Attac of the Bounty Hunters

[This is not a "sex story". It is a story about a society where people have superfast reflexes... and guns.]

"So now we know their secret, we can deter future invasions simply by putting increased security around our political and military leaders," said the holographic image of the Chief. Her image flickered slightly as the descrambler worked to keep up with the decoding of the constantly remodulating transmission.

"It won't be that easy," said Croft. "Remember, it's Graftonites we're talking about. But if you put your Presidents and Generals in a room with a hundred guys with guns, yeah, I think that will effectively put their invasion plans out of business."

"What about the planets they have invaded?" said the Chief. "Five, by our current count, four of which are League planets."

"I guess we don't care about Grafton IV because it's not in the League," said Croft, with more than a bit of sarcasm.

"Croft!"

"We can send in the troops," said a new voice. It was the Chief of Staff himself, who like other senior officials was involved in this holomeeting. "Now that we know what to expect, we can protect the troops we send in."

"It won't be quite that easy," said Croft. "From what I've learned, you're not just facing a few hundred Graftonites on each planet; I think they've hired non-Grafton mercenaries to shore up their ranks."

"Nothing can match the might of the League armed forces."

"I'm sure," said Croft, unconsciously falling back into liespeak. "Mr. Chief of Staff, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted and need some rest. If everything is well in hand...?"

"Of course," said the Chief of Staff. "Good work, Mr. Croft. Your name will figure favorably in my report to the League President."

"Thank you, sir," said Croft.

The holographic link faded.

The Battle Admiral turned to Croft. "Of course, it's not going to be that easy."

"Of course not," said Croft.

And it wasn't.

The League sent in troops to try and liberate its four planets, but the mercenary and Graftonite forces resisted bitterly. Losses mounted on all sides. The League had an enormous population advantage over the Graftonites and their allies, but with advances in technology the League had shifted to a smaller, more professional force; that was why a planet like Greenfields, with millions of citizens, had an active armed forces of only 40,000.

Still, the League armed forces vastly outnumbered the Graftonites; but there was a limit as to how many could be transported to a planet at any given time. All this meant that the League could wage war, but victory would be slow, and bloody.

Two weeks later the League had beachheads it was slowly expanding on two of the four planets; but the Graftonites responded by reinforcing their garrison of non-Graftonite mercenaries.

"Where are they getting the resources to hire thousands of mercenaries?" the Battle Admiral asked.

It was a good question; Croft wondered that too. He went back to his quarters to review the datapads he had collected from various Graftonites during his expeditions to Greenfields. He had noticed something before that had briefly caught his attention; now he returned to it.

In a few minutes he was convinced he had found something of importance. He got Levi on the comm. For once Levi was actually at work in his lab.

"You have my meat recipes?" said Levi eagerly.

"Sorry, Levi, I've been busy with this little invasion thing," said Croft.

"You always make excuse."

"I need your help, Levi," said Croft.

"You always ask for help," Levi grumbled.

"Levi, I promise, if you help me just one more time, I will get you your Graftonite meat recipes." Croft knew how to handle Levi.

"Promise?" Levi peered out at him as if measuring his reliability.

"Have I ever lied?" Croft asked. "To you?" he quickly amended.

Levi looked skeptically at him.

"Recently?"

"What is it you want?" Levi sighed.

"I've been reviewing the datapads of some of the Graftonites I encountered," said Croft. "The Graftonites were all paid from off-planet accounts."

"Off which planet?" Levi asked.

"Off of Graftonite," Croft said.

"So?"

"So their leader, Mo Quandry, is a Graftonite. Why would he pay them from off-planet accounts?"

"Maybe he get better rate of return with off-planet account," Levi shrugged.

"Levi, you're a genius but you don't understand the Grafton mind," said Croft. "Graftonites trust non-Graftonites about as far as they can throw them. There's no way a Graftonite like Quandry is going to keep his money off-planet unless...."

"Unless someone else is supplying the money."

Croft transmitted some data. "I want to find out who, Levi."

Levi opened his mouth.

"As soon as possible," said Croft.

Levi tried to speak.

"Today, Levi," said Croft

"All right," said Levi. "But you owe me recipes."

"How can I forget?" said Croft.

