Zurra grimaced. It was an embarrassment to his rank that he had been forced to remove his hard-earned braids and wear a civilian tokkom, but he was at ease knowing that all the humans would sneer at him regardless, soldier or not.
He looked at the card. “Kurtrekk Sukkom. I am impressed, that is a very common name in the Empire.”
“We do a good job. That’s a forgery, sure, but it’ll check out almost anywhere.”
Zurra pocketed the new identification card. “So where do I find this Zone you refer to?”
“Oh, there’s no way in hell I’m taking you to the Zone, and I better not hear of you making your way down there alone. A wide-eyed, fresh-off-the-ship guy like you won’t survive ten seconds in that hellhole.”
“I have been in dangerous places before,” Zurra opined. “I am an experienced soldier of the Krokator Star Empire.”
“Good for you. I can give you a name, though – Kalenn Jurkken. He’s a piece of shit gukka proprietor but he knows his way around the Zone and knows all the krokator who are worth knowing on this half of the continent.”
“Would he know Kamaan Dakkal?”
“Who is that?”
“He is a Rukkurosh criminal who has been masquerading as a patron of the Progessives for years. In reality he is Hudda Kugrall, and brings sympathizers into the city of Ankina in order to fanaticize the Movement.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Zurra sighed. “He is a criminal, and he is working with the Forbidden Army. He had offworld business contacts and is no longer on Rukkur. We believe he has friends on Terra and may be here now.”
Quigley scratched his neck. “I can check the immigration records, see if anybody by that name has come through the spaceports. If he’s that shady, though, I doubt anything will turn up. Again, Jurkken might know who that character is.”
Zurra sighed. “Well, it is a start. I appreciate your help.”
“Not a problem. Let the ambassador know that I’m always happy to do him and his boys a favor. I’d be careful sniffing up the wrong trees though, my friend, a lot of you sukuda types have shown up dead or never show up again at all, if you follow.”
“I will use caution. I have already come into trouble with your police in my time here.”
“Wait a minute – are you the krokator that beat the shit out of those meatheads on Redondo Beach yesterday?”
“I was not aware of how strict your laws against non-humans were. I apologize.”
“Don’t! I know exactly the type of drunken prick that likes to hang out down there. A bunch of us on the force were talking about it yesterday and we wish we’d been there to see it.”
Zurra laughed along with Quigley and grasped his forearm in a traditional krokator sign of friendship. “I am glad you are on my side, Quigley.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Zurra was almost out of the coffee shop when Quigley called out his alias and beckoned for him to return. “I actually almost forgot; I was watching the news last night, it turns out that Colin Hess, the guy that runs Hessian, will be in town this week. There’s a big security summit on Friday night that’s been scooted up by a week and he’s going to attend.”
“How do I reach this Hess?”
“Yeah I dunno about that, he’s been avoiding everyone and anyone for a few months since the press started digging into his business in the Border Worlds, but… you know, I think I know where you could start.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a Commissioner – Jack French – who is really close to Hess. Beats the shit out of me why he hasn’t jumped ship yet, but people in this town know who kisses which ass, you know? Anyways, French’s mouth is glued to Hess’s asshole and we all know it, though maybe French doesn’t want anybody to.”
“Can I meet this French?”
Quigley laughed. “A krokator doesn’t just waltz into the Commission and ask to see a sitting member! Although… well, I have a favor a guy owes me up at Shoregrove and I’m not sure when else I would use it. Besides, maybe your ambassador could set something up…”
Zurra smiled. “This is progress, friend. When will I know if you have succeeded or not in securing me an audience with this French?”
“All in good time. I’ll make a few calls and you just hang tight around this mall for a bit, go window shopping or something. Meet me back here in half an hour.” He tapped his wrist-mounted clock. “You have one of these, right?”
Zurra sighed. “Yes, but… Ukkum-strike me, those hrain-blasted devices are hard to use!”
Quigley laughed and patted Zurra’s shoulder. “Come find me in thirty minutes and I’ll let you know what I’ve dug up. But be careful if you do wind up going over there; you’re on our world now.”
#
Gresham steered his HUVR into one of the subterranean garages near the Department of Defense and turned off the engine. He was shaking in anticipation.
Lara pulled up next to him in her own vehicle and glanced over. “You alright, John?”
The focus was back in her eyes; she was no longer the passionate creature she had been the night before. Gresham was still sore and a little worn out from the encounter.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little anxious I guess. We’ll know soon who the bastard who put Vance in the hospital is. It feels good to almost be through with this.”
They took the lift up to the main floor of the Department of Defense building, arriving in a spacious lobby that overlooked Crest Ave through a large, colorful stained glass façade.
Gresham approached an AI console and placed his hand on it. “Major John S. Gresham, Military Intelligence,” he said clearly and the AI unlocked a nearby door for him. With Lara in tow, he approached a human clerk sitting inside a large room with a domed ceiling, bureaucrats bustling around him.
“Good afternoon, Major,” the clerk said, noticing Gresham’s casual but official khaki uniform and having read the notice alerting him to the identity of his guest. “How can I help you today?”
