Don't Worry

[Pher 0]

Taurik was never very far from Ethan's mind; he hung over everything like the iconic angel of death with his sickle readied for the deathblow. He couldn't help but think he was being watched now, closer than before. He had returned to Creedo's shortly after Joe Manning and found the crew waiting. He answered minor questions on Zoalus; pointed out shops to fill their wish lists. Given Xorax's annoying penchant for spying on their own, anything more critical would be discussed later on the Qob and hopefully once they learned more about their destination. He was certain nothing particularly supportive of Taurik's theory came out of the meeting in Creedo's. But the longer Ethan lingered around the Qob's crew, the more they looked like the unwitting sickle's blade in Taurik's hands. Once they knew what they were looking for, they didn't need him hanging around. He was intent on separating from their group - saving their collective business image. He had cleared the door of the bar and earshot of the rest of the crew, when Pher stopped him and reminded him in more ways than one that she still wanted to talk.

 

Ain't no rest for the wicked, Ethan mused.

 

"Somewhere private," Pher suggested only slightly suggestively. "Too many secrets been blown away already."

 

His jaw momentarily tightened as he looked at her. Thoughts went to her pheromones and their historical usage; he wasn't keen on getting another dose. Living in Federation Space had given him advantages when it came to Orions. He was starting to realize he'd taken them for granted. From his point of view, Chris Nickles was barely half-functional under her spell and with her looks he had to wonder why Pher bothered using them. He didn't like his own conclusion. It might have been for the romance, though why any self-respecting person would want their partner less than coherent escaped him. Not aware of the real details, the only other explanation he knew of was control.

 

He exhaled; the sound was quiet but audible. "All right," he said without his Vulcan pretenses.

 

She already knew he was human. He suspected that their conversation would eventually touch on what she knew. Not more than an hour earlier he'd planned to keep playing the full game. He'd brush off her fishing games with feigned ignorance or fear and appear like a dense human-Vulcan who didn't know his head from a hole in the wall. But when the time came he followed his instincts without hesitation. Be prepared but be fluid.

 

He made a Vulcan-like gesture for the cameras. "Walk with me."

 

Pher nodded, and walked with him. Now, to figure how he played the game. ###### for tat. She’d start with stuff he could confirm and would learn anyway in time. “I figure you should know a bit about what you’re getting into. My title is ‘security chief,’ but I’ve been with the QoB not two years. Everybody senior to me on the security side is either dead or off the ship. We’ve had that much turnover. Lots. The new people have the skills, but team play is a work in progress.

 

“I’m new to ship board security. QoB is my first ship. I’m not new to security concerns. I was Queen of the Beach once upon a time on New Risa, which involved keeping a lid on a mix of rich arrogant oversexed male tourists and dirt poor oversexed pheromone loaded female employees. I’m good at some stuff, not so good at other stuff, and this will be my first attempt at watchdogging scientists. I’m hoping they will be easier to manage than randy kids. Hopefully, this isn’t too irrational a hope?

 

“Now, I can buy equipment and make plans, but Joe is a hands on type of captain. When the soft brown stuff meets the rotary artificial wind generator, any plans I might have made will yield to what Joe wants to do, and I don’t get told much in advance about what Joe wants to do.”

 

She turned to meet the 'Vulcan's' eyes. “Now, your title is Security Advisor. From that and from what I caught back on Tranquility, I’m guessing you have no more real authority or seniority than I do. I figure you do have a lot better chance of getting real weapons on your ship than I do on mine. I’m hoping you can advise your scientific team to stay more or less together rather than spreading themselves thin all over the planet.

 

“I’d like to know as much as I can get on how your geeks run a dig. I hope they keep it simple, cause the best I can do to secure them will have to be simple. Whatcha got?”

 

Ethan was quiet for a bit. High turnover and poor teamwork among mercenary crews wasn't new. Neither was changing plans on the fly. But a 'queen' turned security; he hadn't heard much like that before. He briefly laid eyes on the thin crowd that passed behind Pher and then up the walls of the sprawling cavern. The cameras he knew were hiding in the dark corners would see them everywhere they went until they couldn't. The only place they'd find 'privacy' without attracting attention on Xorax was in public. They would have had more if they'd waited until he boarded the Qob. Then again, maybe it was better this way for at least his sanity.

