Fixer Page 23

  The conference table was a large slab of stone, ground out during the first phase of the station’s construction. Korth sat there with the mobsters who’d been present during the conflict at his import-export business. Near them were representatives from the guilds and unions, business leaders, and even militia members. Except for the complete absence of the Irunian military, it mirrored the meeting taking place in the former legation. Except for Korth and the mobsters with him att the time of the shoot-out, none of the other representatives were official members of the lower level elite. They had, however, been given the authority to make decisions for those they represented.

  “I guess we’re all here,” Korth finally said after the last delegate shuffled into the meeting. Each being was allowed one assistant only, and each had a guard posted at the entrance. Not once in the history of the station had gunfire erupted from inside the cavern. Nor had anyone dared to attack a meeting held there once it was in progress.

  Korth turned and looked at the sole Irunian at the table. “You, I don’t know,” he said to the man.

  “Garth Trankar," he replied. “I’m filling in for my uncle because the military police picked him up last night.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Korth replied. “He’s a good ghee, would hate to hear anything bad had happened to him. Keep us posted, and I’ll see if any of my boys know anyone who can help.”

  “Thanks," the man said, “but I don’t look for him to come home soon.”

  “Which is why we had to call this meeting,” Korth pointed out. “Things are out of control, and we have to figure out what to do about it. Sergeant, why don’t you bring us up to date?”

  A woman in her forties, who wore a militia uniform, began to speak from memory. It was considered bad form to bring any writing utensils into the cavern and recording devices were strictly forbidden.

  “As of today,” she began, “the station is until the control of the Irunian Empire. There’s an entire swarm in orbit around the station that’s monitoring traffic in and out of it. We have no say in who they stop or refuse to grant landing permission. The senate is in recess and will stay that way for the foreseeable future. There’s Irunian military at every major point on the station. They’re trying to keep it quiet so as not to piss off the other systems, but it won’t last. My guess is that they plan to formally annex the station in less than a year.”

  “And all of this was brought about by them losing the Byzantium,” a guild member brought up.

  “Part of it,” Korth corrected. “I think they had this in the works for a long time.” He looked at a senator’s aide from the upper levels and stared. “This is why I never could understand why you allowed them to build that legation in the first place.”

  “We wouldn’t be in this shit if you hadn’t paid your goons to snatch that ship and bring it back,” the aide countered. That point was on many of people’s minds.

  “Let’s not start arguing,” another member of the council spoke up. She was a dockworker tied in with a labor union. “It does none of us any good to start pointing fingers.”

  The tension in the air decreased a bit, and Korth turned his attention to the crowd at the table.

  “You’re right,” he sighed. “This doesn’t accomplish a thing. Anyone have some information on the big green women?” He turned to look at people gathered around him.

  “I know where they come from,” a doctor spoke up at one end of the table. “Mariposa. I have no idea why they’re here. Anyone?”

  “Part of the Imperial Military Staff,” the militia sergeant spoke. “The tall woman we’ve seen. I mean the one who’s taller and bigger than the others. She oversees this whole occupation, believe it or not. She arrived yesterday. We think she’s got something to do with the disappearance of the Byzantium. She’s an expert in counter-insurgency, so that means the empire wants to keep us around for a while. My guess is that she’ll be here until they find out what happened to the starship or a revolution kicks off. I don’t see why else they would send her.”

  “This broad got a name?” Korth asked.

  The sergeant glared back at him.

  “Sorry," he apologized. “That big green bitch have a name?’

  “Melanie Bergmuliton Astropdofus,” a voice answered. It was a sanitation worker with one of the many government agencies. This time, a real one and in his 40s, not like the undercover Irunians who had chased me and the girls to Korth’s compound. This guy wasn’t the type of person you’d expect working for a resistance movement. That made him the perfect person to send to this meeting.

  “She and those other green women took over the top of the trade delegation office the moment they arrived,” he continued. “I was told they pushed out the office workers who were up there. Seems one of them was already here, disguised as secretary or something. Sounds like they had this in the planning stages for a long time.”

  There was a bit of silence as everyone tried to figure out what to do next. In the background, the steady thump of a compressor could be heard. The air in the cavern was cold and moist.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Korth spoke again. “They’ve thought about this for a long time. The ship was the justification, but they’ve wanted Nyx for a while. I don’t know about the rest of youse, but I don’t plan on letting them have this place.”

  “Not a lot we can do about stopping them,” one of the other mob bosses complained. “They’ve got an entire fleet over us. What do we have?” He looked down at the table.

  “We got Nyx,” Korth pointed out. “They’re only here so long as we allow them to be here. I say we let them play their games for a while before we act. Besides, I know a few things about them that we can use. Those green women aren’t so tough. Not as tough as they’d like to think.”

  “Care to share your information with the rest of us?” the doctor asked again.

  “I will when I have all I need,’ Korth affirmed. “It’s good information, and I don’t want it to escape until I’m ready. Next, how do we prepare if they plan on staying here for more than a few months? I’m bringing this up because that seems like their plan.”

