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  CHAPTER FOUR

  Night of the Mongoose

  ONLY THE FEARFUL RUN

  Harry Witherspoon broke off a leg from the roasted chicken. His Chief Enforcer Scott Wilson sat at the table watching his fat employer eat the second chicken. Harry waved a greasy hand to the rolls in front of Wilson. Wilson moved the plate of rolls closer to Harry.

  Wilson reminded himself that hirelings have to accept their boss as is. Wilson was in command of the band of vagabonds that his boss had hired to be his muscle. The guards, as they styled themselves, were even worse than the piece of Giesling refuse that hired them. Two of the “Guards” never fired a gun in their life let alone an automatic weapon. He held a one-week seminar on how to use a submachine gun. The result was barely passable. He hoped that a bunch of yelling barbarians wielding submachine guns might scare the Children of the Wind. He had them almost going when that Aponte flew in, and the cobbled together fighter was downed.

  “I tell you this man wearing golf pants and an orange knit shirt came at me. He fired at me three times. He missed me three times.”

  Yeah, thought Wilson. He got the three men with you. I say he hit what he was aiming at. Wilson ran through his mind the clean mercenaries who might take a job likes this. If the Eridani High Guard were still existing, he might be leaning toward them. They had a small unit Division. That was the only people who could have done something like this.

  “Poor Dennis. His head practically exploded in my lap.”

  Head exploded? That’s a new part of the story. Wilson shook his head. It took Harry three tellings to get all the pertinent detail. That meant that Wilson could not respond.

  “Why do you think he hit your guard?”

  “Who?

  “The man.” The “you idiot” was not spoken.

  Wilson thought hard. A near explosion meant around that either high muzzle velocity or a deformable bullet. Deformable bullets are not usual civilian rounds. Most civilians had a rifle to bring down game. They would not want a round that shredded the meat. A shot that tears its target is a military/intelligence service style bullet.

  Wilson had fought against many of the worlds’ military services. Alphacent ground forces seemed to want to play a game of positional chess. They moved their army as if it were a piece on a chess board. They fought very few battles. Eridani was different. If they waged war against you, it is because you did something that raised the ire of the People and they demanded that something be done. Eridani was the only Planet that had two forms of infantry. They had an army which had heavy tanks and combat armored foot soldiers. Then there were the Marines. That was a group hard to index. The Marines powered armor made them tanks. Their use of missile launchers gave them tank firepower. The central linkage allowed anyone in command authority to fire missiles in a Marine’s tube. This allowed for across the theatre broad fire missions that had devastating effects. That told him a couple of things about the Eridani.

  They would use maximum violence to end a war or complete a mission. Scott doubted that the one man that flew in on that expensive Aponte had a different point of view. So far he fired on his men quickly and with deadly effect. He would destroy their equipment.

  Then the night of terror would began…

  NIGHT OF THE MONGOOSE

  In many ways Solomon Butler made his son the way he was. He would read tales to the young boy of heroes and enemies. He recited a chant that the church used every day. “God protect Eridani, the Emir, and the armed forces of Eridani.” One story was about a young mongoose who grew up afraid of the cobra until it was him and a cobra fighting for the Mongoose’s home. In the fight the mongoose killed the cobra, but in the fight he had been bitten. He drug himself home until the Mongoose father told him he was immune to the venom of a cobra. Brian Butler never forgot that story and he was about to use a portion of that story —Terror.

  During the daylight hours Brian took out two full blackout versions of the undersuit. He also loaded up his sub-assault rifle. He did not have the full sniper kit for the rifle which would have made this strategy much more simple if less exciting.

  He brought these things to Meghan’s house. She looked at the shrink wrapped undersuits. When she looked at them it was as if her eyes slid off the fabric.

  “What are those?”

  “These are the undersuits. They are very form fitting. You can tell the sex of the wearer. This model is called a blackout. The color of the fabric absorbs so many units of light. It’s kind of hard to see the undersuit with this color. Very good for stealthy penetration. I’m going hunting tonight. Tonight I hunt humans, your neighbors.”

  “You will make them pay for my man?”

  “And Derry.”

  “I don’t want you to have more burdens, but I think I know the traitor who supplied the information that got your people killed.”

  Her face could have not looked more stunned if he had slapped her.

  “Are you OK?”

  “That is quite a revelation.”

  “Don’t do anything to tip him off. I will take care of it in the morning. You can tell Melody and Todd. I will execute justice for you in the morning.”

  He broke open the the first of the undersuits. He pulled it out and laid it on the bed. Meghan put her hand on the undersuit. It was like no fabric she had ever seen before. Then she watched Brian take off his “Golf” clothing, whatever Golf was. She could watch Brian bounce around the house for hours at a time. Then he put his feet into the Undersuit. Now she understood why he said that you would know the sex of the wearer. The undersuit had a hood which he pulled over his head. Meghan smiled at his comic look. Then he opened the color stick that came with every blackout or camo suit. He opened it and applied it to his face.

  “I think you could hide from the face of the sun,” said Meghan.

  “That’s the intention. Although something more darker is the real area for this.”

