The Price of Peace (13 page)

She hung up and started walking. She ought to get off the streets, but she didn't have a lot of choices. One or two places might be safe. She'd try them.

In an hour, the marines and the targets had closed to within two
klicks
. As the skipper expected, the slavers were headed for the beach. She and Trouble laid on quite a party for them. Then "I got a radio intercept. Passing it through" filled Trouble's headphones, followed by hissing and crackling as the portable cracker decoded the message.

"Bernie, Elm, and Maurice, we may have a problem." "What d'
ya
mean?"

"What's happening?"

"Where's Bernie?"

"I don't know" came in two flavors. The boss had never owned up to a name. Trouble suspected Bernie was tied to a tree, savoring a whole new meaning of pain.

"He could be down in a valley. These mountains are hell on reception."

"We'll see. In town, we have a problem. The locals are up in arms. They cannot void the mining contracts. If they look into the labor recruitment efforts, it could get inconvenient. You may have to dump your cargos in a hurry. Understood?"

"Will we get paid?"

"A reduced sum, but yes, you will be paid." "Whatever you say, sir."

"I will get back to you when I know better what the situation is here. Try to raise Bernie. I must go now."

The skipper had called a halt while they listened. Now she stood facing the sensor chief. "How
old's
that message?"

"Almost real time, ma'am."

"Forget the planned ambush," she said, turning to Trouble. "We got a meeting engagement ahead of us. I'll take first and second squad. Trouble, you got third, fourth. We'll split the civilians between the fire teams. Any questions?" There were none. "Move out on the double."

"Gunny, go with the skipper."

Gunny's "
Yessir
" had serious doubts behind it, but when the lieutenant made a curt signal toward the CO, Gunny went.

The scouts in the vanguard split, one group heading left, the other right. The two fire teams trotted past Trouble, one staying on the trail, the other heading off cross country to the right. If he was going to keep up with his team, Trouble needed to hustle; he kicked his mule for more speed.

It stopped dead in its tracks right in the middle of the trail. He kicked it again. It turned to eye him dolefully, any thoughts of obedience far from its large brown eyes. The civilians had been trailing the marines; now they passed Trouble. "Blow in its ear," Ruth suggested as she hurried by.

"Blow in its ear?"

"Yeah. Hard." The woman didn't even slow down.

Trouble gave the recalcitrant animal one more hard kick. It ignored him. It had turned to the side of the trail and was stripping a bush of leaves. Shrugging, Trouble leaned forward and blew in its ear. No effect. He drew in a deep breath and leaned real close.

The mule took off so fast, Trouble almost lost his seat. Working hard to keep on the damn critter and point it in the general direction of the target group, the marine bounced past the fire team and shot through the scouts.

Now brush and low limbs added to his problem. His helmet visor and body armor protected him, but that still left a lot of exposed skin. At least the heads-up said he was headed in the right direction.

In fact, he was almost halfway there.

"Slow down, girl," he shouted. Nothing happened. He pulled in on the reins. The damn thing speeded up. The target was getting real close. Trouble considered falling off the mule, but the ground looked awfully rocky. Shooting the mule was attractive, but his pistol was holstered, and both hands clutched the beast's reins. Not that they controlled it.

The mule galloped into a meadow. On the far side, the leader of the target group was just riding into the clearing. Trouble's four-legged transport headed for him, or the mule he rode in on. The leader waved a halt; his victims were bunched up a ways behind him. Three toughs with rifles joined him. All four eyed Trouble and his galloping friend, more puzzled than alarmed.

Maybe I am a puzzle. Helmet and visor hid his face. Body armor over a bedraggled red-and-blue dress uniform said nothing about who he was. Now the mule slowed. Probably wants to get friendly with the mules up ahead. Think, Trouble.

"Bernie's in trouble. He needs help," Trouble shouted in the best imitation of Clem's drawl he could manage between bumps in the mule's slowing gallop.

The leader turned to his toughs, shaking his head. "I told you Bernie was too smart for his own good. What'd he do this time?"

"Went chasing after a big brown hairy thing. Said the pelt was worth a fortune. Turns out it had a momma and
pappa
. His leg's broke," Trouble finished as his mule came to a stop, nuzzling the muzzle of the leader's mule. Trouble slid from its back, a hand grasping the saddle to keep him balanced on wobbly legs. The other hand edged toward his pistol. He had it out before the others had quit laughing at Bernie's fictional distress.