  “We’ve got some guns that will work inside the station,” another boss volunteered. “We had several loads of Mussher 550s ready to ship over to Aruga, but that deal isn’t going to go through since the empire announced it will check all outbound shipments. We got them stashed pretty good, but they might come in handy if the jackbooters decide they want to stay here too long.”

  “Won’t do us a lot of good if they control the orbital space,” Korth pointed out. "We can take all levels, and they can still rip open the whole station with a few solar bombs. Anyone been in contact with the other systems?”

  “I have," a lone voice called out.

  This time, it was Pops. No one noticed him as he shuffled into the meeting. As Pops was the major gunrunner on the station, he had to be there for the meeting. And Pops had contacts all over the known galaxy.

  “We can forget about any help from that tinhorn despot, the Maharajah,” he said. “He knows about the empire taking over the station, and it scared the shit out of him. He’s already building up his own palace guard in case they decide that his territory will look good on their map. Won’t do him a bit of good, though. He’ll never be able to hire enough mercenaries to keep them away. Hell, his hired help will run for it the first time the empire makes planetfall. Can’t say I’ll blame them when it happens.”

  “So, what do you think we should do, Pops?” Korth asked. “You’re one of the few people around here who knows much about the empire.”

  “I say you find out where that starship went,” he responded. “It’s the only thing they fear at the moment.”

  Fixer 2: Chapter 1 Preview

  I was back on campaign with the sultan’s army.

  This time, we were supposed to take a hill that was defended by a local garrison. The defenders were a bunch of louts, but they’d been a pain in our asses for the better par
t of the week. The plan was for my company to get through that garrison and link up with the regular troops on the other side. It was a dirty job, the kind we Janissaries specialized in doing.

  As one of the senior non-commissioned men, I was in on the battle plan. We were in a tent in the middle of a grassy plain. It was the third day of rain, but the sky was clear today for a change. I looked across from the ground and saw the bashir with his chart. He lived for moments like today.

  All of us sat on the ground and tried to keep our asses dry. That’s not easy to do with the leftover rain dripping down from the tent canopy and making pools on the inside. Somehow, the four of us, all NCO’s, managed to do it.

  “You see this fucking garrison,” the bashir told us as he drew a picture of it on a board. The man was no artist, for sure, but he could make his point across with stick figures if necessary.

  “This is the blockhouse the damn rebels want to use to keep us out,” he described. “We could go around it, but that would allow them to come up on our rear. Can’t have those kafire scumbags ready to knife us in the back when we go for the rest of the town. And they’ll do that too. Right as you sleep. Nope, not going to happen.”

  “You can’t take it out from orbit?” I asked him. “Rod the thing from the sky?”

  “Did I open the goddamn floor for suggestions?” he asked. “Shut the fuck up until I finish.”

  I closed my mouth.

  “To answer your question,” he went on, “rodding the blockhouse might work, but it’s too small for an accurate strike. Might work on the town, but we want that intact. So, you scumbags get to flush them out.”

  This was the last objective for us before we were supposed to swarm into the city and take it. No one wanted this operation to drag out any further than it had already. Take out the garrison and then, the pathway would be wide open for our mechanized infantry in the rear. They were waiting for us to do our magic and open the way. We’d already lost half our numbers from enemy fire, and no one was in the mood to give mercy. And then, the final clincher.

  “I don’t have to tell you men that any of those rebels left inside that blockhouse means a dead Janissary down the road. I don’t want to hear about any prisoners taken. They’ve removed that option by being in there. Now, get out and don’t disappointment me.” He stood up, walked away, then turned in my direction.

  “Klaver," he called out. “You're in on the first wave. Pick any 12. The attack begins tomorrow at dawn.”

  So, there I was, with the 12 most insane Janissaries I could find. I wanted men who would run right into the enemy fire and not ask questions before we reached that blockhouse. Our plan was to wait for the artillery to lay down a field of fire and keep the enemy tied down inside it. At seven in the morning, the guns would stop, and we’d run the 50-yard clearance up the muddy hill, into the blockhouse. We all knew what it was supposed to look like on the inside. I’d let the real psychotics in first and send the next six in right after them. Shouldn’t take more than six minutes maximum.

  It was blinding hot that morning, with the humidity excessive even for that planet. Insects buzzed around us as we waited for the bashir’s whistle. The shelling was over, and we had our helmets and body armor on. Each of us carried a Resso 465 assault rifle and had a handgun and plenty of ammo to complete the job once we were inside the blockhouse. It wasn’t that big, just enough to be used as a gun emplacement and sniper point. But they had the high ground, and it mattered. The wall around it was battered down by artillery fire, but the blockhouse itself was far too secure to be destroyed by shells. Most of it was underground anyway.

  The air was still full of smoke and the smell of burnt stone. I could feel the visor on my helmet as it protected my eyes from any shrapnel or solar glare.

  The whistle sounded behind me. I was ready.

  “Let’s go!” I screamed, and my squad leaped over the barricade we had set up the night before and began to run up the hill.

