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The Harmonies, one of the Neo-Mille
"The Bureau of Colonial Government was not displeased to see the Harmonies settle Haven as long as it remained the worthless piece of real estate it first appeared. However, the situation has changed now that a large deposit of hafnium ore has been discovered."
Right, thought Cole, and now somebody doesn't want to pay the Harmonies a licensing fee for mineral rights they can get for a much smaller fee from the CD Bureau of Colonial Government.
The Assistant to the Director stroked the length of his long, thin nose. "It appears that we have one of those situations developing that requires a senior agent with great skill and discretion. Since, obviously, our part in the events that are about to occur on Haven must never become public knowledge."
Cole shook his head in agreement, wondering if somehow his superiors had agreed to blame the mess now developing on Comstock on him, the last agent assigned to that hellhole. If he'd learned nothing else in his lengthy career it was that in intelligence often what appeared to be a nod up was in actuality a shove down.
"Serendipitously, for all involved, it appears that the Bureau of Relocation also has a rather strong interest in the Haven question. It appears to be the ideal location for subversive elements within the confines of the terrestrial CD to be permanently isolated without invoking the offices of the Bureau of Correction or the Navy."
Good conundrum: When is a prison planet not a jail? Answer: When its called Haven and is over a year's travel from Earth with little or no possibility of return.
"Your job, Agent Cole, will be to find legal justification for CoDominium intervention."
It sounded so easy rolling off the Assistant to the Director's tongue, Cole thought. What it really meant was he had to organize or foment a revolution; or what could pass for such on a forgotten planet like Haven. Thus providing, for the Grand Senate, an excuse to appoint a Consul General and send a contingent of CD Marines to restore the benefits of Condominium order and civilization.
"You will be provided with a list of contacts and a review of certain 'unstable' elements there by someone who has just returned. Im afraid that budgetary demands make it impossible to give you all the resources you might need; however, you will be given a rather free hand in carrying out this operation. The Ke
Cole nodded. The Assistant to the Director of CD Intelligence turned his attentions back to his viewscreen. Knowing full well that no objection by him would be tolerated, Cole cursed under his breath and left the office.
JANESFORT WAR
LESLIE FISH amp; FRANK GASPERIK
The zodiac raft with the name Black Bitch painted on her side growled away from the off-planet shuttle floating in the lake, laden with crates marked Mining Equipment. If one inspected the invoices attached, as the Bitch's captain had bothered to do, one would find they were destined for one Max Cole, delivery at Castell City, or the port thereof, to be placed in bond until called for. This could have presented a problem, Castell City Port being nothing but a rough pontoon dock, except that Max Cole stood wrapped in off-planet cold weather gear, in the full light of Cat's Eye, waiting for his cargo.
He wasn't alone.
The man accompanying him was as recognizable to the locals as Cole was a stranger. His name was Jomo and he was a thug. He inspired fear and the kind of respect born of it. He was tall and broad and scarred and of mixed parentage, the result of the usual problems one found in the Transvaal. He watched the boat as it moved towards shore and, like Cole, was dressed warmly. They didn't speak but stood patiently as the cargo was unloaded.
Cole identified himself and signed the receipt, and the Black Bitch, reeking of the alcohol she used for fuel, turned back to the shuttle for another load. A motion from Jomo, and his crew-not dockworkers-began hauling the crates onto handcarts and trundling them towards the rough jumble of buildings known as Docktown. Somehow it already had the undefinable aura of "slum" that most port communities seemed to acquire.
Jomo and Cole slowly followed the handcarts toward a largish, for Haven, building dug into a low bank with a freshly painted sign proclaiming it to be the SIMBA BAR. They trailed the crates inside after the unloading. Another motion from Jomo, and the pair were left alone in the main room of the establishment.
"I hope the shipment is as I require," said Jomo, with carefully elaborate politeness.
"Better than you could imagine," Cole replied, just as carefully. "You asked for arms to enhance your-ah . . . 'business' and I have done better than you asked. Look." He produced an odd tool from under his coat and pried open the nearest crate. "The latest CoDominium combat weapon: the Sonic Stu
"A weapon that stuns? It does not kill?"
"You should find it most effective for your purposes, Mister Jomo. No damage to the subjects, and they awake in an hour or so with nothing but a headache."
Jomo lifted the bell-mouthed weapon.
"Yes, these will do well . . . . After all, a live captive can always be made dead at a later date, but the reverse of that ca
Cole smiled, and shrugged. "This is the method of loading and the manual for maintenance. Simple enough, as you see."
Jomo smiled in turn, not prettily.
His purring whistle brought a man from the back room, carrying a small box that had once contained boots. At Jomo's gesture, the man put the box on the table and stood attentively to the side.
In a single quick motion, Jomo lifted the weapon and fired.
The sound of the stu
Jomo went to him, bent over and cruelly pinched the right earlobe. There was no reaction.
"Yes." Jomo gri
"Ahhh, Mister Jomo, my remuneration?"
Jomo handed him the boot box. A brief inspection proved that it was full of CoDominium and Trade credits, a small fortune.
"Would you enlighten me as to how you acquire such tools?" Jomo nudged, studying the stu
"Such things are possible, if one knows just whom to blackmail or bribe . . . ." Cole shrugged again. "And as long as they're not found on Earth, or a planet under CoDominium control, they're quite safe to own."
Jomo nodded, put down the stu
"I must go now," Cole reminded him, "as I wish to ride the shuttle back to the ship. The sooner I'm out of this icebox, the better. I'll send down the rest of the ammunition with the next load. As it stands, you only have twenty rounds."
"I have no choice but to trust you in this matter," Jomo admitted. "But without the weapons the ammunition is useless. Also the converse. It is nice to do business with a professional."
They turned to the door and together walked back to the dock. Before boarding the zodiac, Cole stopped and turned to Jomo.
"You'll need this," he said, handing Jomo the very special tool. "You can't open the other crates without it. The security devices would ruin the control chips if you tried any other method."
Neither of them noticed that the zodiac captain, although turned away and occupied with unloading cargo, was close enough to hear.