A Pattern of Details, Page 2

  From the general information Morris moved into Halcyon's legal statutes, particularly the ones involving the Guilds. After a very shaky start Halcyon established very strong and very strict trade treaties. The strongest of these applied to the Merchant's Guild whose eagerness to flood the region with trade sparked early fears of a League takeover.

  Morris felt himself smile as he read the summaries. Of the four Guilds Merchant's drew the most complaints, all from sheer eagerness. Those early negotiators in the Halcyon government wanted no part of a League annexation and erred on the side of isolation to prevent it. Thirty years of careful negotiation later they had an acceptable balance of League trade along with internal growth. The Merchant's Guild accepted willingly enough and began diligently trading within the bounds allowed them.

  Technology-wise Halcyon was considerably inferior to the League. That surprised Morris not at all, nor did its policy of self-development. While individuals might desire cutting-edge League tech the government and large corporations would use nothing they themselves could not manufacture or at least maintain. That suggested Morris' next avenue of investigation and a beep from his chrono postponed it until after lunch.

  Morris chose a cafe across from the Guildhall. Techs and Guild support staff made up most of the people there and Morris waved at several he knew. He started for his corner booth when he saw McCrory staring at him.

  "You are disgusting," said McCrory by way of hello, "You look like you've been studying all morning."

  "I have. I went to bed early last night."

  "As I said..." McCrory tried to hold a stern look but it quickly degenerated into his characteristic grin. "You left 'way too early, Mo. Terri has a friend. Sylvie. She arrived after you so rudely departed. Smart, friendly and drooly to the point of thermal! And she likes Techs. Very disappointed that she didn't meet you. We're having a cozy dinner for four tomorrow night. That includes you, by the bye. Did I mention Sylvie likes Techs?"

  Morris felt a cold knot forming in his stomach.

  "Sorry, Kel. I can't make it."

  "Six-sigmas you can! If you don't show we'll come by your apartment for you."

  "No blather, Kelven, I can't. I'm outzoning day after and I have a lot of prep to do."

  "Heaven's flames, you're serious." McCrory considered this. "You're not up for a long time. What happened?"

  "Reichsson advanced me. He said it might be a long tour."

  "What's the assignment?"

  "Halcyon Autonomous Region. Standard training run plus mission support."

  "Mpf," grunted McCrory, "Standard as platinum from pizzle drips. Do you watch LNN? Halcyon's right in the middle of Corpse space and likely to go that way. They're closer to the Rift and the Rift Consortium than they are the League! The Navy's been posting cautions to HAR space for years and that's simple fact."

  "Will you phase down, Kelven. If you cared to check Equality News Watch you would know the Halcyon region is a lot closer to us in economy and in attitude. LNN's only torqued because Halcyon won't give them permanent exclusive."

  McCrory shook his head, then grinned. "Well, at least I tried. Four words, Mo: you, me, Terri and Sylvie. Call it a going-away party. Tonight or tomorrow night. You can't spend all that time on a terminal."

  "No."

  "Morris..."

  "I said no, Kel. I really do have a lot of prep work."

  McCrory shook his head. "One of these years, Mo..." He sighed and checked his chrono. "You take care of yourself. I'll have Sylvie waiting when you come back."

  ***

  Morris spent the afternoon and most of the evening studying. Teaching worried him. He'd never trained more than one at a time but the Tech Guild had ample resources and curricula for nascent Techs and civilians alike. Morris flagged everything remotely touching what he might need, filtered it for Halcyon and League-external clearance and ordered it 'cubed. Then, sheepishly, he canceled that order and re-sent it for dataspools.

  As evening fell and turned to night Morris studied Halcyon culture. Though League-like it was not the League. Halcyon literature, music, art and popular culture followed different paths. As he worked Morris thought of McCrory and his offer more than once. More than once he started to 'comm him but each time his priorities reasserted themselves and he returned to his work.

  The next morning Morris felt distracted. Strange dreams haunted his sleep, unusual, and the seeds they left continued to bother him: very unusual. Finally, disgusted, he took an early lunch and gave his fancies free reign.

