by Chris Hechtl
“Where there is life, there is hope, ma'am. Like I said, we'll do what we can for him. In time we … I don't know when, but we'll send in a medic team to help those like him.”
“And do what?”
“We can regen stuff now, ma'am, or prosthetics,” the marine offered. She blinked at him. He shrugged. “Regen will help with the soft tissue. I'm not a medic though, ma'am; you'll have to talk to them.”
“So you are saying the only way to help him to get him back to normal is …,” she pointed upwards.
He looked at her and then nodded.
“Then that's what we'll do,” she said firmly, coming to a decision his tired mind didn't quite grasp fully. “I'll make it happen,” she said with a determined nod. “In the meantime, we still have a war to win. I'll do my best to help. I understand your people have been looking for surviving leadership?”
The marine nodded.
“My husband was a city councilman. I suppose I can lend a hand,” the woman said.
“Any help would be gratefully appreciated, ma'am,” Race said, extending his hand. She looked at it, then took it to shake.
>*…*<>*…*<
While the trials had gotten underway, a new government had been formed by self-appointed volunteers to deal with the management of the people, utilities, and to coordinate with the outsiders. Miss Yuzle, Miss Clarke, and Miss Forge acted as liaisons to the marines, bridging the gap between them and the native population.
None of the old guard had survived the hammering the pirates had put them through. Many had been killed as object lessons to submit to their new rulers. Others had fled and were missing and presumed dead.
A few days after the executions, a crude hand vote was held in every town and village square to elect new representatives. It was guarded by marines and volunteers and staffed by more volunteers. The election results were announced that evening, and the next morning the new government officials were nervously sworn in as the self-appointed people stepped down.
The government settled into the temporary council chambers and felt out their roles for the first day before they buckled down to serious work. The first two items on their agenda was seeing to the people, rebuilding the infrastructure, and restarting the planet's economy. The second was hunting down the remaining pirates. To that end they approached Lewis.
They formed militia with Lewis's blessing and then armed them with former Horathian gear as well as any police and hunting gear that they had left over. Thousands of grim faced people volunteered. Lewis turned their outfitting and initial training over to the noncoms while he dealt with the government. Over the course of a week, they negotiated a deal with the lieutenant to supply his people as well as provide them basing rights.
He insisted the agreement be formalized so the planetary secretary wrote up the agreement, then haggled with him over the details until he'd been ready to shoot himself.
After his frustrations became apparent, Hanna took over the negotiations for Lewis. He gratefully went back to juggling the other balls he had to handle like overseeing the noncoms’ militia training and coordinating his own people. By far a lot of his time was sucked up coordinating his far-flung forces who were either securing important sites or chasing the pirates.
The men were amused as Hanna went into a serious dicker mode. That amusement turned to respect as they realized she wouldn't compromise her duty to her planet or her duty to the marines. After she picked up some hints from Lewis, she also got her own people thinking about reforming the planet's constitution and government as well.
>*…*<>*…*<
Autumn came and so did the turning of the weather. The beating sun stopped heating the air and soil as the leaves on the trees and other plants changed color and began to fall. Clouds turned to storms, which brought needed rain to the ravaged farm fields. They did indeed need it; they needed every scrap of food they could gather for the coming long, hard winter. But the rains were as much a curse as a blessing. The torrential downpour of environmental grief over the civilization's suffering led to flooding in some areas as well as mudslides where the fires had ravaged the hills and forests.
Just as things were settling down again, Bounty came into the system to bring them back. She announced her presence with a radio message to Collier 2's skipper, along with a happy report of their recent adventure.
News of the destroyer's arrival hit the grateful marines and the population like a gift of fresh air. Lewis sighed in relief; he'd thought Bounty and her consorts taking on the pirates in B101a1 had been insane, a suicide mission much like his own. To hear that they hadn't just survived but triumphed made him swell with pride and practically strut. Sing was doing that very thing for the both of them, and Padre had his chest puffed up in pride.
