Grantham's Discovery
Preenasette - Trun Rizontella - 2011
The Cast
Sub Commander Grantham Lea, Junior Sub Commander Bessendra Lea, Karter
Sub Commander Grantham Lea looked out of the window of the Mag Train as it flew due west towards the port city of Santraneed. The rolling landscape meant he could focus on some distant scenery, unlike the past hour when the Forest of Plenary had been a blur through the windows. As usual, his sister was asleep. She could sleep anytime, anywhere and on anything, and would only wake up as they reached their destination, invariably complaining of being hungry. He had already bought her a muffin in readiness.
They had been sent by Supreme Commander Zander to meet with a member of the Reticent Guard and receive information too sensitive for standard forms of communication, which, over the last year, had become insecure. Their uncle, Anton Pilz, was overseeing the arrangements for their mission. Pilz had become close to Zander since the off-world despatch of Commander Mancer two years earlier. He was one of the few faithful members of his inner circle. Zander had even promoted him back to the rank of officer. Grantham knew Zander did not trust Commander Hallot, promoted to his number two by the War Ministry.
His uncle had welcomed the closer ties with his boss. Strange things were occurring throughout Trun and in its leadership. And the tone of the war had hardened significantly following the Vercetian atrocities and their increased aggression. The creation of a Secret State Police—Sestapol—under the auspices of the Reticent Guard, was a worry and a mystery to all of them and the subject of some wild speculation.
They, or more precisely he, was to meet Captain Karter of the Reticent Guard on reaching Santraneed and would be handed the communication. He was to return the sealed Envogram directly into Zander’s hands. Bess was his backup, in case anything went wrong. She had certain skillsets that made her good to have in a fight, and their excellent telepathic rapport, a commonality in twins, was also a big plus when dealing with someone from the RG.
Grantham had little trust for the Reticent Guard. A secret organisation, that dealt in secrets, and were autonomous of the military or council. Although working directly with both groups, they tended to remain at arm’s length. Their current leader, General Kirk-am, was part of the Council’s inner circle. She held an official position equal to Gor and Zander, ensuring the RG’s complete independence. Uncle Anton would dismiss Grantham’s mistrust though, citing that the Trun Rizontella society needed a reliable RG. “It’s vital the Reticent Guard remain apart, and enforces the standards we all adhere to. Their integrity is paramount, and any corruption of them would be devastating for us.’
Nevertheless, he still wanted his sister close.
The Mag Train started its long slowdown for its final destination—Santraneed. Bess stirred, slowly waking and completely ignoring him. Strangers on a train sharing a table. She reached for the package he’d pushed across to her and started eating the muffin. She was dressed as a military nurse. The classic extensions to her head cap denoted her profession and also helped to cover her features, masking her resemblance to him.
Grantham loved this old trading port and always enjoyed visiting. It was one of the few Trun cities that retained many of its historic features. The train stopped in the peripheral newer part of the city. All of the commercial, military and political buildings were in this quarter, but his meeting was elsewhere, down at the dockside. He could see advantages and disadvantages to this. His plan was to walk from the station and give Bess time to pick up transport and follow at a discreet distance. Bess was to make contact with Major Tang, an old colleague of Mancer’s at the local military HQ, who would give her anything she needed.
As he made his way from the station, the topography began sloping dramatically downwards to the sea, and Grantham tried to imagine the bustling port in its heyday.
The most dramatic part of the view from here was the Needles, the shortest sea stretch between the landmasses of Trun and Verceti. A myriad of trading ships would have weaved their way between the hundreds of tiny sharp pointed volcanic islands that reached upwards to the sky. The Trun ships with hulls deep in the water, trading their hard gotten ores and minerals mined from the outer reaches of their wild lands, while the Vercetians’ majestic clippers would carry the exotic foods and spices grown on their abundantly fertile land. It must have been a sight to behold, with hundreds of cranes loading and offloading the trading ships and a bustling infrastructure of ancillary transport ready to distribute goods throughout the land. But now there were no ships, and the cranes that were left standing hadn’t moved in over two hundred years. The only thing to see now was the faint shimmer of the Vercetian force field forming the impenetrable curtain between the two nations. He would have liked to have explored the beginnings of the old Pirate Trail in the north of Santraneed, a smugglers’ route from deep within their history, that followed the coast up to Three Cities. No time for sightseeing this trip, though.
Grantham continued on. Winding roads surrounded by derelict buildings guided him to the docks where he was to meet Karter at the Windward Tavern, one of the few alehouses still operating.
