Canine therapy

I remember reading somewhere that Humans and Dogs have been living together for longer than there has been definable civilization. That there have actually been selective pressures on us to understand and work with them, as well as the well known openly selective process we've employed to make Dogs into the myriad breeds they are. We've had forty thousand years of co-evolution. Is it any wonder they've been called Man's Best Friend since long, long, before we left Earth that Was for the worlds of 34 Tauri?

Growing up, we'd had dogs around the estate, but I'd never really considered myself much of a "dog person." Or a cat person, for that matter. I'd never really developed that keen companionship thing so many people felt with their pets. Not that I didn't want to be around animals, or that I had any inherent fear of them. They just weren't part of who I was. At least until much later in life.

When we'd "acquired" Haley from a Reaver boat, I hadn't expected her to become "My" dog. Technically, she was mine in legal responsibility only. She'd quickly been adopted as part town mascot and part 'Favorite of the Younguns' on Hale's. And why not? She was an adorable bundle of energy that the younguns, and some of the adults, would get into arguments about who was next in line to play with her. Some nights, they'd argue about who's homestead she was going to sleep in. But many nights, she slept with us aboard Wave Equation. Either curled up on her pillow or down at our feet. Unless 'Brina was away. In which case she'd flop down on the bed, lay her head on me somewhere she thought was comfortable, and proceed to snore half the night the way only a Beagle can.

I'd come to love her for it.

I still didn't know whether I considered myself a "Dog person" or not. But I had come to appreciate how a little bundle of energy and fur could have a positive influence on a person's life.

On one of 'Brina's trips back out here to visit from Ariel, she'd taken Haley back with her for a spell. She was loving the project she was on with my crazy uncle, but she was missing me as much as I was missing her. Haley, always happy to go anywhere there were treats and affection to be had, was more than happy to go with her. The younguns might grouse a little that we were taking their favorite koinu away, but it let me and 'Brina share a surrogate snuggle or two.

What I hadn't expected was the unannounced return of my dog. Hearing a wave from Cody about a Beagle taking over Milo's lounge, and being quite insistent that people play with her, could only mean one thing. 'Brina'd smuggled Haley back to Hale's Moon on the last transport and left it a surprise, knowing I would find out she was back in short order.

Didn't want to admit just how happy I was to have her back. I'd been missing 'Brina something fierce of late and with Lily and Anna both spending a spell off world, I'd been feeling very much alone. Great view from orbit. But a lonely one. Haley back on world meant I'd at least have some honest, unencumbered, affection. Some badly needed canine therapy.

That was, if I could get her away from the younguns.

Lonesome Ninja

Lily's rodeo seems to have come off without a hitch. Some gentle words with Colonel Silvermane and miss Lionheart before the event assured the Alliance patrols were largely out of sight and were being especially respectful while we had folk visiting. Even the Mercs Lily let "work security" were well behaved. So, all in all, I'd have to call it a success.

Wasn't too much of a surprise that Imrhien and Calina took honors in the Sweetheart of the Rodeo. Or that Nack's dog, Milo, got his share of votes. Haley'd have been jealous, if she cared about such things, or had been here, rather than with 'Brina at Ariel, to care. I missed my Beagle. Don't always miss her snoring, but missed her. Never thought I'd say that about an animal. Bright though she is.

I didn't participate much in the rodeo, except to wander around as Mayor and say hello to more transient folk than we had regular colonists. A couple people suggested I try my hand at the barrel races, seeing as how I've got the build of a jockey. I just don't have the skill of a jockey, or a knack for horses. Beautiful animals in their own way. But as it's been said, they're dangerous at either end and uncomfortable in the middle. No, I'll stick to skimmers, thank you very much.

The awards were done in Firefly's after all the other festivities were over and I decided to stay late and try to enjoy the atmosphere.

It was a mistake.

I'd never been one of the hard core regulars at Firefly's. Maybe why I was never invited to pose for one of their annual calendars. Originally I went because I had friends there, mostly for Imrhien and Lily. It's where I met 'Brina. For a long time I went to Firefly's to dance with her, at least until work intruded and she stopped going. But now, with her on Ariel most of the time, I found myself falling back into a pattern in what was still billed as the "Friendliest Bar in the 'Verse." Sitting off to the side watching other people dance.

