Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Pursuit (21 page)

Loren agreed, and a minute later Cory
appeared.  She walked confidently, but seemed distracted, looking straight at
the shuttle and not taking in the surroundings like she normally would.

"Ready to go, Commander," she
said as she pulled up to a halt with Loren at the hatch to the Prowler. 

"Good to see you," Loren
replied and gestured to the interior of the ship.  "Merritt's inside
getting our gear stowed.  Head in and we'll be out of here in a minute."

She nodded and went inside.  Loren could
see it in her; she was troubled, but as long as she didn't lose her spark she
would be ok.

An hour later, Loren, Merritt and Cory
were in a spacious suite in a mid-quality hotel chain in the heart of the
southern continent's capital city.  They'd changed and started to set up shop,
and it was time for him to make a vid call.  He stepped into one of the
bedrooms, closed the door, and sat at a small desk to make the call.

The connection picked up at the other end
and Loren recognized the surroundings; it was the main living space of Garrett
Drayven's well-appointed ship.  Seated at the head of the table was the man he
needed to talk with.

"Mr. Stone," said Garrett
easily.  He seemed genuinely pleased to see him, though Loren knew it could
have been an act as easily as truth.  "How are things?"

"Oh, the usual, I guess," Loren
replied.  "Confeds and Primans, chasing each other all over space, trying
to blow each other up.  How about you?"

"Business is, well, booming, you
could say," Garrett admitted.  "Someone in a line of work such as
mine-"

"You mean the corporate relocation
business?" Loren said in jest.

"Exactly.  Things are going well. 
There are all sorts of parties who would like access to my company and its
resources.  I've had to expand a bit, though I am held back by my quirky need
to micromanage most of my affairs.  It's just hard to find people you can well
and truly trust, you understand?  Now, if maybe you or one of your associates
would ever like to consider a change of employment, my previous offers still
stand."

"I'll pass that along, thank you,
but I've called for other reasons.  First is to check on our mutual friend-
your houseguest."

"Ah yes.  He's doing well,
actually.  We've moved around a bit, trying to keep a low profile.  I've done a
little remodeling on my ship; I knocked out the wall between my two guest
quarters and made his lodging larger.  It's the least I could do, but he is
getting on about heading home sometime in the near future.  Any news on that front?"

"Yes, actually," Loren
admitted, though he couldn't give away all that much.  "We have some
people working on getting the data we'll all need right now.  I hope to hear
from them soon, and when that's complete we'll be able to get your friend on
his way."

"He'll be happy to hear that."

"Next is a request from the
captain.  You're recording this call, I assume?"

Garrett looked insulted.  "When do I
not?"

"Alright then," Loren
continued.  "This line is secure?"

Garrett looked at a panel next to him and
tapped in a few commands.  "It was, and I can give you another three or
four minutes of guaranteed time before someone who was trying might start to
grab encryption keys."

"Ok, here it is.  The captain needs
to contact Admiral Nodam Bak.  You remember him?"

"We met on the carrier Thunderbird
when I brought our friend in."

"Exactly.  You two already know each
other, but just so he knows this is current and coming from me, tell him I'm
still jealous of the paint job on his new toy.  He'll know what it means.  In
any case, tell him we need backup at Faaria.  We're being pursued by at least
three Priman cruisers and have taken a hell of a beating.  We might be able to
get away, but they know our itinerary and we need to put an end to this.  I
know it would take days on end to get any forces here even if there are any
hulls available, but we have to ask."

"Might I ask as to why you aren't
just using those expensive quantum-encrypted military transceivers on your
ship?"

"Like I said, somebody knows our
itinerary.  I don't trust anyone any more.  I do trust you, though, because we
have an understanding about what our relationship is, and I trust Admiral Bak
because his greatest joy in life is taking it to the Primans.  Anyone else not
on Avenger or known to me personally doesn't make the cut right now."

Merritt only pondered it for a second. 
"I can appreciate that, of course.  You really would make a competent
Fixer."

"I think my retirement plan is
better."

