go through the Earth Transit Point and unleash Hell upon their structure, remember however they are our relatives. We do not wish to destroy them we just wish to spank the children.

“Wars are not fought between individuals, they are fought between Cultures; they have one that says the government is the End All and Be All combined with one that claims that their version of God surpasses all. We live in one that says the Individual reigns Triumphant. The three views cannot co-exist! Thus we must fight, one of the three goes down, we can argue with the political side of the FG. The Islamics we have no common point of view with. Based on this we have three named operations in the strike on Earth. Strike Nor-Am goes in against the area where most of today’s Class’s ancestors came from. Strike Eur-Asia goes in against the Chinese Hegemony, which is part and parcel of the FG, and the remaining power of what used to be the Russian Hegemony

“What is left is the Islamic Confederation with their established Religious Centers and underground weapons facilities.

“Thus Strike Masada, this is your chance to back down from that. Should you decide not to accept your Commission based on objection to that plan, you will not be punished save for one point. Your access to the Inter-World Comm net will be blocked until after D-Day.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my intent to win and win fast. We will kill as few as possible but will not flinch from the necessary damage we have to do! This shit started back on September 11, 2001 for sure. It had precursors for years before that but that was the clear divide. The old USA broke itself to remove the Confederation as a Military threat and now the FG has allowed that threat to be at the doorstep of reappearing, that will not be allowed. It stops on D-Day!

“Some of you may have heard that there is a personal aspect to this fight for Clan Webb, I will not lie to you… there is! You will not be asked to participate in that particular fight, you will be asked to settle the differences between the three Cultures.

“If they would leave us alone then this fight would not have to happen! They will not and by their very nature can not. Thus we are faced with one choice, Which Culture shall prevail, I chose the Culture of Freedom.

“Live Free or Die!”

The room exploded with noise as 200 Cadets snapped to attention and roared, “Live Free or Die!”

Paul turned to the drop jawed Jeff Wilkins, “Make sure you don’t loose that recording, it will prove why those young men and women will follow him into Hell!”

* * *
Becce Webb slumped in her chair, unlike most of her extended clan she had no problems with being out of shape. Being the lead Instructor Pilot for the whole damn Colonial Fleets both Civilian and Military in Waiting did not allow one to get out of shape.

Becce groaned at the knock at the door but relaxed when the head following it was Sally Ditmars. The other rated all aspects Instructor Pilot was not going to increase her headache. Sally was the first to speak.

“Damn Becce, you look like hell! When are you going to take some time off?”

“When this stack of paperwork goes away I am done. I fully intend to sleep until Chris gets back from Kie; I figure two weeks will be about right. If anybody needs new pilots or crew they can come talk to you!”

“Yeah right, I have had enough of a problem knocking the Military edge off my commercial pilots. I have had no problem with the FG pukes though when I tell them who their initial trainer was. A couple of weeks ago I finally got one to tell me about the legend of Becce MacKinsie. Did you really ram a Hawk class shuttle into an asteroid to deflect it?”

“Guilty of stupidity in the first degree! Damn miners put too much charge in an exploitation blast and changed the orbit; sucker was headed right for a living rock with a hospital crèche full of kids less that a month old. What the hell was I going to do?”

“Becce you idiot, there is no way an old Hawk was going to survive that kind of damage.”

“Yeah, I knew I was going to have to punch out with one of the old 30 minute survival kits. I kinda trusted my chase pilot.”

“Who the hell was that?”

“Oh, some hot shot redneck by the name of Chris Webb!”

“Chris’s call sign was Dagger? Because I know Dagger made the only deep space no stop retrieval ever done. Then you have to be Croc and that’s a whole other story!”

“Like I said Sally, guilty on all counts. You think the FG pukes backed off because of our winning smiles?”

Sally leaned back in the chair and stared Becce square in the eyes. “You did not send me your best did you?”

“Yes and no,” Becce said as her head dropped towards her lap. “Except for Chad I sent you the best one’s without that look in their eyes and Chad I take back when the shit hits the fan!”