It felt so familiar. Lily off joy riding with Ibram in the Sheriff's Department skimmer. Imrhien dancing with one of my friends, Reese in this case. Folk I knew enjoying the evening and each other's company. And me, sitting alone, watching the people swirling around the room having fun.

Oddly, it seemed somehow right to be here again. Part Karma. Part duty. Part being different. I'd come to call this struggling mining colony home, and the people here had long accepted me as one of their own. But times like this brought home the fact that, not for lack of desire or need, I wasn't entirely one of them.

It wasn't that they weren't "my kind of people" either. They were good folk. Some of the best I'd met anywhere in the 'Verse. They were honest, friendly, hard working, and generous. There were a lot of times I found myself wishing I could be more like them. I tried. In a lot of ways, I tried.

But it was like one of those old stories Grandmother had told me. The one about the Dragon who lived as a man in the midst of a small village. The reasons he'd taken Human form and chosen to live with the Village changed with each telling and the lesson Grandmother was trying to teach, but it was always the same story. It was always the same Dragon. Living alone amongst people who didn't know there was a Dragon in their midst.

Through my career, a lot of people had called ma a Ninja. But I wasn't. Not technically. While there were some elements of Ninjitsu in my training, and I was more than capable as a nearly invisible assassin, it wasn't really what I was. Blue had called me a Dragon. The Little Dragon.

It fit.

Why I was here changed with the telling. But it was what I was. I could love this world and the people who called it home, but I would forever be a Dragon in their midst. They could call me their Ninja and I wouldn't object. Their Ninja. Their Dragon.

Social interactions

There are channels, and back channels, and side channels, and most of them seem to converge on my desk. In this case, it wasn't so much a back channel as Bethany Lionheart coming into my office and explaining, in no uncertain terms, what she thought of Mercenaries copping attitude with an Alliance diplomat. She actually had a transcript of the incident, which I found vaguely amusing.

Whoever was leading the unit seemed to have quite an issue with authority. Not a healthy attitude to take when talking to a diplomat who could put your unit permanently out of work, either by a single wave to the Guild, or with the assistance of the regiment of troops she could request, if they turned out to not be Guild. I had to hand it to Lily for trying to intervene. Lionheart could be annoyingly cheerful, to be sure, but part of that was born from self confidence and part was born from confidence in the snipers in the floater twelve hundred meters off.

Threatening a government official as a Merc is just a bad idea in any case. The Alliance uses Mercenary units from time to time and pissing off the deepest pockets in the 'Verse is not the route to a long and happy career.

The stupid, it burns

Attitude no substitute

They've got bigger guns

Though, when I talked to them in person a day or so later, the attitude had changed a bit. So much so that Lily had taken them up on an offer to work security for the Rodeo. Not that we needed outsiders or had much in the budget with which to pay them. Not sure why Lily'd given them the go ahead to stay, but she was usually a surprisingly good judge of character.

We got clear on what I expected as the colony's duly elected leader and as long as they didn't try to pull my chain or give the Alliance any grief, it'd all be shiny.

Still, though, had to wonder what'd brought them here in the first place. Hale's Moon is kind of mixed as far as hiding places go. Being far from the main trade routes means we don't get so much traffic, but it also makes it harder to do business and more conspicuous when you do. Add to that the Alliance and Corporate presence, and the whole saga with the Destiny enclave, and you've got to wonder why a Mercenary unit would ever want to show up here.

I'd keep eyes on them. There were still a lot of things in place that most folk didn't know about, specifically for situations like this one.

The thing on my mind more than the Mercs was what Krenshar was doing for the Old Sadist, Niska, and why AuroraBlue was with him rather than Cody. She was safe with Kren. Sort of. Unless Sadistic Asshole decided to do something deceitful. And stupid. Wouldn't be outside his usual mode of operation to kidnap a child to try and hasten some work he'd hired out. Thing is, kidnapping that particular child would bring down the kind of wrath he'd been spared his whole career.

Was probably nothing. Kren did what Kren did and sometimes didn't worry too much about the rightness or wrongness of the work. Tiny Dragon could take care of herself better than most adults I knew. But whenever Niska was involved, I had to confess to a sudden desire to do violence upon an old man who desperately needed to have some violence done to him.

Bit of payback for his victims.

Karma coming full circle.

Worry about it later. It was time to go show the colors and watch other people having fun.

