The Radical Factor (Stone Blade Book 3) Page 5

  "I see," said Siffai, "Tell me, Micah. Would this 'juice trooper' have a problem killing the Esavians?"

  "If ordered? No. I - we - would have exterminated them on every scale. From planetary bombardment and biological agents down to slaughtering them in person. Men, women, children, old, young, healthy or ill. No matter the cost or the casualties we took." Micah now spoke totally without emotion.

  "And would you now?"

  "No! Absolutely not! They may be uncivilized and beyond hope of it, but no. Not only would I not do it or condone it, I wouldn't allow it. I'd fight against anyone who did until my dying breath."

  "Seal'hai. I shall trust you with my life."

  Siffai offered her hand and when Micah took it she grasped his forearm and placed his on hers.

  "As brother and sister we shall fight," she said.

  When she broke the grip Micah saw more than just respect in her eyes.

  ***

  Micah showered meticulously and thoroughly. Bits and pieces of the Esavian data he'd read kept popping into and out of his mind interspersed with his talk with Siffai. After he dried and dressed he sat, relaxed and sent his mind into its calming and peaceful places. Memories from Caustik and his time in the 113th kept surfacing and disturbing him. He finally settled into a not-quite-awake yet not-quite-asleep state that allowed him to rest but also to keep his thoughts focused and in check. Ordinary sleep would serve him better but he knew not to let that happen with his mind in this state.

  ***

  The equatorial sky of the 113th training complex was cloudless and clear and the weather hot and dry. It held a biting tinge of the caustic chemicals that would begin killing any person not wearing a respirator or dosed with specific antidotes. On a day like this, naturally, Sergeant Hile scheduled a full day of vigorous physical activity. Micah along with the rest of the recruits, all of them dosed with Fear as well as antidote, worked and sweated and struggled in the acrid scalding air. Micah drew lucky: he and four others fought unarmed against fifteen of the other recruits. The luck: he and his group also had Flame. After a series of long fights, violent and bloody despite the dampers they all wore, Micah and three of his group stood victorious.

  ***

  Zerralis Minor: a group of three planetary systems claimed by the Claudian Resolve almost fifteen years ago. Despite the fact that the Resolve executed a relatively bloodless takeover of the blatantly and excessively corrupt former government, a small group of self-proclaimed patriots still fought their conquerors. The Resolve considered them rebels and traitors and wanted them pacified or dead. Due to tense politics between the Resolve and some of its neighbors and rumors of League involvement they couldn't use their own forces so, after appropriate negotiation, they hired the 113th. They deployed with orders to finish the rebels before the incidents escalated enough to openly draw attention, League or otherwise.

  Micah's unit dropped into a fortified headquarters and began fighting. They almost caught the rebs totally by surprise but they made up for the fact with far superior numbers. After two long and bloody hours Micah found himself isolated and facing almost a dozen rebel crunchies. They were well-armed and almost as well-armored. A hefty dose of Flame and fifteen minutes later found Micah with three penetrating hits to his armor and a dozen well-armed and -armored bodies for company. He took a moment to patch himself and his armor then he located his unit and made his way toward them.

  ***

  Alpha Nexus IV: a world outside the League but petitioning to join. Ostensibly, or so said rumor; politics in the Alpha Nexus systems defined the word labyrinthine. Still, the League always took such petitions seriously even when the petitioners didn't. Micah's unit ended up on the edge between the rest of the Caustik forces and the League's with none of them happy about it. The League meat looked at Caustik's best as backworld soggies and Micah and his fellows knew they would decimate the opposing forces before the League crunchies finished polishing their armor. Still, someone had to do the job and Micah's unit cut cards and lost.

  The landing and deployment went like any other; most of Micah's unit hit the action leaving Micah and his friend BJ Tyler to guard their lieutenant. The 113th soldiers spread into assault formation and began wreaking havoc on their enemies. Then the enemies struck back. More and more casualty reports came in and the line, especially where it joined the League's, began to bow backward and collapse. Micah, Tyler and Sanders moved in to support their fellows.

