Warriors For The Working Day

Chapter Five
By
(UCSBdad)

Disclaimer: Stolen about equally from the Henson Co., David Drake and a bit from George MacDonald Fraser. Shakespeare is in the public domain, I hope. In any case, no money changes hands here. Rating: T due to language Time: Some twenty-five plus years after Peacekeeper Wars.

"It's a woman, ma'am." Someone said. "Or what's left of one."

What was on the table was just raw meat and blood, plugged into a dozen or so machines. The soldier next to the body introduced himself.

"I'm Surgeon-Major Delacroix. You're Mrs. Crichton.?"

I nodded.

"It's not your husband, ma'am. I did a quick and dirty DNA check on her. No human DNA at all. She's not your daughter either."

I nodded again and let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

"What the hell is this, Doc?" That was Aida.

The doctor shook his head. "Apparently if anyone ever did that bastard Brissollino any crap, he'd get back at them. Kidnap them, haul them out here and torture them to death. He kept nice, complete records of it all. Intel's sending someone down to check them. At least we'll be able tell the next of kin what happened here. Maybe find some of the people that helped."

"What about her?" Aida asked.

"She's being kept alive by machines. He left enough of her brain intact to be able to feel pain, that's about it."

"Could we fix her?"

"No." Was all Delacroix said. He reached for a blue lever by her head. "This will turn off the machines."

Aida reached out and blocked his hand. "You keep 'em alive, doc. I'll do the killing here." She pushed the lever down. The machines slowly shut down. The woman twitched once and was still.

The rest was anti-climactic. There were another fifteen prisoners in cells. All had been beaten and abused, but all would live. None were my husband or my children. I leaned against a wall. Where the frell was John?

"Aeryn?" That was Ismaili. "Didn't you hear the comm?"

I shook my head to clear it. What the frell was happening to me? "No, I'm sorry. What is it?"

"Another team checked the other dungeon. All the people in there were slaves sent there to be punished. None of your family is there or in the regular slave barracks."

I looked around. "Where did Aida and Kathleen go?"

"They found Brissollino's body upstairs. Apparently they were all set to give him a big send off tomorrow. They had plans to kill a whole bunch of slaves with him. So he'd have someone to get him ice water in the hereafter, I guess. Instead we're going to hang his body on his front porch. "

"Interrogators are done with those two cousins of his. All they know about you or your family is that they were going to get to use you after the adults were done. Nothing else. The Vice-Marshall sent a couple of officers up to run a Field Court. When they're done, we'll hang them."

Ismaili, Gupta and I headed back upstairs. We got there just as Brissollino's body was being hoisted by a crew of former slaves.

"They don't seem very happy about it." I said, looking around.

One of the troopers heard me. "They be slaves long time. Mos' since birth. They be scared of them bastards mos' the rest of their lives, mos' like."

Ismaili noticed something. "How come we got three groups here?"

The trooper pointed to the largest group, a collection of shabbily dressed ex-slaves. "Biggest group be unskilled. They be gardeners, cleaners, work in kitchen,that sort." He pointed to a smaller group of ex-slaves. "They be skilled. Chefs, flower arrangers, gotta painter to paint pictures of the big shot, and one whole buncha whores."

The smallest group were well dressed and seemed the most unhappy. "They be free. Employees they be. Accountants, security, doctors, nurses, comm specialists, computer jocks, and another buncha whores."

We were interrupted by a group of armored troopers coming down the stairs, carrying Bito and Argolotte Corbellote. Both of them were giggling uncontrollably.

An officer saluted Aida. She saluted back.

"Ma'am, a Field Court has been convened under the Laws of War. The Court considered the cases of Bito and Argolotte Corbellote. Based on evidence provided by the accused, they were convicted of four counts of murder, five counts of rape, and five counts of enslavement."

"Did the court find any mitigating circumstances?" Aida asked coldly.

"No ma'am. The Court specifically noted that enslavement calls for a mandatory death sentence."

Aida raised her voice. "Death sentences are hereby approved by Aida Borzon O'Donnell, Vice-Marshall, Human Forces Command."

She lowered her voice. "Kathleen, any reason we ought to postpone the execution? Any intel we can get out of them? Any use as hostages?"