Gresham handed him an official file stamped with the seal of the President’s office. “This is a search-and-seizure warrant requested by President Howard Paine and authorized by Judge Sarah Pierce of the Allied 9th Circuit Court, which is to be executed by myself and Lara Taylor of the Special Intelligence Service, and only us.”
The clerk glanced over the file and inspected the pages inside. “Understood, Major. What is this warrant for?”
“We have reason to suspect that the Supernova operating system has been compromised and used as the means to commit high-profile theft. We are here to check on the records and user database for Supernova to identify the perpetrator.”
The clerk clicked away at his console for a few moments before producing two security passes. “These give you clearance to the archives and expire every twelve hours, at which time you need to renew them. Regardless, you have unhindered access to our archives for as long as the warrant is active and valid. Good luck with your investigation, Major.”
Gresham and Lara thanked the clerk before entering the secured lift and swiping their passes. The lift’s AI recognized their destination and the lift sank low into the ground, probably lower than the garage they had entered through, before stopping with a hiss.
“Department of Defense archives,” the lift’s AI proudly announced and the doors slid open to a long, thin hallway.
Gresham led the way down the hallway and glanced at different doors lining the sides, trying to determine which adjoining room housed Supernova.
“Here,” Lara said and indicated a door marked SUPERNOVA in massive letters. They swiped their clearance passes again and entered a nondescript, clammy concrete room with large computer consoles lining the walls.
Gresham inserted his clearance pass into one of the consoles and it hummed to life. “Welcome,” a female AI said with a soothing voice. “Please select function.”
“We want a list of users,” Gresham answered. The computer
hummed for a moment as it processed the request before displaying a scrolling list of names and numbers.
“Christ,” Gresham muttered under his breath, trying to find an interface through which he could manually enter the ID code he was looking for.
“That was impressive upstairs,” Lara commented as he looked around.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you spoke with such… authority.”
“I’ve been around the DoD more than a few times, usually to do research.” Gresham finally located a holographic keyboard and activated it. “Manual interface enabled,” the AI cooed and the scroll of names and numbers halted.
Lara pulled out the document Reed had supplied from Gresham’s briefcase. “You ready?” she asked.
Gresham took the sheet and glanced at the eight digit number. “You realize how close we are, don’t you?”
Lara nodded, smiled and then leaned forward to kiss Gresham. “Imagine how happy Jeff will be when we figure it all out.”
Gresham punched in the eight digit code and the computer hummed momentarily before it displayed the name of the person the code was assigned to.
Lara read it first and her jaw dropped. “No…”
Gresham balled up his fists and crumpled the paper in his hand. Rage was building in his chest. “That slimy son of a bitch… Let’s go.”
#
“So Hess will be at the security summit, I’m assuming?”
“Briefly, yes. He and I have an important meeting to attend with some financiers up north in San Francisco, however, and will have to leave early.”
French raised an eyebrow and sipped his scotch, regarding Perry carefully. “San Fran? Awfully late to be flying up the coast.”
“Hess has asked me to represent him in front of a very important bank,” Perry replied. “He wants my legal and financial expertise.”
“Christ, Eli, what aren’t you telling me?” French wondered.
“Nothing, Jack. The less you worry about my business, the better.”
“Then don’t make my business your business! It’s as easy as that. Why the hell do you need me at that summit, anyways? I’m not on the Military Oversight Committee. Can’t you recruit Rachel Fox or Greg Reed or somebody to talk instead?”
“Mrs. Fox and Mr. Reed will already be in attendance, and they’re both Galactic Democrats who have signed on to that odious anti-contractor bill Howard Paine wants to pass,” Perry said with a frustrated tone. “Jack, this is important to Hess. He may be subpoenaed within a week to appear in front of the Commission.”
“And it’ll look great for my election campaign to be seen representing an alleged criminal in front of some of the most powerful people in the galaxy,” French muttered. “Perry, I need to think about it. And before you go off about how I owe you, remember that I owe you, not Hess, and that I won’t stick my neck out for him just because you’re too stubborn to not go down on the ship. You’re a savvy businessman; you ought to know at this stage in your career what a bad investment looks like when you see one.”
“It isn’t that simple, Jack.”
“Actually, Eli, it is. I’ve stuck by you even when there were whispers on Mars that you were shady and I’ve always taken your advice, but I can’t let my political career go up in flames for the sake of one campaign contributor. I will fight the anti-Hessian bill on principle and for my constituents, but I won’t have Hess’s back if he’s indicted for war crimes. If you’re smart, you should get as far away from him as you can before they pin you with something too.”
Perry rose. “I really hope you reconsider. Hess wants a proper, friendly introduction at the summit, and I don’t want to send the affidavit from George Baumann I have sitting in my safe to the press.”
“B-Baumann?”
Perry smiled wickedly. “Ah, a familiar name. Yes, if I recall correctly, it was our mutual friend George who organized the PFL’s little ‘Get-out-the-vote’ campaign seven years ago. It was George, wasn’t it?”
