Battleborn

by Andrew Beery

  Two months to the day, the Princess announced that she was bored of capital city life and would be moving to one of the many small moons that orbited our binary planet system. As this threat had been made countless times before, no one took it especially seriously. That is except for the Honor Brigade.

  “Get that shuttle ready to go and have the load master sign off on the straps and balance,” Mel barked.

  The Master Gunny and I had had a rough start. Something about dumping a favorite little sister in favor of a bottle of scotch had the effect of pissing off a temperamental Master Gunny. Fortunately, once Horse had convinced her that a long-term relationship with the likes of me would have resulted in endless heartache for her sister, the Master Gunny had loosened up. She even allowed me to call her Mel again.

  Horse and I cemented our friendship. He continued to call me Doggy. I suppose it was only fair as I had never stopped calling him Horse… sometimes even Major Horse in front of the men. Did I mention we were a close-knit bunch?

  Her Highness joined us near the end of the loading. Playing her role to the tee, she complained incessantly about the time we were taking and that if we were missing anything, we could just send the shuttle back to fetch it. The fact that the cost of launching and flying the shuttle could easily feed an entire family for years appeared to be lost on her. Any corporate spies watching would see exactly what they were expecting to see.

  Finally, Captain Georges gave the Major a thumbs up.

  Horse nodded and turned to the Princess. “If your Highness is ready, we can board the shuttle.”

  “YES, your Highness is ready. Your Highness has been ready. Your Highness has been saying she is ready for the last hour. Let us go before I’m an old hag like my mother.”

  I was tempted to applaud her performance, but I had no idea where there might be eyes watching the goings on. As it turned out, my restraint was well founded. Moments before we sealed the hatch on our transport shuttle, Major Clarkson from the Queen’s guard marched into the hangar with six of his goons.

  Clarkson had been a thorn in my side since day one. He was so deep into the various corporation’s pockets that his dog tags might as well have been car keys belonging to some CEO. Meeting him was always some kind of pleasure. I had no expectation that today would be any different. I was not disappointed.

  I stepped out of the shuttle and approached him. He and his men stopped about five feet from me before he spoke.

  “The Queen commands we accompany you,” he said without preamble.

  I stood perfectly still. We stared at each other for several seconds before he spoke again.

  “Did you hear what I said? Shall I repeat it more slowly?”

  “Major Brown,” I yelled back towards the shuttle. “Please join us for a moment.”

  “On my way, Colonel,” Horse answered in a crisp and completely military fashion.

  When he stood by my side, I spoke again.

  “Major Brown, will you please familiarize Major Clarkson as to the proper etiquette for reporting and rendering courtesy to an officer of superior rank.”

  “Sir, yes sir. I will demonstrate. The lower ranking officer approaches the senior ranking officer and comes to a full stop. He then comes to attention and offers a salute using the right hand. At this point, the soldier rendering the salute will raise their right elbow until their upper arm is approximately parallel to the ground. He will then touch his index finger to the edge of his eyebrow while keeping his wrist stiff and in line with his forearm. He will maintain this position until the superior officer acknowledges and returns the salute. At this point, the lower ranking officer lowers his arm and resumes a position of attention.”

  I have to give Horse credit; he rendered a crisp salute. I returned it and turned to face the irate Major Clarkson.

  After a moments delay, the Major saluted. I waited a good thirty seconds before returning the salute. To say he looked pissed is to understate the situation.

  “Major, you had something to report?” I asked innocently as if nothing had happened.

  “Yes, Colonel,” said through clenched teeth. I suspect he was angry. “The Queen commands that my men and I accompany you.”

  Of course, I knew this was not the case, but I played along anyway.

  “The Queen commands that you accompany us? Well, we certainly cannot disobey the Queen. I will inform the Highness that we will be delayed in our departure.”

  “There is no need for a delay,” Clarkson barked.

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “Sir,” the Major offered begrudgingly. “There is no need for a delay, Sir.”

  “Well that is excellent news, Major. So, you and your men have received your Throngi Flu vaccinations already. Excellent!”

  “Throngi Flu?”

  I looked at the Major with mock surprise.

  “You are aware, are you not, of the outbreak of Throngi Flu in the asteroid belts and the Ministry of Health’s mandate that all visitors be vaccinated?”

  “No, sir, I was not,” the Major answered in a crestfallen voice.

  The Throngi Flu vaccination was highly effective, but it also made the people who received it quite nauseous for a good twenty-four hours.

  “Very well,” I said in a voice that completely hid the mirth I was feeling. “Please take your men to the Sickbay and get your vaccinations. We will wait but I would suggest you hurry, as her Highness is not a patient woman. Would you not agree, Major Brown?”

  Horse nodded his head slightly. “No, Sir. She most certainly is not a patient woman,” he agreed.

  I continued to stare at Major Clarkson. It was clear he didn’t know what to do so I helped matters along.

  “Dismissed.”

  Clarkson briefly looked confused but then he saluted sharply and turned to his men.

  “Sergeant, double-time the men to medical. Make it snappy. We are on the clock. Move!”