 

"A dig isn't at the top of their list," he said, passing over her remarks on Tranquility and his position for the moment. He clasped his hands behind his back – seemed like a Vulcan thing to do – and resumed strolling. "We're not sure if we can get to the surface and hold ground long enough to start one. They don't know where to start one. To tell the truth, we're hurting for data on Zoalus.

 

"This is what I've been told and the plan so far: Our biggest obstacles are the surface-to-space batteries and sentry drones. We need more intel. The scientists pointed out a few sites of interest. We'll pick one and fly in with an advanced scouting party and do some recon. We're going to find out how the planet's defenses operate; their ranges; what provokes them; if they can be disabled. Spiking the batteries is an option, but it could draw a lot of unwanted attention. Same for the drones; we want to keep a low profile and save fighting for our last resort. There'll be two six-man teams. I won't tell you how to organize your people, but you've got five spots to fill. The other merc ship will make up the other team, plus the expedition's head of security from the Verbistul.

 

"If we do manage to clear a safe LZ, we'll provide force security while the scientists conduct their surveys and then start excavations. All scientific activities will be restricted to daylight hours and because of manpower we're limited one dig or two survey teams at a time. We're planning on eight guards per survey team; six guards for each standing daylight watch, four minimum and two at night. Standing watches are four hours a piece. You can organize your watches how you want, but I imagine your scientists will want in on the surveys and digs. And I suggest you keep your medics off force security. They're more useful to the scientific side and they won't do anyone any good if they end up casualties. While on the ground, we'll be running each ship through start up at regular and staggered intervals. If things go south, we might cut down on time if we have to run.

 

"Now best case scenario: the first spot is good enough; we get what we came for and get out intact. Otherwise we might be doing it all over again from step one. Worst case: we can't secure a good LZ and the expedition's scrapped.

 

"As for weapons: all our ships are carrying small arms and the other merc ship is carrying some improvised explosives. But we're short on support weaponry and Xorax is a dry market for hardware. Anything larger or more powerful than small arms would be ship-based."

 

Pher considered his outline. She might want to tweak it a bit, but it seemed essentially sound. Vague, but sound. "You had much of a chance to look at the maps? I've had a few thoughts."

 

"A bit," he nodded. "What are you thinking?"

 

"I'd like to enter the atmosphere over water,” she replied. “Least threatening. Hopefully, no defenses. This made me look at the sea side locations a little harder. Site Eight reminds me of home, a tropical island. Might be imagining things, but it might be a wealthy resort area. Interesting stuff there if so, but maybe not sensitive stuff. Might not be as well developed or well defended as other places. Site Three makes me nervous. Feels like it ought to be their major harbor. Feels high risk high reward, but the rough terrain gives us nice mountains to hide behind on the approach. Site Two feels sort of middle of the road. Older settlements. Maybe older defenses. Feels like a decent place for a not too high intensity first probe.

 

“Anywhere strike your interest?"

 

Ethan's shoulders noticeably rose and fell as he thought. "Site Seven," he said. "It's the least developed; least likely to have the heaviest defenses. But the scientists probably won't like it; there's not much there.

 

"Mountains and cliffs make good cover,” he continued, “but they make just as good weapons emplacements. Site Two might be a good second choice, but I'd avoid the river delta. And it's attached to a significant landmass – higher chance that we'll run into reinforcements sooner rather than later. Site Eight; could be great or really bad, depends on how much they know about Iwo Jima."

 

"Iwo who?"

 

He looked at her and grinned a bit. "Iwo Jima: an island and the place of a battle in 1945 on Earth. You should look it up some time."

 

"Uh huh.” Pher had a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “Right after you visit Evenstar Bay."

 

The remark caused Ethan to pause and he knitted his brow. "For?"

 

"I have the feeling you'd be about as comfortable among a bevy of pheromone loaded females as I'd be in the middle of a major battle, or am I misreading?"

 

A mild surprise crossed his face and he couldn't help smiling. "You're probably right."

 

"Sorry about that. Vulcans aren't supposed to be effected, and Chris is suffering from a Deltan Dust overdose. It's complicated. I might explain more later, but back to landings. Or can we say much more? I have a feeling our security concerns aren't firm enough to override what the scientists want to do. We just don’t know enough"

 

"It doesn't help that we've got next to nothing to go on."

 

“Details,” Pher answered, with not a little irony. "So we get the scientists somewhere they think they'll be happy, avoiding the most stupid of risks, then ad-lib."

 

"Better hope we're good at it."

 

"Don’t worry about it. Everything is the Captain's fault in the end."