Then news of the battle of B101a1 rocketed through the population. Grim celebrations broke out spontaneously across the planet as each cluster of civilization got the word. The idea that the pirates could be fought, that they could be beaten had sunken in over the long summer and autumn campaign, but the idea was driven home to rest with the news of the battle. The idea of Fleet Admiral Irons, a living legend, of his return and how he wanted to help sent thousands of eager people to sign up with the navy and marines. The numbers held steady even after Captain McGuyver transmitted the admiral's short message to the planet's government and media. The admiral's invitation to join the reborn Federation was eagerly debated by many people in pubs and on the street. There wasn't much thought about how they could do it; after all, he'd already done the impossible. The question was when. That made a lot of people want to be there when he did. It was a favored dream of most people to return to the golden age of the Federation. Irons and those who followed him were going to make it happen.
Even more people signed on with the military when Bounty delivered hundreds of tons of goods and equipment she had created in transit as well as materials the admiral had sent along to them. Food replicators, solar panels, small power plants, survival gear, water filtration units, communications gear, pocket computers, all sorts of things to help the population survive the coming winter. Not only survive, but bootstrap their way back to a better tomorrow.
Once she was in orbit, Bounty also participated in finding pockets of Horathians. Sensory officers with little to do found themselves pressed into duty either going over the raw takes from the network of satellites or using the ship's sensors to find targets on the ground. Lieutenant Bounty did his best to aid in their project.
The crew used the ship sensors to try to nail down any surviving Horathian energy signatures. Those that a shuttle couldn't easily access were marked down, and a drone was sent to probe them. If it encountered heavy resistance, the ship fired a kinetic strike into the area on her next pass over the site.
They also found some pockets of refugees who had fled into hills as well. They had hidden in caves and had at first been mistaken as pirates until a drone had made contact with them.
Once the situation was considered “secure,” the crew were also given short shore leaves on the ground in small lots. But that meant Lewis and his marines had to act as shore patrol to protect them and the patrons of the bars the squids frequented near the spaceport. He wasn't sure about the wisdom of the whole thing. Yeah, the squids needed the time off; his people did as well.
“Sir, my people can't be everywhere at once. We can't guard our own facilities and your people and do field OPS,” Lieutenant Lewis protested. “Even with some of your marines for shore patrol, we're still shorthanded.”
“It's all a part of the plan, Lieutenant,” Captain McGuyver informed him over the radio. “I too am concerned about our people getting hit, but they all know the risks.”
“Sir, can I be clued into the plan? We're not using our people as bait, are we?” he demanded.
“What? No! Frack no! No, nope, not the plan at all. What I meant was the big picture. We're trying to build the fleet, to rebuild the Federation. Those people are going down, spending
credits and more importantly, telling stories. Some of them are grim stories, but people will be intrigued. They'll listen, and they'll pass them along.”
“I … see,” Craig said, sitting heavily. It didn't make sense.
“Propaganda has its uses, Lieutenant. The telling of this tale and your tale will grow and grow. It will intimidate our enemies and inspire our own people. Inspire them to fight. To do more than sit in apathy eking out a meager living. To look to the stars once more.”
“I … if you say so, sir. It's a bit over my head.”
“Think about it.”
“I'll run it past Race when I get the chance. He's my intel specialist.”
“Use him while you've got him. I understand he's headed up here soon,” the captain warned. Craig made a face and then nodded.
“Aye aye, sir.”
>*…*<>*…*<
Lieutenant Lewis was torn between duty to marines and duty to people he had sworn to help and protect. He oversaw the incoming teams with trepidation. When he got the chance, he caught up with Bounty's skipper when he landed to meet the planet's new government.
Work crews from Bounty went aboard the yacht. They did an initial survey, then pronounced the ship was salvageable. “She's got good bones, sir, very good. Her frame is perfect. Life support, computers, and integrity are all good. She's been picked over but only lightly,” Lewis overheard when the navy petty officer reported to the captain. He waited his turn patiently to talk to the skipper.
