by Andrew Beery
It was then that our luck ran out. Horse managed to cripple one of his remaining opponents but at the cost of a damaged arm. This effectively eliminated Capoeira as a fighting technique because I had not programmed any three-limb moves into his system. Before I could get back into the fight, his power cell became dislodged, which gave the gent with the damaged Mark-IV the opportunity to kick the tar out of my friend.
It was interesting that at some point during our battle I had started to think of the former Stallion as a friend. It must have been a cognitive deficiency on my part. Undoubtedly resulting from forced alcohol withdrawal. At any rate, I rushed in to help Horse before he was hammered into the next life.
I hit the guy abusing Horse with a flying kick that sent him tumbling a good twenty yards. It was the type of hit that would likely leave a mark in the morning.
That’s when the other three joined the fight and my life as I had known it came to an end.
After painstakingly reconstructing its data-core, and after much searching, the ancient machine finally remembered its name. He was Arquat. He was more than a machine. He was life. Not organic life, but life nonetheless.
Chapter 3: Queen’s Gambit
The three newcomers began to circle the two of us. I had reset Horse’s power cell and he was back in the game. Minus the one arm of course. We positioned ourselves back to back so we could protect each other. We both had our arms up and were crouched in defensive positions.
“You and me against the world,” Horse muttered as the others began to inch closer.
I nodded before it occurred to me that he wouldn’t be able to see me.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way right now,” I answered instead with bit more confidence than I was feeling. “Shall we attack? They’d never expect it,” I suggested.
Now, as a point of reference, this was a not a sound tactical suggestion but if I was going to go down anyway, why not do it with a splash? I signaled my suit’s AI to shut down the safeties one last time. I was anticipating burning out every last circuit. There was no reason to leave anything in the tank. With my suit only a Mark-II and Horse’s suit damaged, I wasn’t especially optimistic about the outcome.
“On three,” I said. I crouched a little lower, getting ready to spring.
Horse’s reaction was not the one I was expecting. He lowered his one arm and started laughing so hard I thought he was going to cough up a lung.
“Doggy, you are THE craziest son of a… well, let’s just say you’re as crazy as everybody said you were.”
“I’ve seen enough,” he said to the group as he stood up fully. “Your Highness, I’m convinced he’s the right choice. Despite his problem with the bottle, his tactics are sound and there isn’t an ounce of quit in him.”
“I agree, Major. Get everybody cleaned up and meet me in my situation room in thirty,” the mysterious young woman said through the stadium’s PA system.
I looked around. Eleven Battleborn Marines were shedding their armor. Every last one of them had a grin on their face.
***
Twenty-nine minutes later I was showered, dressed, and in a modern and fully equipped situation room. There were twelve of us, all Battleborn Marines. Horse and a Captain named Georges were the only two wearing officer pips. The Gunny had her stripes. There was also a Chief Warrant Officer. The balance were Lance Corporals.
Then there was me… the only rank-less red-mark in the room. I had noticed earlier, much to my chagrin that Horse’s little red triangle was gone, replaced with a pair of lions guarding the words ‘Honor: Live Bravely. Do Right. Fear Nothing.’
The Princess who Horse had spoken to earlier had yet to make an appearance. I was eager to meet her, as I had a lot of questions and my guess was she was going to be the one with the answers. The others, including Horse, had been absolutely silent other than to tell me where to find a set of BDU’s so I could get dressed.
I walked around the room inspecting the equipment and sipping a cup of coffee at the same time. The holographic display that dominated the central table was top notch. My guess was that it was as good as or even better than the tech our ancestors brought to this rock.
It had taken us almost four-hundred years to scrape our way out of the muck and back into space after we colonized this world. Every school-age kid learned the story of our arrival on Azul. Fighting a war against insurmountable odds, the last vestige of humanity managed to do the impossible and eke out a victory.
The cost had been high. Most of the equipment and tech intended to help the fledgling colony flourish had been lost. Even after getting back into space, we were still centuries behind our ancestors in terms of development. We knew our forefathers could travel among the stars. We were lucky to get to the outer planets within our solar system.
Add to this unfortunate situation the continued threat of attack from a mysterious race purportedly living on our sister planet, affectionately known as the Mudball… and humanity had an inauspicious start to life in this system.
Martial Law had been established early on in the colony. Eventually it had become institutionalized. The Battleborn had been an offshoot. Resources were scarce in those early years. Everyone needed to pull their share of the weigh. No one was allowed to go hungry, but it was easy to rack up an impossible amount of debt. Service in the corps was a way of paying off that debt. At least that was the theory.
At some point along the line, laws were passed by the descendants of the original officers, now considered to be royalty, that debt was inheritable just like wealth. Within a generation, the Battleborn had become hopelessly indentured. Massive corporations bought the debt and, in essence, bought the Battleborn’s service with that debt.
On paper, the Marines in each corps reported to the crown but everyone knew the crown reported to the corporations. Spats between the corporations kept the Battleborn busy, which in turn kept me drinking.
