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Grass Eaters 2 | 37 | The Hunt I
🕑 Added 2024-08-09 16:47:01 +0000 UTCAtlas Naval Command, Luna
POV: Amelia Waters, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Admiral)
“The Ace of Hearts is the key,” Amelia said, pacing her office.
Carla’s face appeared on her tablet. “That’s not what Atlas says.”
“Hey, I’m Atlas too,” she insisted.
“The Colonel in charge of Raider Regiment wants to go for the Ace of Clubs first. Their first raids— they’re already trying to find her.”
Amelia snorted. “Unimaginative, the lot of them. You give them four choices, and they pick the worst answer.”
“What’s so wrong with wanting to go after their head of naval operations? Isn’t that what we’re after?” Carla asked. “We take her out, or take out their so-called Ghost Fleet, we can at least claim a victory here.”
The older woman sighed. “You’re young enough to not have been there the last time we tried this, but that’s not how you defeat the Resistance. The Ace of Clubs, the head of naval operations — whatever you want to call her — believe it or not, she’s not one of the critical parts holding it all together. She makes them a small fortune from her pirating activities, and her Ghost Fleet bullshit is good for their propaganda videos. At the end of the day, she is merely the visible face of the Resistance with everything else propping her up behind her. We find and get her — they’re just going to paint her as a martyr.”
“And we want the people behind her first… so we can negotiate with the less hardcore cells? Divide and conquer?” Carla asked.
“Negotiate, squeeze, weaken, whatever,” Amelia said lightly. “The Ace of Diamonds now… she’s their money handler and a real slippery one. Probably the most important one. We’ll never find her first and probably not alive unless we get lucky.”
“What about the Ace of Spades?”
“Their head of R&D? He’s new. We took out their last one in the campaign last time. Not that important either. We get any of the others, we can probably find him later,” Amelia said. “But the Ace of Hearts, she’s the beating heart of the Resistance. And she and I… we go way back. Find her, find what she knows, and we can shut down their recruitment and political support: that’s how we cripple the Resistance long term.”
Carla looked at her. “And I assume you have an idea where we can find her.”
“Not a clue. But she’s got to be over sixty by now, and all that hatred in her heart can’t be good for her long-term health.”
Carla snickered. “Wow, that reminds me of someone; she’s about as old—”
“Not another word,” Amelia warned, pointing her finger at the screen. “From what we found out in the last campaign, she was hiding some chronic, incurable neurological problems. Jovian Brain Scram.”
“I think the preferred term nowadays is exoradiation encephalopathy,” Carla said dryly.
Amelia smirked. “I’m from Ganymede. I’m allowed to say it. Anyway… the Ace of Hearts… she’s probably somewhere close to a real medical facility or commutes to one. And she is the head of their political bureau. Their propagandist. Their head recruiter. Either way, she must be easy to access, not just holed up on the dark side of some asteroid forever.”
“Look in one of the larger surface colonies on Titan then. Huygens? Cassini? Hano? Afekan?”
“Not Cassini. Too close to our Marine base there. Huygens seems unlikely, too many pro-Republic colonists too. The other ones are more likely,” Amelia considered. Then she turned to look at Carla again. “We’ll start with those. Your Puppers are ready, right?”
“As ready as my Grass Eaters.”
“You’ve been around them way too long, huh?”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Landing Shuttle, Titan (30 km)
POV: Baedarsust, Malgeir Federation Marine Infantry (Rank: Head Pack Leader)
“Remember your training! Remember the Rules of Engagement!” Aida shouted against the rattling noises of the shuttle as it made atmospheric entry into the slightly thicker part of the Titan atmosphere. “And remember your de-escalation classes! This is a civilian colony! Don’t unsafe or point your weapon at anyone unless you are physically threatened. Don’t shoot unless shot at. And keep your eyes peeled for anything that could be important. Nothing is too trivial to report!”
Baedarsust yelled through the din, “What are we looking for?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. See something? Say something!”
“What about Resistance scouts?” Quaullast asked, referring to the many times in the colony sims where some civilians were obviously tracking their movement for other attackers.