"I would love to sit down and show
you some of my plans sometime.  I'll contact you on this device when I receive
a reply?"

"Please."

"So," Web asked
conversationally as they stuck to the shadows in a light industrial area on the
outskirts of Harkor, Callidor's capital city, "what brings us here?"

"I operated out of here for a while
before we met that fateful day," Halley said with a grin.  "I have
resources here we can use, first of all.  I expect that at least one or two of
my caches are still intact, which will give us money and equipment.  And unless
they've all been run off by the Primans, I know people who can do work for us;
making IDs, getting supplies, that sort of thing.  Nothing too complicated or
risky, obviously, but it can lighten our load if we can pass off a few things
to others. 

"There's also the fact that what
little data Velk gave us points to this city as the place to be.  There are a
number of important Priman facilities here; governing, storage, research and
more.  He gave us some specs to keep an eye out for as to what one of these
data storage facilities might look like.  So, we scout the place for a while
and see if we can come up with a few leads."

"And when we find something?"
Web queried.

"We take it and run like hell."

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Loren, Merritt and Cory sat around the
small dinette in their suite.

"We have two leads here," Loren
began.  "One is a group of activist hackers who are constantly pushing a
pro-AI agenda through every outlet they can reach.  They're just about on the
order of lobbyists.  They're well funded and are very careful to cultivate an
upstanding image; these aren't smelly, bored kids protesting the issue of the
month.  They have a clear agenda and are by all accounts very good at their
awareness campaigns.  The laws aren't going to change, but they make sure
people know about the story.

"Next lead is something brought to
the admiral by some SAR friends of Halley's.  This group is quite the opposite
of the first; they've staged information warfare attacks, taken down electronic
storefronts, even tried to build their own AIs and set them loose.  They've
gained traction now from people who think that either AIs could fight the
Primans for us or that we screwed it all up and they should let the robots run
the place instead.  Either way, we need to check out both of these
groups."

"Plan?" asked Cory simply.

"We split up; you and Merritt take
the upstanding lobbyists, I'll go say hi to the subversive robo-fans."

"You can understand if that seems
risky," Merritt cautioned.

"Not as bad as you might
think," Loren admitted.  "That's one of the reasons Captain Elco kept
us on schedule here instead of trying something else when we realized the
Primans had our travel plans.  Halley's friends set up some bona fides for me
and arranged an introduction.  One of their number is actually operating
undercover in the periphery of the group to keep tabs on them and helped broker
the deal for us.  I'm going in as myself.  I know, it will be a tough act, but
I'm headed in under the guise of an off-the-books Confed mission to investigate
the use of AIs in combat.  It's everything these jokers dream about, and they
fairly salivated at the thought of giving me a sales pitch that I might take
back to the brass.  Hopefully I'll get some sort of door prizes or goody bags
when I leave."

"Provided they let you leave,"
Cory interjected.  "Their group is currently considered a threat and
several of their number are on watch lists."

"The SAR guy is there to make sure
of that," Loren reassured her.  "He knows I'm on a mission that
requires me to get in and eventually leave.  His orders are to get me out if
need be.

"Now, as for you two, you get the
more pleasant evening.  There's a fund-raiser for the lobbyists tonight and
you're going to go give them a big deposit from a Galactic Bank account the
admiral set up for you.  You hang around, show some interest, and see if
there's something you can offer to do while you're in town.  Your cover is
refugees from the Talaran Collection- ID packages are in the same message
buffer for you that has the bank info.  You're in town looking for a place to
set down and thought you'd offer to contribute to the effort to help stop the
invaders by helping the group in their mission to get AIs back on the
streets."

"You'll be out and about as
well?" asked Cory.

"My meet is a little bit later;
you'll probably be able to give me a quick vid call and tell me your
impressions of the meet, but I'll have a late night."

Cory and Merritt arrived at the
fund-raiser a bit early and walked the building to get the lay of the land
before the event started.  They collected their tickets using the fake
credentials they'd assumed and exchanged them at the door for entry into the
ballroom.

