Her Brother's Keeper - eARC Page 27

  Desh cocked his head to the side slightly. “Misunderstanding? Captain, there was no misunderstanding. I’ve seen video of the incident, and that video was corroborated by the testimony of multiple witnesses. Mr. Kimball was, in fact, carrying a weapon, specifically, a knife with a metal blade. It was made very clear by the guide that weapons are completely prohibited in our colony. This is doubly true in the presence of the indigenous beings. We are, after all, guests on their world.”

  The indigenous being seemed bloody well delighted to receive that knife, you ass. Catherine rested her elbows on the armrests of her chair, folded her hands together, and glared at the Speaker. “I also have seen video of the incident, sir. Indeed it was a misunderstanding. The so-called weapon the woman was hyperventilating about was a simple folding pocket knife. It’s a tool for opening packages and cutting things as needed. Every member of my crew has one. It’s very easy to become tangled up during an emergency in zero gravity, and a knife can be a lifesaving tool in that situation. It probably never occurred to my crewman that anyone would consider it a weapon.”

  Desh narrowed his eyes and spoke in an almost scolding tone. “Captain, I mean no disrespect, but if there was a misunderstanding then it surely lies in the reading comprehension of your crew member. The terms and conditions listed as part of boarding the tour bus explicitly state, among other things, that metal-bladed weapons are as prohibited as firearms and energy weapons. Your man came into our home and violated our rules, Captain. Ignorance is no excuse for violating the law here.”

  Her face was a mask, but Catherine’s blood was boiling. Either these people really were that unreasonable, or they were fishing for a bribe. “I see,” she said diplomatically. “Having traveled all over inhabited space, I’m well-versed in the importance of respecting local laws and customs. In the contract that each of my crew members signs is a clause stating that they are personally responsible if they should commit a crime while off of the ship. That said, I am on a mission of some urgency, and my cargomaster is currently incarcerated. I am unfamiliar with the specifics of your judicial system. Would it be possible for me to pay his bond and have him released? Rest assured I’ll take it out of his pay. We do need to be on our way soon.”

  “I’m afraid that is not possible, Captain,” Desh said coolly. “Under our code, your crewman must remain in our custody until the next scheduled meeting of a Judiciary Tribunal. At such time, he can argue his case before the Council of Elders, and his fate will be decided then. If you wish, you can send a representative to speak for your crewman at his trial.”

  They really are that unreasonable, Catherine thought grimly. “I see. When, may I ask, is the next meeting of this tribunal?”

  “Tribunals are held regularly, on the first day of the month, assuming there are cases to be adjudicated. The next one is scheduled in twenty-nine days.”

  Opal’s day was thirty-four and a half hours long. Catherine barely managed to maintain her calm demeanor. “I see. And you’re sure that there’s nothing I can do to expedite this process?”

  Desh raised his head, looking down his long nose at Catherine. “Captain, I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I’ve explained our laws as plainly as I am able. We will not violate the sanctity of our laws merely because some off-worlder imagines herself to be important and is in a hurry. Mr. Kimball’s trial will be in twenty-nine days. You can wait until then, or come back at that time and speak for him if you wish. Good day, Captain.” Desh’s image disappeared, and the screen flashed CONNECTION LOST.

  “Goddamn it!” Catherine snarled, slamming a fist onto an armrest.

  “They are being unreasonable, Kapitänin, Wolfram said, stating the obvious. “I feared this would be the case.”

  “This is my fault,” Catherine said, rubbing her temples. “My gut told me not to let my crew venture into that bizarre little colony, and I just didn’t listen.”

  “These things happen,” Wolfram said. “They are unfortunate, but they happen. It was a necessary risk. We have a long flight ahead of us. Letting the crew out on leave while we’re planeted is good for morale.”

  Marcus spoke up. “I hate to be the one to say it, but maybe Kimball should’ve been more careful about what he had on him. Though, being honest, I’m willing to bet my two people both had ‘concealed weapons’ on them as well.”