  There was a belt that he applied. The belt held magazines for the sub-assault rifle. He put three magazines on the belt. He jumped up and down. He was as silent as he could wish. He put on the booties. The gloves he stuffed in the belt.

  Brian Butler blew a kiss to Meghan. She was ripe for another man. He just had to reveal it as a surprise. He kept low and moved to the right once out Meghan’s door.

  Brian Butler was not yet ready to hunt for guards and miners. He wanted to make sure about his niggling idea, Carl Rogan was responsible for the hunter’s death.

  Right now Carl was on guard. He should not be looking in toward the community. He should be looking out where the enemy might come.

  Keeping low and making sure that none of the Children of the Wind saw him. The gathering darkness gave him the advantage. He dived into the man’s tent. He used a low intensity hand lamp to illuminate the tent’s interior. He went through everything being careful to return everything to its proper position. He did not have much. Where would it be? He sat on the pallet. A strange feeling was under Brian’s butt. He got up and whipped back the covers. There was the hunter’s rifle. He doubted Carl would have something worth so much money. He returned the rifle to the where he found it. He was waiting to sell the rifle. It would make him wealthy and able to buy the time of a woman. He put the covers back as he found them. Then he left the tent and slipped back into the darkness. He used the darkness to take him to the first sentry. He stayed just outside the Compound light. The Sentry was alert and turned his way just once. Brian knew that he had to be more cautious.

  “Jack,” said Brian Butler.

  The Sentry turned and spoke the counter word,” rabbit.”

  Brian appeared right in front of the sentry’s eyes. He pulled a Foodbase bar. It was made for the Marines. He opened it. He broke off a piece and offered it to the Sentry. The Sentry took it. He ate it with some relish after first tentatively tasting it. Brian smiled chewing the breakfast bar. He did not eat much of the Hornbeast. He preferred the foodbase bars when on mission.

  “Your
name is,” asked Brian.

  “Frick Henderson—ah, sir.”

  “Don’t worry about the military courtesy. The guard post up against the saddleback mountain who will man it at daybreak?”

  “Der Wendell.”

  “Der, excellent! I’m going down into the mine compound. You are likely to hear some screams and moans coming from the compound. Don’t let it bother you. Pass it on to your relief.”

  Frick shuddered when Brian casually talked about killing people. Frick knew that there were evil men and women. He knew that they needed someone like Brian to meet these kind of challenges. Frick just did not like to be around him.

  Frick’s wife was a different matter. He noticed that his wife hung around him a lot. She wanted him. That was the only thing he disliked about the Children of the Wind. It gave too much freedom to women. Lottie was looking around. One night she had not come home. She had spent the evening with Carig, a former single male and now attached. When she was home she barely paid attention to him. He just hoped the Brian would get his mission done and leave. Then Lottie would come back to him of old.

  Brian noticed the minutiae of stance, bearing and facial expressions of Frick. It was tough being in this kind of organization where there was free movement of partners from the arrangement. The added bonus of being able to sample someone else every so often. That was liable to stick in anyone’s craw. He would have a word with Todd. Perhaps a word from him to the men would calm things again.

  Brian stopped crawling. He turned on the night sight of the Helmet. What he heard was the piddling of a guard on the leaves. He felt that it was time to introduce himself to the miners and the guards. He slid out a Shuriken throwing star. He threw the star with a snapping motion of his wrist. These Shuriken had an extra bit of weight around the center point.

  He hit the deck. He was expecting a bit of submachine gun fire, but it never came. When he heard he body collapse with a groan he knew that he had killed his target. He moved himself away from the dead body.

  His next target was not that vigilant. He was more interested in his comfort than in trying to see the enemy. Brian understood the mentality. They had been out here for months not once had the Children of the Wind come out here to complain. The guards lost a lot of sleep. The man ahead was chopping wood for the sentry fire.

  Apparently their boss was too cheap to bring in a power jet to provide them with power. No doubt the office had all the power and there was none for the cold clapboard buildings. Messing facilities was probably foodbase that you could warm up in your tin mess kit. The promise must have been money.

  The man chopping wood was marked for death and he did not know it. Brian got on his side. He pulled his compact assault rifle from the makeshift holster Meghan made for him. Of all the things she gave him this was the most thoughtful. The cloth was some of that duck cloth used for tenting and other big heavy jobs. She probably made it when he slept. The cloth was not blackout, but he had the remnants of the paint stick. It works very well.

  He rolled back over aiming over the iron sights. He breathed three quick breaths. On the last he drew out the breath and touched the trigger. The compact assault rifle sneezed out a round. The target flinched. It still ended in his death. The flinch moved the target from the chest area to the head. The dart equivalent of ball ammunition splattered his head over the guard post.

  Brian did not wait to see what the result would be. He went into the shrubs nearby. It surprised him that there was no response. What were they waiting for? Did they have advice from a pro, a mercenary. Only that could stiffen some of the spines among the guards and miners. He needed something a little more spectacular.

  He sat in the shrubs until he spotted the best kind of terror. Things on the periphery are faraway in the mind of a miner or guard. When it happens in the middle of them that is when it is no longer their problem. It becomes the problem of everyone.