“What look is that?”

Becce’s head came up and her eyes changed as she stared Sally back. Sally shivered slightly as she saw what she knew was called the “Look of Eagles.” Becce was a killer born and so were the one’s she had kept!

* * *
The receptionist at Government House was surprised when Andrew Webb entered. Not that he was there—he was on the appointment schedule. It was the change in the man. She was used to the overweight disheveled looking engineer in his typical rumpled blazer and slacks.

This was almost a different person. Lean, clean-shaven, close cropped hair and a three piece suit that did not come cheap. The movements which had always seemed to reflect fatigue, were sharp and controlled. The impressions she got were more suited to a big Jungle Cat.

“Good Morning Mrs. Godby, I believe the High Commissioner is expecting me?”

“He is Mr. Webb. Here is a pass card for the Executive elevator. Ms. Mugabe is expecting you and will handle notifying the Commissioner.”

As Andy entered the elevator he glance at his watch, “Ok, appointment at 10:15 and I am here at 10:10.

“Allow for the usual power games, then 10 more because it’s me. I will get in to see him around 10:45; at least his lobby chairs are comfortable.”

Precisely at 10:45 Ms. Mugabe rose and said, “The Commissioner will see you know Mr. Webb.”

Moving through the office door Andy was greeted by Jamil M’butu standing behind his desk. “Good Morning Mr. M’butu, as required by contract I am here to give you the final report and bill for the new sensor systems. As well I have the Requests for Quotation’s for extending the life and data capabilities for your new probes.”

“These prices will of course need revision. I am sure we can work something out in advance so your new requests go through just as we decide.” Jamil took his seat and offered Andy a cigar.

Andy looked hurt, they both knew it was an act but the forms must be followed. “Why these prices are so low I am ashamed of them. How can anyone ever call me a Capitalist again if these numbers leak?”

“And how would it look if I pass on this without negotiating some additional concessions and additions. My father would recall me and the current administrator of New Texas would truly be in charge. Let us haggle a bit. We will come to agreement in time.”

“Be that as it may Mr. M’butu. Every time we change the contract I give up profit and you give up smiles. And maybe the odd cigar or two. Here are the RFQ’s. We can extend the life of your probes by three full E-days and triple their data storage. Ditmar’s can increase your steerage fuel efficiency by over 200%. Do you really want this stuff or not?”

“We want everything we can get. But do we need to buy as much as you need to sell? I think Webb Industries is overextended, though why you have chosen to do this and at this time is a mystery. I doubt if others even see it that way. To the Federation what you propose is hardly a line item in a vastly larger budget. Yet even so small a pill is swallowed best with some lubrication.”

“Lubrication you say!”

The audience seemingly over Andy reached into his briefcase and came out with a flat bottle and two small glasses. “If you have the time Jamil, care to go back to when it was Deputy Superintendent M’Butu and CPT. Webb. Ya know, back when we were both hunting some Bastards who desperately deserved killing.”

“Those days are over Mr. Webb! And even then you knew the nature of our relative positions. You have done well for yourself, this I admit, but are things really that much different now that you would care to challenge me?”

“Of course they are different, and this is the farthest thing from a challenge. We were never friends but once upon a time we were on the same side. What I have to say is as hard from my point of view as anything I have ever needed to talk about. Not a challenge to your authority, but maybe the only way you retain it. Ten minutes and one drink for those old days. There is no other way to discuss what I need to discuss here.”

M’butu sat silent and still, his face a mask, then held out his hand, “Tell me, what could be that important Andy?”

Pouring a double shot into each of the glasses and handing one to M’Butu, he tipped his in salute. “Jamil who in the Islamic Federation hates you or your Father enough to put a contract out on you here? Terms are that you be dead or disgraced enough to be dead in your Fathers eyes. In precise terms it had to be done out here in the Colonies.