  His last swallow of tea brought Morris realization. He wasted no time returning to the library where he keyed in several narrow and specialized queries. Success! He smiled as he read, certain now of his distraction.

  The League predated the Halcyon government by almost two centuries but it took a long time for it to reach the Brytan sector. Although the Terran Imperium had collapsed with the Interim well-advanced by the time Halcyon formed all of the systems within it and around it had a strong Imperium influence. The Claudian Resolve, a moderately large collection of systems near both Halcyon and the Quinde sector, held its Imperial structure through the Interim. Its government still bore a loose resemblance to the Imperial Senate.

  Fortunately for Morris and the League the peoples of Halcyon rejected the heavy-handed measures so beloved by Terra's legions. They kept their government closer to the ideals of the Imperium and not the realities of the monster it became: only large enough to accomplish its purpose with minimal intrusion into its citizens' lives.

  As late afternoon approached Morris faced a quandary. He needed to do some shopping but he wanted to continue his research. With no good reason to put it off he closed down his connections, powered down his 'pad and rose. He checked his few valuables into secure storage and considered carefully where he needed to go.

  If Morris' presence surprised the shop owner he hid it well. When Morris explained his needs the man led him to the back of the shop.

  "Here you are, Tech. Certified for out-League travel, spool based and still hot to the slot. The terminal and datapad mesh seamlessly and securely, plenty of memory and extra standard adapter ports and datajacks. If you take the hologame unit I'll throw in a games library for half-price."

  Morris casually popped open the terminal and examined it then repeated the process with the datapad. The game unit was underfibered for any kind of load but he could fix that easily.

  "Thank you," said Morris, "I'll take all three. And the games."

  Back at his apartment Morris cleaned all of his purchases, blew the memory and installed his favorite applications. Once he had the system images configured to his satisfaction he chipped them and copied them. He looked at the time and considered calling McCrory but decided instead to prepare for his trip.

  Packing took not long at all. Likewise pre-paying his modest bills, preparing his apartment and notifying the owner. Morris had ample time for a relaxing cup of chog and a long shower before retiring for the evening.

  Chapter 2. A Trip Offplanet

  Morris rose early the next morning, powered down his apartment and headed for the spaceport. He ignored the public entrance in favor of the one 'port Techs used, nodded to several he knew and made for the Naval complex. A quick check with the receptionist there gave him the proper berth and office, both of them on the far side of the complex.

  "You are late, Technician."

  Morris withdrew his half-outstretched hand and neutralized the scowl trying to form on his face. The man sitting at the neatly cluttered desk before him didn't look up.

  "Your luggage and equipment arrived yesterday. Have you made your arrangements here?"

  "Of course." Morris fought hard the urge to add 'sir.' Military spiff and attitude oozed out of the other man.

  "Good." Now the man did look up. "I am Keith Blakeschiff and I am in command of this mission. You will be more fully briefed as it becomes necessary. You will also need to draw a firearm for this mission. See to that immediately."r />
  Blakeschiff looked down with obvious dismissal. He spoke crisply and efficiently with no wasted motion or speech. Morris forbore a reply as he left the office.

  "Good morning, sir."

  The voice belonged to a young midshipman approaching Morris.

  "Good morning, midshipman."

  "You're our Tech? Slib. I'm Transient-Sparkle-of-Moonlight-From-The-Flower-Beside-A-Peaceful-Pond Kody," Kody offered his hand. "but most people call me Tran. That was your initial brief with the commander so we need to get you settled, truth?"

  "Yes, if you please." Morris tried to maintain stiff formality but something about the young man made this impossible. "Blakeschiff said I'm to draw a firearm."

  "Aye, sir. That was specified in our mission protocol." Kody picked up Morris two carry-ons deftly and before Morris could. "I'll take care of these, sir, but first let's hit the armory."

  "Your mission protocol," said Morris, not having read such a thing, "Is there anything you can tell me about that?"

  Kody began walking. "Not past your briefing spools, sir. Well... It's MPN-1148.005 through 1148.42. I don't know if your spools mentioned that."

  "They didn't," said Morris. He didn't know the specific Naval Mission Protocol Kody cited but he'd find out soon enough!

