Op File Sanction Read online

  “No, sir. Not before, but there is now,” Eiko informed him. “Except, it’ll require a Mission Sanction because it will get messy. Feelings will get hurt and, well, let’s just say, people and things will be broken.”

  “That sounds like a Marine combat operation,” suggested a Marine Corps officer.

  “You’re not far from the truth, General,” Eiko assured him.

  “Whatever it takes, Eiko. Find out what happened to our people,” the man at the head of the table ordered. “Your field operators are sanctioned.”

  Eiko didn’t have a group of agents in mind. He figured, he only needed one but she was a unique agent.

  ***

  At a café on planet Uno, one block away from a gym, retired Marine Master Sergeant Diosa Alberich rested her tray on the table. Across from her, the man she started talking to between reps at the gym also placed his tray on the table.

  “What do you do for a living, Frederick?” Diosa inquired as she picked up her hamburger.

  “I’m a Nerd Herder,” he replied with a grin.

  “Is that actually an occupation?” challenged Diosa.

  “The job title is project manager at the University’s Ion Research Facility,” Frederick informed her. “But my days are spent organizing absentminded scientists and translating their abstract requirements to linear thinking engineers and fabricators. What do you do, Diosa?”

  The retired Marine couldn’t go into details about her current occupation. Rather than lie, she deflected.

  “Where does nerd herder come from?” she asked.

  “Let me give you an example. A lady scientist wanted a house. As scientists do, she applied for a research grant but was informed that a scientific grant can’t be used to purchase a residence,” Frederick said while leaning across the plates of partially eaten food. “She did a search and found a grant for widows. When her husband went out of town on a project, she applied for the grant as a widow. To her delight, the grant was approved and she bought a condo. On the day she moved in, a homicide detective showed up and questioned her about the sudden disappearance of her husband. She explained the details of her need and the grants. The detective, unconvinced, warned her; ma’am, you are either a liar or a murderer.”

  Frederick picked up a French fry, waved it at Diosa, then took a bite. He smiled as he chewed and swallowed before continuing.

  “The lady scientist replied, molecular dynamics for condensed-phase electron transfer systems prove the electronic polarizability of both a solvent and a solute. However, to accurately model the energy of free surfaces requires a third element in the model,” Frederick stated. “Totally confused by the lady’s statement, the homicide detective asked her, what are you talking about? The lady scientist pointed towards the bathroom, squared her shoulders, and said, my husband will be back on Tuesday. And none too soon, the toilet is stopped up.”

  “I don’t get it,” admitted Diosa.

  “Believe me, it kills in the Ion Research Facility lunchroom,” Frederick promised her. “See, nerd herder.”

  He said the last sentence with so much sincerity, Diosa burst out laughing.

  “And there you have it,” announced Frederick. “The joke works.”

  His open smile and outstretched arms, as if he had delivered an award-winning speech, brought another round of laughter.

  “No. No it doesn’t,” pleaded Diosa as she took a sip of iced tea while trying to suppress the giggles. “It’s a terrible joke and makes no sense.”

  “Really?” asked Frederick.

  Awareness came to Diosa and she realized Frederick was perfectly suited for his occupation. She lifted her burger, looked at the attractive man over the bun, and took a bite.

  “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but your eye patch,” Frederick inquired. “Is there a story? Or would you rather not talk about it.”

  “It’s a covering over my eye,” Diosa acknowledged. “Let’s just say my right eye is light sensitive. Other than that, it’s normal.”

  “In my field, there is no such thing as normal,” Frederick stated.

  “I can understand that,” Diosa assured him. Then her PID buzzed and she glanced down. “Excuse me for a minute.”

  ‘Warlock. You have an assignment,’ Eiko’s message read. ‘Get to a comm center and call me on a secure line. Now.’

  “Frederick. This has been fun, but duty calls,” Diosa explained.

  “Duty? Are you a security officer?” he asked.

  “I’d like to see you again,” Diosa offered without answering. As she headed for the door, she glanced back. “If you want to?”