“Do they want you, your Father or an edge out into the Colonies? Hank pulled me into this thinking it might be a false flag operation by Redmond, assuming that I could smell Redmond from 50 Light-Years. Any thoughts Jamil?”

“The Islamics? You are sure about this—‘Contract’?”

“Yep, it don’t smell a bit like Redmond. Case in point, if they want you dead, why did no one approach me. Redmond’s people know me, the fucking Islamics do not. Do you have any idea what’s going on Jamil?”

Jamil tossed back half of the drink, “I don’t think one drink is going to cover this. I have no immediate ideas other than I think that you are right about the damned Islamics! Their fanaticism is of a nature beyond understanding for a nominal believer such as myself.”

Andy offered a toast, nodding in agreement, and they both drained their glasses, which he promptly refilled.

“Jamil, I know you don’t like talking to me; so talk to Hank. This is more his kind of game at this point anyway. Shit, accept his invitation to the BBQ at Walt’s place next weekend, it’s a great cover.”

“I was not aware that he had sent one.”

“He will.”

Draining his glass Andy looked at Jamil, “Listen, we know we hate each other. But once upon a time there was a Deputy Superintendent M’Butu who stood in a dark alley with a .40 S&W in his hand. If necessary I will come out of retirement and run an Operation to support that man. I will not make that call, Hank will!”

Taking back the glass and returning it to the case, “I will also give that man one pass. You and I hate each other, that we know, but Deputy Superintendent M’butu gets that one pass. Dammit Jamil, talk to Hank and use that pass wisely.”

With Jamil in thought, and without waiting for a reply or a formal dismissal, Andy stood, turned, and left the room.

* * *
Jamil did the flying, one guard in front with him the other in back. They had squawked when he told them they were going to be dropped off at the line shack and he would continue to Hank’s on his own. His favorite mount, trucked out this morning with supplies and a groom, was saddled and ready when he arrived. The small transmitter in one of the saddlebags would make sure he was tracked from orbit and that he had a ready means of communications. Traveling alone without a protective detail in the colonies, even for high-ranking officials, was much safer here than on Earth.

Jamil was well aware of the strange picture he presented. An African riding a horse on a world a hundred lightyears from Earth. This was Webb’s property bordering the Carling Ranch on one corner to the west, rolling and not as well watered, but this time of year good grazing land. On this side of the mountains predators were hunted out so cattle had an easy time of it. He could see twenty or thirty head well to the west as he started the five miles towards the Carling farmhouse. The trail was old and out of use but visible enough for all of that and besides that, Jamil’s sense of direction was as perfect as his ancestry indicated. Still it came as no surprise when as soon as he was out of sight from the line shack he saw a single rider and two men walking several hundred yards ahead moving slowly in his direction. That would be Carling and Webb he had little doubt, though wondered about the third.

As they came together Jamil saw he was only partially correct in his original estimation. Andy Webb was one of the two the other was Rob Williams, head of the old-line faction of the New Texas Political structure another. The third, the one riding, was a younger man, vaguely familiar. Then Jamil placed him, Frank Carling, Hank’s eldest son.

Williams was out of power now, Jean Batiste Chartrand, the present UN Governor of New Texas had complained loudly when the Williams government was replaced by the New Centrists and that Harriet Fletcher woman. “She never does anything simple yet deep. She is a master of the complicated and shallow.”

“Tell me the latest.”

“She comes to me with a request to send more of the New Texas university age students back to Earth for their educations. Why would she do this I ask myself? Could it be she wishes to them spy on us? No that makes no sense. Ah! It must be she hopes they agitate for reforms in our colonial policies and radicalize our own students. . . No that is not the reason either. It turns out she finds the emphasis on science and engineering here on New Texas is somehow desensitizing and anti-progressive. She wants to insure a political class able to carry forwards her own enlightened policies uncontaminated by materialistic concerns.”

“Give me the power to educate your children and they are mine forever,” Jamil commented.

“Exactly, and she is paying us from the oil bounty for the privilege.”

Jamil wondered if Fletcher was invited to this party. Somehow he doubted it.