Merritt had to admit, these people had
style.  The room was several stories tall, lavishly decorated with
floor-to-ceiling banners and draperies done in dark reds that contrasted with
the veined white marble that much of the room was constructed from or decorated
with.  They found their table and took a seat after collecting drinks from a roaming
waiter.

"Not such a bad gig, eh?"
Merritt said lightly, trying to gauge his wife's mood.

"Could be worse," she admitted,
then seemed to lose herself in the study of a painting hanging on a wall.  It
was real, done in oils on canvas, not a solid holo reproduction.  That had to
have been expensive as well.

Merritt studied her for a minute, trying
to decide on how to proceed.  His eyes darted among the wait staff that breezed
around the space, checking on drinks and seeing to other more mundane requests
from the attendees.

Cory noticed his nervousness and finally
just looked at him.  "I know you think there's something going on with
me," she said gently, to which Merritt could do nothing more than give her
an impassive face.

"Here's where traditionally someone
might say 'no, you're fine'."  She waited for his response.

"You know something's up,"
Merritt replied.  "No point in insulting you by pretending there's nothing
to say."  He shifted in his seat, leaning forward across the table towards
her.  "I think you're upset by losing another wingman.  You've lost a few
of them, Cory, and I think it's starting to get to you.  Now, I'm not a
psychologist and I won't pretend to know exactly how you feel, but I will say
that I'm ready to listen or do whatever I can to be there.  Whatever you need,
ok?"

She blinked and nodded, smile fixed in
place, but he knew it was a gesture; she wasn't smiling with her whole face,
her eyes didn't light up.  She was just trying to put him at ease.

"I'll deal with it," she said,
trying to sound confident.

Merritt just stared down at the table
setting in front of her, hoping she'd continue.

"Doctor Elrad said there are things
we can do to try and move on," she said.  "She said we should make
sure we remember them, that what they did wasn't in vain or forgotten."

"Wise words," Merritt offered.

"So what do we do?  If we put their
callsign patches on the wall or a plaque in the ready room it'll scare off the
new arrivals.  We've lost so many, Merritt, and I'm just having a hard time wrapping
my mind around the fact that we'll need to lose more."

Merritt placed his hand lightly on hers. 
"I can't say anything to change that fact," he said softly,
remorsefully.  "It's wrong, but it's going to happen.  All I can think to
say is that we each need to do what part we can to bring this to a close as
soon as possible.  We need to stop the Primans before war becomes a way of life
and we lose any more good people than are required for the task.  And on a
personal note, I hope you're among the number that gets to send the squadron
off when this is all over and we get some long term R&R."

Cory nodded as she squeezed his hand.  
She wasn't cured.  The feeling of hopelessness would come back; this she knew
from unpleasant experience as of late.  But it was better for now, and she'd
take what relief she could get.

"I guess we should go make some
friends," Merritt suggested, and they stood up together to find somebody
to talk to.

Two hours later, Loren received a comm
call.  He sat up straight from his comfortable position in the living area of
the group's small suite and activated the video feature.

He saw Merritt's face against a backdrop
of an ornate banquet hall.

"How was the food?" Loren asked
of the other man.

"Quite good, actually," replied
Merritt, "though I thought the dinner rolls were a bit dry." He
shifted position a bit so that Loren could see the mingling crowd behind him. 
Loren saw a tiny icon on the bottom of the screen that indicated Merritt was
using the dampening field in his device, which prevented any sound from getting
more than an arm's length from the comm unit.  It allowed people to talk and
listen normally but maintain privacy because the sound didn't make it to any
prying ears.  Loren was glad of the feature; it allowed him and Merritt to
discuss the evening while allowing him to survey the faces in the crowd behind
and try to gauge their mood.

