can backtrack that and figure out who is responsible.”
“It is a thin theory,” Droc said.
“If you have a thicker one, Brother, I’m ready to hear it.”
Droc shook his head. “A small chance is better than none.”
Wink said, “So, how do we start?”
“The Shadows can parse much of it. They have the ability—if it can be found, they can find it—if they have sufficient reason to look. They might need more than a theory, though my sister will at least listen. We can continue our own investigation. We know the names of those afflicted, and in which order they became such. The dead will have family, friends, coworkers, and they are potential sources of information.
“If we ask the right person the right question, it might open a door.”
“Works for me,” Wink said. “Let’s go places and talk to people.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Gunny was dozing off in her chair when Cutter said, “Okay, what do we have?”
They were in the conference room, the walls still smelling faintly of ferrofoam-setting solution, a not-particularly-pleasant chemical stink.
Gramps said, “I have the bank they use, and where they buy their local supplies, courtesy of our new banker, Fluffy.”
The others looked at him. “A nickname, based on his hairstyle. I didn’t get a location. Probably they have a bivouac somewhere away from their main camp, too, but we can poke into the deliveries.”
Cutter nodded. “Formentara?”
“Like so many of the stone-age planets you drag us to, this one is lacking much in the way of technology.” Zhe kept hir face deadpan. “They do have augmentation parlors here—mostly muscle and endurance augs for the miners, a few that offer more than basics. I was able to determine that there have been a few soldiers newly arrived, in for tune-ups, and a backwalk of their payments for such services link to the corporate account Gramps found.”
“Which is a shell,” Gramps added. “‘John S. Mosby & Associates.’” He smiled.
Cutter grinned, too.
“What’s funny?” Jo asked.
“Our competition has a sense of history,” Cutter said. “John Mosby was the leader of a military unit on prespaceflight Earth during a large and nasty early-industrial regional war. Led a group of rangers, guerrilla forces, hit-and-run against much larger armies. Quite successful, albeit they were on the losing side.
“Mosby was, I believe, a colonel by the end. He was known as the Gray Ghost, based on uniform color and his ability to vanish when pursued. You should brush up on your history, Jo.”
“Friend of yours?” Gunny said, smiling at Gramps.
“Johnny? Sure, knew him well. One of J. E. B. Stuart’s boys. Great soldier. Became a diplomat after the war. He was a lawyer, but I never held that against him. I thought you were from that region—why don’t you know this?”
Gunny shook her head. Point to Gramps, for the research.
“Gunny?” Cutter said.
“Scuttlebutt from the pubs, but my source seems fairly reliable. Seems there’s a group of ‘religious tourists’ who have rented a parcel of land a couple hundred klicks southeast of Adit. Some kind of retreat, so the story goes. They’ve built a camp and seem to be importing a lot of supplies in heavy-duty vans and hoppers. Maybe they are erecting big idols or something.”
Cutter said, “So that gives us something to look into, doesn’t it? Can we get a spysat overfly?”
“Not unless we launch it ourselves,” Jo said. “The locals are touchy about such things. Might could hack into one long enough to get a view, but if they are running camo, we won’t see anything.”
“Do we have a bird in stock?”
“Not as such. I could buy us one.”
Cutter shook his head. “Seems like a lot of expense, given as how we have all you highly trained and well-paid soldiers who can figure out cheaper ways to put eyes on the site.”
“Might could sneak a couple of firefly drones over, drop a few birdshit cams in,” Jo allowed. “Though if they
“It is a thin theory,” Droc said.
“If you have a thicker one, Brother, I’m ready to hear it.”
Droc shook his head. “A small chance is better than none.”
Wink said, “So, how do we start?”
“The Shadows can parse much of it. They have the ability—if it can be found, they can find it—if they have sufficient reason to look. They might need more than a theory, though my sister will at least listen. We can continue our own investigation. We know the names of those afflicted, and in which order they became such. The dead will have family, friends, coworkers, and they are potential sources of information.
“If we ask the right person the right question, it might open a door.”
“Works for me,” Wink said. “Let’s go places and talk to people.”
_ _ _ _ _ _
Gunny was dozing off in her chair when Cutter said, “Okay, what do we have?”
They were in the conference room, the walls still smelling faintly of ferrofoam-setting solution, a not-particularly-pleasant chemical stink.
Gramps said, “I have the bank they use, and where they buy their local supplies, courtesy of our new banker, Fluffy.”
The others looked at him. “A nickname, based on his hairstyle. I didn’t get a location. Probably they have a bivouac somewhere away from their main camp, too, but we can poke into the deliveries.”
Cutter nodded. “Formentara?”
“Like so many of the stone-age planets you drag us to, this one is lacking much in the way of technology.” Zhe kept hir face deadpan. “They do have augmentation parlors here—mostly muscle and endurance augs for the miners, a few that offer more than basics. I was able to determine that there have been a few soldiers newly arrived, in for tune-ups, and a backwalk of their payments for such services link to the corporate account Gramps found.”
“Which is a shell,” Gramps added. “‘John S. Mosby & Associates.’” He smiled.
Cutter grinned, too.
“What’s funny?” Jo asked.
“Our competition has a sense of history,” Cutter said. “John Mosby was the leader of a military unit on prespaceflight Earth during a large and nasty early-industrial regional war. Led a group of rangers, guerrilla forces, hit-and-run against much larger armies. Quite successful, albeit they were on the losing side.
“Mosby was, I believe, a colonel by the end. He was known as the Gray Ghost, based on uniform color and his ability to vanish when pursued. You should brush up on your history, Jo.”
“Friend of yours?” Gunny said, smiling at Gramps.
“Johnny? Sure, knew him well. One of J. E. B. Stuart’s boys. Great soldier. Became a diplomat after the war. He was a lawyer, but I never held that against him. I thought you were from that region—why don’t you know this?”
Gunny shook her head. Point to Gramps, for the research.
“Gunny?” Cutter said.
“Scuttlebutt from the pubs, but my source seems fairly reliable. Seems there’s a group of ‘religious tourists’ who have rented a parcel of land a couple hundred klicks southeast of Adit. Some kind of retreat, so the story goes. They’ve built a camp and seem to be importing a lot of supplies in heavy-duty vans and hoppers. Maybe they are erecting big idols or something.”
Cutter said, “So that gives us something to look into, doesn’t it? Can we get a spysat overfly?”
“Not unless we launch it ourselves,” Jo said. “The locals are touchy about such things. Might could hack into one long enough to get a view, but if they are running camo, we won’t see anything.”
“Do we have a bird in stock?”
“Not as such. I could buy us one.”
Cutter shook his head. “Seems like a lot of expense, given as how we have all you highly trained and well-paid soldiers who can figure out cheaper ways to put eyes on the site.”
“Might could sneak a couple of firefly drones over, drop a few birdshit cams in,” Jo allowed. “Though if they
Similar Books