When they reached each other, ignoring the older two men for a moment, Jamil said, “Frank, I would have known you anywhere! How long has it been? Six, seven years?”

“Closer to Seven Mr. M’butu.”

“I have several sons close to your age back on Earth. It would do them well to visit out here I think. Rob, Andy, I am honored you came out this way for a ride on this lovely morning, though I knew something was up when Hank was so insistent I use the line shack as a starting point. But horses, you’ve seem to have lost yours.”

“No riding for me I’m afraid,” Andy said. “I tolerate them when I must but never have the time. We have a flyer just ahead and Frank will lead your horse to the ranch.”

“You have found the time to get back into the kind of shape I remember from all those years ago.”

“That was different. Come on and you’ll get a chance to see why.”

Blue-gray against the background sky, the flier was invisible. They made good time and set down shortly in front of another line-shack looking building that Andy said was right on the edge of the property line. Jamil had asked the purpose of all this secrecy and Rob asked him to wait because Hank would be meeting them and wanted to be the one delivering the news. There was another car in front, evidently Hank’s. They went on to the rickety porch and Andy opened an extremely sturdy looking door. Inside was a room as modern, functional, and out of place as Jamil’s own office in Government house would have been.

Hank was arranging a projector and screen when they entered. “Almost ready. Have a seat and I will get this thing underway.”

Jamil took a seat on the couch, Andy and Williams grabbed chairs and then taking a remote Hank came over and sat besides him. “These stills and the captured video are from Earth, all taken in the last several months. I’ve been captioning them but anytime you want an additional explanation just ask me to pause and I’ll give it to you.”

With the lights down Jamil watched in silence for the entire half an hour. The only sound in the room what was on the screen and an occasional comment by Hank. When the show was over and the light back on Jamil said, “I won’t ask you where this came from but I know some of those men too well to doubt its honesty. The Islamic League seems to have other ideas and a faster timetable than their discussions with my father would indicate.”

Hank gathered up the display materials and put them in a small dispatch case which he handed to Jamil, “Copies, study at your leisure, and of course be careful about who sees it. If anyone asks, you can tell the truth or say you found them someplace or other. If any one asks me it won’t much matter what I say.”

Andy, leaning forwards now took over the lead. “You must know what kind of internal struggle it took for us to decide to show this to you. The UN government stands against everything we believe in. The problem being an unfettered Islamic League in total control would be even worse. Because of that we stand ready to help you and your father. But there will be a price.”

“Does the Fletcher government know anything about this?”

“I’ve reported often enough that there is evidence showing the League is looking to assert more control, make things harder for the colonies,” Hank said. “President Fletcher tells me that is nonsense, a slur against their religion and nature. Old thinking, behind the times. She refuses to listen to anything to the contrary.”

“You offer help at a price, what kind of help and how much will it cost?”

“First what it will cost,” Williams said. “It will cost the Federation their absolute domination of the colonies, freedom for any that want it. We do not interfere on Earth.”

“Except for a score that I will settle with Redmond,” Andy interrupted.

“Easy to ask for, harder to deliver. Without the colonies and the money flowing in from them, things will be much worse for most of those on Earth. It is even possible the Islamic League wins popular support.”

“There’ll still be commerce,” Andy said. “We need trade every bit as much as Earth does. Likely far more than today with the corresponding living standard increase.”

Jamil had not heard the signal causing Hank to look at his comm unit and then say, “Frank is waiting for us. We can continue this talk for a few more minutes in the car until we reach the horses. And then a while longer on the ride in, while Andy takes the flyer around the long way. I have quite a bit to do before the rest of the guests arrive and Katie will kill me even before the Federation or Fletcher gets around to it if I stay away much longer.”

After Andy sped away in the flyer and all three were mounted, Frank took off at a gallop, Jamil and Hank close behind and soon striving for the lead, while Rob Williams was left in the dust. At the end it was Jamil’s horse by a nose.

To be continued.

Page Author | OldDog December 13th, 2008