by J. L. Curtis
Fargo chuckled, and looked at Cattus, “Well, she can tear you limb from limb in about forty-five seconds. Smile for Nan, Cattus!” He projected a thought to Cattus to open her mouth and put her paw, claws extended gently on Nan’s leg. Cattus did so, and Fargo felt Nan’s shock.
Turning to Canis, he projected to her to go to guard, and Canis rippled her lips, bringing a growl from the bottom of her chestand standing her ruff up. Nan, in an unconscious reaction, drew both hands in and put them on the table. “Dammit, Ethan, I get your point. They aren’t pets, well, not so much. Stop it already.”
Fargo smiled as he gave both animals the command to relax, and they both licked Nan’s hands in a peace gesture.
Stirring her coffee, she continued, “I’m going to have to continue the current patrol, but I’ve talked back to Sector, and they agree that we need a stronger presence here, at least for a little while. Probably six or so months, which is about how long it will take for us to finish up this leg of the show the flag patrol.”
Fargo nodded, “So?”
“I’m going to drop a company here, well, Rushing River. They’re going to be autonomous, as far as planetary control, in other words, they will be subordinate to the colonel at White Beach, but they will be a quick reaction force for this sector of the Rimworlds. I’m also going to leave one assault shuttle with them, and I’d like to have Hyderabad available as a long range transport if required. I can’t talk the Admiral into leaving a destroyer here, but there will be one at Star Center.”
Taking a sip of coffee she sighed, “Oh, that is so good! Anyway, I’m leaving Major Jacky Culverhouse in command, but she’s an MP, so she’ll be the liaison with White Beach. The real command will be her hubby, Captain Culverhouse, and Captain Garibaldi. They’re both mustangs, in their eighties, and have multiple combat tours. They’re a couple of problem children if they get bored. But, they’ll have a full deployment kit, a couple of Darkies…”
Fargo interrupted, “Darkies?”
Nan chuckled, “That’s what they call themselves. They’re a mated pair of scouts from Anadarko, out in Alpha Centauri. Moby and Dineah, they go by MobyDineah.”
Fargo looked at her, “Anadarko? Scouts? I thought that was one of the Wild West colonies.”
“It is, one point five G, sixty percent landmass, limited water, hellacious mountains. Pretty much ignored, until one of our GalPat ships stopped there about thirty years ago. There was some friendly competition with the locals, and our scouts and Special Forces got their asses handed to them. Darkies are short and wide, strong, and sneaky as hell.” Nan took another sip of coffee, “The settlers are all at least half Earth stock Amerind, lots of Comanche, Cherokee, Lakota Sioux, Kiowa, and Apache. Apparently the original stock came from Oklahoma, near Fort Sill, so they’ve adopted a Cavalry way of life.”
“What rank are they?” Fargo asked.
“They are direct accessions into GalPat as Chief Sergeants, and they are also completely telepathic with each other. Part of their mating, apparently.”
Fargo filed that away as he whistled, “Oh, that could be convenient!”
Nan grinned, then dropped into a solemn expression, “And I’m leaving one maintenance tech to support the company. Senior Sergeant McDougal.”
Fargo picked up on her change of expression, “And?”
“Well, he’s a different bird.” Nan twirled her cup, “Ah, he’s got a Star of Valor, and they want him a long way from the flagpole.”
“A maintainer with a Star?”
Nan shrugged, “Yep, on his first Det as a lead. He got left behind inadvertently, or so it was claimed. Something about his locator and datacomp being blocked in a maintenance tunnel they were building. He killed thirty some odd Dragoons rather innovatively, while trying to get off the planet. And he apparently had charges on the T-gate’s power when the good guys came back through the gate. He got the charges off the gate and stuck on his armor, and he ran for it. Blew a leg off, but protected the gate.”
Fargo whistled, “Damn, so he’s basically a kid!”
Nan said, “Yep, maybe forty. But he’s damn good, and I need to keep him busy. This should do it.”
Fargo rolled his eyes, “So… Problem child commanders, problem child maintainer, any more good news?”
Nan blushed, “Well, the company I’m leaving are Herms.”
Fargo just shook his head, “Hermaphrodites? Why them?”