Kathleen shook her head. "It's amazing how little of anything those two cretins knew, except they were rich and powerful and thought they could do what they wanted. And everything we've gotten indicates no one else cares if these two live or die. Go ahead and hang the bastards."

That was that.

Aida turned to me. "Aeryn, General Stoll is grinding Goro's compound down. He's got a reinforced battalion on it. The good news is, he took Vasa Corbellote prisoner, he's got Goro pinned down and he's damned near close enough to hose them down with sonics. Lastly, there's no sign of any of your family and none of the people we've interrogated know anything about them. It looks more and more like they aren't here."

"But you're not sure." I responded.

"No, but we're still trying." She pointed to where a trooper was talking to the employees.

"Okay, Faldel the Archivist, speak up!" He bellowed. "Faldel, get your ass out here and talk to me."

"Yes?" Falda shuffled a few steps toward the sergeant. He was a Sebaceanoid from the same race as Volmae. He had the same pasty white skin, red eyes, and stringy light hair. He was dressed in what looked like striped sleeping garb.

"Watch your frelling mouth, Faldel." Growled another one of the prisoners. This one was short and heavily muscled, with his hair and beard oiled and curled in the manner of a Yfarri gunman.

The sergeant's armored arm shot out, grabbed the thug by his belt and lifted him off of his feet. The sergeant shoved the muzzle of his power rifle under the thug's chin and pulled the trigger. The head disappeared in a spray of super-heated bone, blood and brains. The rest of the thug flopped lifelessly onto the floor.

"You're a computer jock, right, Faldel?" The sergeant asked in a cheery voice.

Faldel nodded, making every effort to avoid looking at the headless corpse sprawled in front of him.

"As a matter of fact you're the main computer jock, right? Now you want to help us get past the security lock-outs on the computer, I bet? Cause if you do, we'll let you loose on a nice planet with a load of jingle in your pocket. Sounds good?"

Faldel stared at the sergeant. "Jingle?"

The sergeant nodded vigorously. "Jingle, cash, gelt, money, the necessary, loot. Understand?"

Faldel looked interested. "How much….jingle?"

The sergeant shrugged. "All you can carry. Get you a bag, fill it up with whatever you want. Then carry it out. Only two rules. One, you can't take any documents or such that intel wants. Two, you got to carry the bag all by yourself."

Faldel nodded. "I know where there are hidden safes. I can open them. Lots of jingle. Most of the intelligence is in the computers. I can give you access to all of it."

The sergeant put his arm around Faldel's shoulder and walked him away from the prisoners. "Faldel, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

I looked at Kathleen. "Are you actually going to let that bastard leave with a bag of jingle? How do you know he won't be back at someplace like this murdering little girls?" I snapped at her.

I could see information being projected onto the display on Kathleen's visor. Then she spoke. "According to our interrogations, Faldel's problem is gambling. He's working here in preference to having several body parts removed by a very angry gambling kingpin on his home world. Faldel tried to skip on his debts. As a matter of fact, we're planning to introduce Faldel to a game called poker. With any luck, he'll be broke and needing a job by the time we get to a commerce planet. Then he can make the local computers sing and dance for us."

That satisfied me. Kathleen and I followed by Ismaili and Gupta headed back outside.

A gob of spit landed in front of Kathleen's armored foot. She turned to face the prisoners.

There was no question whom the spitter was. The rest of the prisoners backed away from him. He stood with his arms folded over his chest, staring disdainfully at us. He was Sebacean, maybe even an ex-Peacekeeper. Tall, well muscled and dressed in black, he gave off an aura of competence and contempt.

"Expressing your opinion of us?" Kathleen asked softly.

He nodded. "You do nothing but use machines to kill. You yourselves are not dangerous. Only your machines."

"You're different?" She asked, her voice still soft.

He nodded vigorously. "I am Kufra of Yan Dol. I am the Master Hunter of Clan Pekarchi. I was the student of Huran, who taught me all he knew and then arranged for me to study off planet. When I was fifteen cycles old I killed a vammit with only a knife. I jammed my forearm into the beast's maw and stabbed his head, even as his teeth ripped my flesh."

Kufra babbled on for another microt or two until Kathleen stopped him.

"Okay, so the bottom line is you're not impressed with us. So?"