  “Rest assured,” the captain said, “when this matter is resolved I’ll be docking Mr. Kimball’s pay for the trouble. That said, I am not amused with the colonial authority’s nonsense, and I am not about to leave a man behind at the behest of some petty bureaucrat on this backwater swamp.” She looked to Marcus. “Mr. Winchester, do you feel your team is up for an extraction mission?”

  Marcus rubbed his chin for a moment. “It’s very doable, Captain. From the video my daughter and Ms. Starlighter recorded, and other media we’ve been able to obtain, including telemetry from the ship’s sensors, their security is crude. These so-called Peacekeepers, the local constabulary, are few in number, and I have no reason to believe they’re particularly well-trained, not on an isolated colony like this. The colonists are pretty tight-lipped, but between our observations and what Mr. Halifax has told me of his previous visit, I have enough information to devise and effectuate a rescue plan. I think this would be a good real-world training opportunity for my team.”

  Catherine looked thoughtful. “But?”

  “Captain?” Marcus asked.

  “But,” Catherine repeated. “I sense a ‘but’ in your assessment.”

  “Captain, the question is, how many casualties are you willing to accept? I’m confident my team can accomplish this with a bare minimum of bloodshed. Even though we’ve lost the signal from his locator beacon, we believe Mr. Kimball is being held in a structure called the Office of the Peacekeepers. It’s basically a police station. While these Peacekeepers might be poorly trained, I don’t expect they’ll let us take Kimball without a fight. It could get ugly in a hurry. I believe we can retrieve your crewman, but there might be broader consequences to this course of action.”

  Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting I leave my crewman to his fate?”

  “Ma’am,” Marcus said calmly, “I’m not suggesting anything. You’re paying me a lot of money for my expertise, and I’m giving you an honest assessment of the situation. I can get your man back. The consequences of that course of action are yours to deal with, not mine. We’re outside of Concordiat space, and by extension the jurisdiction of my government.”

  Wolfram von Spandau spoke up then. “He is correct, Kapitänin. This colony does not have any extradition, law enforcement, or recognition treaties with any other colony or government. Their laws are not recognized by the Concordiat or anyone else. Regardless, we must proceed cautiously. Our crewman broke one of their asinine laws. Retrieving him by overt force and killing their citizens could be considered an act of piracy. If these people successfully lodge a complaint against us with Concordiat authorities, we could be blacklisted. We’d never be able to safely operate in Concordiat space again.”

  Catherine knew all this, and her executive officer shouldn’t have had to remind her. But he was doing what a good exec does: keeping his Captain out of trouble. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “You are right, of course, both of you. I’m just frustrated, forgive me. I have no patience for tyrants of any sort, and I find the petty ones to be the most insufferable. I could destroy their colony if I was willing,” she said darkly. “I wouldn’t even need to waste our ammunition—landing the ship in the middle of town would turn most of it to glass. But…obviously I won’t do anything like that. The question is, gentlemen, what can we do?”

  “We need more information, Captain,” Marcus suggested. “I doubt any of us would be able to blend in with the locals in town, but we have other tools at our disposal. We need to determine what kind of security measures are in place and whether or not the people keeping him can be bribed or threatened.”


  Wolfram nodded thoughtfully. “What if they will not be bribed or threatened?”

  “It’s risky, but…we have less-lethal options at our disposal. The people holding him won’t grant us any such consideration, of course. It’s like bringing a pillow to a knife fight, but with good intel, a good plan, and a particularly firm pillow, we may be able to pull it off.”

  “They may still complain to the Concordiat authorities,” the executive officer said.

  Marcus nodded in agreement. “They may. But we’re a long way from the nearest Fleet patrol. It would be weeks before anyone even hears their complaint, and probably months before an investigation is launched, if an investigation is launched, which is not likely. I seriously doubt the Fleet would send an envoy all the way out here because some privateers sprung one of their guys from the clink. If we go in guns blazing and shoot up the colony, well, that’s different. But if we do it quietly and cleanly…I can’t make you any promises, Captain, but I think I can get your man back without causing an interstellar incident. All the rumors that they execute people for minor infractions work in our favor. They refuse to confirm or deny it. Extreme measures seem more reasonable if you’re trying to save your man from the gallows.”