I noticed everybody coming to attention. I yawned. It had been a long day and as far as I could tell it wasn’t even noon yet.
A young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, entered the room. She had the deep olive skin that said she was of the Queen Tanny bloodline. Captain Tanny had been the original governor of the colony and although she had never technically carried the title of Queen, her royal progeny liked to trace their bloodline back to her.
Horse gave me a dirty look out of the side of his face. It was an impressive trick as he kept at attention while the Princess seated herself at the head of the table. I ignored my friend and continued to sip my coffee. I liked the coffee a whole lot more than I liked the royal family. Besides, when you’re already at the bottom what can the world do to you?
The princess looked over to me and raised an eyebrow. I took another sip of coffee and winked. I had to give her credit. She was not hard to look at and she had an air about her that said she could be tough as nails. Did I mention she was not hard to look at?
“Would her Majesty like a cup of coffee?” I asked.
The choking sound made by both the Master Gunny and Horse was worth anything my little stunt might cost me later.
“Her Majesty, my mother, has never had a proper appreciation for coffee. Her Highness, on the other hand, would very much like a cup of coffee, Mister Riker.” She emphasized the ‘Mister.’
I could tell immediately, despite my best judgement, that I was going to like this one. She seemed to have the same love of irreverence that I did.
I poured the requested cup of coffee. “Cream or sugar?” I asked.
The princess shook her head. “I’ll take it the same way you take yours. Black.”
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. She knew how I took my coffee? Where I grew up, that level of imperial interest was never a good thing. I passed the cup to her. She smiled in thanks and took a tentative sip. It was a good blend of coffee, but it was also very hot.
On a side note, I liked her smile. It was both captivating and warm. This was going to be a problem. I h
ad a long-established history of disliking the royal family and I harbored a secret dream of a life without them. Finding myself liking one of them… especially having just met her… was at odds with that dream.
There was a slight cough behind me.
“Oh, good heavens, Major. At ease and sit down all of you,” the Princess said.
I took the opportunity to walk to the far side of the table near where Horse had taken a seat. I disliked being too close to royalty… especially this royalty.
“I think proper introductions are in order. I’m Tange Mumba. I am third in line to the throne. Do you know what that means, Mister Riker?”
I nodded. “It means you are neither the heir nor the spare. Some would say you have a most enviable position. All the privileges but none of the responsibilities.”
Horse kicked me under the table. I was beginning to question the wisdom of my seating choice.
“Accurately stated, if somewhat indelicately put,” the Princess acknowledged. “What is your assessment of our current political situation, Mister Riker?”
I looked at her for a moment. I couldn’t help but think that I was walking into a trap… and that she was in fact the trap. The problem was, as traps go, she was gorgeous. I shook my head to clear it, which caused the tiniest of twitches on the side of her mouth.
“Do you want the polite response or the honest response?”
She set her coffee down and leaned forward on the table. “Mister Riker, when I ask a question, I only ever want the unvarnished truth.”
“Fair enough, your Highness,” I said with a dramatic seated bow.
“Azul’s monarchy is a fiction. The real power his held by TransCorp, Mashuta Industries, and a handful of others. Our people live marginal lives while corporate Azul hoards 90% of the wealth. The people trusted the Monarchy and they betrayed them. Is that unvarnished enough?” I said with just a tinge of bitterness in my voice.
If looks could kill I would be dead twice over with the looks both the Major and the Master Gunny were giving me.
Surprisingly, Princess Tange’s smile threatened to split her face. My heart skipped a beat and I knew I was in real trouble… a trouble that had nothing to do with my blunt honesty.
“Mister Riker, what would you say if I told you the current monarchy is not happy with the current state of affairs? In fact, I head a secret organization commissioned by the Queen herself to wrest control back from the Master corporations and restore a semblance a justice and compassion to the people of this world.”
I sat still for a few seconds to digest what had just been said. Finally, I spoke.
“I would say, your Highness, that you have your work cut out for you.”
“You are right, of course,” she answered. “In your assessment, why is this the case?”
“Simple,” I said. “You need them far more than they need you. They control the economy, the military, and the media. Any action you take must include regaining control of at least two if not all three of those. As I said, you have your work cut out for you.”
The Princess tapped a control surface on the table in front of her. My service record popped up in a semitransparent display in front of her. Given that she knew I preferred my coffee black, I suspected that this was not the first time she had looked over my record.
“I see your highest rank was Major. In fact, you were being fast-tracked to Lieutenant Colonel when you decided to lead a raiding party that broke into General Hammond’s house and essentially destroyed his wine cellar. In the days before the colony, you would have found yourself dishonorably discharged. As it was, you were broken all the way back to private.”