  “Sure,” the project manager replied.

  Diosa smiled as she shoved open the door and left the café.

  ***

  “Special Agent Eiko, your timing is terrible,” Diosa reprimanded the image of the agent on the screen. “What’s the mission?”

  “I apologize if working for the agency is hampering your social life, Unrestricted Agent Alberich,” Eiko replied. “We tried to sneak units onto Planet Tres. Communications specialists and soldiers trained to infiltrate and set up cells to counter the Empress. Unfortunately, their transportation, the Sorcha Innis, was targeted. Not boarded and searched but struck from a distance. The transport was destroyed and all hands were lost. That tells us the Constabulary Navy had knowledge of the personnel on board, the mission, and the ship’s route. Someone informed them. We need to locate the leak and plug it.”

  “Send the working file to Poet,” directed Warlock. “We’ll meet and get a plan together.”

  “How would you feel about a new researcher and pilot?” Eiko asked.

  “Why?” questioned Warlock. “What’s wrong with Walden?”

  “As if I needed to tell you,” replied Eiko referring to Poet’s quirks. “Besides, he’s off the net.”

  “Define off the net,” demanded Warlock.

  “Three days ago, he was tracked to the entertainment district,” explained the Special Agent. “Shortly after, his agency PID went dark. So, you’ll need a new pilot and researcher.”

  “You remember I’m a Marine, don’t you Special Agent Eiko?” challenged Diosa.

  “I am aware, Master Sergeant Alberich,” Eiko shot back. “But you have a mission. And I need you in the field.”

  “And I need my team,” Diosa informed him. “Send me his last known location.”

  “This one time, I’ll go with your creed of never leaving a man behind,” Eiko conceded. “You have forty-eight hours. Find Walden Geboren, sober him up, saddle up, and find me that leak.”

  “Use the time to prepare a detailed mission brief,” advised Warlock. “I’ll message you where to send it in two days.”

  The screen went dark and Diosa remained in the soundproof pod thinking. Forty seconds later, she stood, opened the door, marched out of the secure section, and then out of the comm center. On the street, she broke into a jog on the way to her rented apartment.

  Chapter 2 - Gear Adrift

  Years ago, a new port was constructed closer to the ocean. It accommodated larger container ships and the adjacent marina served boats of all types. Seagoing vessels and pleasure boats ceased using the city’s old harbor. The docks and warehouses fell into disrepair. Homeless people and drifters moved in and, after several fires, the fire department put up temporary barricades and sealed off the blocks bordering the harbor front.

  During the Great Schism with resources drained off to support the war against the Empress, the economy of the city suffered and the property began to crumble. Then, pesetas from unsavory sources were passed in envelopes under tables to officials and new, more solid, barriers were installed. There were rumors of what was going on behind the walls but no elected official wanted to lose the payoffs by asking too many questions.

  When the war ended, men and women returned home and began building. Entire sections of the city were demolished and replaced with modern construction. The growth and rebirth happened right up to the walls
of the harbor site. Eventually, the city pondered reclaiming the old harbor. However, by then the cash flow from the entertainment district far exceeded the taxes collected from even the tallest skyscraper. Rather than take possession, the city issued permits for casinos, theaters, drinking establishments, hotels for guests, and housing for the entertainers.

  It was advertised that passing beyond the walls resembled traveling to an exotic city. And every week, tens of thousands of people wanting the experience climbed off of busses and out of taxis to pass through the guarded checkpoints.

  Bus 672 pulled into the disembarking station, shut down its ion motor, and opened the doors for the excited passengers. The roving guards assigned to the first watch eyed the people stepping from the bus. Further down the line, other guards also judged the new arrivals. No weapons were allowed in the District and these guards would intercept and disarm visitors before they reached the monitored gates. Most of the people getting off 672 were young and excited. Mixed in were a few seniors talking excitedly about slot machines and poker. One passenger drew a longer inspection.