  Futility! The enemy forces had more reinforcement than they should and Micah knew why. They had allied themselves with the Consortium, unbeknownst to the League, and now they had sufficient resources to defend their positions. Micah's unit dwindled to nothing save himself, Tyler and the lieutenant. Then Tyler sacrificed himself to neutralize a forming enemy advance and left Micah and Sanders pinned with little hope of victory or escape. Then Micah Flamed himself to take out a tank and an infantry column, then rescue Sanders and then retreat to the League command point to warn them.

  ***

  Remise/Slyco: the League Marine training camp. He and the other recruits had a well-earned weekend furlough. Micah and his three friends finished closing a dance club and walked in search of food. Instead they found a group of bangers spoiling for a fight. The three embryonic Marines with Micah gave the thugs their fill and then some, standing victorious over them. Then the leader, half-recovered from the drubbing Micah gave him drew a pulse pistol. Flameless and slow now, Micah couldn't reach the man before he fired, then fired again. Darkness.

  ***

  Micah roused to the sound of his alarm beeping. Morning. He stretched himself carefully, one muscle at a time. As he did so his thoughts began to coalesce. That process continued as he took a slow shower and by the end of it he had something. He had the wisp of something; it hovered in the dark part of his brain just beyond his grasp. He felt the seeds of frustration starting over it.

  He and Ferrel worked most of the morning refining their simulations to incorporate their new data. Kidwell joined them around midmorning. She had her own models, of course, and merged them quickly.

  "Flames. Just about what I figured," she said after the initial run.

  "We tried, Vera," said Micah, "At first we had squelch for Esavian intel. Now we have a treasure ship of it and it didn't make a milli difference."

  "Did you work up any better ones?" Ferrel tried for a Vera-ish stare and failed miserably.

  "Not really," she sighed, "Even with Dave and Katie helping. We can't do anything trade-related because we don't trade with them. That knocks out most of our major incentives before we even start. We checked some economic measures but those won't work either because they don't have a central economy. We could attack the individual systemic economies but that would take a long time, require saturation-infiltration and it still might not work."

  Ferrel's eyes lit up and he began working his terminal.

  Kidwell looked at Micah. "Katie even tried a sim where we provoked one planet into war with another. Even if we knew the right triggers it wouldn't help. The result of a provoked attack wouldn't be any different than from a natural one; their independent economies are chaotically robust enough to absorb it."

  "Feces!"

  "Wait, Charlie," said Micah, "I thought so too but it might still work. Call up the data we have on the individual system economies, or the planets' where they're different. Not the sigma total but the raw data."

  Ferrel twiddled the data until he did.

  "Cryo. Now break the overall flow down by factions. I know, we don't have data, but we do have rough ratios. Use those."

  After a pair of minutes Ferrel managed that.

  "Rut," said Micah, "So much for that thought."

  "Phase down," said Kidwell, "Charlie, squirt me your links. Micah, don't surrender before the battle starts."

  Kidwell began working trends and soon outpaced Ferrel's ability to keep up. Finally she reached a tenable conclusion.

  "It's got some holes in it," she sai
d, "but we can fill those in as-able. Micah, my lover, you are good for something besides lunch.

  "Please note this main flow of wealth. It begins and ends with Saddireb Libre which happens to be one of the three richest Esavian worlds. It is also, most notably, the only Esavian system that almost welcomes outside trade, at least with us. That implies they might be less indisposed toward trading with others. Mark that as testable. The second-richest, Barrhi Esav, is the principal anchor for the other side of the Saddireb Libre flow. While there is a notable Blades presence here it's a lot higher on, say, Tarhin, which happens to be one of the poorest of their worlds."

  "Not much poorer," said Ferrel, "Except for the big three all the Esavian worlds are poor. Every time one of them starts building a good economy they get into a skirmish with one or two other worlds, drain off all their resources and start the cycle again."

  "Except for those three," said Micah, "Why?"

  "I say we put it to Dave and Katie when Ted brings them back," said Kidwell, "They're presenting their intel to the higher-ups. I guess DOSTRAP doesn't know we're already into it."

