“I’m sorry, Colonel. What am I looking at?”
“That’s an official sanction by the Council. It’s in response to a tip we received through official channels about contraband being brought through these docks.”
“Contraband?” Fitz nearly laughed at the word. Every day, untold amounts of contraband moved through the Cronian docks. While Dione hardly handled the lion’s share, the usual rigors of inspections and official seals accounted for most of it. At no point did it warrant an investigation by a colonel from the Gendarmerie. At best, they would send a lieutenant along on a fishing expedition.
Again, Fitz needed some key details. “What could be so important that you felt the need to round up all my workers?”
“I’m not at liberty to say that, sir.”
“Why not?”
The colonel, contrary to Fitz’s expectations, didn’t become agitated by the question. Taking a deep breath, he looked to over his shoulder at a ship docked just beyond the assembled workers. A standard transport vehicle, one which had been brought into one of the dock’s many berths. Standard practice for light transports waiting to be unloaded. Only this time, the berth had been cordoned off and many officers were standing around it.
“Oh my,” Fitz said. What the hell is going on at my docks?
“Mr. Fitz, we’re going to need your cooperation,” the colonel continued. “Our officers are executing a search warrant on that transport. And so far, your staff has been of limited assistance.”
Fitz shot the colonel a harsh look. He regretted that and quickly replaced it with a neutral expression. The tension in the hangar was plain as day. The last thing he needed to do was add to it. Fitz was still in need of some answers as well.
“Has anyone in my staff impeded your investigation, sir?”
The colonel placed his hands and the tablet behind his back. “It’s not a question of impeding as much as... suspicion, sir.”
Fitz smiled. Despite the differences in their levels of authority, the colonel was in a delicate spot. Given the current political climate, the Gendarmerie didn’t want to alienate anyone unnecessarily. Dock workers, for their part, were known for being well-organized and scrappy, not to mention essential. No one wanted to make an enemy of them if they could help it.
“What do you mean, suspicion?” Fitz came back.
“I mean, the information we received indicated that some of your workers are affiliated.”
The colonel emphasized this last word and let it hang in the air for a moment. No further explanation was needed. The veiled accusation it implied certainly made Fitz feel less in charge of the situation. He replied in the only way he could.
“Colonel, I can assure you, no one on my staff is affiliated with the Centimanes.”
The colonel stepped towards him, emphasizing their differences in height - which mirrored their differences in authority.
“Are you certain of that, sir? Can you account for their activities when they’re not here?’
Fitz felt a hot sensation rising in his chest that he fought to contain. It was like choking down bile. Ever since the infamous trial of the Ganymede Five, things had become crazy in the Outer Worlds. Suddenly, everyone was a suspect and the Gendarmerie didn’t care who they stepped on. The Centimanes were hardly better, but at least they weren’t rounding people up and treating them all like terrorists.
“No one on my staff is affiliated, Colonel,” Fitz repeated. “We’re a tightly-knit group, and I know their hearts and minds.”
The colonel smirked and looked back at the cordoned-off transport. His officers were now exiting the transport, a team of them pushing a heavy pallet with a large crate on it. When the colonel looked back at Fitz, the smirk became a beaming grin. “Clearly, somebody on Titan knows them better, sir.
Fitz watched as the crate was brought down to the edge of the mooring area. Carefully, the officers removed it from the pallet and set it down. Another team moved in, armored suits protecting their heads and faces, and began opening the crate.
When the top was removed, there was a brief pause. Fitz couldn’t see what was inside, but the way the officers were carrying on didn’t inspire confidence. One of the officers, then another, signaled to the colonel. He issued the same hand signal back, then explained for Fitz’s benefit.
“Ammunition,” he said. “Rather specific varieties, in fact. You don’t generally see such ordnance being shipped through Vesta to the Outer Worlds. But a kind tip from Interpol allowed us to trace its route here.” The colonel turned back to Fitz. His smile was now venomous. “How do you imagine they planned to get such cargo through this dock without someone on the inside?”
Fitz shook his head. Despite the rather shocking surprise, he still felt confident in his conviction that none of his people were in on this.
“Colonel last I checked, suspicion wasn’t a basis of proof. You and your crew have intercepted an illegal package, and that is commendable. But that does not -”
“Kifo kwa die ugnetatelyam!”
The Colonel spun around. His officers all raised their weapons at a common source. Fitz had just enough time to see what was happening.
It was Baccu. His left arm now ended at the elbow. What Fitz had known to be a prosthetic limb was now beeping in his right hand. Several officers tried to open fire but were blocked from the dock workers running in all directions. Mercifully, Baccu waited until the last of them were clear. The terrible look on his face let Fitz knew he was committed.
“Uasi!” he cried.
Fitz tried to call out, but the breath was knocked out of him by the colonel’s shoulder, which was slammed into him and drove him to the ground. The cracking of his back as it slapped against the deck was barely audible over the deafening roar coming from beyond them.
Fitz wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Slowly, the world began to take shape around him again. The Colonel was raising himself from on top of him. The hangar was suddenly empty. Where dozens of bodies had been standing around, now there was an absence. Officers began to fill the area again within seconds, followed by medics and a few workers running to his side.
Within this maelstrom, Fitz had only one thought.
The revolution had come to Dione.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GROWING UP IN THE 80S and 90s Matthew Williams was born in to science fiction. He enjoyed many of the infamous SF franchises of the time and read many of science fiction's most influential works. As an adult, Matt marveled at those SF novels which stood the test of time, while making valuable observations of the human condition, and he decided to create his own novels.
As a professional writer for Universe Today, Matt is well-versed in many nerdy topics ranging from: spaceflight to terraforming, Earth sciences to physics, and the future of human space exploration. He has interviewed many of today’s top scientific minds and NASA personnel, and been a featured speaker at astronomy societies. His articles have appeared in such publications as Business Insider, Science Alert, Phys.org, HeroX, Pionic, Gizmodo, Futurism and IO9. The Cronian Incident is his first published novel.
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Jovian Manifesto (The Formist Series Book 2)
The Jovian Manifesto (The Formist Series Book 2) Page 31