Kufra smiled widely. "So I challenge you. Give me a metra head start before loosing your machines on me. Once I reach the trees, I will disappear like a puff of smoke. All of your machines will not locate me. And when you leave, I will wait for the next ship to arrive here. Then I will hunt you."

Kathleen laughed and slapped Kufra lightly on the shoulder. "Done! Your challenge is accepted." She turned to Ismaili. "You up for this, Gunner?"

Ismaili nodded. "I'm up for it. And, it isn't combat, is it?"

We walked outside, trailing a growing mob of spectators. From what I could hear from the comms, most of them were placing bets. Ismaili was the favorite, but Kufra had his supporters.

"Gupta." Ismaili growled into the comm. "Keep track of who's betting against me. I'll want to talk to them later."

Kathleen stopped and gestured for Ismaili and Kufra to stand by her. "My range finder makes it one thousand and eight meters to that large stump. It's another forty or so meters to the forest. Close enough to a metra for you, Kufra?"

Kufra stared intently at the distant stump and then nodded. "A bit over a metra."

"Okay, Kufra. Anytime you want, head for the trees. Gunner Ismaili will stand right here by me. He won't do anything until you pass the tree trunk Nobody else will do anything else either."

Kufra started jogging towards the forest. He ran with a long, easy stride, saving his strength for the forest when he'd have someone on his tail.

I watched him through my viewscreen, increasing the magnification as he got further away. Every once in a while I'd glance over to Ismaili who was standing quietly beside Kathleen.

Kufra reached the stump and put on a burst of speed. Out of the corner or my eye I saw Ismaili bring his power rifle to his shoulder and fire. In the viewscreen, I saw Kufra fall. He got up and hopped towards the forest. One leg ended in a bloody stump where his foot had been. There was another bright flash, and Kufra's right arm exploded, leaving only a stump at the shoulder. Kufra pitched forward, then arose and managed to balance himself on one foot. I could see his mouth moving. It didn't take much imagination to guess what he was screaming at us. The last shot hit Kufra's neck and his head went spinning.

"Machines work pretty good, Ismaili." Kathleen said with a smile.

"Damn right." was the reply.

"Colonel O'Donnell?" came a voice over the comm. "Do you have Mrs. Crichton with you?"

"Yes. I'm here." I said without waiting for Kathleen. "Have you found anything?"

"Not much, ma'am." was the reply. "Our tame computer buck found only one file that mentions you or any of your family. We're uploading all the data in the computer to the main intel computer on Agincourt. None of us made anything useful out of it, but there are some links on it we don't understand. We thought maybe you could look at the hard copy we made."

I was already halfway back to the compound by the time the comm. was over. Kathleen led me to intel's temporary quarters in what had apparently been a gambling and game room. A dozen or so soldiers rattled around in a room designed to hold a few hundred. Computer terminals and other equipment was scattered around. One soldier was throwing a ball through a null gravity field trying to send the ball through a series of holes marked with denominations of money.

"Is this all you have to do, trooper" Kathleen asked.

"He's working ma'am." Said a sergeant looking up from a screen hooked into the null grav generator. "The damned game is rigged. It looks like this bastard cheated his guests. I'm trying to figure out how he did it, in case we ever run into something like this."

While Kathleen was discussing the technical details with the sergeant, another trooper handed me the file that Corbellote had on me. Most of the file were holos of me, taken when I was more or less in public. Also, most of them concentrated on my loomas or my eema. One was a shot of me in what John had called a "negligee" that showed more of me than I wanted anyone else to see. It appeared to have been taken through a window at a beach resort we had been to a cycle ago. How long had that bastard been stalking me?

"Any help, Aeryn"?" Kathleen asked when I had read the file.

I shrugged. "There are some names of people he used to track me and my family. Nobody that I know, but I'll get to know them later."

"What about the datastrips at the bottom of the document?"

I shook my head. "Random combinations of Sebacean numbers and letters. It probably refers to other files, but unless you have an index of some sort, they're useless."

Frell! I was tired. I was beginning to believe that John wasn't at this compound and probably wasn't even on this planet. But where was he? Dead on some other planet? Held prisoner? Hiding from kidnappers on some backwater planet? Where? Where?

""Can I bother you for a second, Aeryn?"

