M'tak Ka'fek (The T'aafhal Inheritance)

by Doug Hoffman

  “I thought you were anxious to apprehend these outlaws, Ranger.”

  “I find that a pistol against a hundred or more bad guys with automatic weapons is a bit of a mismatch.”

  Billy Ray chuckled. Then he contacted the General by radio. “Victor X-ray, Shuttle One. General, you are in position to cut off the retreat of the main body of raiders. They're being herded your way by the Major's force. Looks to be maybe sixty or so still moving your direction from the south.”

  “Roger that Shuttle One. Thanks for the update.”

  “I do believe that the General is enjoying himself.”

  “Yep, these bandits have had him chasing his own tail for a couple of months and he did not like it at all.”

  Just as a precaution, Billy Ray sent one of the recon drones on a wider sweep to the north of the airstrip. As it tracked from west to east, about a kilometer north of the runway red dots began to appear on the display.

  “Oh, crap.”

  “What?”

  “It appears that we have a large force of unknowns headed south. Pretty much along the edge of these cleared farm fields north of the airstrip. They are going to reach the airfield's northern perimeter in about five minutes.”

  “The airfield is wide open,” Sid noted. “They'll be able to move quickly across it and then roll up the General's flank.”

  “I guess they don't know there's a Texas Ranger barrin' their way,” Billy Ray said with a hint of a smile.

  “Everybody loves a wise ass, Commander,” the Ranger replied with a smile of his own. “Unless you have another pair of those suits in the back, we probably need to tell the General he's about to be taken from behind by a superior force.”

  “As poetic as it would be for the two of us to be standin' on the runway, ready to throw down on that bunch of outlaws as they ride into town, I think we will try a different approach.” Reaching overhead he touched a series of backlit symbols. Muffled thuds, followed by whining motor sounds, could be heard in the cockpit. Billy Ray leaned back in his chair, seemingly unconcerned.

  Then, out either side of the windscreen, odd six-wheeled vehicles could be seen fanning out across the width of the airfield. Closer inspection revealed multi-barreled, Gatling gun like weapons atop both vehicles.

  “Victor X-ray, Shuttle One. Be advised that there is another bandit force approaching from the north of the airstrip. We are preparing to engage but you need to wrap things up and reverse your front to the north.”

  “Roger Shuttle One. Interrogative size of enemy force?”

  “Company strength, and some of them are mounted.”

  “Armored vehicles?”

  “No, horses.”

  1st Platoon, West of the Airstrip

  The General just got off the radio with the shuttle and did not look like a happy camper. Between Maj Randolf to the south and east, and Capt. Stillwell to the west, they had the remaining bandits trapped in a copse of woods just south of the east-west dirt road. Unfortunately the enemy were still returning fire and had decent cover. They would either have to wait them out or make a frontal assault on the enemy position.

  “Sergeant, we need to wrap these bandits up quickly. We are about to get more company from the north.”

  “If we rush their position we'll take casualties for sure, Sir,” the First Sergeant replied. Even general officers took advice from experienced noncoms, who often had the most practical experience in combat.

  “It's that or leave them where they are, and leaving an effective enemy force in our rear doesn't strike me as the best of ideas.”

  “Uh, pardon me General,” said the white armored giant that contained the crew chief. “I think that the boys and I might be able to flush those hostiles out.”

  “What do you propose, Chief?” At this point the General was ready to take suggestions from any quarter.

  “We aren't really at risk from small arms fire. I figure we could just stroll up to that clump of trees and reason with them.”

  Having no better solution General Crotchet said, “Reason away, Chief.”

  The chief conversed briefly with the other sailors via their suit radios and then addressed the General again. “Have your men pick off any that get by us, though there shouldn't be many.”

  With that, four huge white figures emerged from cover and began converging on the bandits' position from four different directions. As they walked a hail of fire from the outlaws bounced off their armored bodies, jacketed rounds occasionally whining off as ricochets. The sailors halted 15 meters from the woods—they needed that much distance for the 20mm shells to work in time-on-target mode. Setting their rounds to penetrate three meters into the woods they started firing. Three rounds each, bump the range three meters, fire three more, and repeat.

  The clump of trees was thrashed by explosions, severed branches and an occasional body part flying into the air. Silence descended as the sailors ceased firing. Soldiers began cautiously working their way toward the bandit position, but there was no longer any return fire from the clump of trees.

  Observing from his position by the road the General spoke to his First Sergeant. “Sergeant, remind me never to pick a fight with these Moon folks.”

  “Roger that, Sir. That is a big no shitter.”

  Shuttle One, Airstrip

  Ranger Hopkins and Billy Ray watched as the mass of bandits approached from the north, moving onto the open airfield. There looked to be about two hundred infantry and twenty men mounted on horses.

  “How close you figure on lettin' 'em get?” asked the Ranger.

  “Want to get as many in the kill zone as possible.”

  “They're starting to move off into the scrub in small groups.”

  “Yeah, I guess it's time.”

  Billy Ray tapped on the display, then used his fingers to trace several arcs across the mass of approaching enemy. Finally he tapped the word “execute,” highlighted in red at the bottom of the screen. From outside came the sound of dueling bandsaws. Seconds later the air above the bandits blossomed with fire from exploding shells.