  When they had cleared the hangar, Horse turned to me with the biggest grin I had ever seen on the man.

  “Throngi Flu. That is mean.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It seemed the least I could do. The flu is worse than the shot. This way he and his men are protected should they ever actually run into the bug. I’m sure he’ll thank me later.

  “I’m sure he will,” Horse agreed. “I take it we are not waiting for him?”

  “You take it correctly.”

  ***

  Twenty-eight hours later we were in orbit around Beta-118. The most remarkable thing about this particular rock was that it was in the middle of nowhere.

  At a little over sixteen kilometers long and four to five kilometers in diameter, the rock looked a lot like a greyish brown cigar floating in space. It was not an inviting place to visit with no amenities and barely enough gravity to hold lose rocks and dust to its surface. For that reason, it was perfect for our needs.

  Now understand, when I said Beta-118 was in the middle of nowhere, don’t assume that is some happy accident. Miners had carefully hollowed out the iron-rich asteroid decades before and converted it into an airtight living facility.

  This work had been paid for by Transcorp with the intent of housing entire mining families near work sites. Sadly for the mega-corporation, carefully planned fictitious reports began to surface that slight but toxic levels of heavy metals and radiation were ubiquitous and no mining families were willing to take up residence no matter how much money Transcorp was willing to pay to relocate them. In the end, TransCorp abandoned the project and the nearly complete living facility was abandoned.

  Since Beta-118 was no longer of use and since it was located near profitable mining sites in the asteroid, essentially in the way, the decision was made to nudge it into a different orbit… hence its current location in the middle of nowhere. Over the course of many years, Beta-118 had become no more than a distant memory and a footnote in an accounting ledger.

  “How soon before we can enter the base?” Tange asked while peering out
the forward viewport on the transport.

  The Princess had insisted we start using her name rather than her title the minute we broke orbit around Azul.

  “No more than ten minutes. We’ll need encounter suits for the first few hours, at least, until we can get her life support systems online.”

  Her ‘please-don’t-call-me-Highness’ turned slightly to look at me out of the corner of her eye. She did that a lot, which I found frustrating because Coronels shouldn’t spend their time thinking about how beautiful their commanders were. The worst part was I was virtually positive she knew exactly the effect she had on me and did it anyway.

  “Her?” she said coyly. “Do I have to worry about another lady in your life?”

  I chose to ignore the insinuation. “This base is inherently dangerous,” I said. “Men always associate danger with the female gender.”

  Tange gave me another of her coy smiles. “Live bravely.”

  Sensor Clerk Jamie Thompson was a bored man. He had worked for Mashuta Industries for the better part of twenty years. In that time, he had been passed over and passed over again for advancement after advancement. His was an unremarkable career in every sense of the word. That was about to change.

  Chapter 5: Do Right

  I hate to ever admit being wrong, but this was one case where I was forced to do so. It took us the better part of four days to get the environmental systems up and running. There were no serious problems with the equipment… it just seemed like there was a never-ending supply of little issues that needed addressing.

  To be honest, it was the worst week since I had sworn off the bottle. With all the frustrations, I felt like I really needed a drink. The fact that there simply wasn’t any alcohol available made keeping true to my word easier, but it didn’t ease the craving. Our corpsman, Corporal Thomas, kept me in line with a little green pill that did a reasonably good job of taking the edge off of the urge.

  Fortunately, Chief Michaels was a brilliant engineer. He and four of our Lance Corporals went over the base from stem to stern while the rest of us, including the Princess, off-loaded the transport.

  Many of the cargo containers were labeled one thing but actually contained something very different. As an example, swimming attire might actually be night vision goggles. Stanis Blossom Honey might be plasma grenades.

  We had the basics to establish a completely self-sufficient base… if your living standards weren’t especially high.

  Finally, the facility was declared ready and we moved in. That was two days ago. Our insurgency now had a base of operation that was secure from corporate oversight. Princess Mumba called our first planning meeting.

  The conference room was located right off of the operations center. If Beta-118 had a bridge, it was the operations center.

  Horse, Mel, Chief, Tange, and I sat at an oblong table outfitted with the best holographic display money could buy. That was a theme echoed throughout the base.

  Horse had been concerned about the tech because all of it was produced by the various mega-corporations that we were attempting to defeat. It was almost certain that much of it had been designed to spy on its users. Chief Michaels aka Chief put that concern to rest. Beta-118 was a massive iron shell. It was like operating inside a giant faraday cage. No electro-magnetic signals got in or out.

  The Princess toggled the main display. It showed the main Mashuta Industries corporate campus located in central New London. The sprawling campus occupied fifteen square kilometers and was one of the smaller of the dozen or so Mashuta sites. This one was distinct in that it was filled with lush green gardens and artfully laid out ponds. When Mashuta filmed a promotional video, this was the campus they used.

  Each of the other sites showed the true Mashuta. They were dirty, cement jungles surrounded by towns that housed the workers. Executives lived in the better areas while the blue-collar workers lived in little more than shanty towns. Pollution ran rampant. Early death was the norm. Life for the average worker was miserable.

