"Operations" (Part 10)

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• Date: January 30, 3030
• Planet: Anywhere
• Location: Black Eagle-class DropShip Aquila, Prisoner Holding

Mikell was glad he'd converted one of the storage modules to a prisoner holding area, just in case. He was sitting in one of those rooms with Vandal as Reginald finished searching him for weapons; an impressive collection of small holdout pistols and knives had filled a box in the corner, which Reginald left with when he was finished. A few chains Louis had donated were keeping the pirate in the chair. "Comfortable?" Mikell quipped and sat down across a table from the pirate. "So, are you the commander for the forces here?"

"Now I am. The other guy got killed last month, I got stuck with it." He sighed. "Nobody expected anyone to drop in out here, not with this kinda force. Who are you people?"

"I ask the questions." Mikell said softly. "Where's your DropShip?"

"Hell if I know. We get dropped off here, they take off with the loot and jump out before anyone can respond. They look in on us every couple weeks."

Vandal tsked softly, shaking his head. "Sloppy."

He looked hurt. "Hey, we don't have a lot of ships, you know?"

Mikell held up his hand. "Who's 'we' then?"

"I work for Hendrik Grimm." He glanced to a tattoo on his upper arm, something many of the pirates who worked for the feared leader had done to show their allegiance. "So, he's going to be mad."

"Nope." Vandal said, looking over at Mikell. "If he works for Grimm, he's on the wrong side of territory hostile to Grimm." Then he looked back to the captive. "So let's try that again?"

"Hey, no, I do work for-"

"He's right. I really think you're blowing smoke." Mikell interrupted, and stood up. "Been nice talking to you, I'll have Kelly take care of the execution."

"Whoa! You took me alive! You can't just kill me!" The pirate struggled in the chains.

Mikell smiled tightly. "Wrong. Pirates don't get protection regarding prisoners of war. I could shoot you right now and the Review Board would just lament me taking so long." He dropped the smile. "So shall we start over?"

"Okay, okay. But I want free passage out when we're done."

"Not guaranteeing anything for you other than not being shot in the face because you annoyed me."

The pirate chewed his lip and swallowed. "Fair. Okay, I did work for Hendrik Grimm. But I left!" He raised his voice as Vandal started to stand. "Okay? There was an incident, I was probably going to get some heat over it but it wasn't my fault."

"Uh huh." Vandal motioned and Mikell sat back down. "What do you mean?"

"Look, it was crazy. This tech stole one of Grimm's heavy 'Mechs, took off somewhere on a transport. Grimm was going to be pissed, and I was on guard duty . . . not the guard responsible for the exit he left through, but still. So me and a bunch of guys ran off and sought out Redjack Ryan."

"And you're still telling tales." Vandal sighed.

"No! Look, you don't know what it's like out further out there. The systems out there are mostly barren, water and food are kind of scarce unless you invest in some growing equipment. We don't even have condensers to get water out of the air, most places." He struggled a bit. "There's nobody out there except us pirates, mostly. So if you want to leave someone, you gotta find someone who'll be willing to take the heat. Redjack Ryan? Doesn't care about Grimm, he's got the means to keep him back."

"Okay, so Ryan wants water from here? Just for water?" Mikell asked, slowly.

The pirate's lips curled and he almost sneered, letting a bitter tone come out. "Shocking, right? That there's worlds where the basics aren't even guaranteed?"

Vandal ignored it, and pointed a finger at the captive. "Like not getting shot by pirates?"

"We didn't kill anyone intentionally! The people here are no good to us dead, we'd rather they just keep making water for us to steal." A pause. "And C-Bills in accounts for us to get paid off with so we don't have to follow through on threats of violence. Been doing this for three years now."

"And we should believe you . . . why?"

"I've got a proposition for you. See, about a month ago everything changed here and we really want to get out of here." At the motion from Mikell, the pirate let out a slow breath. "A woman showed up in orbit and met us, saying she was an interested party in our little racket. When we met him, she was covered by a pair of heavy 'Mechs and a tank. Told us to lay off the planet, and she'd find somewhere else to put us to use, somewhere we could serve a bigger purpose instead of just surviving."

"And you told her no?"

"Look." The pirate sighed. "You know how Grimm is by reputation, but Redjack? The guy's paranoid and creepy. I like having all my fingers and toes. So did everyone else. Turning on Redjack without a more solid offer wasn't a good move, so I told the woman to take a hike, and she didn't."

"Why?"

"First she told us this was the only offer she was making, and if we refused . . . then there was going to be 'Mechs coming for us and shooting." He glanced to the two. "And wouldn't take prisoners. If we joined with her, she'd take us back coreward and we wouldn't ever have to worry about necessities again."

"Fine story." Mikell stood up slowly. "And if it's true, then she told you right. No prisoners." He nodded to Vandal, who pulled his sidearm and checked it before switching the safety off.