It didn't take a day; indeed, with Levi's computer skills, it only took two hours, after which he immediately reported to Croft. And then two hours and ten minutes later, Croft established a holocontact with the Chief.

"The Chief is unavailable, Mr. Croft," said a functionary.

"Tell her it's important," said Croft.

"I don't think that will have any effect."

"Then tell her Clifford Croft says it's important."

The functionary sighed and left the screen. When he returned he said, "She'll see you. But she's not happy."

"Who is, in these troubling times?"

The Chief appeared on the holo, looking drowsy. "Do you have any idea what time it is here, Mr. Croft?"

"No, and I don't really care," said Croft. "Listen, I have an important piece of information for you."

"Speak."

And when he did, her eyes widened.

When he was done, Croft said, "Worth waking you up for?"

"An acceptable judgment call, this time," said the Chief. "Just don't make a habit of it." She paused. "Investigate, and get back to me."

"Croft out," said Croft. He terminated the connection. He wondered whether he should take the Clapper and Red Sally with him. No, he wouldn't need them. Not for this. They would whine, of course. Maybe he could slip away without telling them.

********

"This meeting of the Whenfor division of the Claritan Corporation will come to order." The voice was that of the Claritan Corporation's Whenfor Division President, Kenson Manding, who was sitting at the head of the board room surrounded by senior executives.

The Claritan Corporation was the largest multiplanetary corporation in the galaxy. It sold almost every variety of product. There wasn't an industry that the Claritan corporation wasn't involved in, not a planet where it didn't have some sort of corporate presence. The Claritan Corporation had only one agenda, and that was to make money. Lots of it. Unfortunately, that often meant squeezing the competition or the consumer. And sometimes the Claritan Corporation did some not so nice things in the process.

"Marketing, report," said Manding.

"We've done a special push on our new five ounce action pack flavor juice," said Marketing. "But we're still getting flack from the government that we call it 'juice' when we don't have the requisite 2% of real juice in the mix."

Manding sighed. "We've been over this before. Can't we find some cheap crap to squeeze into the juice? Isn't there something inexpensive we can use? Lemons? Mutated oranges?"

"Too expensive," said another corporate officer.

"We must have something," said Manding.

"We have found a juicy moss on one of the recently discovered planets that might fit the bill," said the logistics VP. "The moss is plentiful and cheap to collect."

"What does this moss taste like?" Manding asked.

"A little like furniture polish," said the logistics VP. "But we can add more flavoring to cover that."

"Wait a minute," said Manding. "Moss isn't a fruit."

"I think I can reach the right person in the government to get it classified as such," said the governmental affairs VP.

"Good thinking," said Manding. "Problem solved. Next?"

"We're still getting complaints about the ground cars we manufacture with the faulty accelerators," said another VP.

"Faulty accelerators?" said Manding.

"Remember, we saved money by using those Slurian components... in one out of ten cars, they sometimes cause uncontrollable acceleration when one presses on-"

"I remember now," said Manding. He turned to the Legal VP. "You should have the solution."

"I should?"

Manding sighed. Had seven years of law school been wasted on him? "Include a disclaimer on new cars saying that there can be acceleration problems. If they're aware of the problem, we're not responsible."

"What about existing cars we've already sold?"

Manding rolled his eyes and considered. "Tell owners to bring them to their dealerships. Put the cars in the back for the day and then return them, and tell them the problem is fixed."

"Begging your pardon sir, that won't fix anything."

"But it will postpone the problem," said Manding. "What's next?"

Suddenly, the door burst open and none other than Clifford Croft stepped in.

"I told him he couldn't go in, sir," said a functionary, following him in.

"Shut up and sit down," said Croft, pulling a blaster.

The functionary yiped and quickly took a seat.

"Everyone put your arms on the table. If I see anyone reaching for your hidden panic buttons, I'll shoot the offending finger," said Croft.

The officers complied. Manding smiled. "You seem familiar with our standard procedures. Do we know you?" He was calm. It would only be a matter of time before security or some other assistant checked up on him. In the interim, he would stall for time.

"I know

you

," said Croft. "I've had interactions with your company before."

"Who are you, and what do you want?"

"The name is Clifford Croft," said Croft.

Manding looked puzzled. "Croft... Croft.... That name sounds familiar. Were you the one who interfered with our-"

"Probably," said Croft. "But that's not why I'm here. I have a certain objection to one of your corporate operations."