  The clapboard barracks slept four. He can handle sleeping people easily enough. It is the crawl from his current position to the Barracks that he was going to kill. It looked like two hours to get the starting point for the penetration. Another hour would put him at one AM. Kill and get out would get him back to the settlement near six AM. They would have to respond.

  Brian heard the sound of a wooden board creaking. He saw a large, dusky man standing on the porch leading into the headquarters for the operations. He watched the man scanning the shrubbery as if he were—trained. Brian had to come to a decision. He could fire a quick shot and end the man. If he waited he could capture the man and add fifty thousand crowns to the Secret Service when they turned in the man to the Mercenary Bonding Authority. He froze keeping his face from the man. All the Mercenary would “see” were the shadows natural in the shrubbery.

  Brian heard the sound of his combat boots making the boards creak. Then there was the slam of the door. Slowly Brian looked at where the man stood. He was gone and there was no sign of him. Brian continued his inch-at-a-time creep to the centrally located barracks.

  In the Penetration section of the Special Agent Course the instructor was a blond with a cataract covering the left eye. He did not want to take advantage of her when she decided she had enough of his condescension. What he did not know was that she was the only tenth Dan master of Hindjitsu on Eridani. She tested others for the higher ratings.

  After the first fall Brian was earnest in trying to defeat her. He came very close. That was why he found in his paperwork a promotion to fifth Dan with a hand written invitation to train at her Dojo which he took advantage.

  What this instructor said was that time was on the side of the penetrator. Normal circadian rhythms would send most people off to sleep. The second night watch would have groggy-eyed watch-standers who could care less. The second watch was the one to abuse, she said. They would be the ones to hear nothing if you made some dirt slide down hill.

  Brian got into deeper shadows. He had to be close to guard change. He wondered if the Mercenary would force them to do a formal guard mount. Brian was sure that he would not force them to do the parade. That was for Mercenary units formed on a military basis, not for a conglomeration of men picked up from skid row who would like a chance for some cash and food on a regular basis.

  Brian reached the position he wanted to reach. Then he settled in to wait for the second watch.

  GUARDS RESPONSE.

  Scott Wilson could have sworn that he saw something in the shadows. He noticed that the corporal of the guard position was vacant. That was not unusual. He was supposed to visit the other guard posts. During his watch. When he looked at the left perimeter outpost, he saw nothing as well. Then he saw the huddled body at the corporal of the guard’s position.

  The thing he saw appeared to be a creature made of shadows. On Eridani that was impossible. No such beast exists on Eridani except for man. Practical invisibility was still a few decades away. It had to be capable of making the body looked like a shadow. His opposition here was an Eridani.

  He knew that he should have refused the job when he found out what they were up to on Eridani. When they mentioned that they were going to mine Eridani gold, he should have dropped it there. No one was touchier than the Eridani about the gold in their world. Merely digging with intent to extract gold was enough to warrant the death penalty. He thought that his MBA card would be his get out of jail free card. Some people said that the Eridani like to make examples of Mercenaries who violate their capital laws. They would take the fifteen hundred crowns offered for dead bodies for the stories that would run through the mercenary community when word got around.

  Eridani was fair. Everyone got the death penalty including their own citizens if they mined for gold. Only licensed Mining firms would work mine for the Eridani Pan-Galactic bank. They were the central bank that determined how much gold to put into circulation and how much should be set away.

  Scott did not understand the vagaries of inter-galactic monetary policy. He did know that the bank needed inf
ormation on other worlds that allow it to set policy. The Fleet also needed information to disperse the fleet properly to maintain treaty obligations. The diplomatic service required knowledge to know when to play a hand, or when to fold their hands. On Eridani, only one government service did all these things, the Eridani Secret Service. It even sold its opinion to the members of the Alliance.

  Scott was allowed to read one of these assessments. It read like a tout’s assessment of horses. Everything was expressed in percentages. He had no idea what “likelihood of aggression” really meant. What he figured it said was that foot soldiers like he was going to take it in the shorts. He would like to introduce some people in power to the business end of his pistol.

  “Scott gets yer ass in here,” said Harry Witherspoon from the open door.

  Scott shook his head. He had been beating his employer in chess for twelve straight days. Another disgusting thing was that Harry had on the same particolored suit as he had on that day. Scott nodded and jogged back into the command post. What Scott would not do for a successfully completed mission on his record.

  SETTING THE STAGE.

  Brian woke up with a start. He wondered if he missed his chance to attack. Brian took off his right glove. He read the face of a watch for the visually impaired. It was just now turning two AM which meant he had missed guard mount.

  Brian looked at the guard post nearest him. It was mounted by a pasty-faced kid. He sighed inwardly. He was looking at an eighteen-year-old who had the training of a gnat. It would be no challenge to kill him, nor would it add luster to his reputation. He decided. He crawled away toward the collection of Barracks. Today 18-year-old boys who love to have that first date, the first yes from a girl, and to find a place to learn the warrior’s trade if he wants survive to live another day.

  As he thought it was going to the better part of an hour. He threw away his plans to use the knife. He was going to splatter the bodies with his sub-assault rifle. Then get out. Maybe he might take a few weapons with him to arm the children of the Wind.