  Faster than humanly possible, the robot gunners sprayed alternating streams of canister and antipersonnel explosive rounds at the massed enemy. The canister scythed through equine and human bodies at waist level, the explosive shells burst just overhead as the robots walked the barrage up the airfield until all detected targets had been covered. Flame and flying debris obscured the view. Billy Ray tapped the cease fire control.

  What had been a company of men and horses traversing a white, snow covered field was now a jumble of body parts on a swath of crimson. Wisps of vapor rose from the shredded bodies, condensing in the cold air. Both men stared at the scene through the windscreen. After a half minute of silence, Billy Ray spoke.

  “That is about the most horrific thing I have ever seen.”

  “I thought you'd done this before,” Sid replied, eyes still fixed on the carnage across the airfield.

  “I fight aliens in a starship. When I kill bad guys it's normally from 10,000 kilometers away, and the targets don't bleed, they just disappear in a flash of radiation.”

  “Well, I've killed men before, but it sure was nothing like that out there.”

  “I hear ya.”

  “Damn waste too.”

  “Yup. We could have saved those horses.”

  The two men looked at each other, in that instant coming to an accord—bound together by the knowledge that war was a horribly evil business, but sometimes necessary. As he placed the battle bots into standby mode, Billy Ray called the General.

  “Victor X-ray, Shuttle One. We have neutralized most of the enemy force approaching from the north. Some may have made it off into the brush in all the excitement.”

  “Roger, Shuttle One. We will make a sweep to pick up any strays. Good work.”

  Billy Ray looked back out the windscreen at the ghastly panorama in front of the shuttle and swore to himself, I will never take the Marines for granted again.

>   * * * * *

  The airfield became a hive of activity, with soldiers coming and going in all directions. Some were working with the locals, a number of whom had been hiding in the buildings on the airport grounds. Together they organized a burial detail for the slain bandits—several large dump trucks and a pair of front-end loaders. The bodies would need to be buried, but the location had to be chosen so as not to endanger the local water supply.

  “I've seen carnage on a lot of battlefields, but that there tops them all,” General Crotchet said to Billy Ray and Sid. Catching the pained look on the Commander's face he quickly added, “it was necessary though. If you hadn't stopped them we would have been humped for sure.”

  Lt. Duffy walked up to the three men and said, “Pardon me General, but the patrol we sent up Old Santa Anna Road found some civilians who captured several outlaws. They've hung two and are threatening to hang the rest.”

  “Hanged,” said Sid.

  “Pardon?” the Lieutenant replied.

  “Hanged. A bull is hung, a man is hanged.”

  The comment brought a slight smile to Billy Ray's face and a grunt from the General. “We need to stop that. We definitely don't want the populace taking matters into their own hands.”

  “No, yer right,” Sid sighed, squaring his Stetson on his head and checking his holstered pistol. “This is my territory, and part of the reason I came along.”

  “How's that, Ranger?”

  “When it was an all out battle, it was a military matter. Now that the battle is over it's a law enforcement problem. Can't have people takin' to lynching any suspected outlaw they come across. Those outlaws that got themselves captured need to be taken into town and brought before the magistrate.”

  “You're going to throw them in jail, Ranger Hopkins?” Lt. Duffy asked, voice a bit skeptical.

  “Yup. I'm a peace officer. It's my duty to uphold the rule of law. The alleged outlaws will be charged and tried in a court of law. Then we'll hang 'em.”

  “We managed to capture a couple alive as well,” the General said. “Be happy to let the civilian authorities take them off our hands.”

  Sid nodded. “Maybe the airport folks can loan me some transport, I need to go stop those good people before they string up the rest of their prisoners.”

  “I'll go you one better, Ranger,” Bill Ray offered, pausing to speak into his comm pip. “Chief, have one of the men break out a hover sled and take Ranger Hopkins where he needs to go.”

  “I appreciate that, Commander.”

  “I figure having one of my crew along in a suit of armor might help convince the good people of Brady to turn their prisoners over to you.”

  “Couldn't hurt.” Sid smiled, touched the brim of his hat in a two fingered salute and headed off for the shuttle to collect his ride.

  The three officers watched the Ranger as he walked away. “He's a good man,” said Crotchet. “He helps remind the rest of us that we are a nation of laws. Otherwise things could spin into chaos.”

  “The struggle of all against all, as Hobbs put it,” added Billy Ray, with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Goes back to Locke and Rousseau and the idea of a social contract. Citizens cede their right of individual action to the government, and in turn the government protects its citizens and ensures uniform treatment under law.”

  “I've been in the Army all my life. I've seen countries plunged into banditry and tribal war. Martial law is only a temporary fix, and not a very good one at that. I tell you, Commander, I figure it's worth being a soldier so my family can live in a civil society. I just pray we can preserve some of the good ideas the founding fathers had, here in this new Texas of ours.”

  “Amen, General.” For the first time since going to war against the forces of the Dark Lords, Billy Ray gave thought to where all of this might lead. Maybe, just maybe, we need a few men like Ranger Hopkins on Farside and Mars.