  Her form was veiled by a pair of loose trousers, an oversized blouse and a floppy hat. It wasn’t the clothing, the sturdy boots with the flat heels, or the hat hiding most of her face that drew the guards’ attention. It was the walking stick draped in a silk scarf that caused them to look hard at the woman. But the glimpse of an eye patch, her stooped back, and the pronounced limp let them know the short cane was merely a support device. They moved onto the next bus as Warlock shuffled to the entrance gate.

  ***

  Two blocks from the glass and brass façade of a casino, Diosa stepped into a bar. In the restroom, the hat was discarded along with the baggy clothing. Finally, the silk scarf came off the baton. After collapsing the weapon, she shoved it into a pouch and moved the ceramic combat knife from the waistband at her belly to her back.

  The woman who limped into the bar never came out of the restroom. Instead, a fit looking woman in black jeans and a silk blouse with a scarf over her shoulders appeared, crossed the room, and strolled back to the street. Two blocks later, she walked through the busy entrance of a casino.

  “I’m looking for a friend,” Diosa informed a uniformed security officer. “I was supposed to meet him but his PID is off.”

  “Ma’am, we get hundreds of people coming through those doors,” the man informed her. “There is no way to pick one out unless he has caused trouble.”

  “And if he has caused trouble?” inquired Diosa thinking of Walden Geboren’s propensity for debauchery between missions. “Where would I check?”

  “You can try the security office,” the guard suggested as he pointed to a hallway off the casino floor. “Just ask for Mr. Paul. He is the head of casino security.”

  Diosa thanked the man then marched to the hallway. A tall, muscular man stood outside the security office. His eyes constantly moving as if he was afraid of overlooking a detail or missing an event. The eyes locked on Warlock as she approached him.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “I’m looking for a friend,” she replied. “His name is Walden Geboren.”

  “Ma’am, we get cheats and disruptive people here all the time,” Mr. Paul advised Diosa. “Electronic devices to trigger machine payoffs. Teams of people working table games to get an edge or to pickpocket our guests. But I’ve never encountered a guest who offers side bets to other players. Not only was he counting cards, but he was calling the cards, like poker was a game of nine ball, and collecting when he was correct. His antics were driving off the other players and unnerving our dealers.”

  “I was afraid of something like that,” confessed Diosa. “How much is his bail?”

  “No bail,” Mr. Paul assured her.

  “Oh, then where is the arraignment?” she inquired.

  “He wasn’t arrested,” Paul assured her. “We aren’t equipped for law enforcement. If it’s a major offense against a person or property, the guest will be ejected from the District. Otherwise, we just escort the offender off the property. And in the case of Mister Geboren, he is banned for life from this casino.”

  “This casino, you say,” Diosa pondered. “Could he have gone to one of the other casinos?”

  “Not this trip. We passed the word and he’ll be denied service at the major properties,” Paul informed her. “You might try the gaming houses on the south side of the District.”

  “And they would let him play poker?” questioned Diosa.

  “There are many forms of diversion in the Entertainment District,” Mr. Paul said as if he was a little embarrassed by the admission. “I imagine he could find a private game that would challenge his talent.”

  Paul watched the women walk away. At first, he thought she must spend a lot of time in the gym. But a cash cart wheeled by two guards turned the corner just as she reached the end of the hallway. Most people would have been surprised by the rolling steel box. He expected her to stumble back or make a feeble attempt at jumping out of the way. Instead, the woman placed a hand on the corner of the heavy box and vaulted around the edge and over a guard’s arm. Landing softly, she continued walking as if nothing had happened. A gymnast, he decided before stepping forward to scold the guards for moving too fast and endangering a guest.

  ***

  Diosa walked out of the hustle and crowds of the busy entrance and joined a throng of people moving down the street. Once south of the casinos and the duty-free shops, the street became lined with trees. She ambled along enjoying the greenery and the air. Her life since joining the Marine Corps had been manufactured air, except for missions on ships and stations with Heart plants. Tight passageways and low overheads were her normal environment. Glancing up, Warlock marveled at the blue sky and the white clouds visible in the early evening light. She was so preoccupied that when the crush of people around her thinned, it took her by surprise.

