by Matt Thomas
They placed the coffin in the back of one of the pickup trucks and drove slowly up the trail on the side of the mountain. Everyone came, leaving the lodge completely unguarded. Sensors remained in place, and Siskind had his radio and Loki feed with him, propped up against one of the trees. Everyone had their weapons, of course, either resting against rocks or slung behind their backs, but, for those few moments, the team surrendered their constant vigilance.
Bryan and Raghnal slid the coffin out of the back of the truck. Taylor was heavy. Starek and Perkins moved forward to help. Together, they placed the coffin on the shallow depression they had carved out of the stony ground next to the stones to be piled on it. They stepped back, Bryan with his thumbs hooked into the belt, head down. The coffin had a photo of Taylor inserted in the cover, printed with his serial number, staring up at the sky. No name, rank, unit appeared anywhere on the coffin, or on the body. Kearney and Jedynak had sterilized the body, just in case the Hetarek found it. He stared at his soldier’s intact face in the photo, in full uniform in front of a flag, knowing that he had a similar photo with a similar purpose stored on a hard-drive somewhere. They all did.
A bird called nearby, and Bryan looked up, distracted.
“Kevin was telling me the other day, yesterday I guess, maybe the day before, but he was telling me about how much he wanted to go up Rainier to set up the transmitter.” Perkins said, his soft voice unnaturally loud in the stillness. “He said he wanted to race OTIS.”
“That fucker would’ve beaten OTIS, too.” Raghnal added. “Taylor’s a beast. He kicks my ass every time we work out. I feel... felt so old and weak next to him.”
“You are old and weak.” Smysthyne said without enthusiasm. “Kevin kept talking about how he wanted to show his daughter a horse. He said he’d never seen one but she was obsessed with them.”
“That’s why he said he volunteered.” Perkins replied. “One of the Metic Ahai asked why we were helping them and he said ‘this is the only way she’s ever going to get to see a horse.’” After the mention of the Metic Ahai, everyone suppressed their instant anger. It wouldn’t help.
Bryan shook his head. “He loved that little girl so much. Hated his ex-wife, but he just wouldn’t shut up about his little girl.”
“I’ll package up all the hard-copy photos of her he had lying around.” Raghnal said. “He had that box of trinkets he kept picking up along the way he was going to give her when she got here. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
No one spoke for several moments. Ragnhal got down on one knee, placing his hand on the coffin and bowing his head in respect. One by one, each of the rest of the team did the same. Kneeling beside his fallen teammate, Bryan wondered how such a large man and all he had done could fit into such a small box. He couldn’t visualize the man who urged and coaxed novice fighters into an insurgency, or the man who turned scraps found around the lodge into a gym, or the man who quietly pranked his teammate Perkins nearly every time they went on mission together even though neither had a sense of humor apparent to anyone else.
Bryan shut off the thoughts. He had to. He had to stand up, step back, and plan the next mission. Taylor was dead. He would miss him. Everyone would miss him. But the Hetarek would not miss him. The operation to retake Earth would not miss him. The pain and rage beginning to well up inside needed to go into a box, and it would only get in the box when they stepped away from the grave.
So he did.
After he stood, feet still apart, shoulders still slouched, thumbs still tucked into his belt, the others started moving on with him.
As the leader, he probably should have started, but it was Kendrick who began to sing, gravelly and off-key. Without accompaniment, as they all had too many times to count, they said goodbye with a simple ballad as their brethren had done for more than two hundred years. Each battle-hardened warrior paused next to the casket, bowed his or her head, and breathed deep. Bryan knelt, closed his eyes, and placed a calloused hand on the cold container. When he stood up, he said the words. “De oppresso liber.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
They met in an abandoned warehouse on the west side of the mountains. Much of the strip of industrial buildings along the valley had been converted to Hetarek support, motor pools, administration buildings, and barracks fitted with massive heaters to keep the occupiers somewhat comfortable. The pockets of humans amongst the largely Hetarek and Metic Ahai were few and far between. It was easy to get lost amongst the sprawl, which is what Bryan has depended upon in setting up the meeting.
The humans across from him wore the usual hodge-podge of clothing, carrying whatever weapons the team had scavenged for them or they has acquired for themselves. The differences between this group and the others from the east side were numbers and training. Most of Bryan’s time had been spent with Lucas MacIntyre and his band, training them to fight as a team. Lucas had provided contacts, and Ava and Julian had set up meetings.
