Star Risk - 03 The Doublecross Program (10 page)

"I can give you a pr�s," Grok said. "General Lanchester was killed on a low-level mission, sweeping for bandits in and around the village of Jaku. You can read the details that the senior Khelat, a Prince Jer, provided. He was a witness to the tragedy.

"However, there are other items of interest.

"The comment by the team executive officer, Major Wycliffe, after the report, and evidently added at a later date, says, and I quote, �Due to the circumstances surrounding General Lanchester's death, we were withdrawn after reporting the details to First Mar Div headquarters.' "

"Which are?"

"Which are not in the report," Jasmine said, "and getting them is what took Grok so long. What is in the report is that Lanchester was in the field that day with a unit called Special Detachment 43. Which was commanded by Prince Jer, now strategic advisor to the king. A rather high-level officer for a seventy-five-man unit, created to work closely in the field with the Alliance Advisors. I tried to contact this unit, and found it had been dissolved. About a week after Lanchester's death."

"So something stinks to heaven, but nobody's around to talk," Riss said grimly.

"Not necessarily," Jasmine went on. "We had a few names in the report of soldiers in that unit. One of them, a team leader, was�is�named Kae Plamen. General Lanchester's communications man.

"I thought, given the details of the action in which Lanchester was killed�that his three-man lifter was in front of the screen when an enemy rocketeer fired on him� there might have been other casualties. So there were. His gunner was killed, and Team Leader Plamen badly wounded.

"I did a little digging and found he'd been wounded badly enough to be invalided out of the service."

"Another dead end?" Riss asked.

"The good Plamen receives a pension from his government, and I managed to find his address without, I think, alerting the government," Jasmine said.

"Most skillful." Grok nodded his approval.

"It still stinks," Riss said. "If there was something dirty about Dov's death�which there's no doubt of�why didn't they just take this Plamen out in the desert and put a few rounds in his back?"

"Undoubtedly, they wanted to," Jasmine said. "But his father is head of his guild, and any disappearance would cause trouble. Besides, I don't think his killer figured anyone would pursue the matter."

"I just want to have a chat with this Plamen," M'chel said, trying to sound calm, feeling blood pulse in her temples.

"Your wish is our command," Jasmine said. "He waits in the suite dining room. I spirited him in, crouched in a photo analysis computer crate, so he won't have to worry about having been spotted. Shall we go chat with him?"

"As I've already heard a tape of what he had to say to Jasmine," Grok said, "you'll excuse me. I am in the middle of finding out something Friedrich wants."

Ex-Team Leader Plamen was about as thoroughly crippled as anyone Riss had ever seen. One eye was gone, replaced by a black patch, his face was terribly scarred, he had no right arm below the elbow, and moved sufferingly slowly.

She guessed he might have been good-looking once.

Riss wondered why he hadn't been fitted with prosthetics�Khelat was rich enough and once had ties with the Alliance.

Then she realized he was nothing more than a worker. Certainly, no one of the royal family would have been allowed to walk about with wounds that ghastly.

"Good evening," Jasmine said in Khelat.

Plamen nodded his head nervously.

"This is Colonel M'chel Riss," she went on. "One of my teammates, and a good friend of General Lanchester."

Plamen looked at M'chel carefully.

"I do not like her," he said. "She has killer's eyes."

Jasmine forced a laugh.

"If you are right, that is hardly the way to render her harmless."

Plamen shrugged. "I care what people do or think but little, since I was wounded."

"Let me be frank," Riss said. "We do not believe that General Lanchester was shot by a bandit at all."

Plamen hesitated.

"I must tell you how good it feels to have an out-lander speak fluently in my tongue."

"It is the only way for people to understand each other," Riss said sententiously.

"If you were a member of my royal family," Plamen said, "you would be speaking Alliance and using an interpreter, as if you, too, were one of the offworld elite."

"I am hardly elite," Riss said. "I was born poor, and joined the military to better myself. Like you."

"Yes, like me." Plamen made a face. "And see how successful I have become."