  Chapter 17

  Airport Hotel, Fredericksburg

  The General and most of his men stayed in Brady to help Ranger Hopkins reestablish domestic tranquility. A judge was sent for from the next town over and everyone expected that justice would be swift. The shuttle returned to the Moon for another load of reactors, affording Billy Ray no time to mend fences with Beth. By the time the last two power generators were in place, TK and Beth had departed for Farside themselves. A major front was blowing in and Billy Ray found himself drinking in the Officer's Club bar at the hotel when Ranger Hopkins returned.

  “Want some company, Commander?” the lawman asked, walking up to the bar where Billy Ray stood, one foot on the brass bar rail.

  “Suit yer self, Ranger. Seems all the dignitaries and politicians have left for home.”

  “That include your girlfriend, the lieutenant?”

  Billy Ray took a sip from his beer and took a second to savor the amber liquid before answering. “Yup. She and TK were gone when I got back from the base with the last of the reactors.”

  “She still pissed off?”

  “Yup.”

  “She'll get over it.” The bartender brought Sid a whiskey neat, without being asked. “How long you two been together.”

  “About six months, though together ain't really the right word. She commands the corvette squadron—small interceptors—and I captain a frigate. We're hardly ever in port at the same time.” Why am I telling him this? Billy Ray thought. Do I really need a sympathetic shoulder to cry on?

  “I'm a pretty fair judge of character, sort of comes with the job. You two seem like a good match.”

  “You ever been with a warrior woman, Sid?” Billy Ray asked. This was the first time he had called the Ranger by his given name.

  “Went with a biker chick once.”

  “Ain't the same thing.”

  The two men sampled their drinks and stared in amicable silence at the display of bottles on the mirrored wall behind bar.

  “So let me get this straight, you're both commanding officers, her of a squadron of interceptors and you of a warship?”

  “Yeah, I guess we've both gotten used to being in-charge.”

  “But you two still managed to get together.”

  “Yeah, during the few moments we're both in port.”

  “At least you don't have to explain yer job to her.”

  “Nope. That is a plus.”

  Again drinks were sipped contemplatively.

  “Best stay together. Who else would put up with you?”

  “You got a point there, pardner,” Billy Ray replied with a wry smile. I guess it is a good thing, having someone to tell your troubles to. After a moment's reflection, he changed the subject.

  “I've been thinkin', Farside and the Mars Colony are really just military outposts right now. But eventually, there are gonna be a lot of civilians in both places. Hell, the science types think they can terraform Mars using knowledge they've pulled out of the artifact. It'll never be Earth, but people will be able to walk around without spacesuits one day.”

  “That would be something,” Sid agreed, glad to see Billy Ray was no longer moping over relationship problems.

  “Just thinkin', when that day comes we will probably need some fellers like you. You know, lawmen, keepers of the peace.”

  “I got plenty to keep me busy right here in Texas,” the Ranger replied.

  “Not sayin' anytime soon. Just something to keep in the back of your head.”

  “I'll do that, Billy Ray.” Sid drained his glass. “You need another beer?”

  Billy Ray turned around and leaned back on the bar, watching the snow fall outside. The meteorologists on Farside said it would probably snow for the next 24 hours.

  “That sounds like a good idea, Sid. Can't fly in this weather, may as well drink.”

  Housing Block #12, Farside Base

  The core of Farside's nascent anarchist movement was meeting in a member's apartment. They made it a point to never meet in the same location twice, in case they were being watched. Loud mus
ic was playing while the conspirators huddled with their heads together, speaking in lowered voices. They did not call each other by name. This was in case their rooms were bugged their leader, Todor, explained.

  They were right to assume that the public areas of the base were kept under surveillance, though more for public safety than to thwart terrorist plots. Thousands of video cameras fed a cluster of computers running sophisticated pattern recognition software, intended to detect any unusual activity which might indicate an accident or life threatening situation. Private residences, however, were not monitored by the computer network or by human security personnel.

  “Welcome, brothers and sisters. Have you brought the items you were assigned?” The last time they met, Todor tasked each of the inner circle—those he deemed most trustworthy—to acquire material that was not readily available on the Moon base. Among them were cotton rags, glass containers and flammable liquids.

  Given that fire in an enclosed environment was rightly considered a great threat, most of the materials used to construct the base were not combustible. Neither were there ready supplies of oil or gasoline, since there were no automobiles or other equipment with internal combustion engines. Even scented oil for lamps and lighter-fluid were proscribed.

  Pulling a couple of liter sized plastic bottles from his backpack, a man named Ben replied with a look of grim satisfaction. “I got these from the cleaning supplies. They sent me alone to clean some spilled paint. The supervisor though he was punishing me for goofing off, but it gave me a chance to swipe these.”

  “Outstanding! Now all we need are some containers to put the liquid in.”

  “Yeah. I managed to lift these wine bottles from the trash at the upper deck dining area,” Sylvia replied. Normally the bottles were sent for disposal, to be turned into rounded gravel and then dumped into the aquaculture tanks. No glass containers were manufactured on the base, all consumables coming in safer, plastic bottles.