So, what will the 'Verse send our way next?

First, it was a low impact Alliance occupation and the, admittedly lax, imposition of Martial Law on our little slice of Heaven. Then it was someone hiring some freelance Spooks to tap into our local communications network. The a core-based Bounty Hunter out looking for someone seen roughly in our parts. Now, a Mercenary team getting some down time over in Krenshar's compound. Coincidence? Suuuure, it is.

There's an old saying: First time's an accident. Second time's a coincidence. Third time is enemy action. There's no fourth time listed in the old saying, though I would tender 'Fourth time is a boot to the head.' Though, given the nature of things out here on the Rim, it could all just be filed under "Une journée de merde au paradis."

Mercenaries, much like Bounty Hunters, have their place. Most of them, the professionals anyway, are members of the Mercenaries Guild and can actually be trusted to do the job they've been hired to do. These guys? No idea. Though it was something I could look into easy enough. My biggest concern was how the 1st Marine Raiders would react to having a Squad strength mercenary unit on Hale's while the moon was under Martial Law.

If they were here to just make a show of being here, or were just in transit somewhere between jobs, the worst we'd probably have to deal with was a bar room brawl in Fook's or Firefly's. If they were here because someone in Destiny hired them to stand up to the Alliance, it could get very ugly very quickly. Our own battle-hardened militia wouldn't last half an hour against the 1st. A single squad, no matter how well armed, would barely know what hit them if they turned to make a stand.

More important was the question of who hired them? Assuming they'd been hired. Destiny wasn't exactly a wealthy enclave and a mercenary unit wasn't exactly cheap. Krenshar wouldn't bother with mercs. One of his followers? Possible. Just not something I was going to worry about for a little while. If they get out of line, I'm sure I'll hear about it. Hopefully, before tempers flare and someone starts shooting. Be just what we need to make the whole situation worse.

At least the efforts to free Cody's boat from impound were going to plan. A couple of favors, a couple of whispers in the right ears, and he'd have his boat back in a matter of days. Which would make him happy, which would make my little girls happy, which makes me happy.

All in all, a good thing.

Attitudes

I've never been a big fan of Bounty Hunters. While it could be argued they provide a valuable service, assisting law enforcement to apprehend dangerous fugitives in situations where they lack resources, the fact of the matter is that Bounty Hunting is, ultimately, trading in Human misery. While some of the folk drawn to the profession are actually of a mindset where they believe they're doing right, many of them are in it strictly for the money and there are some who, well, let's say they have a long way to go before being considered respectable.

The ones I find most annoying, at least on a professional level, are the ones who think they're above the law. Specifically the local law. Yes, a local sheriff doesn't have jurisdiction in a District, or System, case. But they are still the law. And Bounty Hunters, any Bounty Hunters, are operating on the fringe of the law, and some of what they do is downright criminal. Which makes me more than a bit curious when one shows up on Hale's.

Since the Alliance came in and changed things up a bit with their Martial Law edict, our local Sheriff's department hasn't exactly been on top of their game. I don't think any of us have. While having them here is actually beneficial to my "other" job, it's caused a bit of friction in my official capacity as the colony's erstwhile leader.

But a Core-based bounty hunter showing up here, just a few days after letting Max and Jeff off world, just strikes me as being a bit of a strange coincidence. Add too it an attitude of "the Alliance keeps out of my way" and you just know something's going to end poorly for someone. Things being what they are, my bet is it being the guy who doesn't have a Cruiser on station with a Regiment of Marines feeling the pain. But that's just me.

Polite enough, though he seemed rather insistent on blowing off my advice to check in with our Sheriff's office. I suppose it had something to do with the 'out of my way' attitude. After all, if you don't respect the military, why would you respect the local Sheriff? Not like he'd actually know the depths of skill some of the folk out here bring to the table.

I'd keep an eye on him. Whether his bounty was legit or not, we'd worry about later. But I knew the attitudes of both local law enforcement and the Alliance command. Could just imagine Silvermane's reaction to some bounty hunter telling her to stay out of his way, let along Gallagher or Lily's.

Ultimately, though, it wasn't my worry. I'd tell Lionheart about it and let her pass it on up the food chain. They'd made it her job, and I really didn't intend to let her slack at it.