The business end of a service automatic ended their guffaws. "I'm Lieutenant
Tordon
, Humanity Marine Corps, and if you want to keep living, drop your rifles real slow."

For a second, they just stared at him. Then an evil sneer crept across the leader's face. "There's only one of you, and there's four of us."

"The first of you that moves his rifle dies with a bullet in his heart. I can kill two more before any of you can get a shot off. And I'll get the last one while I'm falling. You want to live, drop the guns."

One thug held his rifle out at arm's length. Trouble eyed him as he dropped it. The leader took the opportunity to bring his rifle up. Trouble put a bullet in his chest before his barrel moved a foot. Two more rifles were on the ground before the leader landed.

The
riderless
mules took off to tour points of interest. The thugs were having trouble controlling their rides with their hands in the air. One man fell off—too damn close to the rifles. "Go for the guns and I'll blow your head off. You guys dismount. All of you, over against that tree."

They moved, slowly, eyes on the blood pumping from their leader's chest. Trouble had aimed for the heart, and hit what he aimed for. Several would-be slaves took the opportunity to get close. "You want to grab a rifle and keep these guys covered?"

"Would love to," a black-haired woman agreed, "but we can't get close enough to him," she inclined her head toward the leader, "without getting shocked."

"Any of your group sucking up to these guys?" Trouble remembered the four city fellows they'd left tied to the tree with Bernie and his crew.

Disgust shaded the woman's face as she glanced at her fellow hikers. "We weren't that desperate. They killed my husband." Growls of agreement accompanied that. Trouble shoved her a rifle. Once she had the junior toughs covered, he handed a second rifle to a kid, maybe fourteen, then collapsed beside the leader's body. He found the controller and switched it off. Two women rushed to get rifles; another gave the leader a kick.

With rifles covering the thugs, others were ransacking their pockets, removing knives, phones, and other potential weapons. The black-haired woman traded her rifle for a Bowie knife. For a moment, Trouble weighed how important prisoners were to the skipper, then decided it wasn't worth the effort and turned his back.

"Trouble to skipper. I've got the situation with my target well in hand. Had to shoot their team leader." There was a scream from behind him. He didn't look back.

"We heard the shot. You take any prisoners?"

The scream from behind him had turned into a trio. "I don't think so."

"Our team has gone to ground. We're closing on them and will dig them out carefully. You've got witnesses?"

"Yeah, I got the widows of some of the men they killed."

"Explains the static on your signal. If you've got witnesses, this group gets no benefit from killing their hostages. May take me a while, but they're mine.
Umboto
out."

Trouble struggled to his feet. His fire team would be arriving soon. Probably best he kept them to the far side of the clearing until things separated themselves out here. He was waiting in the sun when his scouts glided out of the woods. Ruth and her dad were with them. The corporal leading the scouts eyed the other end of the clearing. Shrieks and screams and laughs were still coming from that direction.

"Widows are talking things over with the guys who murdered their husbands," Trouble said. The corporal shrugged and set about securing this side of the meadow.

Ruth and her dad settled beside him, their backs to the dell. Ruth's olive skin paled as the screams went on, but she said nothing. It was her father who spoke. "Short woman, black hair showing gray?"

Trouble nodded.

"
Agnatha
,
Paco's
wife. Probably ought to stop her. This isn't healthy." He didn't move.

"Not good for a combat unit's morale." Trouble kept his voice steady. A shriek went up the scale, then stopped dead. "But I don't see those folks as combat troops."

Ruth coughed, then leaned over and lost what was left of her breakfast. "Sorry, girl" was all her Dad said.

She wiped her mouth; Trouble signaled to a marine for his canteen. The private offered it, along with a candy bar. Ruth took the canteen but ignored the food. "When we got free, I wanted to do something to Clem, the boss, all of them. Hurt them like they hurt us. But with all the marines around and the chance to go after two more gangs, somehow it slipped my mind. I don't think I could live with myself if I'd done this."

"But your captors didn't kill anyone," her father pointed out. "These women have to live with the memory of their husbands and children being murdered. Maybe this won't make it better, but maybe it won't make it worse, either."

Shots came from their distant left; Trouble called up the last target on his heads-up. A large clump of figures was surrounded by many well-deployed marines. The fire didn't sound like M-6s. Probably poor fire discipline by fools who didn't know they were finished. He switched to the skipper's channel.