“Good to hear,” Ian said with an unseen nod. He glanced at the marine standing at polite attention near him but not near enough to crowd him. He held up a finger and then tapped his head to indicate he was in the middle of an implant conversation. The marine nodded respectfully.
“Sir, are we going to fix her up and just leave her? It seems a shame,” the petty officer asked.
Captain McGuyver shot the marine lieutenant an inscrutable look and then shrugged. “I don't know. We certainly don't have the parts to fix her right now. But I'll look into it,” he said.
“If we can tow her or dock with her and haul her out, I'm pretty sure the admiral could find a use for her, sir. After all, she's a courier.”
“Finish the survey with an eye in that regard. I'll ask the people here if they are willing to sign it over to us. I may need to do some horse trading to get her,” Ian said thoughtfully. He wasn't sure if they could dock with the ship and return her to B100 omega. Also, what it would do to their schedule. The added mass would certainly slow them down in hyper. He made a mental note to talk it over with his crew and then with the natives. No sense getting everyone's hopes up if it couldn't be done.
“We could ask the freighter to haul her, sir,” the petty officer said with a butter wouldn't melt in his mouth tone.
Ian snorted. “Good idea. I'll pass it along. We need to figure out if we can haul her before we go asking nicely for it,” he said.
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Carry on,” he said turning to the marine.
“Sir, Lieutenant Lewis,” Lewis said, saluting. The captain snorted and returned the salute.
“Been a while, Craig. I'm glad you are still alive,” he said, holding out his hand. Craig shook it.
“And kicking too, sir. Kicking ass all over this planet. But we're still up to our necks in shit here, sir.”
“I see. And I see you borrowed my marine compliment to get some more done while they are here,” the captain said in approval. He waved for them to walk. “Come on, let's get out of this sun. Walk with me,” he ordered.
“Aye aye, sir,” the marine said with a nod as he stepped to the officer's side.
He talked to Captain Ian McGuyver on the side while they made their way through the growing spaceport, letting his misgivings show as he gave his verbal report.
Ian studied him for a long moment. Long enough to make the marine uncomfortable. “So, you're the man on the ground, Son; what do you want to do about it?”
“I … sir, I want to finish what we started,” the lieutenant said.
“I'd think the natives could do that now that they have the upper hand,” Ian replied.
“Yes sir, they can, but …,” Lewis shrugged uncomfortably. “Sir, I don't like leaving a job unfinished. Not this job. I don't like what it said about us. I want all of them. All the bastards. I won't sleep right until I know they aren't behind us. And it'll be hell finding out later that they hurt someone because we didn't finish the job, sir.”
“Okay.”
“I …,” Lewis blinked, “Wait, did you say okay, sir?”
Captain McGuyver nodded. He patted Lewis on the shoulder. “Yes. We'll trade your wounded for some fresh people I've got in Bounty's ship's company and some supplies.”
Lewis's mind raced. He frowned thoughtfully, gathering his thoughts, then nodded. “Sir, we can do better than that.”
“Oh?”
Lewis told him about the volunteers and deals he had been making with the local leaders. Ian listened, cocking his head. The lieutenant had done a damn good job making ties to the community and a bang-up job getting them to not only fight back, but to help.
“Are there other … closer reasons for remaining, Lieutenant?” McGuyver eventually asked gently, looking at Hanna. She had her right profile to them, hair up in a loose pony tail. She took it off and shook her hair out. It glittered in the sun.
“Her, sir? She's … a friend. A close friend. She's attached herself to me but well ….”
“Attached herself?”
“Sort of an aide, sir,” Lewis replied with an uncomfortable shrug. “Steward, government liaison, whatever you want to call it.”