“Report them to me, and I’ll handle it. Try to make friends with the local wildlife. They’re citizens of the Republic too.”
Baedarsust frowned as he recalled his reading material. “Aren’t a lot of them friends with the enemy in this colony?”
Aida shook her head. “Not this one. Over the years, Hano is becoming more pro-Republic than not, and the last thing we want is for you to change that trajectory.”
“So why no non-lethals?” he asked. She had taken the special equipment out of their loadouts before they boarded.
“You fire tear gas down there in the settlements, they’re going to get it coming out of the entire colony’s vents for weeks. Like I said, make friends. Any other questions? No? Lemming Squad?”
“Lemmings!”
“Oorah?”
“Ooooreh!” they shouted the Terran battlecry best they could with their snouts.
Aida sighed. “That’s— we’ll work on that.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Welcome to Hano Spaceport,” the disinterested worker at the port information area mumbled. “Make sure you mind the gap as you board the ground—”
“Do you sell the physical tickets?” Baedarsust asked.
“Non-residents can get tickets at the kiosks over—” Seemingly annoyed, she looked up at the Marines. She dropped her tablet in shock. “You— you— you’re aliens. But—”
Baedarsust gave her his most charming smile, hoping the exterior display on his helmet showed it correctly. “Good afternoon, Republic citizen. We are just passing through. Can you point us towards the right kiosk—”
“I— but— you are a fake!” she blurted out. “Made up by the corporate media on Luna and Mars to sell the war in—”
“Nope, I am very much real,” Baedarsust unlocked his gloves with a twist and gave her his paw with a grin.
She took his paw and stroked his fur on its back with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. She pointed up at his enclosed armored helmet. “Show me.”
With a sigh, Baedarsust twisted and opened up his helmet as well. “See? Real.”
Without asking permission, she touched the whiskers on his face with a single outstretched finger. “Huh. Cool.” He blinked in surprise but didn’t try to stop her. She looked like she was going through some things in her head.
“Give me a second.” She picked up her tablet and held it stretching her arm out, bending down slightly to get to his height. Then, she at least sensed the need to ask for permission. “Can I take a selfie?”
“Sure.” He waited patiently as she took several pictures of the two of them on her device.
“Cool. Can I get one with the rest of your— your people?”
A few minutes later, Aida strode up to the squad impatiently. “What’s the hold up, Head Pack Leader? I thought you were going to get us tickets for the light rail.”
Baedarsust pointed at the growing circle of locals who had started gathering near them. “They wanted to take pictures with us. And you said we should be making friends.”
“Alright, alright, people,” Aida shouted into the crowd. “We have to get going now.”
“Aw, come on.”
“It’s just a few pictures, Rep! You aren’t afraid of our scary cameras, are you?”
“Mom, hold my tablet!”
“Hey, can we get you in it too?”
Aida sighed. “Fine. Just one picture with everyone in it!”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
Mayor Bianic looked amusingly at the squad of Marines as they strode into her office. “Took your time at the spaceport?”
Aida stepped forward. “How’d you know we were coming? Your spies down at the—”
The mayor pointed at a screen behind them, showing them mingling with the colonists on the local evening news.
“Ah, yes. Hearts and minds,” Aida said, glancing at it. “So… to business?”
“Lovely. Much as we love having you people over spending your credits in our bars. What do you want from us?” Bianic asked. “Hano is a neutral city. We don’t take sides in your war.”
Aida’s eyes narrowed. “You’re an elected mayor of a Republic district. Sides? You don’t get to pick sides here.”
Technically, Bianic was elected by local citizens in a free and fair election three years ago, one which only a quarter of eligible voters cast their ballots due to the Resistance boycott and voter intimidation. Record turnout, yes, but the particulars weren’t all that important now…
Aida continued, “And don’t forget, the terrorists would just as soon go after you for being a Rep collaborator—”
“Yes, yes,” the mayor dismissed. “But we live in the real world here down in Hano. My people are not part of your war. We don’t—”
“What you mean to say is… your colony is knowingly harboring operatives of the Resistance.”
