By Other Means (13 page)

“reports from central worlds.”

Sienel nodded, accepting the data plaques, “Thank you.”

He dropped the data into his personal system as the messenger left, calling up the basic information overview as he got to work. Station security was having the very abyss of a time keeping track of everything since the Terran’s arrived on station. Despite all attempts, rumors about them had slipped out.

As it always was, those rumors ranged from pure fantasy to frighteningly accurate, which generally make security a nightmare. For the moment they’d kept most of the more disruptive elements of Alliance society out of the system by instituting nesting jump point patrols and rerouting ships around the sector.

That didn’t do much good for those already in the area, of course, and that was his job to deal with.

There were always elements within the Alliance, and without, who actively dredged up the worst of the feelings each of the Alliance species had for one another. Not everyone in the Alliance were friends, and damn few had begun as such even if they were today. No, there were more species like the Ross, in actuality, and it was child’s play to stir up trouble among the more extreme members of any given race.

With rumors of the Terrans filtering out, especially since the war had been impossible to keep secret even if they’d been insane enough to try, all of those were going to come out of the woodwork.

Some would be looking for allies within the Terran contingent, others would just be trying to sabotage the negotiations, and more than likely there would be a handful of the more insular conservative extremists who’d take a shot at the Terrans just on general xenophobic principals.

At least we managed to keep the GinSan from getting here,
Sienel sighed to himself.

While a very pleasant species to deal with, the GinSan were extremely liberated in sexual terms. Few species were ready to deal with the things they considered a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Ironically, he suspected that the free sexual mores of the GinSan had probably destroyed more treaty negotiations than assassins had.

Diplomats
expected
assassins, they knew how to deal with them mentally. The Gin, on the other hand, tended to do far more than merely creep out most sapients.

His agents had been working with the station’s teams to keep an eye on the Terrans, but Sienel was experienced enough to know that no surveillance was ever perfect. That held particularly true when you were dealing with people who knew they were being surveyed
and
were actively working to evade you. They’d lost track of several of the Terrans over the last couple days, never for very long and always clearly by some sort of accident or happenstance.

That alone is proof enough that they’re evading my agents,
Sienel sighed. Every time there was clear evidence of some innocent accident that happened to put his agents out of contact for a time.

If it were really accidental, there would be a few times where the evidence was less solid. No, Sienel was experienced enough to know that he was being played. That was alright, though, he was playing back.

It was all par for the course right now, this shadow dancing as the diplomats continued their bickering. The long game would be played out in the shadows, won or lost there, that was the way of things. It was a different kind of warfare, one where flashy victories were meaningless and you only knew if you’d won or lost the war when the final star sang.

So far, though, if he were pressed to give an evaluation of the opening moves, Sienel would grudgingly admit that the Terrans were ahead on points.

*****

Ruger found the Major in the Mexico’s armory, standing face to face with the silent and imposing OPCOM armor she normally wore. He wondered briefly what precise thoughts were running through her mind as she stared into the blank helm of the powered armor, but honestly he figured he could probably guess without much trouble. It was a hard thing to adapt to fighting a very different kind of war, he knew that too well.

“Miss it?” He asked, coming to a stop behind her.

Aida straightened and pivoted on her heel in an action so smooth that Ruger knew she had to have been plotting it the entire time he’d been approaching. Surprising an OPCOM operator wasn’t a healthy thing to do, however, so he was happy to accept the salute and return it in kind.

“As you were.”

“Sir,” Aida nodded, relaxing. She glanced over her shoulder at the armor and he could almost see her mentally sigh, though she did nothing of the sort physically. “Just… this isn’t what I’m trained for, Admiral. I should be on the ground.”

“You are on the ground,” He told her, “this war has shifted. Right now we’re in the process of cooling down a very hot war and, probably, shifting to start fighting a very cold one. Your analysis of the enemy may be the foundation that determines whether we live or die.”

“I know that, Sir,” She said, “don’t worry. I’ll do my job.”

“never doubted it,” Ruger said, extending his hand out with the cash card held in it.

Sorilla took it, flipping it over and noting that he was completely blank and very unlike the ones she’d been issued from the Alliance. “Clean?”

“Supposedly.”

Sorilla snorted, “I’m the guinea pig, then?”

Ruger nodded, “You’re expendable. Not nice to say, but if the decide to toss you out on your arse, you’re a small loss to our intelligence initiative.”

“And if they decide to shoot me as a spy?” Sorilla asked mildly, not that she was really complaining. That was the risk she’d accepted along with the assignment.

“Unlikely, they want this treaty as badly as we do,” Ruger said, “More likely they’ll declare you persona non grata and toss your butt out… but if they don’t track you, then we know we have a probable reliable contact in the local criminal class.”

Sorilla nodded, knowing how valuable that would be. “Fair enough. I’ll try it out tomorrow if I can slip the watchers.”

“We’ll arrange some confusion, give you a few minutes.” Ruger said, “security will be on you quick though…”

Sorilla shook her head, “Don’t. I’ll arrange my own slip.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes Sir.”

Ruger nodded, “Alright, I’ll leave it to you then. You know what you’re looking for?”

Sorilla just rolled her eyes before she could get a grip on the reaction, “Admiral, Sir, remember why I was sent.”

He smiled slightly, “Alright. Go get em, Major.”

Sorilla saluted again, “Yes Sir.”

*****

It was disappointing that their first plan had failed so spectacularly, but that was why they’d opted to use a disenfranchised Lucian as the assassin. He was one of very few who left the homeworld of their own accord without being part of the Lucian military. Most of those were troublemakers and generally considered to be less than honorable by their fellow Lucians, so his involvement wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. Not without more evidence connecting him to his handlers, and they’d made certain that no such evidence existed.