Frell! I had been so busy worrying that I had walked right out of the gambling room without noticing it. I was a long way from being the Peacekeeper warrior I had been thirty cycles ago. I found myself standing in the huge entryway at the front of what had been a palace. Ismaili was standing in front of me, his helmet hanging from the back of his armor.

"Command says it's safe enough for us non-combatants to open up a bit. You can take off your helmet.

It wasn't until I had the helmet off that I noticed how stale the air I had been breathing was. I took several deep breaths.

"Feels a lot better, doesn't it?" Ismaili asked with a smile. I nodded in return.

Ismaili gave a quick look around and then led me to an area behind the main staircase. "I wonder if I could ask your opinion about something, you being a local and all."

We stopped in front of a large rectangular crate, one end of which had been pried open. Standing by the crate were a pair of ex-slaves from some race I was unfamiliar with. They were about half my height but rather chubby. They had clumps of white fur on their bodies, in no particular pattern that I could see. They wore only a pair of rather garish striped pants.

Ismaili reached into the crate and pulled out a rectangular metallic bottle. "Finza here says this is number one first class hooch, alcohol, that is. What do you say?"

I took the bottle and looked at it, carefully translating the Delvian script. Finally I handed it back to Ismaili. "It's made by Delvians and it's something like what my husband calls whiskey. I've never heard of this particular type of intoxicant, but anything the Delvians make for export to other races is top quality and very expensive,"

Ismaili's smile told me that I had given him the answer he was hoping for. He turned to Finza. "Okay, Finza, this whole lot goes. Find Sergeant-Pilot Almieda and have him load it up. One case goes to Mrs. Crichton's quarters and Almieda will want to know…."

"…if we'll be able to fit any troops aboard Agincourt once we load Gunner Ismaili's loot." Kathleen finished.

Ismaili turned, now stone-faced. "Consumables, ma'am. Entirely within regs."

"If you intend to consume all of this yourself, Gunner." Kathleen replied mildly.

"Oh, not all by myself, ma'am. No indeed." Ismaili quickly shot back. "Gupta gets his share, of course. And, as you heard, Mrs. Crichton gets a case. There'll be a case for the officer's mess, the warrant officer's mess and the sergeant's mess. As well as a case for Mr. Vergaah, since he's always saying he never has enough of the very best to entertain with. And, there'll be a few cases sent to the wounded. Oh, and yourself and the Vice-Marshall, of course. Straight to your quarters with no one the wiser."

Kathleen stared stonily at Ismaili and then smiled. "Gunner, you're incorrigible."

"That I am, ma'am. That I am." Was the prompt reply.

Kathleen nodded in agreement. "Send the two cases for my mother and me to Chief Mario. And make sure the other cases get where they're supposed to go." She stopped and stared at Ismaili for a microt. "It's no great secret how much money you have banked with finance. You could clean out the liquor depositories on this planet, find yourself somewhere quiet, find a couple of young, willing women…"

It was Ismaili's turn to finish Kathleen's sentence. "…and die of boredom in a year. No thank you, Colonel."

Kathleen laughed. "I suppose you're right. Carry on, Gunner."

Ismaili watched her walk away, a smile on his battered face. When she was out of sight he turned to Finza. "How many cases are there?"

"Forty three." Finza answered, in a surpisingly deep voice.

Ismaili rubbed his chin. "Even with Almieda's share, it won't be that bad."

Finza rapped his knuckles on Ismaili's armor. "We get all food? Not slave food. We get rich people's food. All of it."

"Finza, my friend," Ismaili said with a laugh, "you stick with me, and the humans, and you'll have all the food you'll ever want. You'll have so much you'll be able to open a fine restaurant back on Arsenal."

Apparently satisfied, Finza went off to load the rest of the "whiskey".

"Now, Aeryn, What can you tell me about Luxan wine?"

I made a face. "Luxans are a savage, brutal people and so is their wine. Peacekeepers use Luxan wine to clean corrosion off metal."

Ismaili shrugged and handed me another bottle.

I was telling Gunner Ismaili of the uselessness of anything claimed to be edible or potable by Hynerians when I was commed.

"Mrs. Crichton?" Asked a mechanical voice I'd learned to associate with the artificial intelligences used by these humans. "You and your escort are to report to Vice-Marshall O'Donnell's command vehicle. Please acknowledge."