“Resistance this, Resistance that. This isn’t the ’70s. We aren’t governed under martial law anymore, Marine. Our citizens have a right to free speech and assembly. Their Basic Terran Rights. Until they’ve crossed the line into real violence and action, they are under the protection of our laws. Your laws,” Bianic added. “As you’ve so helpfully pointed out, we are a Republic district after all.”
“They celebrated the massacre of hundreds of innocent people on Mars—”
“A small minority of idiots did,” Bianic waved again in dismissal. “A handful. Not so different from your inner planet loud mouths calling for the Navy to tow Saturn into the sun.”
“That’s— that’s not even—”
Bianic continued, “And those bozos you’re talking about are not actually part of the Resistance Navy you’re looking for, just a bunch of antisocial agitators handing out fliers and protest signs on the community college campus. Small fry. They can’t be the targets you are here to look for, can they? Of course not. Or you’d just go straight to their residential units.”
Aida said nothing for a moment, then replied, “No, they’re not.”
“So… who are you looking for?”
“The Ace of Hearts.”
Mayor Bianic guffawed. “The Ace of Hearts? In Hano? You’re not serious. Please… I think I would know if the Resistance is hiding someone so high up in my city.”
“So… do you?”
She opened her mouth wide, as if in shock Aida would even imply such a thing. “Absolutely not! Sure, we have a few people on their payroll in Hano. But they’re small fry. Just a few agitators looking to recruit at the spaceport in exchange for leaving the rest of us alone. We wouldn’t be hiding a literal Ace of the Resistance here!”
“Well, excuse me for not just taking your word for it.”
The mayor crossed her arms. “Where do you think they’re hiding, then? Where are you going to look?”
“Your hospitals. All four of them. And then, we’ll work our way down your smaller clinics until we find what we want,” Aida said, carefully looking at her face.
“And then once you stomp through our dangerous medical facilities, you’ll be out of here?” Bianic fumed.
Aida shrugged. “Maybe. We do have a few warrants to execute, too.”
“Where?”
“Mostly the red light district. And a few of the bioimplant parlors down at—”
“Bullshit! I knew it!” she pointed an accusing finger at Aida. “You’re just trying to scare off our offworld tourists, the few we still get since you started your war!”
Aida’s expression remained unchanged. “Well, they are — as you say — small fry. However, if you can get your people to fully cooperate with our search, maybe we can come back for them another time. Madam Mayor, you do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
POV: Aida Nasser, Terran Republic Marine Corps (Rank: Lieutenant)
Aida slowly scrolled through the hospital’s patient list as one of its senior doctors stood at attention, his face neutral.
She keyed her radio, “Anything, Carla?”
“Nope. Not even a peep.”
She shot an annoyed look at the local doctor, “Damn, I was hoping if we went barging into the mayor’s office, the rats would panic and move her… if she were here in the first place.”
“No extra radio activity. Nothing from above so far.”
As Aida continued the reading on her tablet, Baedarsust looked at the basket of candies at the reception labelled “Take One” in crayon colors and turned to the doctor. “Can I get one of these?”
The doctor looked surprised to be addressed at all. “Uh— ahem— uh sure… but that one is grape flavor. They contain— I don’t know— Are you sure they are safe for your people—”
Baedarsust grabbed one, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. “Only one way to find out,” he said in between chews and winked.
Frumers reached for the candy basket as well. His paw stopped, hanging in midair, as he sniffed the air twice.
Baedarsust noticed his facial expression. “What’s wrong?”
Sniff sniff. Sniff sniff.
Frumers sniffed the air a few more times, tracing his nose to the direction of the doctor. “Something smells off. Someone. Someone is sweating a lot more than normal. And very nervous.”
“Maybe he’s nervous because an ugly alien is sniffing at him,” Baedarsust joked as the doctor tensed up.
“No, it’s— this is a different smell,” Frumers insisted.
Hearing this, Aida looked up back at the doctor, narrowing her eyes. “Are you sure this is your entire patient list, doctor?”