  Catherine’s brow furled in concentration as she thought for a few moments. Nodding to herself, she looked to Marcus again. “Very well, Mr. Winchester. Enlist the aid of the crew as necessary. Find out everything you can, and come up with a plan as quickly as possible. We’re still on a schedule here.”

  “Consider it done, Captain,” Marcus said, heading for the hatch. “I’ll brief you as soon as I know more. I need to go talk to my team.”

  * * *

  The darkened sky of Opal shimmered with the light of a thousand stars and two small moons as Marcus and his team made their way through the dense alien forest. The foliage glowed blue, green, violet, and indigo through natural bioluminescence. Countless tiny creatures, some flying, come crawling, went about their business in the darkness, themselves glowing faintly like fireflies. The pseudo-trees swayed and shifted in the darkness, and shuddered slightly when bumped, as if startled by human touch. It was beautiful, ethereal…like a vivid dream.

  Marcus noted thankfully that the native life didn’t seem interested in the human mercenaries. The weird forests of Opal weren’t anything like the vicious jungles of Mandalay, where every single lifeform seemed to be out for blood. He felt peaceful, despite the tension of the situation. The flying creatures emitted a melodious hum as they passed by, and the pseudo-trees would answer with a deep, rhythmic pulse of their own. It was still warm and murderously humid, but of the many alien ecosystems Marcus had found himself in over the years, this was one of the more pleasant ones.

  Devree Starlighter’s calm soprano voice piped into Marcus’ headset. “Cowboy-6, Overwatch. In position. Eyes on the BOI. Almost no activity in the street. Multiple security cameras around the structure. Over.”

  “Cowboy-6 copies,” Marcus replied. He grinned at the first official use of their unofficial team name. Devree, with Randy Markgraf serving as a spotter, had crept into town under the cloak of darkness and active thermoptic camouflage. Devree had found a good sniper’s hide for herself, high above the town, on a maintenance access platform of a communications tower. The remaining five mercenaries approached the town from a different direction. They didn’t have enough thermoptic camouflage garments for the entire team, so Marcus thought it best to give them to the sniper team.

  “Andromeda copies as well,” said another voice. “There’s very little activity across the entire colony. Early to bed, early to rise, it seems. Over.” Kilometers away, on the command deck of the ship, Captain Blackwood and her crew were monitoring the entire mission. They had a small, stealthy, nearly silent drone circling above the colony, providing real-time information to both the ship and the ground team.

  Marcus was pleased that Captain Blackwood didn’t seem interested in micromanaging her people. She was observing and acknowledging, but didn’t try to tell Marcus how to run his team. He greatly appreciated the professional trust in him she displayed. “Roger. We’ve reached Waypoint Charlie,” he said, indicating that his team was on the edge of town. The foliage abruptly ended in a vast clearing, in which the colony was situated. The Office of the Peacekeepers, a bland, windowless structure, stood less than a kilometer away from the edge of the forest. The colony’s streets were narrow and cluttered, which would aid the team in approaching undetected.

  “Cowboy-6,” a crewman on board the Andromeda said, observing through the multispectral cameras of the drone, “I’ve mapped a route for you, sending now. This will get you to the building of interest.”

  Devree spoke into her radio once again. “I’ve got the cameras identified and targeted. Standing by.”

  “Copy all,” Marcus said. His eyepiece blinked. “Received. Moving.”

  Captain Blackwood herself spoke into the communications link. “Good luck and Godspeed.”

  The team didn’t have a direct line of sight to the Office of the Peacekeepers as they wove their way through the cluttered town. This was good, as that building had security cameras on it, mounted on the corners of the roof, whereas most of the other structures didn’t. Hugging walls and crawling through ditches, the team approached their target in silence. All of their gear had been secured so as not to make noise. Smart glasses enhanced their vision in the low light, and active headsets enhanced their hearing. From what he’d observed, Marcus didn’t think these Peacekeepers had any such modern equipment at their disposal.