"If you have a problem you should talk with our customer complaint hotlines," said Manding.

"I've decided to speak directly to the supervisor," said Croft grimly. "Now, what are you doing with the Graftonites?"

"Graftonites?" said Manding. "What Graftonites?"

Croft shot a fist-sized hole in the desk next to Manding. "If you lie to me again, my aim will only improve."

Manding gulped.

"Now, I know you've been making payments to Mo Quandry's little army. The question is, why," said Croft. "You already operate on many of the planets that were attacked. What do you get out of it?"

Manding looked nervous.

"Now would be a good time to answer," said Croft, taking aim with the blaster.

"We get... certain concessions," said Manding.

"Can you be more specific?" said Croft.

"We have... contracts for administration," said Manding.

"To administer?" said Croft. "To administer what?"

"The planets."

"The planets?" said Croft. Suddenly, it made sense. The Graftonites weren't interested in administration; only action. So they hired the Claritan Corporation to manage the captured planets for them. By totally controlling a planet's economy, the Claritan corporation could make a thousand times whatever revenue they had been previously making in their various industries. They could tax competitors at any rate--indeed, they could even shut down competitors and build monopolies! The possibilities were almost endless.

"And let me guess--you pay for the invasion up front, and in return you get to keep all the goodies once you start 'administering'," said Croft. "Maybe you pay the Graftonites a percentage off the top."

"Something like that," said Manding faintly.

"Doesn't it bother you that you're helping a dictatorship take over the galaxy?" said Croft. "Haven't you ever considered that they could one day turn against you?"

"It seemed like a good deal at the time," said Manding lamely.

"I see," said Croft. His mind was racing. This could blow things wide open. But he needed proof. "All right, where is it?"

"It?"

"The contract," said Croft. "The contract between you and Quandry."

"There is no contract," said Manding.

Croft fired again, blowing off the right armrest on Manding's chair. Manding grabbed his arm, which had felt the edge of the blaster effect.

"There is no contract!" Manding repeated. "No contract here!"

"What do you mean?" said Croft.

"Do you really think a deal of this magnitude could be negotiated by a branch office?" said Manding. "It's all done through the home office. All of it!"

Croft considered. He raised his blaster. "If you're lying...."

"I'm not!" said Manding earnestly.

"All right," said Croft. "I guess I have to pay a visit to your home office. Can I rely on your discretion not to warn them in advance?"

"Of course," said Manding.

"And your associates here?" Croft asked.

"Yes, them too," said Manding, trying to sound reassuring.

"Good," said Croft. He turned to the stunned board members. "Please, don't let me interrupt you any further. Feel free to go about your business."

He turned and left.

Manding immediately called security.

But by the time they got there, Croft had disappeared from the building.

********

Roger Balit, President of the Claritan Corporation, sat in his office reading the daily datastream when he heard a knock at the door. He didn't even look up as Zilcho Tun, his executive aide, entered the office.

"I'm still reading the daily report," said Balit. "What is it?"

"It's Quandry," said Tun. "He wants money."

"Quandry always wants money," said Balit, continuing to read the daily report.

"He says that under the contract he's entitled to another twenty million credits now," said Tun.

Balit looked at Tun, who seemed to wince slightly when stared at. "On what grounds?" Balit asked, turning back to his morning report.

"Paragraph 7(k) of the contract," said Tun.

"7(k)," said Balit, frowning. "7(k)? There is no 7(k)."

"Perhaps we should examine the contract, just to be sure," said Tun.

"All right, I'll get it out of the safe, in a minute," said Balit. He rapidly scanned the rest of the daily report. As he scrolled down the page he stopped, and then scrolled up. Reading closely, he said, "When were you going to tell me about Croft?"

"Sir?"

"It says here that corp intel indicates that Column agent Clifford Croft is on his way here," said Balit. "Don't you think that's just a little more important than Quandry blathering about another payment?"

"Sir, I'm already on top of it," said Tun. "I've increased security all around the building."

"The lobby?"

"Yes."

"The roof?"

"Yes."

"The exterior walls?"

"Yes," said Tun. "And I've doubled the guard around and inside the building. Trust me, sir, no unauthorized person can get in."