There was just a sprinkling of people at the dockside, carving out goodness knows what sort of living. He felt he’d gone three hundred years back in time. None of the modern conveniences you would find in an average city. The tavern didn’t even show up on his finger tablet; he had to ask for directions.
When he arrived, the inn sign was creaking quietly in the gentle breeze. Between the words Windward and Tavern was a painting of an old sailing vessel, of a kind probably not seen for half a millennium. He needed to duck to get through the front door, and once inside it took a few moments before his vision adjusted to the darkness of the room. Karter was at the bar, wearing standard casual military attire; khaki slacks and loose matching shirt, his rank emblem on his right sleeve. He was tall and lean and looked to Grantham to have been around the block a few times. He looked as though he could handle himself. They ID checked each other. After getting a beer, he suggested they retire into one of the alcoves. Grantham made a mental note of who was already in the room.
‘I hope you’re staying for food as well. The situation isn’t as straightforward as me giving you the Envogram and you disappearing. There’s more to it.’ Karter leant forward and whispered, ‘I think your superior is onto something.’
Grantham was quiet for a moment. Not what Zander had asked. He would have to tread carefully here. ‘How secure are we here? If the conversation is going off the beaten track.’
Karter’s smile was warm and appeared sincere. ‘You’re dealing with my organisation now, Sub Commander. We have electronically swept the whole building and put surveillance blockers in place. We are secure.’
He hoped Bess was in position. “This might take longer.”
“Acknowledged.”
He decided he would need to tread carefully. ‘I better order some food, then. Where’s the menu?’
They ordered food and another beer. Grantham waited until his spicy game dish turned up before carrying on the discussion. ‘So why should I disregard my boss’s instructions just to pick up the Envogram and go?’
Karter leant forward again, which for someone with complete confidence in his security, seemed odd. ‘Because I don’t believe the contents are what you were sent for. I think they’ve been switched for something possibly… well, less contentious. And by someone with more influence in the RG than my boss.’
‘Have you proof of this?’ Grantham found himself leaning forward.
‘Not conclusive proof. We very rarely work in indisputable facts.’ Karter was pensive. ‘This is the shadow world. Everything here is hearsay, second-hand, overheard. The only way we’re going to prove our suspicions is to open the Envogram and read its contents.’
“Possible problems. Stay alert.”
“Will do. There are three RG’s out here. I’ll visit them.”
‘You’re suspicious. So you expect me to hand over a document that is for my boss’s eyes only, based upon hearsay, and second-hand or overheard comments from your shadow world?’ The look on Grantham’s face implied this wasn’t going to happen. He was also seriously considering the possibility that this was a set-up.
Karter smiled. ‘You put it that way, and I would agree with you.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘Look. Let’s put our cards on the table. The Envogram was given to me yesterday by my superior, known to your boss. While travelling here, I placed the Envogram in the deposit car—standard protocol. Before doing this I marked it—my private insurance. I’m an old fashioned soul; it’s just how I am. Someone tampered with it.’ He handed it to Grantham and produced a micro scanner from his satchel. ‘Look there. And this is the image taken earlier. We’re talking about a seriously difficult thing—breaking into an Envogram. Sonic locks, tracer seams, etc., and doing it in the deposit car of a Mag train. It would need some serious clout to get that done.’
Grantham studied the data. It appeared to bear out Karter’s suspicions. ‘Say we open it and read the contents. Neither you nor I know what the message should say, so we aren’t going to know if it’s been modified.’
“Get as close as possible.”
‘Agreed. But we do know the contents should be revealing, to say the least. My boss wouldn’t be going to all this trouble to inform the Supreme Commander of the military of something that didn’t have far-reaching implications. And to do it clandestinely rather than through some committee suggests some parties need keeping in the dark.’
Grantham was surprised Karter knew that Zander was the intended recipient. He had never mentioned it. Would Karter have been told? Could he trust this man? ‘So, if we do open it, read it and decide someone has tampered with it, what’s our course of action? You have to go back to your superior and tell him you suspected outside interference and opened it. It would alert whoever tampered with the Envogram that we’re on to them. And, we’d be no further forward in obtaining the correct information.’
Karter shrugged.
“Coming out hot, any time now.”
Grantham reached into his pocket while pushing the scanner further on the table with his other hand. ‘What is this mark here?’ he asked.