“Well, they keep trying to kill the KTs when they spar. They’ve kept the docs and Med-Comps busy on the ship,” Nan admitted.
“Lemme guess, the Templars think the Herms are an abomination, right?” Nan nodded. “And Herms being Herms, just love to tweak the KTs every chance they get, right?” Another nod. “So what brilliant individual put those two companies in the same ship?”
Nan sighed, “After the dust up on Rigel Three, where they fought side by side and kicked Goon ass, HQ thought it would promote harmony if we put them together. But Mack and Bob can handle them. I’m sure of it.”
Fargo rolled his eyes, “I’m glad I’m retired and I can stay back here in the Green, in this little cabin. I don’t want to be anywhere near Rushing River when that crowd gets bored!”
Nan sat up suddenly, “You’re serious aren’t you? I thought…”
“You thought what?”
“I thought… I thought you were in command of the militia.”
Fargo chuckled, “Command? A bunch of retired CSMs and Warrants? Hell no! If anything, I was an advisor who was mostly ignored. Anyway, they actually are employees of Grey Lady Security.”
“That’s not what I heard or saw, Ethan, they followed you. You went in and fought… Wait a minute, Grey Lady? That damn company has their tentacles all the way out here?”
“It’s my world, too. And I was able to use my talents to help out. Adrenalin rush and all that. As for Grey Lady, she does seem to get around for an immobile statue,” Fargo said with a laugh.
Nan smacked him on the arm, “That’s not… Argghhh! Men!”
An hour later, standing on the porch, Nan turned to Fargo, “Ethan, I can’t thank you enough…”
Fargo put his fingers to her lips, “Nan, there isn’t anything you can say. I’ve truly enjoyed you being here, and I can’t tell you how proud of you I am. You’re a credit to the Corps, and I’d love for you to stay, but I know you have responsibilities.” Scuffing his boot, he looked at Cattus and Canis watching them, and continued, “You know you’re always welcome here.”
Turning, she hugged him wordlessly, then stepped back. He led her down the steps to the field in front of the house, where Hyderabad’s shuttle sat waiting. As they walked toward it, the Hunter version of a butterfly about a foot across flew in front of them. Nan jumped back, dodging it, as Fargo laughed. “Shut up dammit,” Nan said, “I don’t like fluttering stuff.” He helped her in, and threw her bag in the back under the netting, and waved to Evie as he stepped off the back ramp.
As the shuttle lifted off, he trudged back to the liteflyer. Ensuring his bead rifle was secure, he directed his thoughts to the girls, as he thought of them, to guard the house. A short run and he lifted the liteflyer off, drifting out over the canyon, enjoying the view as he headed for the spaceport.
Twenty minutes later, he landed at the spaceport in his usual spot by the gate. Securing the liteflyer, he was surprised to see Sergeant Omar pull up in his patrol vehicle. Omar squeaked a greeting that his Galtrans projected to Fargo’s implant as, “Ho, lieutenant of the retired, ride to the ceremony, you would like?”
Fargo nodded, “Ride to the ceremony would be appreciated.” He climbed aboard and Sergeant Omar rattled off across the spaceport. Five minutes later, he pulled up to the side of the administration building, where Fargo hopped off the vehicle with a wave.
Stepping to the corner of the building, he saw a GalPat podium and reviewing stand erected, and a company of troops in blacks at parade rest in front of the podium. As he watched, a group of dignitaries led
by Colonel Randall stepped out of the administration building and started walking toward the podium.
He saw the planetary Governor, Klynton, her assistant, Gann, followed by what Fargo thought of as her GalPat lackey, Colonel Cameron. Then a couple of other GalPat Colonels, and Nan Randall. Mikhail, looking uncomfortable in a suit, brought up the rear. Fargo spun, sensing someone coming up behind him.
He saw a youngish troop, wearing a Star of Valor, who nodded to him as he stuck his head around the corner. “Aw shit. There is no way I’m gonna be able to sneak into formation.” Turning to look at Fargo he added, “Sorry sir. Didn’t mean to cuss. I was working on getting sh.. cra… stuff set up and I forgot to watch my wrist comp for time.”