Can't stop the signal

Intelligence boils down to three distinct parts. Gathering information. Analyzing information. And acting on information. It doesn't matter what kind of Intel you're working with, it all comes down to those three fundamental parts.

Now, each of those parts was it's own speciality with its own paradigms, assumptions, techniques, what have you. And each of those specialties had its own sub-specialties. Folk who focused on photo-reconnaissance, for example, had a different set of operating parameters than the Signals Intelligence guys.

Most of my Intel career was spent in the first and last categories. Either gathering Intel or acting on it. Analyzing it was never my speciality, but it wasn't outside the scope of my skills. In the immediate situation, I would be putting all three aspects of Intelligence work into play.

Whoever hired M&J Communications to jack into out communications net was, at the very least, well funded. These guys had probably pulled down more for this job than any of the mining families here would see in a year. That was understating it. Hiring specialists of that caliber wasn't cheap, which meant they were willing to spend a good deal extra to make sure the job was done correctly.

In fact, if it hadn't been for Genni's subtle paranoia, possibly a result of working for me for as long as she has, we'd never have spotted it. Chances are I wouldn't have caught their taps even if I'd looked right at them. Taps. Multiple. Which was where the counter-intelligence operation would be able to start.

I'd allowed the Odokeshibai Twins to finish their work for several reasons, but, ultimately, it came down to two. The first: not wanting to get them killed. The second: wanting to know who'd hired them and why. By waiting 12 hours or so to "find and remove" the first tap, I'd give them a bit of cover in case it got back to their employer that they'd been seen talking to me. They placed multiple taps because they expected at least one of them to fail or be found. By leaving the other taps in place, I'd be able to feed information back up the pipe and see where it popped out.

There was always a bit of "They know that we know that they know that we think they think we're onto them" in this sort of thing, but that's where carefully crafted information came into play. All of the most important stuff was encrypted anyway, and, contrary to some of the Cortex vids, cracking encryption wasn't as easy as "Try a G cypher" on the data. Given that reality, they were probably more interested in traffic analysis than content: seeing who's talking to who, rather than what they're saying.

Still. For the time being, or until I found out who it was and what they were after, I'd leave at least one of the taps in place. Just have to arrange lunch with x0x0 and gently remind her that it'd really be best to make sure she's encrypting all the important stuff. That, and reroute some of my own classified traffic through another pipe...

No room for Paladins

It's been said that, at some levels, Intel is a small and incestuous community. In some ways, and in some specific circles, it actually is. But overall, the reality is much different. Intel covers such a broad range of skills, in such a broad range of areas, that the community is considerably larger than most people even realize. Even most spooks don't realize how large it is. There are so many different organizations, doing so many different things, there simply aren't enough trained operatives in the 'Verse to do it all. At least not officially.

And therein lies the rub. With the Alliance already hiring contract firms to perform security duties on outlying worlds, is it really any wonder that they fill the gaps in Intel coverage with contractors? Sometimes, in cases where very specialized skills are needed, Contractors are the only viable option. Not to mention their versatility and usefulness in cases where you simply don't want to risk a valuable asset.

M&J Communications was one such specialized asset. Two, really, since they were a two man operation. I'd used their services before years ago, and they were very, very, good at what they did. Two of the best, in fact. There were rumors that the Intelligence Ministry in charge of Signals Intelligence let them run free because they wanted to see what these guys would come up with next. Though, on a personal level, I couldn't help but think they wouldn't have been out of place in some sort of comic 'Buddy show' on the Cortex. Tuesday nights. At 2330. After the interview and faux news shows were over.

Sitting in the back corner of Fook Yoo's near the Starstruck's nook, I had to suppress a bit of amusement at their reactions. While they both traveled armed and were half way decent shots, the chances of them trying to shoot their way out of this situation were slim to none. They were busted. They knew they were busted. They knew they were, more or less, at my mercy both professionally and literally in this situation. But it didn't seem to stop them from keeping a sense of humor about it.

"Chyfrgolla, mae hi dal yn boeth!"

"Mae hi, ond gallai hi ladd ein dau. Felly gadw'n oer."

Now, unlike Uncle Sobi, I was never really fluent in Welsh. But from their inflection it seemed a compliment, though one neither especially wanted to admit to.

