Aaron Allston - The League of Spies

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2024-12-24 0 0 148.35KB 29 页 5.9玖币
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THE LEAGUE OF SPIES
Aaron Allston
BONADAN BOOKS
THE LEAGUE OF SPIES
by
Aaron Aalston
“I’m here to make your day a lucky one” Joram said.
The head he addressed had sharp, intelligent features surrounded by a neatly trimmed black
beard and mustache. The man who owned it had the door to his quarters open only a few
centimeters so Joram couldn’t seethe rest of his body.
The man said nothing. He glanced over Joram’s shoulder to the land- speeder lane beyond, a
city thoroughfare that was crowded with fast-moving speeders and slower delivery flats.
Joram repeated, “I’m here to make your day...”
The door slid fully open, revealing the man to be of Joram’s above- average height. He was as
broad in the shoulder as Joram but more muscular. He wore close-fitting black garments that were
completely out of style on this color-mad, comfort-conscious world. He seized the collar of Joram’s
tunic and yanked.
Joram couldn’t help but lean forward, but caught himself on the doorjamb with one hand. “...a
lucky one,” he concluded.
“Get in here.”
“Countersign.”
“I’m your mission commander, and I say get in here instantly”
Joram grinned. “My blaster in your gut says I stay here until I hear the correct countersign.”
The man looked down. A holdout blaster, small enough to be dwarfed by Joram’s right hand,
was indeed pressed into his stomach.
“I am very proficient in the combat arts and I knew that was there,” the man said. “I could have
taken it from you at any time.”
“Countersign.” Joram held his smile. A red dot danced around on the chest and neck of the man
he faced, but the fellow couldn’t see it. If he tried to seize the blaster, he would die.
The man sighed. “You don’t need luck when you’re as well-placed as I am”
“Correct.” Joram returned the blaster to the holster against the base of his spine.
“Now get in here.”
“And my partner?”
“Partner?”
The one in the alley across the landspeeder lane. The one with the laser rifle pointed at you;
eye.”
The man glared over Joram’s shoulder. “Oh, him. I was wondering if you meant a second
partner. Sure, have him over.”
Joram crooked two fingers over his shoulder and beckoned.
Moments later, Mapper dodged traffic to cross the landspeeder lane and join them. He was a
well-built man with dark hair, beard, and mustache that made his features seem brooding; he wore
the lightweight, flowing garments common to this world of Tarhassan and carried an elongated case
with the words “Pebdy Plumbing Supplies” stenciled on the side. The owner of the dwelling turned
to lead Joram and Mapper inside.
The main living chamber was decorated in an even more mismatched and garish fashion than
the spaceport had been. The room’s gold-brown tikkiwood paneling clashed with the overstuffed
red-and-white-striped furniture that reminded Joram. of overweight tourists at a beach resort. Two
people were already there, a man and a woman arrayed upon and, in the woman’s case, almost
swallowed by the billowy furniture.
“All right, we’re all here,” their host said. “Let’s get back to it. Our objective-”
“Maybe introductions first?” Joram said.
The man stood still for several moments, saying nothing, but his lips moved. It took Joram a
moment to realize that he was counting to ten.
“All right, all right,” the man said. “I’m Cherek Tuhm.” He cocked his head, looking at Joram
as though waiting for a response.
Joram offered his hand.
“Joram Kithe. And this is my partner, Mapper Gann.”
Mapper gave the others a curt nod; he didn’t speak. He seldom did, except to Joram. Mapper
wasn’t comfortable in most social situations. Only Joram and his superiors knew that Mapper was a
clone trooper, one of the thousands of warriors bred to fight the Republic’s wars. Mapper had
belonged to a unit of enhanced clones, men with mote personal initiative than most of their cohorts.
Injured in the mission where he’d met Joram, he’d been unable to rejoin his unit for several weeks,
so his supervisors had assigned him to Joram as bodyguard and partner-in part so that Joram could
continue evaluating the virtues of clone troopers. Now operating with a new name, Mapper was
unused to living outside the regimented and homogenized society of his peers. At least he did a fair
job of concealing his unease.
Cherek ignored Joram’s hand. He gestured to the woman.”Timan Hanther.”
She was of less-than-average height and slender, middle-aged, with aristocratic features and
intelligent hazel eyes. She wore expensive jade- green garments in the local style, plus a turban to
match. She offered Joram and Mapper a brief smile and a nod.
Obviously wearying of the social niceties that were keeping him from his briefing, Cherek
gestured dismissively at the last person present.
“And Livintius Sazet. Can I stop wasting time now? I’m only the mission commander.”
Livintius was humanoid but not human. Also middle-aged, the Falleen wore his graying black
hair long in a ponytail. His skin had a greenish tinge to it, and his eyes, though human in
configuration, had a reptilian aloofness to them. His features were broad, his forehead high. He
wore local garments in blues that contrasted well with his skin tone. He gave Joram and Mapper a
little smile.
“You are correct, Cherek. You are only the mission commander. Now we’ll vote to see whether
or not you may proceed.”
“That’s not funny.” Cherek flopped into one of the overstuffed chairs. As he sank into it, it
settled with a noise like an asthmatic bantha letting out a long breath. “You two, sit.”
Joram did. Mapper set his rifle case against a bare section of wall and stood there.
Cherek shook his head a long moment, his manner that of a parent who has finally despaired of
his children ever accomplishing anything in life, then leaned forward, making his chair wheeze
