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“Hey, what are you two doing here? This is a restricted area. Station engineering personnel only.”
Tyrell’s junior environmental engineer stepped between the tiers of hydroponics beds, hands on his hips, and looked at the two intruders with a suspicion deepened by the five mysterious explosions which sent his precious plants swaying. Like everyone in engineering, he was frantically surveying vital systems for potentially life-threatening damage.
One man produced a blaster and pointed it at the engineer’s head.
“This is my authorization. Take us to the hidden elevator shaft.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Worry spread across the grizzled engineer’s face, and he wished for a few of the steely-eyed Marines who’d replaced the previous garrison.
“This says you do.” The agent pointed his blaster at the older man’s forehead.
“And I say you don’t.” A hard voice erupted from the open stairwell door, behind and to the intruders’ left. “Put your weapons on the ground real slowly.”
In a fluid motion worthy of a pro, the first operative spun around, fell into a crouch, and fired three rounds through the open door, while the other stepped behind a plant tray as he pulled out his own weapon.
The engineer stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, then turned and ran toward the main airlock as the thud of a scattergun filled the air, pellets ripping through tender lettuce leaves and peppering the intruder facing the stairwell. His face instantly turned into a horrid red mask, and an unearthly howl filled the hydroponics module.
Moments after the engineer passed through the airlock, three Marines entered, scatterguns at the ready, in a single file. Yet instead of firing on them, the so-far unhurt operative executed his backup orders and reached into the miner’s satchel he carried slung over one shoulder.
“Drop it!” Sergeant First Class Rankin shouted from the stairwell.
The man gave him a sick grin and tossed the satchel into one of the lettuce trays. He then grabbed his partner’s and reached inside again with a speed that left the Marines momentarily at a loss. Then Rankin twigged, and he shot the man where he stood.
“Everyone get out. Evac. This place is about to blow.”
He pulled the stairwell door shut while the three Marines at the module’s far end backed out at double speed. They barely had time to close the airlock when the first charge exploded, shredding Hydroponics Three’s interior. The second charge went off moments later, and the main airlock buckled, sending the Marines in the access tube running for the far end.
**
“What the hell was that?” Delgado exclaimed as he jumped up to peer over Testo’s shoulder. Hak, who’d been monitoring the station’s vitals, replied instead.
“Hydroponics Three. A pair of explosive charges, no doubt. Its upper level is essentially gone. The main airlock looks like it’s failing, but the one on the access tube’s far end is fine.” Hak studied his display. “The lower level seems to have weathered the explosions.”
Before anyone else could speak, the radio came to life with Rankin’s voice.
“Zero, this is One-One-Minor reporting from Hydroponics Three.” His tone was that of a man who’d just cheated death. “The missing tangos are dead, but so are the vegetables for the next few weeks. I’m in the lower level with One-One-Charlie. No casualties. So far, integrity is holding, but I’ll evacuate in a moment. The personnel who were entering via the upper airlock made it out as well.”
Delgado turned to his operations sergeant. “There’s no longer any reason to let Hallikonnoen think she still has a chance. Isolate the operations center and tell the troops to move in.”
Movane, who’d taken over a workstation and was running through her emergency checklist to deal with two blown modules, glanced over her shoulder.
“Jannika Hallikonnoen? She’s one of them?”
Delgado nodded. “Hallikonnoen works for a shadowy intelligence agency which doesn’t officially exist and whose director reports to the Secretary General himself. It’s called the Sécurité Spéciale. The Fleet has been at war with it for a long time. Her team, or former team, since they’re dead now, were likely mercenaries hired by the Sécurité Spéciale. Considering how easily some of them sacrificed their lives by blowing themselves up, I suspect they belonged to one of the more extreme religious sects whose adherents seek death in the name of their faith and hire themselves out so they can find it.”
Movane shook her head in disbelief. “Two branches of the federal government fighting each other. No wonder the Commonwealth is heading straight to hell. So, once you round up Hallikonnoen, it’s over?”
“No. I’m expecting one or more hostile starships to arrive in the next few hours. Hallikonnoen and her people were merely the door kickers whose job was seizing Tyrell’s control nodes until the raiders arrive. And her plan would have worked against the usual garrison. But we’ve dealt with her sort many times before.”
Movane’s normally stoic expression cracked for a moment. “Then we’re screwed, wouldn’t you say so, Major? They destroyed the control nodes for the guns. We can’t use them against those starships.”
A pleased grin lit up Delgado’s features. “The nodes are gone, but not the guns, and each of them has a trained crew onsite, ready to fire. I sent them out earlier today in the expectation that something would happen.”
“SOCOM, eh?” Movane cocked an eyebrow at him. “Lucky for us you’re here.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it. Naval Intelligence, on the other hand...”
“Did they know about Hallikonnoen and the attempted takeover?”
Delgado gave her a noncommittal grimace. “Possibly. Perhaps probably. But they never tell us grunts, even if we’re from SOCOM.”
“I guess that would explain why they sent you instead of a warship squadron. Although if you’re right, we sure could use one at the moment — a warship, I mean.”
“And there might be a frigate or two inbound by now. Again, they don’t tell us everything so that none of us can give away the entire plan. But keep in mind if the opposition is here for the artifact, they won’t damage Tyrell itself lest they lose easy access. Whoever is coming will know that they face a limited window during which they can operate with impunity.”
