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Authors: Peter Grant

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BOOK: War To The Knife
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“What
are
those things?” Marvin asked, fascinated. “I’ve never seen anything like them except in history books.”

“That’s where we got their designs. It’s a long story – too long for right now. Tell me how they came to send you. You’re not from this planet.”

“No, I’m from New Brisbane. It’s part of the Lancastrian Commonwealth.”

“How did you get suckered into taking this job?” Dave flicked the reins at the dawdling burro and called,
“Hi-yaaah!
Get on there!”

Marvin grimaced. “I guess I suckered myself. Your Government-in-Exile has been trying to drum up support ever since Bactria invaded Laredo. Trouble is, you’re a minor planet in a galactic backwater. You’ve got nothing that would interest a major power enough to weigh in on your side. Your Vice-President Johns asked the United Planets to investigate what Bactria was doing here, but she has to put down a deposit towards the initial costs – twenty-five million Neue Helvetica francs. It’ll be refunded if the investigation proves her allegations were correct. Problem is, she has only two bearer keys to Laredo’s planetary account there – the one she brought with her when she left Laredo, and the one held by your Ambassador to the UP. A minimum of three are needed to access it, so she hasn’t been able to pay. Until she does, the investigation’s going nowhere. She’s been trying to persuade friendly governments to bankroll it, but without success. There aren’t many of them, and they aren’t rich or powerful.”

Dave snorted in disgust as the wagon bounced over a pothole, rocking violently. “If they won’t put their money where their mouths are, they’re no friends of mine. Twenty-five million’s not out of reach for any planetary government worth the name, even a poor planet.”

“You’d think so, but that’s the way things are. She tried approaching a couple of the big private security and investigation firms, asking them to come here, contact the Resistance, and collect your bearer keys to Laredo’s accounts and the records of Bactria’s atrocities. They either wanted a lot of money up front, which she didn’t have, or turned her down flat because of the risk to their operators. I was too small-time for her to ask me – heck, she’d never even heard of me! – but I learned about it through my contacts and approached her. I was the only one with decent references who was willing to take the job on a contingent fee basis with no up-front payment.”

“Why? There are lots of less dangerous ways to make a living. If Bactria finds out who and what you are and why you’re here, they’ll pull out all the stops to kill you rather than let you get away with what you came for.”

“True, although they’d have to identify me first. Marvin Ellis isn’t my real name – I’m sure you’d already figured that out.” Marvin reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and mopped droplets of sweat from his brow. The baking heat of the afternoon sun was taking its toll on him.

Dave glanced at him. “I guessed as much. Don’t tell us your real one. What we don’t know can’t be tortured out of us.” He reached down behind the seat again and brought out a canteen. “Water?”

“Thanks.” Marvin took several gulps of the lukewarm liquid, then handed it back.

“You don’t have a hat?”

“I didn’t know I’d need one.”

“You do. For now, wet that handkerchief and put it on top of your head. Fortunately there’s not much wind, so it should stay put. Keep damping it down.” He took a couple of mouthfuls of the water, then held out the bottle again. “How did you persuade the Bactrians to let you onto the planet?”

“I posed as a trader in exotic furs, wanting to buy samples and make arrangements with a local agent for regular orders. One of the Customs officers ‘suggested’ that I talk to a Colonel Kujula of the Security Service. I did, and he gave me a pass to head into the interior to see what was available. It cost me a hefty bribe in gold, but I came prepared for that.”

“Nicely done. It’s a good cover, too – you saw that fur I showed at the bar.”

“Yes, I did. If you’d only have got five or six thousand bezants for that, you were being robbed blind. I studied the market to prepare my cover story. On New Brisbane an exotic fur of that quality and rarity will bring fifty to sixty thousand Lancastrian Commonwealth credits – that’s well over three hundred thousand bezants.”

Dave cursed. “I had no idea! I’ve shot a few ganiba when they hunted the cattle we gather, and sold their pelts to spacers from time to time. I guess they were taking them to other planets and making a fortune out of my hard work.”

“They sure were! Have you got other furs, or can you get some? I can show them to that Colonel when I return, to ‘prove’ to him that I found what I came for.”