  Compared to Mashuta, working for TransCorp was like living in the lap of luxury. Yes, they were brutal in their own way, but their workers enjoyed limited profit sharing and access to some of the finer things in life.

  It seemed the two major corporations had vastly different worldviews when it came to common human decency. The problem was that Mashuta Industries was the bigger of the two and thus had their fingers in more pockets. Any real change to the status quo would have to involve a change to the balance of power between these two firms.

  The Princess made a point of sipping her coffee and carefully placing the cup down. It was her way of calling the meeting together.

  “I want to thank each of you for the hard work you’ve been putting in. I hope you’ve had a chance to get a little rest because we have a mission.”

  My ears popped up. After so many weeks of prep it would be good to get into the thick of things. Especially knowing that deliberate collateral damage involving civilians was not ever going to be on the table.

  Tange smiled at the sudden interest everyone in the room exhibited.

  “I thought that would get your attention,” she said. “We have creditable intel that Mashuta Industries has made a major technological discovery that could give them a significant competitive edge.”

  I examined the holographic display in detail. “Do we know what that discovery is?”

  She used her hands to zoom in on the display; centering on a building with a large radio dish on its roof.

  “What we know is that the discovery involves something a sensor technician stationed in this building picked up two days ago. Our mission is to infiltrate the facility and find out what it is.”

  I nodded. “If it was discovered using a sensor array then it’s one of two things. It’s something one of the other corporations developed or it’s a good bet it has to do with the discovery of alien or founder tech. I think we have to assume it’s the second set.”

  Horse leaned forward and reached out to the holographic display. Just shy of touching it he turned to Tange.

  “May I?”

  “Absolutely.”

  The Major zoomed the display to show the building in question in greater detail. It was a live feed so I could see staff entering and exiting the facility. There appeared to be state-of-the-art biometric scanners at all the entrance points.

  “Getting in may be a bit of a challenge,” he said while using a finger to point to the various secured entry points.

  “No worries. Give me five minutes and I’ll get you past any of those doors,” Michaels huffed.

  Mel shook her head. “Begging the Chief’s pardon but the chance of us getting five minutes to work is like betting rain won’t be wet.”

  As I listened to the exchange, I was struck by a sudden idea. Now you must understand, ideas and I are often a dangerous combination. This time was no exception. I shared my brilliance with the rest of the group, and we slowly fine-tuned it before breaking up for the day. The best part of my plan… I got to ride an airbike!

  ***

  One of the advantages of being known as a drunk is nobody is surprised to see you drunk. We were going to use my infamy.

  I rode a hover-bike into the Mashuta Industries main campus. I had a couple of surprises ready for any spectators I might run into. First, I was reeking of alcohol. My clothes we drenched in it and I had taken a lozenge that gave my breath a rum-like smell.

  The second little surprise was a plastic bladder.

  I weaved my ride as I flew it, pretending to be the drunken soldier I was thought by the media to be. I generated a lot of attention as I sang a particularly bad rendition of ‘I’ll Take You Home Again Kathleen’ while nearly running into several people.

  Finally, I saw my target. A biometric scanner on a metal pole near the entrance we were targeting.

  “KATHLEEN! I’m home,” I sang loudly just as I crashed the hover-bike into the scanner. Several things happened in short order. First, I went flyi
ng head-over-heels into some nice soft bushes I had been targeting. Second, my bike trashed the scanner, rendering it useless.

  While I was drunkenly extracting myself from the bushes, a small squad of Mashuta security pukes stopped by.

  “Well hello boys,” I said after a large and particularly Oscar-worthy belch. “I’m here to offer my services.”

  ***

  I was escorted into the building and down a series of brightly lit corridors. These were followed by an elevator ride down to a much darker area of the facility. My guess was I was being taken to whatever they used for a lockup.

  Now when I say escorted, what I really mean is kicked, dragged, and punched. Fortunately, both my size and quality time spent in bars had prepared me to take a few lightweight punches from the likes of these. My problem was there were six guys ‘helping’ me. I needed to adjust that number, or the first part of my plan was going to unravel.

  I pretended to gag like I was getting ready to puke.

  “Guys… would it be alrighhhhht… if I just took a weeee bit of a nappy? I just need to close my eyes for a minute.

  I made some more gagging sounds.

  “I don’t feel so well. Maybe we could find a restroom?”

  The sergeant in charge of our little party looked disgusted. I could tell he was cataloging in his mind all the other places he’d rather be. I had to resist a smile. There is one absolute in any organization with a command hierarchy. Crap runs downhill.

  “Hey dingbat number one. You and dingbat two take this worthless piece of trash the rest of the way down and lock him up until he dries up. Then we’ll see how he’s going to work off the damage he’s caused. Don’t feel like you have to be gentle.

  “What happens if he pukes again?”

  “Then you’ll have a mess to clean up. Get him into a cell and it’ll be somebody else’s problem.”

  I was a bit taken aback by this exchange as, to my knowledge, I had not actually puked yet. I decided pointing out this discrepancy would not be in the best interest of my mission, so I limited my comments to a few more gagging sounds.