Karter leant forward, allowing Grantham to touch his stun taser on the back of Karter’s hand. The barely audible hum immobilised him instantly. Grantham caught his head and rested it gently on the table, picked up the Envogram and carried on talking. ‘Do you see that small mark there? Yes, that one? I won’t be a moment. Nature calls.’
Grantham stepped out of the alcove and stretched casually, looking around for the toilet, aware of at least two in the room paying him far more attention than when he’d entered. He paused, checking his tablet before deftly ducking out of the front door. There was confusion behind him; he wouldn’t have much time.
‘Jump on, quick!’ Bess skidded to a halt on a quadbike. ‘I’ve disabled two of the three scouts out here, but the third will see us soon enough.’
‘Is this the best transport you could come up with?’ asked Grantham, tension in his voice.
‘Relax, brother. The quad is just the quick little run-around that will get us to our Skyjet. Unless, of course, you expected me to fly it straight down the street here.’ Bess was shouting now as she accelerated forward and turned sharply, up a tight alleyway. ‘They won’t have anything like this.’
‘How long?’ He could hardly hear himself.
‘Five minutes. We have to get in the air before they do.’
One of Karter’s colleagues from the bar was attending him. In a daze, he asked, ‘Where’s the boy?’
‘He dashed out about thirty seconds ago. Jamba went after him.’
‘Find out what’s happening outside. Contact Samson.’
Jamba quickly relayed the message, while Karter tried to get his fried brain back in gear.
‘Two down outside. The boy has assistance we didn’t pick up. Samson said he caught a glimpse of a quadbike. They can’t get too far.’
‘Idiot,’ said Karter. ‘They must have something else waiting. Get someone in the air. Now!’
Bess skidded to a halt in a small clearing. Major Tang and three soldiers were waiting for them by a CUV. A two-person pursuit jet was primed and ready for take-off.
Tang instructed two of the soldiers to jump on the quadbike, and they left immediately in a cloud of dust, heading back towards the old town in an attempt to draw off any pursuit.
‘Get in and go,’ Tang barked at Grantham and Bess.
Within moments both the CUV and the jet were blazing away from the clearing.
Grantham agonised over his decision to open the Envogram, even as Bess was carefully attempting to do it without setting off any of the sensors that would destroy the contents. A rare skill without the correct scanning key, but it had been one of the reasons Pilz wanted the twins on this mission. Grantham, not afraid of making a tough call, and Bess able to carry out everything else that came under the heading of tough.
A little click and they both breathed sighs of relief. Bess opened it and handed the small oblong message screen to him. ‘Last chance to change your mind,’ she warned. ‘I wouldn’t do this.’
‘Thanks for the support, dear sister. What else can we do?’
They sat in the CUV, about twenty miles outside of the outskirts of Santraneed. They were off the main highway on a remote track and were, for the time being, safe from detection. The Clandestine Utility Vehicle was in stealth mode. Un-seeable and undetectable. This particular military vehicle was thought to be entirely superfluous in a country not keeping secrets from itself, or even its enemy. But a handful had been developed and then put into storage many years earlier—for a rainy day. Bess had laughed at Grantham’s face when Tang shuffled them into the CUV.
Tang’s pursuit jet, although seeming the obvious choice of escape vehicle, would have been tracked easily and eventually picked by the Air Space Police. The ASP would have escorted them to the nearest military or RG base, where the stratagem would make or break, depending on the allegiance of that base. With no message on board, the risk didn’t exist.
‘We open it. Read it. Memorise it and destroy it. We become the message and get ourselves back to the Supreme Commander. Simple.’ Grantham tried to smile at Bess. He switched on the reader.
He read it three times, then passed it to her. She read it.
‘Have you got it?’ he asked. Bess nodded. He stepped out of the CUV, placed the reader on a rock and vaporised it with a short blast of his sidearm. He discarded the now inert Envogram container behind some boulders, and got back into the CUV.
‘What now?’ asked Bess. ‘All the way back to Allacrom in this thing? We’ll be wasting time that may be precious to the Supreme Commander.’
‘I agree. The contents of this message change everything. The Supreme Commander being in this sort of danger. We need to alert him.’
‘Secure communications compromised. The Reticent Guard is turning on us. And the Sestapol’s closing in on our boss.’ Bess paused. ‘All the rumours must be true. We’re facing a civil war, and for what?’ Her country turning in on itself was beyond her comprehension. She reached for her brother’s hand; a very rare moment of weakness for the one others had always perceived as the dominant twin.
He put his arm around her. ‘Don’t worry, Bess. We’ll get through this.’