  "Or care," added Micah, "One of you help me with some time-correlates."

  Kidwell and Ferrel both did. Ferrel snorted as he began refining Micah's work but said nothing. Micah merely raised an eyebrow. He knew the other two far outstripped him at this and they knew he knew it.

  "Slib," said Kidwell when they finished, "Micah, my love, this is interesting but will it sell soya?"

  "Absolutely!" Micah highlighted several facts. "Count every skirmish between one world and one or more others. In every case Saddireb Libre is not involved but its economy always grows. Same with the other two but to a lesser extent. These worlds are the banks; that's why they're never attacked! The other worlds all know that. They know where they get the money to fight and who helps lick the wounds afterward! They don't have an official central economy but I think we've just found the actual one! If not that then at least where the money flows."

  "Flames! All truth and no blather there," said Kidwell, "Pious question: how do we use it?"

  Micah sat back and grinned. "I just found it dear, the next part is up to you two."

  She curled her lip and raised Micah a finger.

  "Here's an extra question," said Micah after they worked and re-worked the information, looking for a plan, "Do we have intel for other ships trading at Esavian ports? I know we have data from our mission but that's limited. They don't welcome League or Semid ships, or Unity if there were such, we know that. What about others, though?"

  Ferrel keyed in some quick queries. "The Mekhajan and Vezieri seem to do frequent business there. Relatively speaking. Looks like the Jengiil may too, but we can't be sure. None of them really like the League either and they don't really want to trade with us."

  Micah began checking data on those three governments. The Mekhajan Collective had a maintainable level of technology only slightly inferior to the League's but much higher than its neighbors'. The People's Republic of the Jengiil and the Vezieri Hegemony each purchased a great deal of Mekhajan merchandise and each used its link with the Mekhajan against the other to maintain a peace of sorts.

  "We could probably bribe the Jengiil," said Kidwell, "That seems to be prevalent there. Reports from League free traders say any justice is available for the right price. Their emperor - pardon! High General - doesn't appear to be stable, either. Militarily he is but not mentally."

  "With what and for what," asked Micah with a sour face.

  "With what is findable," said Kidwell, "For what is a Jengiil transponder tag or letter of marque, whichever is easiest."

  "Which would allow us to trade," said Ferrel.

  "Which would allow us to land somewhere besides Saddireb Libre," said Ionoski as he, Barstein and Siffai entered and sat, "Which might just be the opportunity we need to infiltrate an Esavian world."

  "Not something a sane person would want," said Barstein, "but useful if it can be done. Unless you're Semid, or League, it isn't really that hard to land on an Esavian world. The hard part is being accepted by the locals, even as an infidel trader."

  "That would pay off in platinum, intel-wise," said Kidwell, "Ted?"

  "Let's work out some particulars and I'll see what I can do."

  Chapter 3. Aboard the Jenni Silver

  Micah flexed his fingers carefully, muscles tense from his neck down to his waist. Ferrel winced as the ship scraped something loudly before locking into the dock.

  "Hell's frost," he said, examining the readouts, "You didn't quite bend the docking grapple in half, my brother, but we will need to replace a few hull plates."

  "Close it or hose it," said Micah, working the tension out of his body, "While you're about it tell me again why you're not doing this. You were Navy!"

  "Indeed so, my brother, I was Navy. More specifically I was signal tech and astrogation. I just tell you when and where to go." Ferrel grinned as each entendre sank in. "Besides which fact you, my formerly jarhatted friend, were a Marine. They're supposed to be versatile!"

  Micah growled as the TACSim reset itself.

  "We are versatile! I personally know over four hundred ways to kill someone, with or without weapons, pain optional."

  The comm crackled over Ferrel's reply. Fortunately!

  "Try again," said Ionoski's voice, "I'm resetting the sim now."

  "Why can't we have a real pilot, Ted," asked Micah, "This box is about five times as massive and half as zippy as anything I've ever driven!"