“Between me and a few others we can see you right. Now, you mentioned decent references. What’s your background, that the Veep would trust you with this job?”

“I resigned from New Brisbane’s Planetary Bureau of Investigation last year after twenty years’ service as a detective. I was pretty good at my job, but they were dead set on promoting me to be an administrator. I didn’t want that – I prefer field work – so I set up my own security and investigation firm. Trouble is, it’s hard to compete with the big boys in the field unless you’ve done something to make yourself stand out. I figured if I could bring this off, it ought to go a long way towards making my reputation.” He hesitated. “I suppose I should admit it’ll also set me up financially. I told Vice-President Johns if I was going to put my life on the line for her on a contingency basis, the fee had to reflect the risk. If I succeed I’ll get five per cent of whatever she recovers from Neue Helvetica, right off the top.”

Dave’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a lot, but in view of the danger I guess it’s fair. It should be a good payout. We transferred the national treasury to Neue Helvetica just before the invasion. It wasn’t much by a wealthy planet’s standards, but even so it came to more than half a billion Neue Helvetica francs.”

“It’ll make this trip well worth it, but I’ll also have some pretty hefty expenses to pay. I’ve lined up a guy I helped some years ago. He owns a couple of tramp space freighters, and his partner was robbing him blind until I caught her. He reckons he owes me, so he’ll bring one of his ships through here at the end of March to deliver freight and collect me and anything I can bring back. He’s taking a big risk, because if Bactria finds out what he’s doing they’ll seize his ship at best; so if I succeed he’ll get five million credits plus charter fees. I’ll also have to pay a few others, plus anyone I hire here, and my own expenses as well.”

“All right. We’ll have to convene the Council of the Resistance to get their approval to hand over our accumulated evidence to you, and our bearer keys. That’ll take a few days, if we – uh-oh, hang on!” Dave reached into his chest pocket and produced the black box. It was buzzing gently, and a blue light was blinking. “In the back again, quick as you can. A drone’s approaching.”

Marvin hurriedly clambered over the back of the seat and concealed himself beneath the cover once more. Dave pulled a jacket over the rifle to hide it, then adjusted the
serape
and his hat to provide maximum concealment. He allowed the reins to droop loosely in his fingers, knowing the burro would amble along at its own pace as long as he did so, and slumped on the wagon seat, peering out from beneath the brim of his hat to try to spot the approaching drone.

After a few minutes he saw a dark speck over the road in the distance. He lowered his head, feigning sleep as it drew nearer. Its electric motor was almost silent, emitting only a faint whine accompanied by the soft whisper of air churned by its pusher propeller and passing over its wings and fixed undercarriage. It flew overhead, then circled around to the right and made another pass. He knew its sensors would be recording the wagon and its driver from several angles in case of future need, but would not get a clear picture of his face beneath the hat brim.

After its second pass the drone continued down the road. He waited for five minutes, then checked the sensor in his pocket. The flashing blue light had gone out, revealing that the drone was now out of range. He called over his shoulder, “You can sit down again now.”

Marvin climbed over the seat back once more as Dave encouraged the burro to make better speed. “What was that thing?”

“It’s one of two drones that travel each day for about fifty kilometers up and down each of the roads out of Caristo. They return to the garrison late in the afternoon to download their recordings.”

“So they’ll know by tonight that you took this road?”

“Unlikely. The security detachment at that garrison is bored stiff, like everyone else there. I doubt they’ll review the recordings at all – they’ll just file them with all the others, then get drunk as usual. If there’s an investigation into the disappearance of those four troopers they may retrieve them, but they won’t recognize me on the vid, and the wagon will look different by tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Sounds pretty slack to me.”

“Yeah. These outlying garrisons are punishment postings. If a trooper screws up in one of the bigger centers they send him out here to the sticks where there’s nothing to do. He bakes in the sun and eats dust all summer, then freezes his ass off all winter. They learn fast that if they don’t bother us, we won’t attack them – live and let live. Their High Command would throw a frothing fit if they found out, but we take care not to do anything in these parts that they’re likely to notice. That’s how we’ve hidden in plain sight out here for almost three years, using it as a base to strike at other areas.”