"If you agree to help us and answer our questions," Jasmine said, "you will be well reimbursed."

"I should demand no pay� But I shall take it," Plamen said. "Credits do much to make me more handsome to some women."

"You were General Lanchester's communications specialist," Riss asked.

"And very proud to be chosen," he said. "Just as I had been proud to be chosen a member of Special Detachment 43, which was established as a liaison between the Alliance team and our military, which is why Prince Jer commanded it. And I had dreams of further promotion."

"What happened on the day General Lanchester was killed?" Riss said. "The true story. He and I were very good friends."

Plamen looked deeply into Riss's eyes, then nodded.

"We had gone out on a sweep in lifters that the Alliance had provided. We were covering the area around Jaku� Do you know it?"

"I know of it."

"We had been told by our commander, Prince Jer, that Intelligence had said there was a company or more of bandits staying in the ruins of the village.

"We took not only the men in the detachment, but two companies of infantry, as well. Prince Jer led from the front, as officers are supposed to do, until we reached the village. We were moving very, very slowly, and General Lanchester was becoming angry. He was on the com almost constantly, chiding the formation's officers to move more quickly. Sometimes he used language that I do not think princes are used to.

"As I say, we regrouped in the village, prepared to continue the sweep on the far side. Then someone�I don't know who�a villager, a bandit� shot at Jer's lifter, which was flying the royal colors, hardly indistinguishable. He immediately ordered his pilot to turn and return to the village, but for the rest of us to find the bandits.

"That was enough for my general. He swore at Prince Jer, and, even worse, told him to stand up like a true prince and defend his king, and stop behaving like a coward.

"Jer made no answer, and Lanchester turned back to the others.

"I happened to be watching toward the rear, where Jer's lifter was, and saw the prince push his gunner out of the way and aim the craft's rocket launcher at us. I tried to shout a warning to my general, but it was too late. It hit us square. I was lucky that General Lanchester's body was between me and the strike.

"He was obliterated� I am sorry, Colonel, but you wanted the truth� and our driver was killed, as well.

"I recovered in the hospital, and knew I should pretend to have seen nothing. But I still think that my family's importance is what really kept me alive."

"You swear this?" Jasmine King asked.

"I swear this by everything that is holy, and will gladly agree to be tested on one of the Alliance's lie machines.

"Prince Jer, the one who was closest to General Lanchester and to the king, murdered my general, your friend."

It was quite late the next evening when Riss tapped on Friedrich's door. He checked his security box, saw who it was, and hit the remote to unlock the door.

Ever the old-fashioned sort, he offered Riss a drink, some of the herbal tea he was supping, or something from room service.

M'chel declined.

"Very well, then," von Baldur said. "What is it I can help you with?"

"First, a question," Riss said. "Am I still your client?"

"Well�" Friedrich's voice trailed off. "It is a little complicated, but let us assume so."

"That actually simplifies matters," Riss said.

"With this information Grok got, about my friend's murder, plus other things that've happened, at first I was going to ask for a leave of absence, not wanting to help these goddamned Khelat anymore.

"I have a scheme."

Friedrich's mouth opened in surprise, and he held up a hand.

Riss shook her head.

"Not until I'm finished. I decided I couldn't walk out on the team when you're stuck with these smarmy bastards. But I sure didn't want to rub them to my bosom. So I thought a minute, and decided what I want to do about the situation.

"Either I can step out�which I don't want to do�or else you can maybe take a little trip with me."

"To where?"

"To the capital worlds of the Shaoki."

"Oh, my," von Baldur said.

"We've made an impression on them already, with Chas's and my raids," Riss said. "Now I propose we doublecross our clients�if we can get more credits�and go to work for the Shaoki and help them win the war. My idea seems to fight right in with the way these Khelat think."

"Well, dear me," Friedrich murmured.

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THIRTEEN � ^ � The first step in doublecrossing the Khelat was to get out of the cluster.

The rest of Star Risk were told what was in the offing. Almost equally disgusted with their clients, and assuming von Baldur and Riss could improve on their deal with the Shaoki, the vote was unanimous.