  Here the buildings lacked the high shine of the casinos and the brightly lit shops adjacent to the glass and ornate metal structures. She had entered the southern portion of the district and Mr. Paul’s words came back to her.

  ‘There are many forms of diversion in the Entertainment District.’

  Between the buildings, she noticed entrances to courtyards. Straying off the road and towards one of the alleyways, she smelled the intoxicating smoke and heard calming music before she reached a brick enclosed patio. Men and women lounged on comfortable furniture around water pipes. While some of the customers talked, others were tripping in their own hazy worlds. Moving slowly around the clusters of people, attendants refilled beverage containers and their pipes.

  “Would you like to join our evening meditation session?” a pretty hostess inquired. Her voice had a melody to it that almost caused her words to get lost in the music.

  “Is that what you call this?” questioned Diosa indicating the zoned-out people. “Meditation?”

  “Yes. In today’s world, there are so many stressors and no way to escape them,” the hostess cooed. “Here in the district, in the garden, you can relax and let your troubles drift away. We’ll care for your safety while you are in tranquil status.”

  “Just out of curiosity,” inquired Diosa. “How much does it cost to escape my troubles?”

  “What price, really, can you put on harmony?” responded the hostess. She accompanied the question with a knowing and understanding nod of her head.

  “Is this one of those, if you have to ask you can’t afford it, things?” suggested Diosa.

  “Of course not. But to discuss serenity and pesetas is sort of crass,” the hostess gushed. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I wouldn’t skip the price if I was booking an R&R at a resort and spa,” Diosa replied. “But let me ask you something, you might be able to help me with. Have you seen this man?”

  Diosa pulled up a picture of Walden Geboren and put it in front of the hostess’ nose.

  “Unfortunately, the gentleman is not one of our voyagers,” the
young lady admitted. “Would you like to be seated now?”

  “I think I’ll pass on your meditation session,” Diosa informed her. “Harmony and I don’t seem to be on the same wavelength.”

  As Diosa strolled back to the street, the hostess sang out, “If you have a change of heart, we are here for your peace of mind.”

  “And my money,” Diosa said under her breath. Then it occurred to her, this wasn’t the type of altered state Poet enjoyed. He was more of the hands-on type.

  ***

  Half a block later, Diosa was approached what would be Walden Geboren’s choice of distraction. She was attractive even under the gaudy makeup and had a curvy figure. The look on her face was pleasant but stern.

  “Looking for some company?” the lady asked in a low husky voice.

  “No, thank you,” Diosa responded.

  “Oh, I apologize for bothering you,” the lady said while batting her eyes and allowing her lips to part slightly as if she was shy and innocent. Her voice even rose a few octaves. “I just, well, you know, you seem so strong.”

  Diosa had to smile at the change in mannerisms and approach. The lady was, among other things, an entertainer.

  “I’m looking for a man,” Diosa informed the entertainer without thinking.

  “Oh honey, I can arrange that,” the lady assured her. Now she sounded like a businesswoman from a corporate boardroom.

  “I bet you can. But I’m looking for a specific man,” Diosa corrected the woman. Pulling up a picture, she inquired. “Have you seen this man?”

  The entertainer’s brows crunched down and her lips compressed. Diosa’s heart sank at the scowl and she wondered what Poet had done to the lady or maybe to a friend of the entertainer. When not on a mission, Walden had been known to happily drag anyone around him into a downward spiral of debauchery. Guessing the woman wasn’t going to be helpful, Diosa took a step to pass by the lady.

  “His eyes said let’s party,” the entertainer uttered. Diosa stopped, turned to face her, and braced for the worst. “But he lifted a hand to his cheek and mumbled something about wedlock, or war-stock, and that his partner would be angry about it. Are you his wife?”