  Still, he wasn’t about to let his team get complacent, not on their first real operation. They communicated through hand and arm signals as they moved swiftly through the darkened colony. Half the team would move up while the other half held position and provided cover. In this way, they approached very close to the Office of the Peacekeepers before Marcus indicated that they should hold up and take cover. “Overwatch, Cowboy-6. Holding at Waypoint Delta.”

  Devree acknowledged. “Roger. Stand by.” An instant later, a pivoting security camera in a transparent protective bubble shattered, followed by a sonic crack, as a high-powered rifle bullet punched through it. From her elevated vantage point, Devree angled her scoped, sound-suppressed rifle and rapidly snapped off several more shots, destroying every security camera in her line of sight.

  At the same time, Marcus pointed to Ken Tanaka, who was positioned across a narrow street from him. He and Tanaka each lobbed two screening smoke grenades forward, filling the narrow streets with dense white smoke. The thick, humid air and lack of wind enabled the smoke to hang over the street like a bad memory, limiting unenhanced vision to a couple of meters and interfering with even multispectrum cameras.

  As planned, the team quietly rushed forward through the smoke. The front door to the Office of the Peacekeepers was reinforced, not something you could just kick in, but Wade was prepared. As the others provided cover, the explosives technician vaulted up the short steps to the building’s front door. He unrolled a linear shaped charge along the hinge-side of the door, pressing it into place as he did so. That done, he jumped down from the front steps and crouched by the wall. He looked to Ken, who was scanning the doorway with a handheld scanner. The Nipponese mercenary shot Wade the thumbs up when the scanner told him the other side of the doorway was clear. Wade nodded back and readied his initiator. “Fire in the hole!”

  BOOM! With a loud, metallic bang and another cloud of smoke, the door was blasted off its hinges and clattered to the steps. Marcus and the team were moving in an instant, weapons up and ready. In a tight stack, they maneuvered up the stairs and into the now-open airlock as alarms blared and fire-suppression systems sprayed purple retardant. The interior door of the entryway was locked, but the team was prepared for that as well. Halifax and Hondo stepped forward, aiming their big-bore flechette guns at the hinges. BA-BLAM! Powdered tungsten breaching rounds disintegrated the door’s hinges. Marcus raised his foot and ki
cked the door in, sending it flying to the floor. Without breaking his stride, he led the team through the door and into the Office of the Peacekeepers, amongst the scream of klaxons and the shouts of men.

  “Contact front!” Marcus shouted, firing off a rapid shot at a Peacekeeper who was stumbling out of a room, having barely finished putting his mask on. His flechette gun bucked against his shoulder, launching a less-lethal round into the unsuspecting constable. The slug hit its target with enough blunt force to cause him to double over in pain, and latched onto him. Then it shocked him senseless, disrupting his central nervous system and causing him to black out. The shock rounds were about seventy-five percent effective against nonaugmented humans, and were the most reliable way to put a man down short of killing him outright.

  “Contact rear!” Ken Tanaka said, his voice elevated but still calm. Several frantic gunshots rang out in the building’s main corridor before a shock round put the pistol-wielding Peacekeeper on the floor. “He’s down!”

  “Bishop, Halifax, on me!” Marcus ordered. “Tanaka, Hondo, secure the entry point. Andromeda, Cowboy-6, we’ve breached the BOI and are conducting our search. Overwatch, move in.”

  To a chorus of acknowledgment, Marcus, Wade, and Ben Halifax moved down the corridor, searching for the way down to the detention facility. The doors were labeled, but the signs were in Esperanto and were hard to read. “I think this is it!” he said, indicating another reinforced door which was labeled “malliberigon facilecon.”

  “I’m picking up his locator beacon again,” Halifax said.

  “The door is secured,” Marcus said, trying the handle. The whole building went into lockdown the moment the door was breached.

  “On it!” Wade said, stepping forward with another, smaller breaching charge. He attached it to the door as Marcus and Halifax took cover behind a corner. He ducked behind cover himself, shouted, “fire in the hole!” and mashed the initiator.