“You goddamn prick…”
“What was that, Jack? What did you call me?”
French was fuming. He drank the rest of his scotch in a single, furious gulp and growled, “Nothing. You should get going. I have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”
“Oh? An appointment more important than me?”
“There’s a member of the krokator diplomatic detail coming to arrange a meeting between me and a high-ranking Crock the day after the security summit,” French said. “I have no idea why everyone suddenly seems to think I have any say on military policy, but apparently their ambassador vouched for this guy.”
“Ambassador Jerven is not a Crock I would personally turn down. Enjoy your meeting, Jack. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“And I’ll see you Friday night at the summit.”
“Right.”
Perry glared at French. “I will see you Friday night at the summit, or the press will see the financial statements from Baumann and the union leadership.”
“Fuck off.”
Perry took the lift down to the ground level and strode out of the lobby confidently, smiling to himself. Even after the setbacks the week before and now with the Lugrash debacle, he was tying off his loose ends nicely.
He passed an angry-looking military officer in his casual uniform, giving him a quick once-over. Their eyes met momentarily and Perry sensed a livid, driven sense of purpose behind the stare of the officer. It unnerved him.
Perry quickly looked away, but was nonetheless unable not to notice the attractive brunette following the officer up the stairs to French’s office building.
#
Gresham blinked after passing the tall, dark-haired stranger. Why was there something off about the man’s look?
“John, please take a moment to relax,” Lara said once they were directly outside the building’s doors. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, really? You don’t think I know exactly what I’m doing? That weasel has been using his position on the Commission to sell guns on the street! We all thought he could be dirty but so help me God, I’ve got the bastard by the balls now…”
“I know the law, John, and you need to be very careful here. Jack French is a sitting Allied Commissioner. He has very powerful friends in the government and private sector. Confronting him when you’re angry like this won’t help anyone and will only get you in more trouble than you want to be in right now.”
“Oh, try me, Lara.”
Lara grasped Gresham by the shoulders to try to calm him down. “John, I saw the Supernova readout too. It’s his name next to the access code. That’s called evidence. We submit evidence and wait for him to get arrested.”
“Right, because Simon Cray is exactly the proactive go-getter we need in this situation.”
“Let me call Troy or Vosen. We’ll figure out how to do this correctly, okay? We have the proof. Jack French authorized the requisition.”
“And then he went and had Alan Evans and Frank Price killed, and put Jeff in the hospital! There’s probably a body count from here to Tijuana!”
“If French walks, we have to deal with his influential allies. We’re talking about Colin Hess and his business and government contacts. They will make your life living hell.”
“Yeah? Well I have a powerful ally too, and his name is Howard Paine.”
Lara threw her hands up in the air. “Christ, John, how stubborn can you be? You’re not thinking straight. If you walk in there, you will be making the biggest mistake of your career.”
Gresham sighed. “Go call Troy or whoever you need to contact. I’m going to make sure French doesn’t go anywhere.”
“I will call Troy. But if you get fucked you’re on your own, Major,” Lara hissed and stormed off. “Goddamn men, they’re all the same…”
There was a slight pang of remorse, and for a moment Gresham felt regret for speaking so harshly to Lara. But she had already vanished around
the corner before he could call out to her, and he resolved himself to what he had to do. He pressed the button to get let in.
“Major John S. Gresham, Military Intelligence, here to see Jack French,” he said into the speaker.
There was a moment while the AI processed the request before he heard French’s voice call out, “John! Come on in.”
Gresham stormed into the building and balled his fists in the lift up to the third floor, breathing heavily as he anticipated what was coming. He wondered if he should throw a right hook to French’s face before or after he revealed the smoking gun.
He entered French’s office suite. The AI automatically requested that he relinquish his sidearm and Gresham complied. Shaking and heart pounding, Gresham walked with his head held high into French’s personal office, knowing that he could be stunned on the way out by the security system in the walls.
French was sitting behind his desk, tanned, grinning and full of shit as usual. He waved casually and got up to extend his hand. “John! I wasn’t expecting you. I’m afraid I haven’t long to talk.”
Gresham stopped in the middle of the floor as French came around the desk, smiled and then drilled his fist squarely into French’s nose.
The Commissioner fell to the floor, stunned, grabbing his face. Blood was squirting from between his fingers. “What the fuck!”
Gresham stood over French, glaring down. “You little shit. I thought for a moment that you were on my side. Guess I was wrong. You were just trying to keep tabs on me. See how much I knew. Well, I know now.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Are you insane? You punched me, you asshole!” French howled, trying to contain the bleeding. “You probably broke my fucking nose!”
“I saw your name on the Supernova database. You ordered the weapons requisition. For what? For your friend Hess? For your buddies down in the Zone? What did they promise you, huh? A cut of the profits?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” French screamed in legitimate fear. He staggered back against his desk as Gresham came within inches of him. The despair in the Commissioner’s eyes was unmistakable. Gresham couldn’t think of another time he had ever caused such anguish in another person, if ever.