“Yeah, those specialists. They are very good at keeping someone alive, yes?”
“Absolutely. They’ve never lost a patient.”
“Good. Then I want them to proceed. There are going to be casualties, and I wouldn’t want them to die.”
“They’re on site already, of course.”
“Yes, get them in play. Someone’s life is at stake.”
Or would be, very soon.
Jason looked through the inventory to see what they could offer to Das as a diplomatic gift. They’d certainly share intel that would help the military if it wouldn’t hinder them. Ammo or weapons wouldn’t matter, nor most logistical items. Though they did have some sanitized handguns. Those could make useful dump guns for officially unarmed technicians or support troops. They could even be presented casually enough. Three of those, then.
What about staging their own fake attack and having Elke volunteer to help? But that was complicated, deceitful and risky. He had no qualms about cheating, but their position with Das was improved if Das could trust them more than others.
Unmarked bullion and cash. They could spare some, but it would have to clearly be “logistics” and not “cash bribe.” He’d work on that.
Could they spare some tracking units? They had several, and planned to consume/abandon/destroy them as they went. If they could get more in a timely fashion, those would work. Good.
He was jarred from his planning by Elke’s voice.
“We need to talk.”
“Yes, what do you need?”
“My explosives. Did you not know they were canceling my request?” She was agitated, almost fidgeting.
“I put in the request. Alex put in the request. They said they were approving the weapons. They didn’t specifically mention explosives.”
“When did you know this?”
“I knew we didn’t have them when we left Earth. They were supposed to catch up. At no point did they refuse.” He’d gotten every indication the order was in process.
“And here?”
“Nothing in the crates, and no inventory or request mentioning them. Black hole.”
She said, “You knew the ROE, though. That they weren’t allowing explosives other than very small charges for demolition on the controlled range only.”
“Elke, I did not know that, at all. I’ve heard nothing on limits.”
She stared, he stared.
He wondered now. They’d both been given different stories. “So, they lied to us about the availability, or rather, deliberately concealed the information. And lied to me about rules of engagement. Just a moment.” He thumbed his phone.
“Intel, Captain Das.”
“Jason, Jason.”
“Hi, Jason,” Das replied, sounding cheerful enough.
“Can you confirm for me the military ROE with weapons?”
“Yeah, patrol commander key for nonlethal release. Lethal weapons require shift commander approval from here. Support weapons restrained for two minutes, then only by shift commander approval. The colonel can release earlier on personal authority. Explosive munitions restricted to artillery, Aerospace Force air assets, and Special Operating Units or allied equivalents, which we agree means you.”
“Thanks. Just needed to confirm.”
“Understood.”
He clicked off.
Elke said, “So the military would allow us to do whatever BuState authorizes, as is proper. Meaning Highland’s people blocked the shipment.”
“Can we ask her to intercede?”
“Please don’t,” Elke said.
“No?”
“No. I and Aramis shall make a shopping expedition.”
He thought that over. They needed Elke, but they also needed her with best gear. Aramis needed to stash more stuff, too. They’d fill in temporarily.
He said, “I’ll clear it with Alex. Go.”
Aramis was still a bit surprised that Elke trusted him that much. Serving together seemed to have smoothed out their differences. She was a disturbing flake, but incredibly good at her job, certainly courageous, and tough enough.
The vehicle they were in was a combination truck and passenger escort vehicle, with an improved chassis. It would handle rubble just fine. It wasn’t a track, and it wasn’t proof against anything above pistols. Still, they hoped to blend in enough. Their clothes were generic unless one looked closely at the armor thread, and no one should notice one vehicle of thousands. As war-torn as this hole was, it was still much richer than Celadon had been, or still was.
“I find religion useful,” Elke said.
“Oh? Are you religious?”
“Not very. I am nominally Lutheran through my grandmother. I was christened, and I have been to a friend’s church wedding.”
“So what’s useful?”
“Half of the people here are either rabidly worshiping today, or pretending to. The other half will worship on Sunday, or prepare to.”
“Except for the ones on Earth’s clock, who will worship at two random times next week.”
“And those few extremists who will worship on Tuesday, and the splitters from them who will use Earth Tuesday.”
“It’s also near shift change for the military.”
“Oh, how convenient,” she said, failing to hide her smile.
“So how do you plan to do this?”
“The really old fashioned way,” she said.
“Shoot someone and take it?”
She shook her head. “Sadly, no. We shall bribe them far too much. These Grainne coins and a small amount of gold will attract plenty of attention.”
“That’s potentially a problem.”
“It is for the person attempting to cash them in, which will not be us.”
“Ah, enough to get them to say ‘yes,’ not enough to point at us, but too much for them to easily dispose of.”
“And unmarked to us.”
He checked the map-printed map, so it couldn’t be tracked by anyone, though there were still ways to follow the vehicle. Jason assured him the module on the dash would fuzz and distort their location so they’d be only very generally locatable.
“Left here,” he said. He saw what lay ahead and added, “and forward.” There were police set up near the building. He wasn’t going to stop.
“It would make sense,” she said, “that a warehouse selling precursor chemicals would have a police post, on this planet.”
“What next?”
“Vehicle store, pharmacy, standard hardware store.”
He looked around at the business signs. “This way seems to be lighter industrial and commercial.”
Another five kilometers found all types of stores. Elke grabbed a paper pad, printed very rapidly, and handed him a list.
“You are working on a swimming pool for a wealthy client,” she said.
“Understood.”
Inside, he felt nervous about the amounts in question, but piled them on a dolly and nudged it into motion. It followed him.
“Hydrochloric acid,” he said.
“Aisle Three R,” it replied in passable English, though the accent was both simulated and British with an overlay of Turk.
“Chlorine pool shock.”
“Aisle Five M.”
“Heavy grease.” And so it went.
He reached the exit and the dolly scanned, but a clerk checked the contents by hand against the screen as well.
“You are working on a pool?” the man asked with a smile.
Damn, Elke’s good. “Yes,” he said. “Wealthy client up north.”
“Tessekur.” Thanks, in some dialect of Turkish.
“And you,” he said.
He loaded it into the truck, climbed in, and Elke asked, “Did you get it?”
“Yes. What’s next?”
“I will take the vehicle and engine store.”
He drove to it, she slipped out, and he sweated in tension. He stayed in the vehicle surreptitiously watching all angles. It was twenty minutes before she returned, and loaded more cartons in the bed.
Once in, she said, “I will not be able to fabricate at the compound. I will need a safehouse.”
“Jason has two. I’ll also be adding supplies.”
“Better equipped, more private, closer, are my needs, in that order.”