| |
Palanami had everything. Shallow, lifeless seas. Scattered islands like this one that were just rocks with a bit of complimentary sand. Lieutenant Janson put down his glass and smiled. Okay, maybe ‘everything’ was an exaggeration but he still kind of liked the place. Here on the long balcony of the one and only establishment in walking distance of the spaceport, with a pleasant breeze, it was pretty agreeable. Plus, he could see the ocean and the shallow canyon below him—just ten meters deep—was a natural spectacle in miniature. Sadly however, he would soon have to leave this little corner of the Federation.
It had been several weeks since the request had come through from the Therah system to locate and hire a suitable emissary he could send to the Harskan sector. Several weeks with nothing to show for his efforts. And now he was being pulled off the job altogether.
A reconnaissance team had gone missing on Bestira and as he was the closest operative, resistance command had asked him to check it out. It was a shame he had to abandon his original job and it was a shame he had to leave Palanami just as he was getting comfortable. However, what trail was left to the missing team wouldn’t be getting any hotter and that was assuming there was one to begin with.
Sighing, he got up to leave then stopped. Ten meters down the balcony, he saw a human man, a human woman and a Harskan man at a table. He hesitated. It was rare to find Harskans beyond the borders of their home sector and the ones you did were mostly dangerous renegades. However, Janson didn’t get that vibe from this one. Of course, he couldn’t neglect his orders to head to Bestira but he couldn’t ignore this opportunity either.
His mind resolved, he approached the trio while thinking of an excuse to sit with them that wouldn’t attract too much attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw just one other occupied table outside. A lone dark-haired woman in a sequined dress sat there stirring the remains of her drink. And an idea came to mind.
Still glancing back at her, he slid in at the trio’s table next to the Harskan. “Mind if I sit with you guys for a moment?”
The young man across from him frowned but shrugged the interruption off. “Sure. No problem.”
The fetching red-haired woman beside him, younger still, gave Janson a slight smile then looked away.
“Avoiding someone?” the man asked.
Janson gave quiet thanks that the subtleties of his performance hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Ah, no one,” he said. “Just that woman over there. We had a bit of a falling out. She thinks I’m a lay-about and she’s probably right.”
The Harskan chuckled while the man smiled. “Well, we won’t tell her you’re here. You local?”
“I work all over the place,” Janson replied. “Which is part of the problem. Actually, I’m off to the Frontier today. Have you been out there recently?”
“We get the odd job there now and again,” the Harskan said.
Again, Janson felt the assurance that he wasn’t one of the dangerous ones that people had to be wary of. Also, his clear enunciation sounded like that of a high-born Harskan, which was most strange. He’d never come across one of them this far from their home sector before.
“It’s crazy out there at the moment, isn’t it?” he said, keeping the thought to himself. “I was delivering a shipment of hydrelium to Nyev’ji the other week when I got caught in the middle of one of the Federation’s attacks. With the planetary bombardment and everything else, I’m lucky I’m still alive.” He shook his head. “And all our own worlds are being turned into military supply depots to keep this crazy thing going.”
“Yeah, it’s a joke,” the human man agreed, “especially with that flimsy explanation about the Minstrahn threat that Corinthe expects us all to swallow.”
“A lot of people are buying it though,” the woman pointed out. “They couldn’t get away with it if they weren’t.”
“I don’t know,” the man said. “Who’d stop them? One of those lame little resistance movements? Or a lonely independent Frontier world?”
Janson bit his tongue at the man’s casual dismissal of the resistance movements. He was glad these people didn’t like Corinthe’s war mongering but if they didn’t think any of the resistance movements were worthwhile then it might be hard to convince them to help out.
Then a terrible thought occurred to him and he almost kicked himself. It seemed quite unlikely now that they were Federation spies or off-duty naval officers but those types usually had a few tricks up their sleeves. He couldn’t assume they were clear just yet. Not without something a little more convincing.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the lady in green was gone, totally unaware of what a great job she was doing. Professional backup couldn’t have timed it better.
“Ah, that woman’s left,” he said. “How about a drink? Something heavy? Something light?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe later.”