"You're the last of the three. We've got plenty of witnesses to what you're doing. Harm one of those people, and none of you'll get out of here alive. Put down your guns, and you'll live.

This planet doesn't have a death penalty."

Trouble didn't know that. Behind him, the last scream died. Part of him was sorry some people had found the need for capital punishment. But his sorrow was for the nightmares of the freed hostages, not the slavers they'd executed.

There was more fire, none of it marine-issue. Trouble zoomed his heads-up. The Condor was down to one thousand meters and giving a good infrared picture. People were balled up in a circle; someone must have turned off the proximity pain threshold to get them in that close. One image broke from the center of the circle. The shot that brought him down was in his back. That must have given a marine sharpshooter a good sight picture, because his killer quickly went down. For a long second, nothing happened; then guns were tossed away as three men stood, hands up. Two marines broke cover, guns steady.

Trouble chinned his display off. "They got the last bunch. One killed by his own people, one by marines. Three surrendered. Looks like all the hostages are okay." He tried to stand; Ruth helped him up. The rest of the marines double-timed into the clearing. Trouble pointed them to the left. "Situation is stabilized. All hostages are safe. Let's join the skipper."

"Want me to get your mule?" Ruth offered.

"I think I'd rather walk," he chuckled, and chinned on his mike. "Skipper, what's the rallying point?"

"Beach where the launch is waiting. Corporal will show you. I don't want to turn on a beacon until we got the ship that was planning on picking up these folks."

"I'll follow the corporal," sighed Trouble.

Six

ZYLON PLOVDIC HEADED for the hills, her pickup loaded with "borrowed" camping supplies and two men Big Al trusted. He rode beside her. She'd kept below the accepted speed in town. Now she pushed the rig for all the speed the dirt track would allow.

"What now?" she asked.

"We lay low. A ship's coming in with more survey supplies and weapons. It will pick up the labor recruits as soon as the Navy leaves orbit."

"Assuming the recruiting teams are still there and the damn Navy ever leaves orbit."

"I have arranged for the Navy to leave orbit soon. I believe it is time to check in on our teams." He pulled a small radio from his pocket. "Bernie, Elm, and Maurice, talk to me." Nothing. "Any of you there?" Nothing again. Slowly, Big Al closed up the radio. "Our problem may be bigger than I thought."

"When's the ship due?"

"Maybe it is best that it not arrive. Are we well supplied?" "For three months.''

"'Fee, three months in this wilderness." He opened the radio again, tapped several keys. "Benefit, this is Harmony. Go away. Come back in a month."

"Benefit here. I won't be back for another circuit, say fifty days."

Big Al shook his head. "See you then. Out." Benefit made no reply.

"XO, I think things just changed. We intercepted a coded message on a merchant channel. Our bogey's two hours from making orbit. It just hit the decelerator. It'll never make orbit on that course. Looks like it's headed back the way it came."

"Not economical use of reaction mass." The XO grinned. "No
merchie
would do that. Helm, take us to three gees in a smooth but rapid curve." The alerted crew needed only seconds to start the punishing acceleration. They couldn't have been in a better place in their own orbit around Hurtford Corner's moon.

"Sensors, ping that baby. Let her know we're a warship and she's a target.
Comm
, advise the skipper we are in hot pursuit and emissions control is no longer necessary." Stan leaned back in his seat as the gees built up. "Okay, folks, let's nail this jack rabbit."

The net got very busy all of a sudden. Trouble's nerves were still frayed, and his brain was far from clear. He passed along to Ruth and her dad what was happening, as much to keep them in the loop as to have someone out of uniform to remind him if he started to screw up. "The slave ship that was supposed to pick us up is running for the jump point. The
Patton’s
hot on its tail, and I'm betting on her in this horse race. The skipper is having
Jagowski
bring our bad guys to the launch. She wants to get firepower into Hurtford Corner as soon as she can, so she'll load the marines and prisoners back on the first lift, civilians on the second." Joe patted his M-6. "I got plenty of firepower here. Mind if I hitch along on the first ride?"

"Me, too," Ruth jumped in. "I'll see what can be done."