"Wait! I can prove it!" He tried to lurch backwards, but the chair didn't move. "In the base, I kept a record of the whole meet. To show Redjack if he heard about the meeting, prove I wasn't going to roll on him."

The safety clicked back on, and Vandal leaned over, and tapped the muzzle of the gun against the pirate's cheek, making sure he kept his finger off the trigger. "If we find it, you just may not be executed like the rest of your crew. If we don't, you'll be dead before dawn. We won't wait for the sun to come up."

"Especially since that's about twenty hours from now." Mikell said lightly. "Real slow rotation here. Vandal? Once we check up on it, we'll be back." He motioned and they left the room, nodding to Reginald, who fell in behind them. "So far, they're all telling close to the same story. What do you two think? Good story they came up with, or truth?"

Vandal looked thoughtful for a bit, then spoke up slowly. "I think it fits. Everything except that stolen 'Mech thing. Nobody's dumb enough to try to steal a 'Mech from the Oberon Confederation. Nobody."

"This still leaves a lot of weird story." Reginald pointed out.

Vandal pointed at Reginald and waggled his fingers lazily. "Pirates aren't exactly known to be organized. Also, we check their records, I'm sure we'll find the times coincide with when the Pirate Point is safe to use."

"Check up and see if Jade finished reading through their data, Reginald." The other man nodded, and split off to head out. "Vandal, I want you to try to see if you can find anything else at this hideout. Anything of value, any information, I want it in storage by tomorrow."

"Got it." Vandal turned to go, then stopped. "Why me, for the interrogation?"

Mikell blinked, and chuckled. "Because you know more than me about the seedy side of things?" Vandal laughed, and shrugged agreement. "Also, Reginald didn't make creative commentary during the search."

"Fair. So are you really going to execute them?"

"I'll get back to you on that. It depends on what we find out."

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• Planet: Thorin
• Location: Rysel Industries, Corporate Headquarters

Anthony was sitting with his cane across his lap, holding a cup of tea and keeping an expression somewhere between concerned and neutral as he watched his host move a large hovering chair into position behind a desk. The suit he wore was specially made to hide the presence of tubes feeding into life support mechanisms, but Anthony knew they were there. He quietly reminded himself, should he ever reach this state he would ask to be released from the agony and indignity.

Sorvetz Reisel, of course, did not share the same perspective. For him, it was a duty to continue heading the company owned by his family since before the Star League fell and ensure a proper heir was ready before he died. That heir walked in from the other entry in the room, Hechek Reisel, groomed from youth to take over the company and to understand how difficult it would be to run a business spanning over a dozen systems. This was even without the secrets which Anthony was unfortunately privy to.

"Gentlemen, sorry I was late." Her approach left Anthony a little intimidated, by a woman over two meters tall and with a personal presence which radiated out from her without it seeming to be a conscious effort. He'd almost pay to watch Hechek meet the Archon and see which one folded first, except it would probably cause a war. And they'd just finished one. "I was sending out instructions to begin sending aid to the systems which have been hit by the war."

"Only local, of course." Anthony looked into his cup and his hands shifted it to swirl it softly; he didn't want to meet those eyes he felt bore into him. "Those on the League border, they're out of range of both of us. Similarly the formerly Capellan territory, though I plan on negotiating that soon."

"Yes. We can't ship everywhere, so we ship where we can." She said dismissively, and sat down on a chair an arm's reach from Anthony. "Your company helps us reach further, and that is good for both of us."

Anthony pointed a finger at Hechek, the leather glove he wore creaking slightly. "Arrangements we covered two months ago when we met to discuss the exact nature of these deals. I was still in the area when you requested a meeting post haste, and such I am here to discuss new business. Not old business."

"This is old business." Sorvetz placed his palms on his desk, a three-dimensional display lighting up over the surface. He didn't try to keep his voice from dripping with sarcasm. "Older than you, in fact. Are you finally prepared to talk, or do you need some biscuits with the tea?"

"Oh you have my attention."

"Good." He motioned with his fingers in the image, watching it shift around. "Port Moseby. Shionoha. Dalkeith. We can add these systems to places we need to watch carefully, daughter, since we verified there were assets there." The woman nodded, not taking notes; her brain was probably trained to handle the information easily. Anthony almost envied her. "And you, Mister Aliandros. Do you have anything to add about those planets?"

Anthony sipped at his tea, watching the display. "This depends. Are we asking about Rysel Industries assets? Aliandros Starscapes assets? Federated Commonwealth-"

"I'm asking about assets which nobody is supposed to know is there."