“Makes sense when you put it that way.”

“It also keeps us from going soft. Living out here hardens you up in ways I’d never have believed when I was a city boy. I – hey, wait a minute! Hel-
loooo,
supper! Don’t point or make any sudden movement.” He nodded to a rise on the left side of the road, atop which a deer-like creature had suddenly appeared. It was followed by several more, all of which looked at the wagon as it approached, but didn’t appear startled.

“What are they?”

“We call them sassabies. They’re good eating. That one third from the front is a young female. She won’t have bred yet, so there’s no danger of leaving an orphaned fawn. They won’t spook at the sight of a wagon as long as we don’t make any moves that appear threatening, so stay still. Once we’re past I’ll stand up and shoot over the wagon top. Cover your ears – that rifle’s much louder than modern weapons.”

“OK.”

Dave fumbled in his chest pocket, took out two earplugs and inserted them. He waited until the sassabies disappeared behind the edge of the wagon cover then reached around, picked up the rifle and handed it to Marvin.

“Hold this for a moment while I stop the wagon.”

He stepped on the brake and hauled on the reins, and the burro obediently came to a standstill. As soon as the wagon had halted he handed the reins to Marvin, took the rifle from him and stood up, turning in a smooth, fluid motion as he brought it to his shoulder and aimed back over the wagon cover. There was a momentary pause, then a thunderous bellow of sound, making Marvin jump even though his hands were over his ears. The burro whickered and moved restlessly, rocking the wagon. Dave sprang to the ground in an effortless jump, cycling the rifle’s action, ready to shoot again from a steadier platform if need be; but he relaxed almost at once.

“She’s down. Wait here.”

He lowered the hammer to the safety position, slid the rifle into the wagon, then took a refrigeration tub from the rear of the load bed and set out to where the animal now lay motionless on its side. The rest of the herd had vanished.

Marvin stood up to see over the wagon top and watched in fascination, feeling a little sick to his stomach, as Dave took out his knife and cut the sassaby’s throat, then neatly removed the best cuts of meat, separating them from the bone and hide before placing them in the tub. He wiped the knife clean and sheathed it, then carried the tub back to the wagon, grunting with the effort. He replaced it in the load bed, switched on its power pack, then washed his hands at the water butt lashed beneath the right side of the wagon.

“That’s about thirty kilograms of prime meat,” he said with a grin as he slid back onto the seat. “It’ll grill real well over coals tonight.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Marvin grimaced. “I’ve never before seen an animal killed and cut up like that – it’s unsettling. I’ve only encountered meat as vat-produced protein in ration packs, or ready-cut joints and steaks in the shops.”

“Well, this is how meat starts. You’re going back to your ancient roots.”

~ ~ ~

Marvin set down his plate with a sigh of repletion, stretching and grunting in the firelight. “That sassaby lived up to your promises. I’ve paid good money in restaurants on New Bedford for meat that wasn’t half as tasty.” He burped gently, covering his mouth with his hand. “Excuse me.”

Jake grinned. “First time in a long while I’ve heard someone apologize for that. We tend to be a bit rough around the edges out here.” On the other side of the fire, Todd and Jaime laughed as they nodded in agreement.

Dave said thoughtfully, “Mom used to box my ears if I didn’t mind my manners, but for the past three years…” His face twisted with the remembered pain of loss. “Without families around to remind us about that sort of thing, we’ve let it slide.” He reached for the coffeepot and refilled his mug with the bitter black liquid, adding creamer and sweetener capsules.

“Yeah, there’s an ancient saying that a man can build a house, but it takes a woman to make it a home,” Marvin agreed.

“Those ancients knew what they were talking about,” Jaime said as he reached for the coffeepot in his turn. “Rissa’s been workin’ on me ever since we set up together last year.”

“I wondered where the improvement had come from,” Dave said with a grin.

“Gee,
thanks!
I wasn’t
that
bad, was I?” More laughter.

Dave took a tarpaulin from the back of his wagon, spread it on the ground by the fire, and laid on it his rifle, the short revolver he’d used in town, and a cleaning kit. Jake took out his smaller revolver as well, and they set about cleaning the guns.

BOOK: War To The Knife
3.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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