If he commits to Easter’s plan, he commits to his own ambition to defeat the Mokarran and preparing for the future.
He taps the commlink built into his desk, “Ensign. Request the Academy reports on this year’s graduating cadets.”
“All of them, Sir?” The voice crackles back.
“Yes, but I want all those belonging to any Hardaren first. This will be the first semester any of their species will graduate. If there are any outstanding members, I want them in my crew.” Kantian releases the comm button.
No, what I want is the ones sworn to avenge their decimated planet. The Mokarran drove them nearly to extinction, and now the Harderans want revenge. They’re tactful about it. They enrolled the maximum number of candidates in the Academy. Then enlisted even more as soldiers. He read a report that more Harderans received promotion, including several to warrant officers, and have since applied to officer candidate school than any other species since they joined the UCP. Regular military branches don’t have the stringent regulation of a certain number of qualified candidates from each member species like the Academy does. Harderans will climb the UCP military ranks and use their numbers to press for invasion of the Tri-Star Federation. They are not alone. Many in the UCP want to destroy the Mokarran for what they have done gaining support for war.
He depresses the comm button. “Ensign. Get Sergeant Yaren.”
“Immediately, Captain,” the voice crackles back.
Within two minutes the door chime to his private office sounds.
“Enter.”
Sergeant Yaren presents himself before Kantian in a disheveled uniform. The shirttails jammed into his pants and his five o’clock shadow scream that he was clearly unable to get dressed correctly before he reached the door.
“You’re out of uniform.”
“I wasn’t on the duty roster, Sir.”
“Then proper casual attire would be more presentable. Instead, you’re in a disgraceful mess of a uniform.”
“It’s not every day I get summoned to the Captain’s personal office.”
“Your records show a lot of…” Kantian searches for the word. “Let’s say…insubordination.”
“Would be a step up, Sir,” he smirks.
“I read your file. I know everyone assigned in this crew.”
“You did request me when most officers would have booted me from the service.”
“What would you do if you were ousted from service?”
“I’m a soldier with no home to return to—mercenary work. Plenty to go around, Sir.”
“You have enough saved to stake a Mecat?”
“I never was good with money, Sir.”
“Yaren, I need information. I need eyes on Summersun.”
“In Tri-Star Federation space, Sir. Sending a UCP soldier there would be considered an act of war.”
“I’m dishonorably discharging you, Sergeant.”
“Sir?”
“I’ve submitted the paperwork, and you’re no longer a UCP soldier. You’ll find a severance package transferred into your credit account. It should be enough to buy a small Mecat.”
“With all due respect, if I’m discharged, it’s my money to spend on what I want.”
“It’s not your money. You grew up a street rat and you’ve been a problem soldier. How many times have you been promoted to Sergeant after being demoted for your insubordination?”
“More times than I can count, but I’ve been good on this ship, Sir.”
“This is a covert mission. I need intelligence.”
“What am I supposed to uncover? My record will only get me so far. It takes years to get merc groups to let you into their circle. If you survive.”
“I don’t think I need you to go deep undercover. Discover why so many mercs are gathering on Summersun and who they expect to pay.”
“I’ll do my duty, Sir.”
“I hear a condition in your voice.”
“You do, Sir. I do this, what’s in it for me? It goes above the standard risk the UCP expects of its soldiers, and it’s an illegal order.”
“Let’s make it simple. What reward do you want, Sergeant?”
“I’ll never be an officer. I don’t want to be, but I was a Sergeant and lost it. I get it. You don’t go around punching Lieutenants. I want my Sergeant’s pay and retirement credits for all this time as if I’ve always been a Sergeant.”
“I expected you to ask for something a lot less reasonable.”
“You grant me a real honorable discharge. I just want to be a soldier. Maybe get to shoot some Mokarran.”
“A request I will grant you…one day.”
THE MAIN VIEW screen displays a craggy boulder floating in space. The Dragon draws closer to the spinning rock.
“A thin breathable atmosphere,” Australia reports.
“Not hardly. It’d be like breathing through a straw while gargling,” Amye clarifies.
“We’ve breathers, what was this place?” Reynard asks.
“You don’t want to go there,” Ki-Ton’s somber tone resonates through an emotionless warning. “It is a lawless outpost under no planetary or governmental alliance.”
“You just stepped on a Throgen world. This anarchistic planet should be a stroll in the park.”
“We can’t be afraid to go into lawless territories if we aren’t afraid to break the laws in Tri-Star Federation space.”
“It was a mining operation,” Amye answers her captain.
“IMC?”
“No,” Amye says.
“How do you know it’s not an IMC outpost? They always just abandon mining facilities after they’re done.”
“There’s no profit in tearing them down on asteroids or dead world. It appears freelance, or even pirates. They carved out whatever vein of mineral they wanted until it became unprofitable to dig and left.” Amye spent too many years studying mining and IMC policies to not understand. “There’re large traces of the mineral KHG-17. This rock belongs to no planetary system. The IMC would crush the asteroid to dust on refinement cruisers. I know; I grew up on one of their colonies.”
“The place has a nuclear core battery. So it has lights and an air circulating system. The KHG-17 fragments mask all life readings.”
“So it’s a good place to hide, but not for long. There’s no place to go. Aus, does Maxtin have an extraction plan for this guy?”
“There is no response from the
