The Catherine Kimbridge Chronicles #4, Retribution (6 page)

“
What happened
?
”

“
They were rescuing jettisoned escape pods and one just exploded
.
”

Jason shook his head and continued his fleet-wide message
.“
Scan for life signs before attempting to pick up escape pods. Some, if not all, appear to be booby-trapped
.
”

Jason looked at his XO
.“
It appears our enemy knows our weaknesses
.
”

Chapter Fiv
e
– Unseen Eyes...

Debbu hopped toward the front screen of his classroom. Like all members of the freedom fighters on Naanac, and especially within the city of Harromog, he had an official position assigned by their Modos overlords. His was that of an instructo
r
– specifically economics, with a subspecialty in forced acquisitions. He held the equivalent of what his new allies in the GCP would call a doctorate. He taught at multiple campuses, but they were all part of a larger system called Blue Devil University. Blue Devils were an especially aggressive fish that were known for their fight. Debbu took comfort in the irony and symbolism provided by working at BDU.

He tapped a series of homework assignments on the screen. Turning to face his students, he bowed to the twenty-three young Modos who occupied their respective seats. They were well behaved in class because their parents dealt with disrespect most harshly, but Debbu was under no illusions. If he encountered most of his pupils off campus they would delight in any shame and humiliation they could bring to bear. He though
t“
mos
t
” because there were two who seemed less inclined to follow the official party line than the others. One of his teaching techniques was the use of ethical debates. Invariably these two would argue the contra-syndicate position more passionately than the pro-syndicate.

“
Please be aware
,
” he said to the listening students
,“
that you
r‘
eminent domai
n
’ reports are due this fourth-day. The winning paper will be entered in the Chairma
n’
s Bowl for a chance to attend an actual board meeting of the Syndicate. Let that be your incentive to excel at this most important task
.
”

He paused and looked at his students and assumed what he hoped was a properly respectful expression.

“
May profit guide you in all your endeavors. Class dismissed
,
” he said, using the traditional benediction required by the school.

As the students filed their way out of the classroom, Debbu reached into his desk and pulled out a special pair of reading glasses. His people, an amphibious race, generally had perfect eyesight and he was no exception. That said, his eyes, like all those of his race were designed to focus close up while under water and at a longer distance while on dry land. In order to have near-field vision for reading while on land, glasses needed to be worn.

These particular glasses were very special. The lens in his eyes had been surgically replaced by doctors sympathetic to the resistance. They were now selectively polarized. The glasses themselves were also polarized. The interesting thing about the combination was that neither could be used without the other. Combined they allowed messages to be transmitted on special computer displays. These displays seemed completely white without both sets of polarizing lens. This allowed messages to be seen in plain daylight without their Modos oppressors ever knowing they were there.

The stems of the glasses even included miniature bone-conducting speakers, so covert audio could also be received. The audio was broadcast at a frequency that was well beyond what most races within the Syndicate could hear. This included Debb
u’
s people. However, by offsetting the signal to each side of the head and taking advantage of the specific bone-conduction delays unique to each wearer, an audible interference pattern could be established that the wearer of the glasses alone could hear. The audio data itself was encoded in a polarized video feed that the operative wearing the glasses would be looking at. In this case the computer display/whiteboard in the front of the class was the source of this feed.

Once Debbu donned the glasses, he could see a young femal
e’
s face on what had been an unused and blank section of the whiteboard. The perso
n’
s lips were moving, so Debbu tapped the side of his glasses to activate the embedded audio feed electronics.

“
…
out time you put your glasses on! Did
n’
t you get my signal that we needed to talk immediately
?
” The signal in question was a bowl of dried Cuecak bugs on his desk. They were a favorite delicacy for his peopl
e
… a delicacy the Modos were allergic to. The three bugs in the bowl meant a conference was desired ASAP.

“
I had a class full of students whose parents are senior executives within the Syndicate. I was not about to risk a meeting with them in the room
.
”

Debbu used hand signals to sign his response to the whiteboar
d’
s camera silently. Anybody watching who did
n’
t know how to read the hand signs might confuse them for random movements of his eight finger digits. They were subtle and not altogether easy to spo
t
– designed as they were for covert communications.

“
Why do we need to talk so urgently
?
”

“
The East-Tree brigade is planning to move tonight. They plan to take over the Syndicate Center. You need to let our new allies know that the timetable for Operation Clean Sweep has been moved up
.
”

Debbu glanced toward the door to his classroom. His sensitive ears had sensed a noise but he did
n’
t see anyone. Turning back toward the screen he signed a quick response.