  Kody slowed a bit. "About the commander, sir. He's rough on new midshipmen and civs but he's a frosted good officer. Rumor says he rode some rough orbits on the way to his bars. He is a stickler for procedure and protocol, though." Now he looked quickly about. "Rumor also says he did a tour in Protocol but I wouldn't mention that."

  "I won't," agreed Morris. Even he knew Protocol was a dumping ground for idiots and incompetents and a punishment for anyone else.

  Kody stopped at the armory, held the door for Morris and followed him inside. A beefy Marine took retinals from both and nodded curtly when they authenticated. The lady at the counter there was obviously surprised to see a Tech and even more so at his authorization.

  "Do you have a preference, Technician Taylor?"

  "Laser pistol," said Morris, "Navy caliber, not Marine."

  The lady, also a Marine, laughed at this. She winked at him, walked through the door in the back wall and emerged a few minutes later with a box.

  "This is a Photonix 5mm c/p fixed wavelength. I've included two clips but they're standard. It's an officer's sidearm. Will it work?"

  "Certainly." Morris answered absently as he field-stripped the weapon and examined it closely.

  "Then I'll need your sig and seal, sir."

  Morris heard the surprise in her voice; when he reassembled the weapon and put it back in the box he saw both surprise and approval in her face. He took the datapad she proffered, filled in the appropriate spots, signed and gave his rets.

  "Thank you, sir," said the lady, "If you don't mind my asking, I don't arm Techs often but when I do it's always a laser. Why is that?"

  "A difference in degree." Morris pulled out his laser torch and handed it to her. "This is a laser cutter. It's functionally identical to a laser pistol but a lot more accurate and configurable. It has variable focus and wavelength, variable length pulse up to continuous and it's designed for precision work."

  She examined the cutter a moment and handed it back. "Thank you, sir."

  Outside the armory Kody chuckled softly.

  "Yes, Master Kody," asked Morris.

  "I always enjoy rutting the jarhats, sir, especially when they can't hit back. It's a Navy thing."

  "Oh."

  "If you like I can take that and stow it for you. I doubt you'll need it."

  "Thank you, Tran. Are you from Harmony Dark?"

  Kody nodded. "Yes sir. Ebon's Light to be precise. My family has always served in the Navy or the Patrol. I chose Navy."

  Morris nodded. "Before I was assigned to Dracos I trained a Tech named Lavender-Flower-That-Blooms-In-The-Desert-Sun Martin. She was the first in her family to attend the Academy, also from Ebon's Light and also my first encounter with... Erm..."

  "Incredibly long first names," grinned Kody, "Don't worry, sir. Back home we still have trouble with everyone else's short ones."

  Before Morris could respond Kody indicated a doorway.

  "Through there, sir. That's a task area for the ship. The rest of the team's already there, you go on through and I'll stow your gear."

  Morris had a brief thought otherwise but Kody had already started away from the portal.

  ***

  When Morris palmed the pad beside the doorway it authenticated and opened into a suite of rooms branching off a single long hallway. Examining this roused Morris' curiosity: he instantly identified it as a secure portable staging unit. Both the Navy and Patrol used SUSPs when prepping operations requiring heightened security or when receiving sensitive passengers or cargo. The first two doors were hard-locked but the third stood open and Morris heard voices from it.

  The third doorway opened into a comfortable conference lounge that, by military standards, bordered on luxurious. Six others occupied the room with two of them in Navy uniforms. As soon as Morris stepped inside a man noticed him, stood and started toward him.

  As the man walked he grew. He was big: tall, broad-shouldered, heavily muscled and with a shock of sandy hair cropped short. He also wore an impudent grin.

  "A Tech," said the big man, "Are you a part of our merry mission, now, or simply here on assignment?"

  "Mission," said Morris cautiously.

  "Wonderful! I'm Jared Jackson." Jackson grasped Morris' hand and gave it a vigorous shake.

  "Morris Taylor."

  "Welcome aboard, Morris Taylor," said Jackson, grin widening, "Peace and profit once again pose us a puzzle. What nuggets of knowledge do you bring to the party?"

  Morris shifted uncomfortably, no small amount overwhelmed. One of the people Jackson left, a disturbingly beautiful lady, stood and approached.