The pair took the first commercial transport out of the cluster, not much caring where it took them.

It was strange to arrive in a system that was not only at peace, but also didn't even have an army, letting their police force deal with any problems.

Riss instantly realized Star Risk would never be retained by such an aberrant culture.

They booked into a plush hotel and sent a message to their banker at Alliance Credit, back on Trimalchio IV, to go to Star Risk's safety-deposit box, withdraw envelopes 43 and 11, and send them, by courier, to the pair.

The banker didn't know, or need to know, the envelopes contained false identities.

While they waited, Riss caught up on her sleep and Friedrich found some nice, honest, dumb gamblers to pass the time.

He was considerably enriched when the envelopes arrived, and Riss had snored her way through some of her exhaustion backlog, almost as far as when she first joined Star Risk.

They bought tickets back into the Khelat-Shaoki cluster, but this time to Irdis, the Shaoki capital world.

"Now," Friedrich explained, "we are prepared to open negotiations with the Shaoki."

"Under what name?" Riss asked.

"Why, our own, of course."

"If we're going to do that," Riss asked, "why'd we fribbit around with phony ID?"

"Because we might want to have a fast exit if the negotiations collapse."

Irdis was the richest of the Shaoki worlds. It had an abandon of small continents, not particularly fertile but all irrigated.

The Shaoki must've used less talented irrigation engineers than the Khelat, for the land was still poor and crops weren't that rich.

On the other hand, the Shaoki hadn't given in to the temptation of a single-crop economy, unlike the Khelat, so they were still self-supporting.

There was far more water on Irdis than Khelat, and so there was fishing, a deal of shipping, and such.

M'chel, reading the encyclopedia entry, didn't much want to live under either power.

It took almost four days for the Shaoki to approach them.

M'chel grumbled, "Supposing we were traitors, ready to sell out a Khelat Grand Offensive just moments away?"

"Well," von Baldur said, "by the time they returned our messages, I suppose the Khelat would be bringing in their occupation forces. Which really shows how much they need Star Risk, does it not?"

M'chel growled, went to a window, looked far down at the Shaoki city.

That wasn't improving her mood any.

The Shaoki not only weren't as rich as the Khelat; they evidently liked living in each others' laps.

They'd revived, from Riss knew not where, the ancient belief in putting up their buildings to be self-contained, from waking to sleep. Their "hotel" also held offices, several restaurants, clothing shops, other boutiques, possibly even a funeral home, so no one had to go out of doors.

Which was just as well.

Pollution didn't seem to bother the Shaoki very much. The rich had air-conditioning; the poor had emphysema.

No one went into the countryside unless they had to, so there was no Shaoki custom like the absurd Khelat one of going out to commune with the desert.

Not that most worlds had much of a desert. There was plenty of salt marsh, shallow oceans, and rocky barrens. But no sand, or at least M'chel hadn't seen any.

She hadn't looked very hard, but busied herself with preparing a potential back door, from the hotel to the spaceport, in case things fell apart.

Finally, their coms were returned, and they were notified that two ranking members of the council would come calling.

The pair held the rank of colonel.

Diaya, male, was middle-aged, going to paunch, and his hair transplants weren't taking.

His superior, Suiyahr, was about ten years younger. She had the pursed lips of a fanatic, and could have done with another ten kilos anywhere on her overly athletic body.

"Our intelligence reports you are two of the principals of a firm calling itself Star Risk," Suiyahr said coldly. "You've been responsible for the escalation of the war, from our estimates, and some estimates consider you, or your underlings, guilty of war crimes."

"Possibly," von Baldur agreed.

"And now you wish to betray your employers."

Friedrich shrugged. "We are mercenaries," he said. "We work for the credit, and let others worry about patriotism."

"Hardly admirable," Diaya said.

Von Baldur looked at him, decided that to reply that he personally thought anyone willing to endanger his life for a flag or a medal was a fool was hardly politic, said nothing.