"I hope you're right," said Balit. "I've heard of this Croft. He's a Column Eight agent, one of their top infiltrators."

"I'm sure his reputation is inflated," said Tun.

"Never underestimate your enemy," said Balit. He sighed. "All right, where were we?"

"The contract."

"All right," said Balit. He got up, went to a wall, and slid a picture aside, revealing a safe with a keypad combination. He turned to Tun. "You know, just in case, I think it would be better if we had a few security guards here when I opened this up. I could easily see this Croft character lurking around somewhere waiting for us to open the safe."

Tun said nothing.

"Call security and have them send two men."

Tun did nothing.

"Didn't you hear me?" said Balit.

"I heard you," said Tun, drawing a hidden blaster.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly, it became clear. "You, Tun? A traitor? How did they get to you?" said Balit.

"No one got to me," said Tun.

Balit looked confident. "Put down the gun," he said, taking a step forward.

"If you take another step in my direction there will be a nice view between your ears," said Tun.

Balit stopped, and frowned. "You won't get out of here alive."

"You're probably right," said Tun. "But I will."

"What are you saying?"

"I said, you're right, that Tun has no chance to get out alive. But I won't find it particularly challenging."

Still keeping the blaster on Balit, Tun carefully removed his plastiform mask.

"Croft," said Balit, his eyes widening.

"Tun decided to sleep in and take a sick day today," said Croft. "He'll wake up in a few hours with no ill effects. I can't say the same for you, however, if you don't open that safe."

Balit said coldly, "You'll never get out alive. We'll do a special shareholder resolution on you, Croft."

"Right now I'd be more worried about my blaster giving you an impromptu audit between the ribcage," said Croft. He shoved the blaster into Balit's side. "Well?"

Balit said, "Even if I open the safe, you won't be helped by seeing the contract."

"Then you should have no objection to giving it to me," said Croft. He pointed his blaster more firmly into Balit's side, to further emphasize the corporate executive's fragile mortality. "Decide."

Without a further word Balit opened the safe. Croft had him move back and reached in and removed a group of datapads.

"Only one of them is the contract, you shouldn't need the rest," said Balit.

"But it's always fun to have something to read on my trip home," said Croft. "And now I must take my leave of you. I'm afraid I'm going to have to stun you so I can make my getaway."

"You've made a powerful enemy today, Croft," said Balit.

Croft shrugged. "You'll have to stand in line." He shot Balit, who fell to the ground.

When Balit returned to consciousness, Croft was long gone. A very apologetic Tun attended to him.

"I'm so sorry sir he took me by surprise-"

"Shut up," said Balit.

"But the contract, sir, what do we do-"

"We do nothing," said Balit.

"Nothing?" said Tun.

"Nothing," said Balit. "It's a minor embarrassment, at worst. But there shouldn't be any harm done."

"No harm? But what will happen when the Graftonites learn of our deal with Quandry?"

Balit shook his head. "It won't change a thing." He changed the subject. "But a subject that does concern me is building security. An intruder managed to get both inside and out of the building. Where was our chief of security during this time-"

"Ah, he was-"

"Terminate his employment contract," said Balit. "Immediately."

"Ah, yes sir. But what do we do with-"

"His body? Leave it in the main security office for a few days. As a reminder to those who fail me," said Balit.

********

Even before Croft had returned to August, the information he discovered had been relayed to the Chief; it was only a matter of hours after that that the information was rebroadcasted to Grafton, on every communication frequency. In a matter of minutes, the news was out.

The Claritan Corporation was bankrolling the invasions. A holocopy of the contract showed that in return for certain concessions on the conquered planets, the Claritan Corporation would pay a large sum to Quandry and his soldiers.

The news hit Grafton quickly. This should be the beginning of the end of Quandry, or so Croft thought.

But only a non-Graftonite was surprised by the response the news got.

Quandry didn't bother to deny the contract. In fact, he acknowledged it. Furthermore, he was lauded by the other Graftonites, who considered it a good business deal.

As Quandry himself put it in one of his broadcasts, "Yes, I got the sheep to finance the invasion of their own planets, and arranged for a hefty payment for all of us! What could be wrong with that?"

Apparently, none of the Graftonites thought there was anything wrong with that. It was, after all, all about money.