“Yes, of course. We keep very detailed records at this hospital.”
“I think he’s lying,” Frumers piped up again. “Or hiding something.”
Aida visibly tightened her grip on her rifle. “Are you sure?”
“Uh— yes. Yes. Of course,” the doctor said, shifting nervously.
“That question wasn’t for you. But this one is: you don’t… say… have separate records for some of your patients, do you?” Aida said, moving a step towards him, her armor creaking in tension.
The doctor fidgeted and said nothing.
“And if I had my technicians check your servers for discrepancies—”
“I— we— please… it’s not what you think!” the doctor’s voice strained as he began to confess, “we— we have an… unofficial arrangement with one of the smaller settlements to our geographic south!”
“An unofficial arrangement? Why?”
“It’s… an unauthorized settlement near the ice mines. They sometimes send their people here for outpatient emergency procedures.”
“Oh,” Aida said, her stance relaxing slightly. “One of the doomsday cult weirdos?”
“Yes, Fensal Colony,” the doctor said, sighing. “They’re not violent people. They just pay us on the side for the rarer medicine and complex operations because they don’t want us to register their data with the Republic central medical system. And what are we supposed to do — just let them get sick and die out there?”
“Isn’t that what their sect wants anyway— Fine. Whatever. I don’t care. Show me your other books then.”
He began to protest, “I can’t just send you private health data for innocent patients who haven’t done anything—”
“Show me the list,” Aida said, taking a step towards him more sternly, making sure he understood it wasn’t a request. “Our legal intelligence will sift through it.”
Whatever he believed about her claim, reluctantly, he nodded and then sent the data over to her tablet. It immediately flagged a few IDs, mostly small-time criminals wanted for petty offenses and—
“She was here!” Aida exclaimed as an entry popped up.
The doctor looked uncertain. “Who?”
“The Ace of Hearts! Just two months ago. Neurological department. Ambre Martin, 61. That’s her genetic profile. Right at this hospital!” Aida said, displaying the Ace of Heart’s Republic ID picture on her tablet.
“I think you’re mistaken, Rep,” the doctor said, glancing at the picture on her screen. “I signed off on that surgery myself. Ms. Martin looks nothing like your picture. For one, she’s— oh. Oh no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She looks… ancestrally South Asian now, nothing like your picture. She must have gotten deep cosmetic surgery! Huh, that does all make sense now. I just thought she had a peculiar genetic pattern,” the doctor said, his face pale. “She’s a terrorist? But she was such a nice old lady!”
Aida was already on her radio. “I’m going to need all your records of that operation. And did she say anything to you? About where she lives, where she’s going?”
“No. I don’t think so. I don’t remember,” the doctor said, the bead of sweat on his forehead now obvious to even Aida. “She didn’t say much important, I don’t think— Wait, there was another man with her. Tall. I thought he was her son or a nephew.”
“Another man? Can you describe him?”
“Not really, it was a while ago,” the doctor said, pulling up his tablet again. “But like I said, we keep detailed records of all our procedures. We might have put him down as next-of-kin or something.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++
TRNS Crete, Titan (1,000 km)
POV: Carla Bauernschmidt, Terran Republic Navy (Rank: Captain)
“Who is he?” Carla asked, looking at the computer-generated composite model on screen, juxtaposed next to a Republic ID picture and a mugshot.
“Tristan Paquet. Former contraband smuggler, went to prison a few years ago for… tax evasion,” Amelia replied. “Apparently, RRS says he’s gone legit as far as they know. And apparently… off the deep end.”
“Do we have a current address?”
“Better. We know exactly where he is. He has a cargo ship registration. It’s transiting Saturn right now. Transmitting the mission authorization to your ship… now.”
Comments
ColonelCodfish
"If the IRS can get Capone, they can get you." - Saul Goodman
Desurtfawks
I love the implacation that her response to moving Saturn into the Sun was delayed. Such an iceburg of story telling.
Desurtfawks
Bet Tristain thinks he is a soreign citizen of Saturn and can not be taxed.
Kevin Neely
Those god damn tax men know everything in the galaxy.