“Yeah, I’m fine for now,” the woman said, while the Harskan just shook his head.
Now, Janson could relax a little. He’d thrown them one of the lines Federation field operatives sometimes used and they hadn’t taken the bait. Which was just as well. ‘Give me something that the light sparkles off’ was a pretty pretentious recognition code.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Actually, since I’ve got you here, I might have a proposition for you. Are you in the shipping business?”
“We’re more on the escort side of things,” the man replied. “Although our schedule’s pretty full for the next little while.” He gave an apologetic smile.
“Well, if you’ve got prior commitments, I don’t want to press you,” Janson told him. “But it would pay well.”
“What’s the job?”
Janson took another glance around the balcony but there was no one nearby. “Well, I’d better introduce myself first. My name’s Masec Janson and... I’m a lieutenant in the resistance movement. I should also add for the record that I don’t know that woman I saw earlier. I just needed an excuse to join you. But what about yourselves? Who do I have the pleasure of drinking with?”
The young man across the table extended his hand first. “Asten Korr. Captain of the Lady Hawk.”
The woman beside him went next. “Carla Casdan.”
“Very nice to meet you both,” Janson said.
And last but not least, the Harskan took Janson’s hand in a firm grip. “And you can call me Drackson.” He gave him a curious look. “Incidentally, which of the resistance movements are you in?”
“Well, that’s a tricky question,” Janson admitted. “Officially, we don’t have any other name to distinguish us from the other groups out there. We just call ourselves the Resistance. Although we’d like to think we’re the largest of the various organizations... Although we’re still nowhere near as big as we need to be to halt the Federation’s expansion efforts. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about. We need more allies. More resources.”
Asten’s expression was blank. “And how can we help?”
Janson turned to Drackson before he replied. “I thought you might be able to contact the Harskans on our behalf and ask them for aid. Anything they could give us. I know it might not be much but every bit helps.”
Drackson nodded. “I see. You haven’t contacted them before, have you?”
“Not yet, no.”
“It’s just that we think we saw a resistance unit in the Impaati system recently and they were using Harskan Corteks. Do you know anything about that?”
“Well, it wasn’t one of ours,” Jason said. “They may have been an independent group but we don’t have any Harskan hardware.”
“And you’ve never tried to buy any from any of the renegades operating out here?”
“We don’t buy stolen merchandise,” Janson told him. “And we can’t ask the Harskan Elders for it ourselves. Your people are a little touchy about outsiders dropping in. Which is why, when I saw you, I thought you might stand a better chance. You would of course be given considerable remuneration in exchange for your help.”
“No.”
It wasn’t quite the reaction Janson had been hoping for.
“I’m sorry,” Drackson told him. “Returning to my home sector would be difficult.”
“Why’s that, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Drackson sighed. “It’s somewhat personal but as you’re not a Harskan, I don’t think you’d see any shame in it. Some time ago, my brothers were involved in a crime which disgraced my family and several others. Very prominent families too.”
Janson nodded. He had heard about this. “So you’re in exile?”
“Exile? Well, of a kind. In Corsidan, I suppose you’d call it self-imposed exile. I’d rather not live with the shame of my brothers’ crime. In the Harskan sector, it followed me everywhere. Out here, I’m free of it.”
Janson felt his heart sink. He had been so sure that this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for but now it seemed he’d delayed his trip to Bestira for nothing.
Drackson sighed and turned to the young captain. “Asten, what do you think?”
Or maybe not.
“I don’t know,” Asten told him. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to. We had enough of that when we were working for Big Blue.”
“It would be for a good cause,” Drackson admitted, though more to himself than either Asten or Carla. “And we don’t like what Corinthe’s doing in the Frontier either.” He thought a little longer. “Perhaps I was too quick in my reply. The problem lies in convincing the Elders to listen to me now that I am among the dishonored. However, while I may not be able to present any request to them in person, I might be able to find someone who can.” He turned to Janson. “How much compensation would you give us in return for this?”
“Eleven thousand,” Janson replied. “Half up front and half when you get back, guaranteed whether the Elders help the Resistance or not.”
“Make it twelve,” Drackson told him, with a hint of a smile. “It’s a tidier number.”