Fargo realized he was looking at Senior Sergeant Ian McDougal, and smiled, “Well, I guess we can watch the ceremony from here. You must be one of the maintainers.”
McDougal nodded, “Yeah, the only one for this bunch. And they only gave me three Mechs. I got them digging now, but I’m already behind. Normally we get six for something like this.”
“Digging?”
“We gotta dig a basement and tunnels connecting the buildings. Also storage and maintenance spaces for security purposes. Maybe you’ll just forget I said anything, okay?”
Fargo nodded, “I know nothing. I heard nothing. By the way, I’m Captain Fargo, the local militia commander, so I’ll be working with y’all from time to time.”
McDougal grimaced, “Ah shit. Sorry, sir.”
Fargo grinned, “Don’t sweat it, troop. I’d rather a working troop than a chair borne warrior. You catch any crap for not making muster, you tell the captain to come talk to me. I’ll cover for you.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Fargo stood with Sergeant Omar watching the GalPat troops assembling their buildings, “Wow, I’ve never actually seen how they actually do that. It’s like that old Japanese paper folding to see those containers unfold and become barracks and offices.”
The sergeant’s GalTrans rumbled his equivalent of a laugh, “Captain of the militia, folding or unfolding easy. Move equipment, still move by trooper one piece at a time. Omar glad not there. Heavy pieces, Omar always gets.”
Fargo chuckled, “Sergeant, Blame you not, do I.” They climbed back in the runabout, and Omar dropped Fargo at the store. Climbing the steps, he smiled. Not a bad day. We’re alive, survived another battle and help is on the ground if we need it.
***
As he stepped through the portal, Ian yelled and ran to him, “Unka, Unka, did you bring me anything?”
Sweeping Ian up in his arms, he felt Ian’s unbridled joy and his mischievous personality, as he tried to think of things he could do to Inga. “You should be nice to Inga, Ian. Trying to put glue in her hair isn’t nice.”
Ian looked up at him, horrified, “Unka, how did you…”
“Unka knows all, Ian. Unka knows all. Now go tell your dad I’m here, please.” Setting Ian down, he leaned against the counter, as Ian pelted through the curtain yelling for his dad.
***
Fargo groaned as he pushed the plate away, “By the Deity, Luann. How do you and Mikhail not weigh four hundred pounds each? That was way too much food!”
Luann looked askance at him, “Well, I didn’t see you stopping. You even went back for seconds. And dessert. We are moving all day, unlike you, just sitting on your butt up at your cabin. This is the third trip down with nothing. Have you stopped hunting?”
Fargo smiled, “No, just had other things going on, militia things. And I wanted to see them putting the GalPat camp together.” Turning to Mikhail, he continued, “So, this trip to Endine. What are we going to be doing?”
Mikhail sipped his coffee bulb, “Well, basically a survey of the feeder and subfeeder sites. There appears to be some problems with a couple of sites, but I don’t know the cause. Our techs over there aren’t saying much about it, which is kinda strange.”
Epilog
Captain Jace sat in the crew’s mess with Fargo and Mikhail, “We’ll finish the jump in an hour to Langdon’s system, then it’s fifteen hours into the space station. This is an odd little system, to the point that they only allow three place humans to embark on the planet.”
Fargo cocked his head, “Three place humans?”
“In the Galactic classification system, human to the third decimal place. Or put another way, one genie level or less. And they’re rigid about enforcement. That’s why everyone debarks at the space station, and goes through customs and immigration there. They are a feisty bunch, quick to take offense, and independent as hell.”
Mikhail rolled his eyes, “Oh, yeah. Finding techs to work out here has been interesting. They don’t particularly like advanced tech, preferring to limit the amount of machines.”
Jace chuckled, glancing at Fargo, “Makes it nice for us, most of what we’ve got in the cargo holds are soft goods they can’t or won’t manufacture. Great profit on them, because developed worlds make them cheap. The irony is Langdon system has two oddities, an ice moon that could be harvested, but they don’t bother, and Endine itself has a high concentration of gold and silver ores. We’re paid in ore.”