No, for the moment they were covered, but it still left them with a treaty to blast from its moorings before it could be properly secured.

The cleanest method was still eliminating the Alliance ambassador, but now that security had been alerted to the very real existence of a plot to strike at the proceedings they’d tightened up considerable. Not that they were particularly loose before, but now it was clear that they were fully expecting more trouble and they were no longer treating the situation as a standard assignment.

That would make things messy.

Messy or not, however, there was a job to be done and it would be done regardless of the collateral damages.

“Are the teams ready?”

“They are being readied, Primus. Not long now.”

The being in charge growled, “What is taking so long?”

“Moving them into the sector through the increased patrols took longer than we calculated, however they’re in place now and will be ready shortly.”

“Fine.”

He wasn’t happy with it, but it was better to take the extra time and not be caught. The mission being identified wouldn’t be the end of the galaxy, but it would be a hitch in his personal advancement so he’d certainly like to avoid that if possible.

The new teams wouldn’t be as clean as the Lucian, unfortunately. They would have the virtue of strength in numbers and redundancy, however, so he was confident of accomplishing his ends.

Even if it cost the entire station in the process.

Still, that did mean it was time to leave.

“Kelan, prepare my transport. I have a desire to be in the central worlds.”

“Yes, Primus. It will be ready to leave within the tenth.”

*****

Sorilla looked at her dress uniform where it was hanging in her small shipboard closet. She felt like she’d been skinned and left naked, which was more than a little ironic since she actually didn’t feel naked when she
was
naked.

She was wearing what passed for civilian garb among the Alliance, one particular sampling of it at least. They’d picked the clothing of a near humanoid species that tended to prefer voluminous coverings of material they could fake close enough on board ship.

Now the trick will be to give the watchers the slip when we’re back on the station.

Sorilla could feel the familiar rush of nerves as she shifted and tested the range of her new clothing. She’d done this before, several times, and it was both a rush and something that scared her deep down. Infiltrating a new culture, under the guns of the enemy, was always a challenge even when you had decent intelligence.

This time, however, she had basically no intelligence, just some observational data from the last few days and the previous diplomatic visit. She’d been reviewing it ever since she received the assignment, but it was all just observational, she knew how the aliens acted in public but nothing at all about
why
.

Sorilla was a lot of things.

She was a combat specialist, a combat trainer, but actually more importantly she was a cultural expert. The Special Forces had trained her not only how to kill and teach others to do the same, but it was more important to understand who she was teaching so that she knew how to teach them. It also had the effect of allowing her to fade into almost any culture on Earth, her general physical traits being such there that she could pass for almost any race with little trouble.

Here, well, long term infiltration was right out the airlock.

Sorilla pulled on some loose fitting coveralls over the garb, checking that she had it all covered. She looked a little pillowy when she was done, particularly in the chest. Sorilla smirked at her reflection in the mirror, noting that she’d never looked so large up top in her life.

Too bad there’s no one on station to appreciate the upgrade,
She thought humorously as she finished patting herself down to smooth out the rumples.

The biggest problem was that she wouldn’t be able to carry into the station, her local ID would only allow her to pack weapons while acting as security for the Diplo Team. If she tried to sneak around with them, Sorilla had no doubt that station security would pick her up in short order. The stations in SOLCOM space could pinpoint a weapon in fifty different ways, so she had to assume the same here.

No uniform, no weapon, this op has fun written all over it.

The shuttle slipped into the Station’s bays easily, landing with the light touch of a man who was determined to prove just how good his service was at what they did. The diplomatic team stepped off with the full entourage and were again greeted by the local detail. Pleasantries and general empty phrases were exchanged as they moved along toward the conference room.

It had become a daily ritual, and the whole of the station was familiar with it by now.

People became familiar with things very quickly, slipped into routines. It was pretty clear to the Terran delegation that the member races of the Alliance were no different in that respect. When they first arrived, people stood well back and watched from a safe distance, but within a couple days they barely noticed the procession.

Now the people around the station had to be told to move aside by the security teams leading the group, something they did with grudging reluctance now.

Moving that many people through an even greater number of people was always a challenge for both security and efficiency. Someone always objected a little more vociferously than the rest, making a little trouble for the procession. When that happened, everyone inevitably looked toward the confrontation, even if just for a second.

That was when Sorilla stepped to the left and into the thickest part of the crowd she could find.

It took less than thirty seconds to vanish from sight, but she didn’t relax or slow down at that point. She crossed back and forth through the crowd, following the path of least resistance. Sorilla knew that pushing through the crowd would leave a trace for the watchers to follow, so she left as little of a ‘wake’ as possible. That was made all the harder by her pulling the coveralls off after she moved. The bunched up robes underneath made things difficult, but she’d had worse to deal with in the past. It took only seconds to vanish the SOLCOM operator and become what she hoped would be a reasonable facsimile of an alien civilian.

She stepped back out from the crowd a minute after vanishing, body and face covered in the flowing robes as she began walking through the crowd. She followed the diplomatic group, pacing them in case she’d been missed already. The last place searchers would look for a missing person was right next to the place they’d gone missing from.

There didn’t seem to be any commotion, however, so either she’d slipped away successfully or else they’d left her a little rope to hang herself with. Either way, she had a task to perform and that meant she had to act as though she’d escaped clean.

*****

“She’s missing.”

Sienel pinched his face, wanting to yell or curse, but honestly he wasn’t nearly as surprised as he wish he would have been.