The skipper pointedly ignored the rush Trouble's ex-hostages made for the water as soon as they came in sight of the beach. She gave those who needed it time to wash blood from their skin and clothes. By that time,
Jagowski
had arrived with his little detachment. The boss and Clem looked a bit the worse for wear, but nothing that couldn't be accounted for by a fast hike through rough terrain. Captain
Umboto
kept her prisoners to one side of the beach, the survivors to the other, and the marines in the middle. She made an exception for Ruth, her pa, and a couple others from Trouble's group who had shown they knew how to use an M-6. The skipper explained her plan.

Agnatha
stepped forward, a rifle slung casually over her arm. "There's more bastards like those who killed my husband and kids running around these hills. I demand justice."

"You'll get it, but not now," the skipper answered her.

"We have rifles, food, mules." Several of the survivors had collected around the dozen saddles mules. Several of the pack animals had been stripped of their empty loads and were ready if someone wanted to ride them bareback. "You have sensors. Loan us their service, and we'll find our own justice."

The skipper glanced at Trouble. He shrugged; he hadn't been able to control them before. He wouldn't bet she could control them now. "I need to pull all my people back when it's time to go. I can't have them hiking around the back-country."

"Then lend me a helmet. Up there"—she waved at the clouding sky—"is a Condor. Your man can control it from here. He's here when you need him and can show me what I need." The skipper took a step back, as if a rabbit had grown fangs before her very eyes. "Suddenly you know a hell of a lot about my weapon systems."

"My husband was a hunter and tracker. We couldn't afford the bells and whistles in the catalogues. That doesn't mean we never heard of them. Loan me your eyes. These bastards are as much a threat to you as they are to us. We'll kill '
em
for you."

Trouble doffed his helmet. "They aren't going home, skipper. Don't know what the bad guys have got. Unless we give these folks a hand, they might walk into a trap,' he said, offering his helmet to
Umboto
.

"Bad bunch of choices." The captain sighed as she passed the helmet along to the widow. "We'll want it back."

"I'll return it quickly." She turned. "Who is with me?" Fifteen men and women, several hardly more than kids, headed for their mules. They were ready to ride, but the skipper slowed them down while a corporal showed Ag-
natha
how to operate her heads-up display. Gunny took the others aside and made sure they knew how to use the weapons they had, while a corporal collected all the rations available and passed them to the civilians.

Gunny was shaking his head when he returned. "These folks know weapons. I don't want to be in those kids' sight pictures."

The marines had already set up a base camp on the beach.
Jagowski
and one of the able spacers asked to stay behind. "Sensor chief's
gonna
need some support. Nothing's
gonna
get near here without us seeing '
em
." He hefted his M-6. "Be nice to have some legitimate targets."

"You know,
Jagowski
, you stay gone too long, your leading chief's
gonna
decide he doesn't need you anymore," the skipper scowled.

"He'll be wrong. Things aren't finished here. Let us cover this side while the rest of you go to town."

Captain
Umboto
raised the question to Trouble with a single eyebrow. "Why not? We'll have a full load, anyway."

"Lieutenant, move your fire team out." The skipper ended the matter with an order. "Gunny, mount '
em
up. Move '
em
out."

"Aye, aye. sir."

Ten minutes later, the launch shoved off. Petty Officer
Jagowski
waved; Chief Max was still looking around the camp, shaking his head.

"What was that?" Big Al asked, sticking his head out the window and searching the sky. "Sounded like a shuttle taking off, but it wasn't long enough. See any contrails?"

"One. Started just ahead of us. Ended just behind us. What do you make of that?", "Where's that lake you've been using to ship in stuff we didn't want to go through customs?"

"Ahead of us."

"And the main landing field is behind us. Al, I have a very strong suspicion that we're being outmaneuvered."

"The three recruiters are off line. I better have the survey teams check in. Tell them to lay low."

"Is it safe to call all of them up on a single channel? Seems to me we're being out-
teched
by the Navy." Big Al held the radio in his hand, measuring it like he did some of the recruits Zef brought in. "Back a bit there was a turnoff to the left. Let me backtrack to it. You send to the teams, tell them the situation here and have them stay off the air. Then we get back on this road and pick a good turnoff to the right."

"Woman, you are brilliant. I do believe I must keep you around. You have skills I doubted I'd find on such an innocent backwater as this."