“In fairness to my men and myself,” I said, “the intent was never to destroy the wine cellar. That was an unfortunate miscalculation involving a shaped charge and a load-bearing wall. We simply wanted to sample the General’s wine. It was supplied by Mashuta in thanks for the destruction of a mining operation in the asteroid belt. Our efforts restored the profitability of Mashuta’s own operations and only cost thirty or forty innocent lives. I’d say that was worth a couple bottles of a good vintage.”
“Mister Riker, I’m going to be blunt. You were… correction, you are a brilliant officer. Your OIC said you were one of the best Marines he had ever trained. I need that brilliance… but Riker. As much as I need you, I can’t have the bottle. There is too much at stake. We get one shot at this. If we blow it, the corporations will eviscerate us and we will never be able to restore honor and compassion to our kingdom.”
My heart suddenly grew very heavy. I wanted the world that she dreamed of. It was the same world I dreamed of. The cost was my coping mechanism. I knew deep down that I was an alcoholic. Oh, I had tried to deny it, but I knew it was true. Could I give up the bottle? Was the prize at the end of the day worth the sacrifice to get there?
A free world or a drunk red-mark? The fact that I could even be debating the question filled me with shame. Damn it! I was better than that. I had taken more innocent life than I could count. I had a chance to, if not make things right, at least put an end to more greed-inspired killing. Wasn’t that worth a couple bottles of a good vintage?
“Your Highness,” I said with honest respect in my voice, “I have been a tool of oppression for far longer than I care to admit. If I can be a part of the solution, I would like very much to join your team.”
“And the bottle?”
I paused and answered slowly. “Though it may cost me my soul, I will give up the bottle.”
Princess Tange greeted my acquiescence with another of her patented smiles. I was in serious trouble.
“Major Brown, would you please pin the Lieutenant Colonel?”
Arquat looked across the heavens with newly restored sensors. His access to local star maps was limited. Still, based on what little data he had; it appeared that a number of centuries had gone by. This filled him with a profound sense of sadness. His friend Jeremy Riker was most certainly dead.
Chapter 4: Live Bravely
The next weeks were filled with training exercises. I needed to become familiar with each member of the team and they needed to become familiar with me. To be honest, they got the sharp end of that stick. Alcohol withdrawal had a way of making a man nasty.
The media had a field day with my new position. They dubbed me the commander of the Second Chance Hero Brigade. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. I might have mentioned this before, but eschewing the bottle was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.
I thought after the first week of sobriety, I would be over the worst of it. It turns out I was wrong. When I was training for the Lion Pit with Horse, I always thought my next drink was the day after the pit. Once I joined the Honor Brigade, as we actually called ourselves, I was forced to reconcile myself to the fact that I had already drunk my last drink. I had enjoyed it, but my lifetime allotment was gone. It was a bitter pill to shallow.
That realization filled me with an incredible sense of remorse. Since I couldn’t drink to bury the fact that I couldn’t drink… I ran myself and my Marines to the very edge of physical exhaustion. It’s a testament to their character that none of them voiced a complaint. Of course, it may have been their fear of Master Gunny Porterfield and what she would do to them if she heard so much as a peep that kept them in line.
Officially, my team was a special division of the Queens Guard tasked with keeping the Queen’s three children protected as they gallivanted around the solar system acting like entitled brats. Using rejects like me meant real Marines didn’t have to be wasted on babysitting the Queen’s spoiled offspring.
In point of fact, the royals were nothing like their public persona. It amazed me that they could play the part of the rich and spoiled while conspiring to tear down a corrupt system that was sucking the life out of the kingdom.
I met with the Queen on a number of occasions, although Princess Tange or simply Tange, as she like to be called in private, was my team’s prima
ry interface with the royal family. It was the Queen who decided that she and her family would do anything and sacrifice everything to tear power away from the corporations.
Tange shared some of the details associated with the Queen’s long game. Over the years she carefully recruited high-level operatives in each of the major banking and media organizations. The operatives all thought they were working covertly for one or more of the major corporations. Since corporate espionage was rampant, this was the perfect cover for her clandestine operations. The mega-corporations’ own malfeasance ensured that, should her operatives be discovered, their actions would not be traceable back to the royal family.
My military arm was the last component to be put in place. The reason for this was simple. It represented the biggest risk to the Queen’s plan. Up to this point, everything the royal family had undertaken contained an element of deniability.
My military contingent tripled the number of people involved in the plot. In addition, the Queen’s existing Praetorian Guard was fully in bed with the corporations. Any unusual activity was reported within minutes.
As far as the corporations were concerned, the Honor Brigade had been assembled from misfits and was commanded by a washout. We were seen as a plaything for the royals. The carefully planted rumors were that we were under the control of the Mashuta Corporation. Of course, the Mashuta Corporation thought the team was under the control of TransCorp. Oh, what a tangled web we weave.
Even the name of my outfit was a joke. Brigades were typically composed of hundreds of Marines. The royals would never be trusted with so many toy soldiers. This actually suited us quite well. It meant the QP’s, as we called the Queen’s corporate-sponsored guards, were disinclined to take the Honor Brigade seriously.