  "You know the why, Micah," said Ionoski patiently, "Trader crews are always small. Even if we disguise one or more of us as a passenger it's still a lot of warm bodies. Besides, I think it's fortunate that at least one of us qualified as a real pilot! Keep trying and before long you'll have your Master Pilot cert. Think of it as career enhancement."

  Once again the comm crackled over a response, this time Micah's. He had ten credits each from Ferrel, Kidwell and Ionoski, their wager on the best pilot among them. Even though Micah collected the money he suspected he'd actually lost the bet! He knew Ferrel could drive a skiff or pinnace; Navy basic training covered that for certain truth! Still, when the test results came back Micah stood at the top of the list. Siffai and Barstein demurred when asked; neither had any experience behind the controls of a starship, shuttle or pinnace. Nor had Micah since he left the 113th but that cut no credits with the others. At least he had that, they said.

  "Steady, my brother," said Ferrel with genuine cheer, "Encouragement! This time you only scraped the hull."

  Only!

  ***

  Micah checked his hud and applied some thrust. His ship, the Jenni Silver responded sluggishly. Well, to him it felt sluggish. The ship itself was a much repaired Cuttle class patrol and light transport boat surplussed some twenty-five years ago.

  The ship had more than she showed, though! The outdated engines were in fact shells machined around much more powerful modern ones. When Micah first saw her he wanted to turn around and leave but the Techs in charge of fabricating her then began showing off all the surprises the old hull had beneath the facade. Micah gained again an appreciation for what Guild Techs could accomplish with a little time and imagination!

  Driving it still felt like pushing a grounded hover across a frozen lake, though! A fully-loaded cargo hover against a stiff headwind!

  "Ground Control has given clearance," said Ionoski, "Coordinates and landing protocol received and acknowledged. Pilot, take the wire and land us!"

  "Aye, cap'n," said Micah, "One bounce or two?"

  As Micah began his descent spiral toward Dumshang Down Ionoski updated the rest of the 'crew.' Barstein and Kidwell learned enough to handle engineering provided they didn't have an actual crisis, Ferrel sat as astrogator and copilot, Siffai qualified as a medic and Ionoski sat as captain and owner of the vessel.

  As the ship dropped Micah's perception sped up. He took a breath to slow it again. Although the vessel had some zip it paled to
nothing against the TACships Micah had driven before. After a long double-figure-eight over a choppy ocean Micah slid the ship into port and grounded softly.

  At the behest of GC he activated the gravitics and locked the thrust in neutral. Before long a tender locked on and towed the ship into her berth. Once Micah received the all-clear he lowered the ship onto her skids and powered down to port maintenance level. The hull popped and clanked and the hud advised him to await further instructions. Then the comm beeped.

  "Good job, Micah," said Ionoski. He activated the comm and spoke softly a moment. "That's my call to visit the authorities. Stay buttoned up while I'm gone, keep your eyes sharp and your stupid hats packed away."

  ***

  "'... keep your stupid hats packed...' indeed," said Ferrel, "Does he think we're rookies just out of training? Pizzle drips!"

  He, Micah and the others gathered in the lounge with video feeds from the ship's external scanners. They showed starport workers bustling about their duties, stevedores swarming other ships to load or unload cargo and officials walking pompously about looking for something to require their attention.

  "Perhaps 'Captain' went to his head," suggested Kidwell.

  "Or 'pirate,' my dear," countered Ferrel, sitting at a terminal, "Now one of you fetch me some chog. I have work to do."

  Barstein complied, handing Micah a tube as well. He made a comment about who did the real work but Ferrel airily ignored him. Easier to steal a giant bloodhawk's egg than to separate Ferrel from data.

  "They're trying to burn in," said Ferrel, "How rude! We've barely arrived and they want our deepest, darkest secrets! Heh. These stapes are almost childish, but not quite. Our defenses are holding and I've initiated mirror-backlash."

  "Charrrrlie..."

  "Polarize, my brother. If they even think about synchronizing with my signal it's gone and they'll think it's part of the terrain. Besides, as far as they're concerned they've just owned our entire net."

  "What?! Should we not cut the connection?" Siffai sounded truly apprehensive.