again.
“Here’s the situation,” he said. “As you know, this world of Tarhassan has recently declared
itself for the Separatists, a surprise to the Republic.”
Joram frowned. “Why didn’t the Republic Intelligence team here warn us about their
defection?” Every world within the Republic had an Intelligence team, even if that team consisted
of a pair of agents who spent most of their time watching broadcast entertainments.
“Aha!” Cherek said. His expression suggested that his children might not be irredeemable after
all. The Intelligence team here disappeared six days before the government announced for the
Separatists. Our goal is to find him.”
“Him?” Tinian looked offended. “The entire team here was just a him?”
Cherek nodded. “His name is Edbit Teeks. His partner retired a few months ago, and, things
being so settled and tame here. Intelligence didn’t get around to worrying about a replacement for
several weeks. It was during those weeks that the Clone Wars began. At that point, allocation of
resources became problematic.”
“So,” Joram asked, “what do we know about this Teeks’ disappearance?”
Livintius shook his head. “No, no, no. That’s not next.”
“Not next?” Joram repeated.
“On the agenda.” At Joram’s blank stare, Livintius continued, “I’ve drawn up a formal agenda
for this meeting. Here.” He reached behind his seat, causing the furniture to whuff and sigh, then
leaned forward to hand Joram a printout.
Joram glanced over it. It began:
Republic Intelligence Meeting
Tarhassan, Quarters of Cherek Tuhm
1. Gathering of Operatives
a. Cherek Tuhm
b. Tinian Hanther
c. Livintius Sazet
d. Joram Kithe
2. Pre briefing Synopsis
a. Where We Are
b. Why We’re Here (Mission Objectives)
3. Getting to Know You
4. Formal Briefing
a. Objective Summary
b. Resources
c. Break for Snacks (Optional)
d. Presentation of Pre-Gathered Information
Joram read on and on. The agenda, printed in small text, filled the page.
“I apologize,” Livintius said, “for not including the name of your partner on the agenda. I didn’t
know he’d be coming. You can be certain that the updated version will include it.”
Joram cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to criticize...”
“Don’t feel at all bad about it, young man,” Livintius said. “I’m always striving to Improve my
work. Take your best shot. The worst that can happen is that my next agenda will be even better.”
“Yes. Well, I have no objection to the agenda as such. But let’s say that you were nabbed by our
counterparts in PlanSec, Tarhassan Planetary Security, shortly after you printed this. They’d know
the rest of our names and where we were meeting. They’d be able to grab us up, too.”
Livintius sat back, his brow furrowed, thinking hard. “I’ll be... You’re entirely cor reel. That
would have been disastrous. Let’s bring this up again when we get to ‘New Business.’”
“You’re, um, new to Intelligence, aren’t you?”
Livintius brightened. “Which brings us right into Item Three, Getting to Know You. Yes, I am.
As are we all.”
Joram looked at the others. “How’s that again?”
Tinian smiled. “Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but our Intelligence careers, and the
creation of this temporary unit, are all results of your success on Pengalan. Yes, we know who you
are and what you’ve done, Joram.”
What Joram had done - was accompany a military expedition to the world of Pengalan. That
campaign to win the world back from the Separatists had failed, and Joram had been stranded there
with a squadron of clone troopers. Joram, then an accountant from the Ministry of Finance, had
worked with the troopers, and their combined skills had allowed a number of them to get off that
world alive. “So, in running away successfully, I...”
“No, not that.” She shook her head, and her voice took on a condescending tone. “Your success
demonstrated the degree to which an operative from Finance could contribute to Intelligence
operations. Immediately after your report was evaluated, a subcommittee of the Republic Senate
recommended that Intelligence begin a pilot program to evaluate the suitability of experts from
other government divisions.”
Joram felt his heart sink. “So not one of you was in Intelligence prior to my mission on
Pengalan.”
“That’s right,” Cherek said. “Though the intensive training we’ve received, our personal
competence, and pure intellect more than makes up for any deficits of experience.”
“More than make up,” Livintius said. “Subject-verb agreement, Cherek.”
“Yes, yes.”
Joram decided that it might undermine the group’s confidence if he were to cradle his head in
his hands. Sobbing would probably make the situation even worse.
“So,” he managed to choke out, “where are you all from, originally?”
“Ministry of Licenses and Permits,” Cherek said. “But I’ve been training in hand-to-hand
combat all my life. I’ve been the Ministry of Licenses and Permits hand-to-hand com bat champion
for eight consecutive years.”
“I’m from the Department of Health,” Tinian said, pride in her voice. “Flora. I specialize in
grains.”
“I’ve held positions in both the Ministry of Public Information and the Ministry of Education,”
Livintius said. “In truth, I’ve spent my entire adult life in the hallowed halls of education, and let
me tell you, transferring to Intelligence was just the opportunity I needed to couple practical
experience with the cool perspective of academia.”
“Your background we know,” Tinian said. “And your partner?”
“Mapper’s an ex-trooper,” Joram said. “He’s been on the front lines,”
摘要：

THELEAGUEOFSPIESAaronAllstonBONADANBOOKSTHELEAGUEOFSPIESbyAaronAalston“I’mheretomakeyourdayaluckyone”Joramsaid.Theheadheaddressedhadsharp,intelligentfeaturessurroundedbyaneatlytrimmedblackbeardandmustache.ThemanwhoownedithadthedoortohisquartersopenonlyafewcentimeterssoJoramcouldn’tseetherestofhisbod...

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