Fargo narrowed his eyes, “Ice moon?” Where have I heard something about that? The brief from the colonel… Traders and their Dragoon masters that are believed to be holed up or basing out of the Rimworld Cluster. Also, somewhere in that region there is hydrocarbon and ice mining going on. I wonder…
Jace brought up a plot of the Langdon system on the wall screen, “Yep. Ironically the ice moon is called Eros. One has to wonder about what they were thinking!”
He and Mikhail both laughed at that, and Mikhail said, “Enough fun for me. I’m going to hit the fresher and the rack before we finish the jump.”
After Mikhail left, Fargo looked around to make sure they were alone, “Jace, what are the chances of getting a recon drone near that ice moon? There are some that think the Goons might be mining it.”
Jace was quiet for a couple of seconds, “If we do a standard approach, we could spit one on the way in. It would take twenty-five days to get there at point three c. How long are you planning to be on planet?”
“A week, maybe a little longer.”
“Well, that doesn’t work. We get two, maybe three trips out here a year. But if we were willing to potentially lose a drone, we could FTL any data back periodically, especially if it detects any movement.”
“Wouldn’t it be detected?”
“If it’s full stealth, not unless they physically see it or run into it. The problem is, it won’t stop, it will blow by the moon in… less than a second, and total viewing time will be… thirty-four seconds.”
Fargo said dejectedly, “That won’t work.”
Jace peered at him intently, “There is a way. We can take a different departure from the space station that will allow us to drop the drone as we climb out of the well. We can spit it much closer and slower. It will still take thirty-one days to get to Eros, but it will get sucked into an orbit around Echo three, gradually degrading into the planet itself. But that would get about an hour’s look a day, based on…”
“Is it even worth it?”
Jace shrugged, “If it’s important to you to collect data, yes. I can get it replaced.”
Fargo finally said, “Well, it might be. So…”
“We will do it, Captain.”
***
Fargo was almost seeing red from the intrusiveness of the C&I official on Endine’s station. He had pawed through every nook and cranny of his bag, emptied every small bag, and shaken out every bit of clothing. He had emptied each ammo box and individually counted the rounds for both the rifle and pistol, fingered both the rifle and pistol twisting and pulling on them to try to make sure they were empty. Finally Fargo opened the chambers to prove they were empty, then put them carefully back in their cases. The whole time, the little stumpy asshole had peppered him with questions about where he’d been, whom he
’d been in contact with, even to the point of asking if he’d had sex with non-humans.
The only thing that kept him from punching the little shit into the floor was that he could see Mikhail being treated the same way one table over. He felt a stab in his arm and reacted, slamming a block on his mind as he grabbed the official’s arm with the device in it, growling, “What the fuck was that?”
The little asshole’s voice went up an octave, and he squeaked, “You can’t touch me, it’s not allowed!”
Fargo shook the arm, tightening his grip, “What did you do to me? I’m not asking again.”
“It’s only blood, I took your blood, I have to make sure you are human,” he squealed.
Fargo shoved him away, “That better be all, asshole.”
The stumpy little man scurried away after putting the instrument back into some kind of holster, muttering under his breath.
***
Three hours and a one thousand credit fine later, Fargo was still steaming as they touched down on the space port at Capital City, “I should have shot that little bastard. About the only thing he didn’t do was an anal probe! And fining me for touching him? He’s lucky…”
Mikhail made soothing noises, “I know, I know. But their world, their rules.”
“They can take their rules and…”
Mikhail waved at a small red headed, deeply tanned man, “Ivan! Ivan! Over here!”
Ivan strolled indolently over, “Mikhail, glad to see you. Who’s this?”
“Ivan March, meet Ethan Fargo. Ethan’s my assistant and bodyguard.” Fargo stuck out his hand, but Ivan ignored it.
“He any good?”
Fargo had enough, “Want to try me? Unarmed, knives, pistols? Your fucking choice.”
Mikhail interrupted, “Fargo’s a former Terran Marine. You really don’t want to go there, Ivan.”
Ivan grinned, “Good on ya!” Sticking out his hand, he smiled, “This world ain’t no picnic. It takes a tough man to stand up to it.”
Fargo grudgingly shook his hand, “I think I can take it, and the offer is still open.” He sensed Ivan’s mind, Curiosity, worry, happiness to see Mikhail, and a wry sense of humor.