"We made our donation," Merritt
began, "and got to chat with one of the more important figures in the
organization.  I'll be honest; it didn't amount to much.  We talked politics
and ideology, and agreed that we all feel the same about certain important
issues.  But nothing substantial came of it.  He offered to help place us,
maybe working with public awareness or something to that effect.  I just didn't
get a feel from him that they were into anything.  It's hard to put to words,
but it was all rhetoric.  There was no fire to him, no burning drive that I
would have expected of somebody in his position.  I'd say if this bunch knows
anything, this man isn't in on it.  I could be wrong, of course.  There are
three recorded events in which I made the wrong call, after all."

Loren chuckled.  "Three?  I've never
been wrong.  If that's your impression, though, I'm inclined to believe it for
starters.  You might as well make your way back here when it's prudent to
leave.  I'm heading out now and I'll check in when I can later."

Loren walked the streets to his meet. 
The location was at a bar in a trendy district of the town currently undergoing
a renewal of sorts.  There were still a number of older or unoccupied buildings
that were being renovated, and Loren assumed the actual meet would take place
in one of them after they'd checked him out initially.  Though dressed as a
civilian, he had decided to wear his SSK in a concealed holster in his back
waistband.  He'd debated the policy, but finally figured that it would only
reinforce the point that he was military and all about business.  He'd turn it
over to the first person he met as a gesture of trust and hope he wouldn't need
to retrieve it forcefully.

He heard the place before he turned the
corner and saw it.  It was a three story structure, lit up against the night
from top to bottom with all manner of lights and advertising. 

He had elected to just walk up to the two
burly Trin who were standing in front of the door blocking the entrance.  A few
people grumbled and threw half-hearted snipes his way about going to the front,
but he simply walked up to the men guarding the entrance.

"My name's Loren," he said
simply.  "There are some people inside who should be expecting me."

They just stared at him, waiting.  Loren
was familiar enough with interrogation and resistance to it that he knew the
only appropriate response was to stare back and hold his ground.  If they
sensed him backing down or looking for a way out, they'd know he wasn't a
player and would probably act accordingly.

"Are you planning on telling
them," he prodded, "or are you just going to stare at me?"

They kept up the act, but after a few
seconds one of them held up a comm device and tapped a few commands into it. 
He then held it up so the camera could capture Loren's image.  Another tap, a
nod to the screen, and he stepped to the side so Loren could enter. 

"Second floor, left balcony,"
was all he said.

Loren only nodded, then walked
confidently between the two.  He tensed against the small chance that they
might take the opportunity to bag him and bring him up under their control, but
he passed without incident.

The bar was loud, with flashing lights, a
pulsating throng of people rolling back and forth to the music like waves on
the sea.  He bypassed it all and headed right to the stairs for the second
floor.

It didn't take more than a few seconds to
spot his destination: a roped off portion that took up the entire left upper
balcony overlooking the dance floor below.  It was only about half full, and
those that were there didn't appear to be taking part in the festivities to the
extent that the people at ground level were.  The people closest to the rope
partition, athletic types wearing layered clothing designed to conceal various
types of weapons, closed on Loren as he approached the boundary.

"My name's Loren," he repeated
the act from downstairs.  "I believe I'm expected."

There were three of them, all youngish
human women.  They didn't look imposing at first, but their grace of movement
and calculating glances reminded Loren of Halley, and he knew what a horrible
idea it was to mess with her.  He'd assume similar dedication from these three.

"You are expected," the first
one, the apparent leader, said.  She had her long blonde hair in a ponytail and
eyed him up professionally.  "Are you armed?"

"Guy like me with business like mine
in this part of town?" Loren replied with a calculated smirk.  "Of
course I am.  You're welcome to it while I'm here as long as you take
responsibility for my well-being within the building."

"You'll be safe from others, you
have our word.  Our bosses, though, are another matter if you try anything unfortunate."

"Deal," Loren replied, and
slowly reached back to his waistband the draw his SSK.  The biometric safeties
wouldn't allow anyone else to fire it, so he wasn't worried about it being used
against him.  He only worried about a possible double-cross and actually
getting the weapon back on his departure; he'd been through a lot with that gun
and didn't take the thought of losing it lightly.