  "Be quiet, Jared," she said, with humor, "at least let the man take a breath."

  Jackson bowed intricately, never losing the grin, and sat down.

  "I'm Jena Lace," she said, "Jared you just met. That is Cullen Harkin..."

  "That's Culle," interrupted Harkin.

  "And you're Morris Taylor, our Tech," continued Lace, "I'll wager half a credit you were given very short notice and not told a lot about our mission. Did I miss anything?"

  Morris shook his head, feeling even more uncomfortable. Lace was easily as beautiful as Terri Jenkins and Kelven was nowhere around. Oblivious to his discomfort, Lace took his arm and led him to a seat with the other two.

  Jackson, learned Morris, was a combat-qualified Healer with a Survey certification. Lace was a biochemist with an assistant-medic cert and degrees in archeology and geology and Harkin had incredible expertise in ecology, meteorology, climatology and planetary science. The other civilian in the room, a lady with no apparent interest outside her two datapads and terminal, was Crystal Delroy, a data correlation specialist with obscene amounts of knowledge in fact theory, mathematics and computer technology.

  The two Navy personnel were Mallory Harper, their pilot and Lydia Keyson, the ship's engineer. Keyson looked up once at Morris but ignored him otherwise; she and Harper sat in quiet but intense conversation.

  ***

  Blakeschiff entered the room followed closely by Kody.

  "We are within an hour of departure," said Blakeschiff, "The ground crew has cleared the ship and we will be leaving as soon as possible. Midshipman Kody will show you to your places." With that said he left the room, followed by Harper and Keyson.

  Morris approved of their ship as soon as he saw it: a Lanniver Industries Cuttle-class patrol boat. Ubiquitous throughout League space, Cuttles were paragons of durability, ruggedness and dependability.

  Once aboard Morris quickly located his room, checked his luggage and headed for a quick inspection of the cargo bay. There he found all of the equipment he ordered and more: apparently Reichsson thought he needed a colony-grade portable shop along
with a plethora of other items. For now Morris could do nothing past verifying their readiness for launch; he did so automatically, curiosity once again on the rise.

  All of the others minus Harper and Blakeschiff were already in the departure bay. Kody and Keyson worked to strap in the others. Morris took the seat farthest from Jackson which put him beside Delroy. She stared intently out of the viewport, ignoring the others with obvious deliberate purpose.

  "Now it's fun time!"

  Kody gave Morris' straps a cursory and unnecessary check. Delroy turned and scowled when he cinched her in.

  "Sorry ma'am. Regulations."

  Morris looked out the viewport past Delroy. He saw nothing but scorched tarmac and part of a reinforced wall. After a moment she turned to face him, looked slightly left and then right.

  "Seen enough," she asked sharply.

  "I... yes," said Morris uncertainly, "Why?"

  "Because your eyes are heavy and I don't like them on my back." After another moment of scowl Delroy turned her attention back to the 'port.

  Blakeschiff lofted the ship with military procedure and precision, accelerating at two gravities. As soon as the push started Delroy grabbed her armrests and held them tightly. After a few minutes Morris knew Delroy's grip must be painful.

  "Relax, Specialist," he said finally, "Statistically speaking we're safer now than we were in transit to the 'port."

  "No blather," replied Delroy acidly, "Did you know that, statistically speaking, accidents that happen within the first twelve minutes of liftoff are eighty-three percent fatal?"

  Morris considered a reply but decided to stay silent. Before long the engines' throb deepened and the atmospheric shake attenuated. As soon as they passed the low-orbit threshold Delroy's grip relaxed.

  "Trajectory confirmed," came Blakeschiff's voice, "We are on course and on time. Prepare for vector shift."

  In a stomach-twisting maneuver the acceleration fluctuated and then, after a moment of freefall stopped entirely. Gravity shifted from pushing them backwards to downwards as the ship's internal compensators powered up. Delroy made a soft sound of discomfort but Morris pretended not to hear it. Then, with a final twitch and flicker of the lights the internal gravitics stabilized.

  "Right wonderful," said Jackson, "That squeezin's nice but not even close to my favorite."

  After a few seconds under Jackson's expectant gaze Lace spoke.