War To The Knife (2 page)

Dave began to swing the revolver towards the second pulser-armed soldier, cocking the hammer again as he did so; but from his right another sighting beam appeared, centering on the trooper’s face, followed by another
crack!
as his father took a hand. The soldier’s face grew a pattern of holes like the Sergeant’s, but they were off-center and didn’t drop him immediately. Another shot sounded, and the hapless trooper spun around and fell forward onto his face.

Dave didn’t waste time watching his father’s handiwork. He aimed his gun at the truncheon-armed soldier nearest him, triggering two rounds into the man’s head and sending him sprawling. He swung back in the direction of the last soldier on his feet, but the man threw his truncheon to one side as he raised his hands. “Don’t shoot!
Don’t shoot me!”
His face was suddenly ashen, his voice trembling.

His father’s voice came from behind him. “When you meet your friends in hell, tell them it was a bad idea to try to steal from Niven’s Regiment.”

The soldier’s eyes bugged out. “You – you mean –
you’re
– ?”

Jake didn’t give him time to finish. He fired once more, the pellets from his revolver smacking into the man’s face over his right eye. The trooper gave a short, sharp cry and slumped to the floor.

As he fell, Dave swung to cover the stranger seated at one side of the room. He’d slapped both his hands palm-down on the table before him, a clear sign that he didn’t intend to get involved in this fight. He glanced down at his chest where the green dot of Dave’s sighting beam was centered in the V of his open shirt, just over his sternum, then looked up at the young man, his lean face suddenly pale beneath its artificial tan.

“You’re the only other person here we don’t know,” Dave pointed out, his voice cold. “We’ve learned the hard way not to trust strangers.” As he spoke, his father’s sighting beam tracked up the stranger’s body and settled on the bridge of his nose.

The man spoke quickly, almost breathlessly. “If you’re from Niven’s Regiment, I have a message for your commanding officer. It’s from Reno.”

Jake moved forward. “Reno? If you’re for real, there’ll be a series of challenges and replies to authenticate you. What’s the first?”

The man replied without hesitation, “Castle Pass.”

Jake blinked. “Well, well, well… I’d begun to think I’d never hear that particular passphrase. You’d better come with us.” He holstered his revolver, motioning for Dave to do likewise.

The man shook his head. “Not yet. What about the first countersign?” Jake leaned forward and whispered into the man’s ear, and he nodded. “That’s it. The second challenge is – ”

“Later. We’ve got to get out of here.” Jake turned to the bartender. “Sib, can you get rid of them” – he gestured at the bodies of the four troopers – “and clean up? If anyone asks, those four took Dave and the fur out the back way. You don’t know what happened to any of us after that.”

“You got it, Major.” As he spoke, the barkeep gestured urgently to the regulars. Most of them started carrying the bodies to a back room, while one collected a bucket and mop from behind the bar and began cleaning the blood off the floor.

The bartender rummaged beneath the bar, took out an unlabeled spray bottle containing a clear fluid and tossed it to the cleaner. “Spray this everywhere the guys walked or carried the bodies. It’ll neutralize any DNA left behind. We’ll dump the bodies way out in the bush after dark. Scavengers will take care of them by morning.”

“What about the interrupted recording?” Dave asked, nodding towards the security console.

Sib shrugged, face breaking into a grin. “What about it? It’ll show the Sergeant telling me to switch it off. I obeyed him, of course – I mean, I can’t argue with a garrison Sergeant, can I? When he and his men had gone, taking you and the pelt with them, I switched it on again. The others will back me up. No, of course I didn’t call the garrison to investigate their own troopers. They’d only have locked me up for wasting their time.”

“Fair enough.” Dave looked around at the hard-working men. “Thanks, everyone. We owe you.”

“No problem, Lieutenant,” one of them replied with a grin. “Niven’s Regiment takes care of its own. Now get the hell out of town before anyone starts to look for those sods!” He began to roll and tie the pelt on the bar.

Another man came out of the back room. “Here’s the Sergeant’s wallet, and his Corporal’s. They had a few hundred Bactrian bezants between ’em and three military passes apiece.” He handed over the last two wallets. “Less money in the troopers’ wallets, but still enough to be useful.” Finally he produced a communicator and both holstered pulsers.