"Welsh? I'm a bit rusty. But I'll remember for later." I said amusedly over my coffee at Starstrucks to a reaction of embarrassed admission. "Now, seriously. What brings you to our little slice of Heaven? I know you therefor, I have a fairly good idea already. But, for the record, I'd like to hear it from you."

They looked between each other for a few moments, probably trying to remember the cover story they'd concocted in case they got caught. At this point I wasn't even really interrogating them. I could, even if it wasn't my specialty. But I would learn more from just talking to these two than I would be playing interrogator. In fact, the more force I applied, figuratively or literally, the more likely they were to simply tell me what they thought I wanted to hear rather than the facts I was after.

After another few moments of nervous deliberation, Jeff spoke up. "They asked us to splice into the main trunk. Grab the relay from the colony's feed and Blue Sun's uplink. Standard encrypted piggyback relay. Nothing even really complicated. Just wanted us to be in and out and not get caught."

"And the contract, Jeffrey? Who sent you?"

The two techies looked at each other a moment, but Jeff didn't really hesitate before continuing. "Wish I could tell you. Really do. Contract came through one of our blind drops. Had all the instructions and background. Though they kinda left out the fact that you would be here. Usual pay scale. Had specifics on what communications they wanted. All we've got are the routing ID's and the comms codes they wanted us to use for the uplink."

I raised an eyebrow, starting to speak but Max interrupted.

"Buddha's our witness, Major. Simple relay splice. If we'd actually done our homework and seen this was your world, we'd have bailed on the contract."

Max was a pain in the ass sometimes, to be sure, but I knew them from precious work and it was almost certain they were telling the truth. Given our history, it was likely they were more afraid of what I would do to them for intruding in my space than they were of the anonymous employer.

"Very well. Though it leaves me with a bit of a conundrum. However, I do see a solution to our mutual problem. So, if you two would like to continue along the path to a long and healthy life, here's what we're going to do. . . "

Oh yes. A solution does seem quite vivid here . . .

Radio Chaos

Covert operations covers a broad range of endeavors, with an equally broad range of techniques used to maintain the covert nature of said operation. While some people would maintain that covert ops usually involved sneaking around in the dark, they would only be seeing part of the picture. Which, of course, was the entire point.

Sometimes covert meant hiding in plain sight. An operative who looks like they belong where they are, doing what they're doing, is usually going to be over-looked. Usually. Sometimes though, an observant local sees through the disguise. In which case an operative may need to scramble to either hold onto their cover, back out gracefully, or, in extreme cases, eliminate the unfortunate observer.

When Genni Foxtrot called and said "Hey, Boss, I thought we handled all the local comms infrastructure ourselves. Did you call someone at VerseTel to work on the relays?" I knew something had to be up. While it was entirely possible that our "Benevolent overlords" had done exactly that, it was much more likely that someone was messing about where they shouldn't. Over the time I'd been here, I'd overseen quite a bit of the comms system myself. It was hardened to a standard that was, honestly, far beyond the needs of a Rim colony. Which was how I liked it.

There were several communications trunks that ran through the colony. Much of it was wireless, in one form or another, but the main infrastructure and relays ran over fiber optic lines that laced through lined tunnels bored through the rock. The official reason was the difference in bandwidth we got from the fiber, where the other, not openly admitted, official reason was that fiber was a lot more secure.

Most places, if you saw a skiff landed next to a comms junction pit with "VerseTel" markings on it, you wouldn't bat an eye. Especially if the two guys working in the pit were dressed the part and looked like they knew what they were doing. Even on Hale's, where we didn't get a lot of outsiders doing work, it didn't look out of place. So seeing a skiff with "M&J Communications - Contract services to VerseTel Cortex Services" over near our main comms junction didn't raise suspicion until Genni spotted it and called me. And for me, it was suspicious.

I watched the pair of techs working out of the skiff for a full ten minutes before I wandered over. They looked the part. Right tools. Right stance. Right attitude. Everything fit neatly into place. "Good eve, gentlemen. Doing a bit of maintenance, are we?" I said sweetly from a carefully judged distance.

"Evenin', Ma'am, we're just taking care of some . . ." he started before looking up, letting the words trail off as the color drained from his features. He recognized me, giving his partner in the pit a firm nudge, who also looked up to let out a soft "Zaogao" under his breath.

"Max, Jeffrey, what brings you to my little slice of heaven?"

The answer, I was sure, would be entertaining.