Ian nodded thoughtfully. “I see.” His lips puckered ever so slightly in a hint of a smile. “Got your own keeper whether you wanted one or not. Is there more to the relationship than that though?” he asked, eying the marine. He didn't like the idea of the marine taking advantage of a lonely woman adrift by the damn pirates.
Lewis shrugged. “I like her, but I'm not going to take advantage of her. She's been through enough hell, sir,” Lewis said, jaw working as he let the hint drop. Ian scowled and then nodded slightly. He returned his gaze to the young woman's profile again. She looked good in the sundress and apron she was wearing.
“Well, from the look of her, she's a strong woman. When one like her makes up their mind, best go along with it. It's easier on you.”
“I doubt she thinks of me in that way, sir,” Lewis replied with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Well, no one really knows a woman's mind, Son. Give it time,” Ian replied with a slight smile. “And you jarheads aren't the only ones who are known to be hard headed and stubborn.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
>*…*<>*…*<
Hanna was nervous about Lewis leaving her. Just when things were looking up, things were really moving on the planet he was planning to leave. She angrily flipped through papers. She was torn; she knew it. Emotions roiled through her. Bitterness was apparent as was exasperation over her emotional turmoil. She watched him talking with the captain out of the corner of her eye. She waved him off when he approached her after talking to the ship's captain.
“Just like all the others. Leave the job half-ass finished. Typical male,” she snarled when he approached her. She turned and glared spitefully at him.
“Hanna, I don't have a choice. I am an officer, a marine. We go where we are told. I came here, didn't I?” he asked. She didn't answer. “And others will need my help now that your planet is back on its feet. The question is ….” He frowned then got up the nerve to ask. “Do you want to go too?” he asked in a rush.
She shook like a leaf, staring at the horizon. He would ask that; she wanted to be with him. She fought tears, closing her eyes as she came to that reluctant realization and where it most likely would lead.
“Well, as it happens, I'm staying,” he finally said.
She turned in surprise
and blinked at him in confusion.
He smiled a wan smile. “Yeah, that's right, you're not getting rid of me that easily. I talked with Captain McGuyver. He's in agreement. We'll send the ship back with some volunteers who want to sign up with the navy or marines. But most of us veterans will stay here with the mechs and equipment to hunt the rest of the bastards down while bringing your militia up to speed.”
She ducked her head, hand over her mouth, turning away from him. She wanted more than ever to turn into his arms, feel his support but couldn't let herself weaken in that way. Her pride was too important.
He realized that she was torn but happy on several levels. He didn't know what to do though. He wanted to hug her, but she was too fragile. “I'm not finished here, not by a long shot,” he said, feeling lame as he backed away.
She felt his shadow and presence depart. “Good,” she said ever so softly. After a moment she turned and caught up to him. “Come on. We've still got a lot of work to do. Let's get what we can out of this ship while she's still here,” she urged, breaking into a trot. “She's got replicators, right?” she demanded over her shoulder. His chuckle was her only answer as he picked up speed to catch up.
>*…*<>*…*<
While checking rubble for IEDs, John Quest picked up a tagalong, a white neopug mutt puppy he named Bandit after the black raccoon mask he sported. The little guy was cowardly at first but soon grew a spine with the private's quiet encouragement. He also had a knack for finding the explosive devices using his acute sense of smell to sniff them out.
Hadji and Quest managed to convince Padre to allow them to keep the pup since his family had been slaughtered. The bulldog pug had expressed an interest in joining the marines, so Padre had kicked it upstairs to Lewis. Lewis had been busy at the time, and since they needed all the hands they could get, he'd agreed on the condition that the two keep the civvie out of combat as much as possible and that he was their responsibility. That seemed to sober Quest a bit.
The situation became even more complicated when he picked up another tagalong; this one a teenage female human by the name of Jessie Bradshaw. The young brunette was feisty and smart. She had no problem fighting the pirates either, having apparently bailed Quest, Bandit, and Hadji out of an ambush.