She nodded. “I see.”
“Now that you know about us, when my people finish dealing with Hallikonnoen and we control the entirety of Tyrell once more, you will tell me what’s down there that has the Sécurité Spéciale conducting a major direct action against a Fleet installation. You’ll also tell me why Fleet HQ doesn’t know about it.” Delgado saw Hak raise a hand. “Ah, here we go.”
**
“Nooo!” Jannika Hallikonnoen screamed in rage as she saw her control over Tyrell change from all to nothing, and she knew victory had slipped through her fingers.
As she stared at the operation center’s primary display, scarcely believing that a motley collection of misfit Marines had beaten the cream of the Sécurité Spéciale and its fanatical hirelings, Delgado’s face appeared. He winked at her, then vanished, replaced by images of the dead operatives. At least those whose bodies weren’t spaced by explosive decompression.
Hallikonnoen pounded the workstation console, fury making her want to reach into the station’s network and rip Delgado’s throat out. Moments later, a dull thump sounded behind her. She swirled around and saw the door being opened manually, its lock destroyed. She reached for her blaster, but in vain. A Marine scattergun coughed once, peppering her with dozens of tiny pellets that punctured her skin's exposed parts, killing her almost instantly.
The last emotion Jannika Hallikonnoen felt was regret, but not at having failed. She felt regret at never seeing her hometown again. Then, the last of the Sécurité Spéciale operatives in Tyrell was dead.
Several modules away, in the command post, Romana Movane stared at the image on the primary display with a sort of sick fascination.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you’d captured and questioned her?” She asked in a strangled tone.
“No.” Delgado shook his head. “They condition her sort against interrogation. She’d be dead the moment we tried. Besides, alive, she would remain a risk, no matter how small. We learned over the years it’s best if we don’t underestimate Sécurité Spéciale agents. Their top operatives are as resourceful and dangerous as ours, and I’ve worked with many of them. Now, tell me about the artifact.”
“Ever heard of the L’Taung civilization, the proto-Shrehari who lived around a hundred thousand years ago?”
“Sure. They left traces all over this part of the galaxy, though the present-day Shrehari consider them a myth. So that’s a L’Taung stash.” Delgado nodded slowly. “Pretty much what we figured.”
“Mind you, we’ve not found any unimpeachable proof, but what evidence there is corresponds with artifacts found in other star systems.”
“Anyone make it past the slick doorway?”
“Yes, although it took a while. Assenari surveyors found it around two years ago before the Fleet bought Tyrell. Corporate HQ decreed the find a commercial secret and imposed a blackout on any mention of it. They ordered the hidden lift installed and sent a research team masquerading as engineers. Said research has been going on secretly ever since.”
“Yet someone leaked information to the Sécurité Spéciale.”
Movane shrugged. “Corporate espionage is pervasive, even in the mining industry. Assenari has its own service. Not as big as those of the major zaibatsus, but still.”
“What is behind that door?”
“Considering this planet once had an atmosphere and a thriving ecosystem before it was destroyed by an ancient cataclysm, which our geologists place at about a hundred thousand years ago, how about a L’Taung knowledge vault? Something to help rebuild their civilization once it recovers from whatever wiped most of them out.”
“Except they never did. At least anywhere other than on Shrehari Prime, and it took them a heck of a long time.” Delgado gave Movane a knowing look. “Whatever is behind that door could be worth an incredible fortune.”
“Or it could be junk.”
“That as well.” Delgado stood. “Okay, people, now that we eliminated the internal threat, let’s get into position. Chief Administrator, if you would suspend operations and evacuate the upper modules, we can start preparing Tyrell’s entrances.”
“What do you mean?” She gave Delgado a suspicious look. “You told me the guns are fully operational. Won’t you strike while they’re in orbit? Or do you intend on letting them enter Tyrell?”
He smiled at her. “If there’s only one ship, I’ll allow it to land and then seize it so we can find out who they are, where they come from, that sort of thing. If there’s more than one and they leave some in orbit, then while I’m taking the ship that lands, I’ll knock out the rest with the guns. Starships are vulnerable when they’re sitting on the ground, and we’re rather good at exploiting that vulnerability, especially since they won’t expect us to board them while they try boarding us.”
Her air of suspicion turned into one of astonishment. “That’s just about the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, Major.”
“The enemy will think the same thing as you and won’t believe we’d ever try something of the sort. As my people will confirm, my favorite principle of war is surprise because it has won more battles than superior tactics, weaponry, or technology. Just wait and see. Meanwhile, please carry out my instructions.”
“I guess it’s your funeral as much as mine. I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing. Do I still work from here?”
“Yes. But if you need to move about the station, please take one of our communicators. You and I should stay in constant contact until this is over.” Delgado pointed at the spares sitting in a charging station near Testo’s console. “And make sure everyone who has quarters in the upper modules moves to spare cubicles with the workers and us.”
“They won’t like that. There’s a hierarchy here, with perks and privileges.”
“Right now, the most important privilege is staying out of the line of fire, and the best place for that is with us unwashed proles. Oh, and I’d like everyone in pressure suits with helmets close at hand, just in case. We’re armoring up as well. I’ll also be barring the airlocks between modules at midnight.”
Movane nodded once. “Understood. I’ll see that the workforce is ready.”
“Thank you.”