Ismaili swore and then responded. "Gunner Ismaili acknowledging. I'll have Mrs. Crichton there."

Ismaili gave some last minute instructions to Finza and then Gupta and I followed him out of what had been my tormentor's lair.

Human troops were swarming in and around the compound. Ex-slaves were being assembled into groups of a twenty or so and marched off under the care of a single human soldier. It didn't look like any employees were left. Those who weren't valuable to their conquerors had been hung. Some soldiers were still working on the main building.

Ismalil nodded towards the troops. "Sappers love this shit. They're going to blow the two wings. Have 'em collapse in on themselves. That big dome will be dropped behind the main building, leaving only the gateway and the bastards hanging from it. The sappers wanted to put in booby traps, but the Vice-Marshall decided against it. She wanted the bastards who come here next to get a good look at our handiwork."

I nodded. I hoped John didn't arrive after we left. He'd see nothing but corpses and think I was dead.

More armored vehicles had arrived since our arrival and had laagered in front of the compound, churning up the once pristine lawns. Ismaili led me through a maze of howling lift fans and ponderously maneuvering armored vehicles of one sort or another. We stopped by a grounded vehicle marked with a drawing of red headed woman. As John might have said, the drawing left nothing to the imagination. The woman in the drawing also had absurdly large loomas. That was a human cultural trait I remembered from my own trips to Earth. Underneath the drawing were the words "Strawberry Bitch."

Kathleen stuck her armored head out of the rear ramp of the vehicle. "Get on in. We'll be moving in less than two minutes. Goro's headquarters have been over run. He and Vasa Corbellote are prisoners." She pulled her head back in and when the three of us entered the armored vehicle, she was deep in conversation with two soldiers manning comm consoles.

One of the vehicle crewmembers dropped down from the turret.

"God's blood! Are things so bad we have to arm the aged and infirm? What are you doing here, Gunner?"

I recognized her as the redhead whose picture adorned the vehicle. She had on only the lower part of her un-powered armor and a very brief top. The loomas that had been drawn were no exaggeration.

Ismaili smiled and waved at her. "How do, Boobs. When the Vice-Marshall has something important to do, she calls for experts. Not for children. Although if you do run us into an ambush, the three of us can find cover in your cleavage,"

Her smile remained. "My name is not Boobs, old man."

Before she could go further, Kathleen interrupted. "Your rank won't be Sergeant if you're not in combat order and in motion in twenty-seven seconds."

"Twenty-seven seconds it is, ma'am." She pulled the upper part of her armor and her helmet on and swung up into the turret. In microns we were moving.

After a few microts Ismaili stuck his head through a hatch behind the vehicle's turret. "Stick your head out, Aeryn. Get a look at this place."

Frankly, it looked a lot like what I had seen as a Peacekeeper all those cycles ago. Maybe not. The civilians being chivied into landers looked happy with their fate. Not like the civilians I'd seen once being forced into Peacekeeper labor battalions.

The landers could have been Peacekeeper models, although the human landers seemed to be bulkier. But Peacekeepers had nothing like the human's tanks and other armored vehicles, since they fought differently. Peacekeepers used their command carriers and other warships to pound a planet's defenses, then sent in wave after wave of Prowlers and Marauders to break the back of any resistance. Only then would the relatively lightly armed Commandos be sent in to mop up.

Humans used 170 ton tanks armed with 20 cm power guns. Since power guns drew their power from the tank's fusion plant, they were more powerful than similar pulse weapons which drew their power from chakon oil's natural volatility. When I had last seen a human army, their tanks had been supported by combat cars, open topped armored vehicles armed with three tri-barreled 2 cm power guns and by infantry mounted on one man skimmers and air cushion jeeps carrying heavier infantry weapons. Behind them were batteries of long-ranged artillery. And don't forget the artificial intelligences in each vehicle that were networked together. I had seen an attack by Prowlers and Marauders shredded by human power guns controlled by those AIs.

In twenty or more years, human armies had changed. At least here, the infantry, and other combat troops, wore powered armor. Others used un-powered armor like the set I had worn on K'hiff. Open topped combat cars had given way to carriers, a vehicle like a small tank with room for a squad of infantry in the back. As far as I could tell, tanks and artillery had changed only in getting faster, smarter and more lethal.

What the frell had I gotten in to?