By Other Means by Evan Currie

sharply, “How’s that?”
    “You are no security person,” He said lightly, “You are clearly Sentinel. Warrior. Why are you here?”
    “I go where I am ordered.”
    “Yes, this I believe. Why were you ordered
here
is what I want to know,” He said, his tone a little testy.
    “Mine is not to reason why,” She told him blandly, skipping the second part of that line. “or do Alliance people question orders often?”
    The Elf looked annoyed for a moment, but settled himself quickly.
    “You know that I will be watching you, of course.”
    Sorilla shrugged, “I’ve already been watching you.”
    Sienel smiled tightly, then tipped his head slightly before stepping back. “I must rejoin my people. I hope that the rest of your duties are not so… exciting as today.”
    Sorilla watched him go, slowly shaking her head.
    Merchant species my ass,
She thought wryly,
There goes a spook if ever I saw one.

Chapter Eight
    “You better have a good excuse for ignoring me, Major,” Swift growled as the door on the private conference room closed.
    They were back on the Mexico, the opening words and negotiations having gone decently well, all things considered. Ruger had called her into the conference room with the Ambassador and Swift as the head of the security detail. Sorilla was only mildly surprised that the admiral hadn’t bothered telling him anything yet.
    “A ‘rogue’ Lucian attempted an assassination using a Ross weapon,” She said simply, “I took him out, quietly.”
    Swift stared at her blankly for a long moment, but said nothing.
    “They tried to kill me?” Miram asked, a little too unemotionally to be good in Sorilla’s opinion.
    “Uncertain,” Sorilla admitted.
    Now Swift spoke up, “What do you mean, uncertain? Who else would they have targeted?”
    “Me, if they know who I am,” Sorilla offered, “I’m probably responsible for the deaths of more Alliance personnel than any other single human, if you don’t count ship to ship combat stats anyway. Or, maybe they were hitting one of their own.”
    “Killing the Alliance negotiator or Ambassador
would
throw the whole situation into chaos,” Miram said, slumping a little before she frowned, “but wouldn’t it be better to use one of our weapons?”
    Sorilla shrugged, “they could easily claim it was a war trophy. If you think on it, it makes more sense that way, like we’re trying to throw the blame on the Ross.”
    “What did local security say?” Ruger asked, curiously.
    “The ‘merchant’ we noticed yesterday told me ‘good job’,” Sorilla said dryly. “And, for the record, merchant race my ass, Sir. That one, at least, is a spook.”
    “It’s not a bad cover,” Ruger shrugged, “though I worry that he discarded it so easily. We’ll have to watch for others, don’t get fixated on him, Major.”
    “Yes Sir.”
    “The most important thing is that the local security and, presumably, the officials here aren’t annoyed with the Major’s actions,” Miram said, “Today went well, otherwise, and we’re nicely on track to ratify the truce by tomorrow.”
    “that quickly?” Sorilla blinked.
    She’s expected it to take weeks, at least.
    “The truce was already agreed on,” Miram waved off her surprise, “We’re just going to sign to what both sides already worked out months ago. Next we’ll see about establishing something a little more substantial, perhaps a light trade agreement. Food, raw materials, something neither of us need desperately, but that will go a ways to establishing some history between us.”
    “Ah,” Sorilla said, nodding.
    That was more along the lines of what she’d expected, no question.
    “Did the Alliance agent drop any hints as to who might be behind the attack?” Ruger asked, scowling in thought.
    Sorilla shook her head, “no, but if you think about it the list is probably longer than my jump record.”
    “She’s not wrong there,” Swift spoke up, “these sorts of things usually have