  I was forced to stay in the back screaming at everyone to move it, move it, move it! I saw one of my guys run a few paces ahead of the group and yelled at him to slow down. We needed to maintain the right formation if all of us were going to survive that run to the top of the hill. Somehow, I managed to keep them all together as we thudded up the slope in the wet, sticky mud.

  It didn’t strike me as strange that we made it all the way to the bunker without one shot fired at us. I put it down to the artillery barrage forcing the enemy to stay put. I assumed we’d caught them flat-footed with the charge. Plenty of times I’d helped take out an enemy position because we were faster on the draw than them.

  I found myself in front of the door to the blockhouse two minutes after the whistle blew for the assault to begin. I knew there would be another squad behind us in a few minutes, but the guys I selected were eager to get inside and seize the place. They wanted all that glory for themselves.

  “You want me to take it?” the sapper, another young guy from the homeworld, asked. He already had his explosives out. I nodded.

  “Give me a few,” he said as the charges came out of his backpack. The trooper was so happy to blow something up that I thought he was going to wet himself.

  I had everyone stand to one side of the building while he set the charge. Three minutes later, I heard a loud whomp, and the sapper cried out, “Door’s open!”

  “Go!" I screamed at the men. “Take no prisoners." Hell, that was the directive.

  The first six ran inside, and I heard their guns fire the moment they were inside. I heard screaming too, but I was used to it. You wanted to hear the other side cry out as they died so that you knew where they were.

  I ran in behind the last six while the guns fired away. By the time I got inside, there was nothing more to shoot. I walked into the blockhouse building to see my second pop his rifle three times at something on the floor.

  It was a six-year-old boy.

  In horror, I looked at the rest of the inhabitants of the blockshouse. None of them wore uniforms or carried any kind of arms. This was why there were no guns fired from the blockhouse. None of them were soldiers.

  A group of innocent refugees had tried to take shelter here. The place was abandoned days ago, and our intelligence had fucked up. They told us it was held by the enemy. The enemy that fell back to the city days ago. I had no idea who these people were. What the hell happened?

  I grabbed the gun from my second the minute he popped the boy. “What the hell did you just do?” I screamed. “That was a kid!” I almost smacked him upside the head with it.

  “Could’ve packed heat,” he mumbled. “Shouldn’t have been here if he didn’t want killed. Fuck him." My second walked off as if in a trance.

  I was able to assemble all the men and get them down the hill, back to the encampment. Because I’d sent up the smoke signal that let the rest of the division know we’d taken the blockhouse, no further squads were sent up the hill. It was a quiet march down the slope, not because we’d killed a bunch of innocents but because the men I’d selected didn’t get to shoot it out with any enemy troops. They felt cheated.

  “Shit," I heard one of them grumble. “That was too fucking easy. She didn’t even try to run. What kind of bitch does that?"

  I dismissed them all, then turned to the tent where my commanding officer waited for me. That was the worst day of my life. In all the years I’d fought for the glory of the sultan, nothing like that had ever happened.

  “Good job!" the bashir congratulated me when I entered his tent to make the report. He was at his desk with some papers in front of him. I stood next to the desk and waited for him to ask about causalities or any other information he’d need to report. I wanted to puke.

  “Sir," I began. “there were civilians in that bunker. No troops at all. I sent my men in there to slaughter them. I must file an incident report about this. Don’t worry; I’ll resign and save you the disgrace. I take full reasonability for what happened.” I couldn’t look him in the fa
ce.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” he told me and continued with his paperwork. “We figured the enemy might not be there. Had to be sure, though, so don’t let it worry you.” He didn’t even look up.

  “Sir," I said again, “my men killed women and children. Those people took refuge in there. This is against everything I was ever taught.”

  He turned around and looked me in the face. “Stefan, are you going soft?” he asked. “Maybe I ought to sell you to a bathhouse.” He chuckled over that one.

  At which point I took my pistol out and shot him between the eyes. Gunfire was normal around there, and no one came to check out the noise. I holstered my gun and walked out as if nothing had happened. No one challenged me.

  I managed to make it back to my tent, gathered some things, and walked into the brush. Two weeks later, the Irunian Empire entered the war, and our entire company was wiped out. I still don’t think anyone knows how I left the Sultan’s Janissaries.

  I was in bed with Zilpha. The weather was cold outside, and I didn’t have to be anywhere special. That meant we had plenty of time to play. I wrapped my arms around her and felt my little woman’s body. She was ready, and I slid inside her.

  “Oh," she breathed me as I nuzzled her neck. “You came like a firehose last night. Sure, you’re ready for some more?”

  “I’m ready if you are,” I told her and thrusted deep. She whimpered, and I pulled back, ready to go in again.

  “You have room for me?” a voice asked next to my ear. I looked up and saw it was Jenica. Her narrow feline eyes were focused on me.

  “Sure," I said, “you can come in behind me.” I kicked back the covers and felt her soft furry body next to mine. The fine, sharp teeth of her mouth nibbled on my shoulder. Her swift hand reached down and guided me back into Zilpha.

  “She likes to be touched here,” Jenica told me as I began to pulse inside Zilpha. I heard the woman in front of me gasp as the one behind me found a sweet spot to play with.