“Thanks, Brady.” Jake took the money from the last two wallets and handed it to Sib. “Beer and a good meal for everyone, courtesy of those scum.” He began to strip the charge packs out of the pulsers and communicator. “Got a bag to hold all this stuff? I don’t want anyone outside to see what I’m carrying.”

“Sure, I’ll get you one.” Sib turned back towards the bar.

Dave turned back to the stranger. “What’s your name?”

“Marvin Ellis.”

“Got any gear?”

“Just this holdall.” He gestured to a bag next to his chair. “I arrived on the morning train. Hadn’t got a room yet.”

“OK. Any electronics in there or on you? Anything with a battery or capacitor?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a – ”

“Don’t waste time telling me. Take the charge packs out of
everything
, right now. Make sure nothing can emit any signature that might be tracked.” He glanced at the bartender as he approached, carrying a bag for Jake. “Sib, help him. Search his holdall, his clothes and his body, then scan them all. Destroy anything you’re not sure about and get rid of the remains.” He looked back at Marvin. “You’ll travel in the back of my wagon until we’re well out of town. When Sib’s finished, wait just inside the back door. I’ll drive past the rear of the saloon in about five minutes. As I pass, slip out the door and climb over the rear gate. Make it fast and smooth, because I won’t stop, then lie down and stay out of sight until I tell you different.”

“Got it, but won’t they – ”

“No questions yet – no time. Sib, don’t switch on the cameras until we’re well clear. That way they won’t show Marvin getting into my wagon.”

“You got it.”

“Take the east road out of town, son,” Jake interjected as he loaded three rounds from his belt pouch into the cylinder of his revolver. “I’ll go north, then circle round to meet you.”

“All right. See you tonight.”

Dave half-waved as his father headed for the door, reloaded and holstered his own handgun, then accepted the pelt from the man who’d rolled it. “Thanks, Tom. We need a couple of people who aren’t here right now, so they won’t show up on the saloon’s security vid.”

“Todd’s around. So is Jaime.”

“Ask them to meet us…” – he thought rapidly – “three clicks south of Gamma at sunset. Tell them to look for our wagons. They’re to travel separately, keep their eyes peeled and make sure they aren’t being watched. If they are they’re to lead them away from us, then disappear for a spell.”

“Will do. You keep your pecker up and your head down.”

Dave laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

He reached for the beer Sib had drawn for him a few minutes earlier and drank quickly, foam coating his upper lip, spilling a little of the cold fluid onto his shirt. He set down the schooner, wiped his mouth with the back of his left hand, reached into a pocket, peeled a banknote off a thin wad of them and tossed it on the bar.

“Your beer’s as good as ever, Sib. Buy a round for everyone on me. We’ll be back for more as soon as we can.”

“I’ll have it chilled and waiting,” the bartender promised as he rooted through Marvin’s holdall. The stranger looked surprised and – Dave thought – a little resentful at the thoroughness of the inspection, but said nothing.

“Thanks. See you out back, Marvin.”

February 27th 2850 GSC, Afternoon

CARISTO AND THE WILDERNESS

Dave drove his wagon slowly past the rear of the saloon. He didn’t look round, but felt the load-bed rock as weight was added and shifted position. He called back softly without looking around, “Get under that dark tarpaulin. Pull out enough of it to completely cover you and your holdall. Stay down and stay quiet.” There was a rustle of synthetic cloth, the wagon bed rocked again lightly, then all was still behind him. He nodded imperceptibly to himself. At least their unexpected visitor could obey orders and keep his mouth shut. That was a good start.

He reached behind him, pulled out a dusty
serape
of dark brown material, and slipped it over his shoulders before pulling his hat low over his eyes. Surveillance vid had already recorded him driving the wagon into Caristo. He wanted it to show someone with a different appearance driving it out again. He made a left turn, then a right to get back onto the main drag. As the wagon approached the last buildings, where the hardtop petered out into gravel and dirt as it ran into the bush, he saw that the sensor turret above the light pole was scanning slowly in a complete circle. He grinned tightly, slowed his pace until he was sure it would get a good view of the wagon, then drove past it, looking down so his face wasn’t visible.

He waited until the wagon had covered three kilometers along the rutted, rough bush road, then reached behind him again and pulled out a canvas bag. He took from it a small black box and switched it on. After a moment a red light began to blink. He watched it and waited patiently for sixty seconds until the box beeped softly and a second, green diode illuminated. Nodding in satisfaction, he dropped it into his shirt pocket.