Doing a quick J turn, to complaints from the back end, Zylon got her plan for misdirection started. It was good Big Al was listening to her. It might get them off this planet in one piece... with him owing her. She had a few more tricks up her sleeves or in her pants. Big Al was sweating; she had his attention. Very good.

While they were stopped, there was a phone call she wanted to make. A few people did owe her. If the recruiting teams had gone quiet, and a Navy shuttle climbed out of where they'd been, maybe she could deliver a very nice present to Big Al.

It was just a short hop to the city landing port, but it took more than the usual gees. Trouble was aching as he dismounted. The three trucks standing by were only enough to take half the troops into town. Trouble stood by with one squad and the prisoners while the skipper galloped for town. Ruth stayed with him when Joe went with the skipper.

"Sure you don't want to go with them?" Trouble asked.

"And leave you all alone? Remember, the last time you were in town, you got shanghaied." Trouble noticed Ruth had a pixie's grin.

"I know a woman who got kidnapped."

"They had to catch me in bed. I am not bedding down in that town again." "Well, they got me in the men's room, and you are not following me there." "Why not? I'm a married woman. You haven't got anything I haven't seen."

Which put Trouble's attitude toward the young woman into an about face so fast it made his head swim. He wasn't actually attracted to her. She was just fun to be around. He heard women on the frontier planets married young; he should have realized a sharp, good-looking woman like Ruth would be spoken for. So why is her dad here and not a husband? Trouble swallowed the undigested lump of this revelation and fell back on what he knew; the perimeter needed touring.

The prisoners were secure, but the overall situation left him feeling a tad naked. It had been a long time since he'd had to rely on just the Mark One eyeball. "Keep your heads up, crew. The bad guys are supposed to be running for the hills, but there's always someone who doesn't get the word."

The launch took off to get however many former hostages chose to come. Trouble began to have serious regrets about giving away his helmet. He was used to instant access to a situation board. Now he had to drop by third squad's corporal to get updated. He shook off the idea of stealing the poor woman's helmet; she had a squad to run. So long as she did her job right, he shouldn't have to worry. He borrowed the helmet and signed on. The skipper reported things were real lively in town; fires were springing up all over the place. A glance toward town showed several roiling plumes rising against the blue sky. Even as he watched, a new smoke trail began.

"Think somebody's trying to destroy the evidence?" he asked the skipper.

"Looks like it. I'm matching marines with local safety volunteers and sending them out on patrol. I'll need the trucks for a while. I'll see what I can do about rounding you up some transport, but you're stuck out there for now."

"No problem, skipper. It's nice and quiet here."

He signed off and handed the corporal's helmet back. She'd heard the conversation. "I'll tell the troops to keep alert." She eyed the prisoners. "They're the best evidence we got." "Yeah." Trouble said. He headed over to where Ruth and three armed civilians kept an eye on eight very subdued prisoners. He took Ruth aside and brought her up to date on the situation, as two more fires made their appearance on the town's low skyline.

"Someone's awful busy in there," Ruth noted.

"Yeah, but are they busy there, or just trying to distract us from what they really want?"

"You sound like my pa, always wondering if what you're looking at is what you're looking at." "Probably comes from spending time other than here," he answered, wondering for a moment what it would be like to live your life believing in what you saw, not wondering what it hid, or what was waiting, hull down, just over the next rise. He shrugged the thought off. Maybe next incarnation.

"Yeah, last couple of days have been ..." She trailed off, lacking words that could get their arms around the experience.

"Yes" was all Trouble could offer. He didn't like the feeling of inadequacy that left in his gut, so he went on to what he could get a handle on. "I don't know if the local
nasties
will try to liberate our prisoners, or kill them. Whichever way it is, I don't think we ought to keep the control pods on them."

Ruth had a studied frown on her face as she eyed the prisoners paired and sitting back to back, flipping the controller over and over in her hand. "I'll keep the pods on them, but turn the controller off. That way, who knows?"

"Good idea," Trouble agreed.

Lieutenant Commander Stan Gabon liked the feel of the captain's chair. What officer wouldn't want that chair all to himself, especially with a live shoot coming up? Maybe he hadn't said everything he could have to keep Izzy on board instead of running around
dirtside
. From the sound of it, she'd gotten her side of the job done. And was having a ball. Now it was his turn.

"
Comm
, send to
merchie
in-system. Cease acceleration and prepare to be boarded." "Yes, sir." There was a brief pause. "No answer, XO."