“
Why the change? Why the Syndicate Center and why tonight? The humans are going to want to know
.
”

The young female he was talking with looked exasperated
.“
Who really
ever
knows why the East-Trees do what they do? It has something to do with the new Chairman leaving to join the invasion force. Some hothead has decided that they want to take over the facility while there is a partial power vacuum
.
”

Debbu considered that. It made a certain amount of sense. While the Chairman was in the dimensional hyperfold conduit between universes, he would be out of contact. Given his recent appointment to the chairmanship, it was unlikely there would be many close associates empowered to step in to fill his place while he was incommunicado. That type of trust took years to develop and there clearly had not been enough time.

He leaned forward and signaled a final response. That simple movement might have saved his life.
“
I will go to our safe house and let them know immediately
.
”

***

Breakwater pulled her little mirror back. She had been using it to watch her Economics professor hand sign. Normally she would be on a tram heading back to her Covert Counter-Intelligence (CCI) offices in Syndicate Center, but she had spotted that bowl of revolting Cuecak bugs on his desk. The CCI had embedded spies in a number of locations. Her assignment had been to follow the activities of student dissidents. Sometimes, however, her intelligence gathering activities turned up unexpected motes of festering rebellion. The bugs on Professor Debb
u’
s desk was an unexpected dividend. Her training had taught her to look for such things. They were potential markers for subversive activitie
s—
and so she watched. She did
n’
t have to wait long. Debbu had started making convert hand signals. They were not much to see but to the trained eye they were everything.

Her training had taught her how to read the little amphibian
s
’ hand signals. Although she was only observing one half of the conversation she nonetheless caught the threat against the headquarters complex. Unfortunately she missed the professo
r’
s last response as he leaned little bit forward. With what she knew, her choices were simple: continue to monitor her professor or get word to her superiors.

Had she seen the last part of the conversation, she might have chosen differently. She might have chosen to follow Debbu. But... as it was she had not, and so she chose to leave him unattended while she found some privacy to report to her superiors. He was of course gone when she returned with orders to take her professor into custody.

***

Ricky Valen swore with an intensity befitting a man who viewed his ability to swear in multiple obscure dialects and languages as a sacred trust. Honey, for her part, adjusted her ski
n’
s color to reflect a subtle blush. It was an automated subroutine she had put in place many months ago to provide Ricky with a visual cue that he might be engaging in the dissemination of excessive verbal dross.     

Captain Hikaro Takei waited patiently for the other captain to finish. In his short association with the man he had heard an occasional outburst but nothing approaching what he was hearing now. To be honest, he was fascinated by the lengths to which the other man was
able to go to in order to describe the potential ancestral origins of their new friends on Naanac. Finally, he judged it was time to retake control of the conversation.

“
As fascinating as this discussion of speculative anatomy is, we still have a mission. How do we adjust our plans to deal with this situation
?
”

“
The situation
,
” as Takei put it, was the recent discovery, reported by a Naanac informant named Debbu, that the local rebel forces were not going to wait to coordinate their efforts with other resistance factions within Modos-controlled space.

Ricky turned to the others. The look of exasperation and frustration on his face was plain for all to see. He and Honey had spent weeks establishing a network on Naanac. Hard work had extended that network via a loose association of independent rebels to dozens, if not hundreds, of enslaved worlds. The plan the GCP was developing depended on destabilizing a small but significant percentage of the Modos Syndicate. This had to take place in a well-orchestrated way so the Modos would not be able to mount a concentrated counter offensive.

Honey rested a hand on his and smiled. That seemed to break him out of his rage.    

They were in the small kitchen of the cloaked
Honey Dipper
, which itself was in orbit around Naanac. It was one of the few places on the shuttle that was big enough for a meeting. When Debbu reported to Takei on the planet below, the cloaked
Honey Dipper
had already been
en route
to pick the older GCP officer up. Takei had wisely decided to share what he learned from Debbu after they left the planet surface. There was too great a risk of their cover being blown if Ricky acted hastily on the plane
t’
s surface.

“
There is nothing we can do
,
” Ricky said, softly
.“
Our plan was based on the Syndicate having to respond in force in dozens of locations. By jumping the gun, these idiots are going to invite the Syndicate to make an example of them
.
”

“
No battle plan ever survives first contact
,
” Honey said, softly, paraphrasing a German Field Marshall from the 19
th
century.

Ricky grunted his agreement and add
e
d
,“
Usually that is first contact with the enem
y
… not on
e’
s allies
!
”

“
True
,
” Hikaro agreed
.“
But w
e’
ve got to play the cards as they get dealt. If the Syndicate tries to make them an example to send a message to others contemplating a Syndicate-wide uprising, then we just need to make sure we control the message. Honey, do you think you can get a request to Admiral Faragon
?
”

The shi
p’
s avatar, who once again looked completely huma
n
– having discarded her blue Aenar disguise, perked up
.“
Why, I would be delighted, sir
!
” she said
.“
And what would you like to ask him
?
”