“You can come out now,” he called over his shoulder. “We aren’t being watched at the moment.”

A rustling came from the bed of the wagon. The stranger climbed carefully over the raised back of the wagon seat and sat down gingerly.

“I want to go through the rest of the challenges and countersigns,” Dave began, “to be sure of your
bona fides
before I say any more. Gray curtain.”

“Red dawn,” the stranger responded at once.

“Blue river.”

“Wide ocean.”

They ran through four more combinations before Dave said, “All right, you’re either legitimate, or the Bactrians have caught the real guy and tortured all that out of him – in which case we’re probably finished anyway.” He held out his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Dave Carson, commanding Charlie Company of Niven’s Regiment. The older man who helped us is my father, Major Jake Carson. He was the Executive Officer of the Regiment under Colonel Niven. When the Colonel was killed during the invasion, Dad took over the Regiment and held it together during the collapse, then took the remnants underground to continue the war as guerrilla fighters. The other regiments did the same, of course. We’ve been doing that for almost three years now.”

“Glad to know you,” the visitor said as he shook Dave’s hand. “From what your father said in the saloon, I thought he was a cattle dealer.”

“It’s the perfect cover story for traveling all over the place, stopping off at farms and ranches everywhere and dropping out of sight for days or even weeks, supposedly rounding up cattle that strayed during and after the war and fattening them up for sale. In reality we’re keeping track of our people and planning and executing operations. We have a permanent crew of civilians gathering cattle for us. We drive them into town now and then to ‘prove’ to the Bactrians that we really are cattle dealers.”

“Makes sense. I’m just glad you happened to be in Caristo when I arrived. I’ve come an awful long way to meet you, and it would have been a hell of a let-down if I’d never found you. Why were you so suspicious about my electronics?”

“The Bactrians try hard to smuggle sensors into suspects’ gear or homes. Nanobugs and flitterbugs are so small you hardly notice them unless you’re looking for them, and tracking devices can be the size of pea gravel.” Dave showed him the box in his shirt pocket. “This is the other reason I wanted all your electronics shut down. It’ll pick up any active sensors nearby, and radiation from an electrical power source within five kilometers or so. I’ve left it on to detect any sensors that come within range as we travel. If I tell you to get in the back again, make it fast and hide under that cover until I give you the ‘all clear’.”

“Will do, but won’t the town’s surveillance vid show you on this wagon? If they want to find you, all they need to do is look for it on the road. That thing pulling us isn’t very fast.”

“That ‘thing’ is a native critter we call a burro, although it’s no relation to Earth’s donkeys – it’s twice the size, for a start. You’re right, it’s not fast, but it can pull as much as a two-horse team and keep going all day. They won’t look for anyone until they miss those four troopers, which should be tonight at the earliest. By tomorrow both wagons will look different and have different drivers. We’ve done this many times before. They’ve got decent surveillance in the larger towns, but they simply can’t afford to seed the range country with enough sensors to maintain seamless coverage. We usually have time to change our appearance if necessary, or switch to alternative transport.”

“And they don’t fill in local gaps by using satellites?”

“They can’t afford to. Bactria’s economy was several times larger than ours before the war, but they paid dear in blood, equipment and budget to take over here. We’ve continued to bleed them ever since. They took over our existing communications and traffic control satellites, but they haven’t been able to afford an orbital surveillance network. That’s helped us keep up the fight for the past three years, despite all they could do to stop us.”

“I don’t think I could endure that non-stop tension for so long. Even a few days of it while getting here have been more than enough!”

Dave shrugged. “They haven’t exactly left us much alternative. Now, before I do anything else, let me get rid of this peashooter and put on a gun more suitable for use out here in the sticks.”

He pulled a pistol rug from the wagon bed and unzipped it. Inside nestled a revolver whose grips and cylinder were almost identical to the gun he’d used in the saloon, but were mated to a long, heavy octagonal barrel. Dave opened the cylinder to reveal six fat brass cartridges nestling in its chambers. Satisfied, he drew the smaller weapon from his holster and replaced it with the larger one. Next he took a long-barreled lever-action rifle from a leather tube fastened along one side of the wagon, checked that it was loaded, and cycled the action to put a round in the breech. He placed the rifle carefully on the wagon bed behind him, easily available to his hand.