"And how would I know what is supposed to be known?" Hechek gave him a long stare, and Sorvetz seemed to fight down frustration before Anthony continued speaking. "I know there is some base and heavy metals on Dalkeith, but so does anyone who does business in the region. It's their major export, even if it mostly used by the weapons factories. I know on top of that, Port Moseby has some rowdy bunches of people, who rotated in and out during the war and it's mostly stable now."

"Mostly." Hechek said softly. "But do you know anything about unusual events there?"

Anthony sipped from his cup again, using the time to organize his thoughts. "Define unusual, considering the caliber of people we're talking about coming and going."

"Fine." Sorvetz made a brushing motion with his hand. "An unregistered DropShip came and went four months ago, shortly before the Lyran forces assigned there came down on a facility well outside of civilization and swept it. The rumors say it was Legion of Vega survivors from the Fourteenth and the war. I know better, the Fourteenth were on Skondia."

"It was Legion of Vega." Anthony said mildly. "But it was the Fourth."

There was silence from the other two, as Hechek leaned back in her chair. "How do you know? And are you certain?"

He set the cup and saucer on the desk edge, reaching into a pocket on his suit and removing a small data unit. "An associate of mine did a little bit of work on the other side of the conflict, and was directed to a lucrative opportunity to make money if they had a Mule and the means to get to Buckminster. One jump from Port Moseby. The catch was to keep it out of notice of even the regiment command in the area. Easy enough to do, as the locals didn't care for the military and my friend sold soil enrichment material-"

Hechek paused him with a lifted hand. "He literally sold them crap, didn't he?"

Anthony just smirked "I can't confirm or deny it. Regardless, he was there to pull some forces out and smuggle them back across to Shionoha. They weren't unknown forces, they were Fourth Legion." He tapped the data unit. "It's there, along with the commander's name. According to his report to me? They moved a full battalion and some support vehicles to a facility on Shionoha which had been abandoned for twenty years."

"Do tell?" Sorvetz's eyes turned intent.

"Oh, I will. The facilities, I could track down now that it's Commonwealth territory. Also on the data unit, papers proclaiming it was built under the auspices of a company billed as 'RMP'." Both of the others glared at him. Anthony sighed and took the cup to drink from. "Come on, we all three know the score, if you insist on acting like I shot you every time I bring it up-"

"How hard was this information to find?"

"Ten thousand C-Bills to the right archivist on planet."

"Was it a ComStar facility?" Hechek asked mildly. "Then that could be public knowledge."

"I don't use those facilities unless I have to. This was a local office which kept hard copies. Actual. Physical. Paper. Do you know how hard that is to keep over six centuries? It's like lostech only for physical media!" He threw a hand up in the air, slouching slightly. "But here's the interesting part, which I had to pull from my friend with a lot of good-quality liquor and threats on telling certain people about his actions." He finished the tea and set the cup and saucer back down. "He took a second job he swore was unrelated, but admitted they left the same facility. A Lance of heavy BattleMechs, stuff he said he's never seen before. His crew had never seen it before, either, and they hauled a lot of things. They wanted to go to Anywhere."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but they paid him enough to consider retiring even before he realized where he was going. He tried negotiating the price up ten percent, and they straight doubled it and told him to not ask questions. He didn't, but he also didn't forget either. Anything I could get from him, I wrote down and put on the data unit there." Sorvetz looked at it as though it were an unsightly insect perched on his desk surface. "What I do know is, they wanted to run to the coreward Periphery both in a hurry and quietly."

The three of them were silent for a long moment, and Hechek stood up. "This was productive." She brushed at her dress. "Mister Aliandros, I would like to impose one final suggestion on you. If you have any connections at all, with mercenaries or the Federated Commonwealth forces?" She regarded him steadily. "Put them onto a potential incursion at Sakhalin, Phalan, and Accrington. It would be advantageous to try to head them off at the pass."

"Which them? The Fourth Legion?" Anthony stood up slowly.

Sorvetz tapped his fingers on the desk surface, dismissing the display. "Never you mind. But if we all can get ahead of this, it would mean the end of a secret we need to keep." He stared into Anthony's eyes, and spoke softer. "It would mean I wouldn't need to hold a debt over you any longer, sir."

Anthony nodded, murmuring vague words of agreement as his mind took everything he'd just sat through and filtered it. Searching for what it was which put him more on edge than he should be. It hit him as he was sitting in his groundcar, and he grabbed a noteputer from a spot in the passenger compartment. Thumbing it into dictation mode, he began speaking. "Message draft. Janus Templar." He paused, then began speaking again. "I think I have a lead on the people we're looking for thanks to my connections. No idea yet on who exactly, but I have a good bet we need to redirect our attention quickly. As soon as I'm back in the Draconis March, I've got work to do. You need to go with whomever you have ready and can trust." He shut off the dictation mode and then signaled to the driver. "I need to get to the embassy for the Federated Suns." Once on the way he sat back and began to edit the message now, so he could be ready to send it immediately.