The men and women across from him filled a different role. Jess had provided them extensive and advanced training for more intensive missions. They sabotaged instead of ambushed. They spied instead of patrolled. Cho’s people harnessed their anger, intensified by their daily encounters with their oppressors as they lived directly under the Hetarek claw. They didn’t live lives of remote control, they were enslaved by daily encounters with their slavers. The rage they felt could be harnessed for short, high-intensity engagements. Besides, Lucas’ teams had become problematic since the Metic Ahai shot two of their own.
This small group ought to be able to handle a straight-forward harassment mission. Or so Bryan hoped.
He drew in dirt they'd spread out in the ground for the model. He outlined buildings and streets before marking the target.
"The main motor pool is here. Directly across from it is an old hotel. Whatever you do, don't use that for cover. They'll be able to get across the street pretty easy. Two blocks away is a four story office building. It has lots of open space inside, and it’s far enough away for you to buy time to get out once they counter assault."
"If we're that far away, how are we going to assault the building in the first place?" Their main contact, a young man scarred from a lifetime of hauling hazardous materials for the Hetarek, said.
Bryan looked up at the man, Sebastian Cho, looming over him a set of tattered coveralls. "You're not. The point is to hit them there and make them devote resources there instead if elsewhere. Provoke a significant response. Draw them out into a counter attack, then break contact."
Cho considered it for a moment. "Sounds easy enough. What are we going to do to get they're attention?"
"We'll get you some heavy weapons. I can't get you one of my guys because we're going to be elsewhere..."
"Wherever you need us to draw resources from I'm sure."
"Something like that. Anyway, we'll have some Metic Ahai deliver weapons and comms to you."
Cho shook his head enthusiastically. The other humans began to shift uncomfortably. "I have to stop you right there. I'm not crazy about being bait for you, but I'm not working with the Metic Ahai."
Bryan stood. "I don't understand. You've had no issue working with them before."
"I never enjoyed it but I at least got the concept that we were on the same side. I never worried if one them decided to kill my guys instead of Hetarek like they did to you."
"I'm surprised you heard about that."
Cho placed his hands on his hips and leaned in, his voice starting to raise in irritation. "And I can't believe you didn't immediately tell us to cut our contacts with them the second it happened."
Bryan held out his hands, but Starek answered for him. "It's not a great idea to talk about our operations outside of the cells we have you in. It's more risky that the Hetarek catch someone and unravel the whole plan than one lone wolf Metic Ahai doing something suicidally crazy."
"It's not crazy to him if the Hetarek told him to do it.” Cho pointed out. �
��They work for the Hetarek. The Hetarek control them."
"They're oppressed by the Hetarek just like you." Bryan replied, although without the conviction he may once have mustered.
"And they turn around and oppress us. That's how the food chain goes. The Hetarek pull the strings, the Metic Ahai are their administrators, and we're the labor." Bryan had heard the argument enough before.
"Let's say the Hetarek did make that happen.” The officer remained calm. “They clearly did it to shove a wedge between you and the Metic Ahai. If we stop cooperating now, it means they succeeded.”
“That wedge was already there.” Cho narrowed his eyes. “And we never cooperated with them. We cooperated with you. I trust you all. I don’t trust the Metic Ahai. I don’t want them knowing where we are or who we are.”
“But they already know that.” Jess injected. “You’re sacrificing effectiveness for nothing.”
“We’re choosing to protect ourselves and all it’s costing us is an intermediary. We’re dealing with you directly now. We can keep working with you directly. Look, we’re not like MacIntyre’s people. We’re not going to throw a fit, blame you, and cut ourselves off from you guys. But we’re not going to work with the Metic Ahai.”
Jess exchanged glances with Bryan. Starek nodded.
“I can try to get you comms and weapons another way. Maybe through Julian, if he’s willing to risk carrying weapons.”
“You mean if Ava’s willing to let him carry weapons.” Cho said, lightening the mood slightly.
“Something like that. If we can’t get you heavy weapons...”
“We’ll still find a way to make it work.” Cho assured them. “What are you going to be doing while we’re engaged?”
“We have some recon we need to do.” Bryan remained as vague as possible, not wanting to let on that their real intent was to risk a meeting with a contact.
“Fair enough.” Cho turned back to his men. “You all got any questions?” They all shook their heads. “Well, CHowe, we’ll get this done for you.”
They shook hands. The small
Special Forces team stepped back out of the warehouse and joined Smythstyne in the truck.
Jess rubbed her temples. “This is not going well.”
*****
Berne sat down across from Xander, nothing remotely healthy on his plate and two cups of coffee. The only people eating the midnight meal were those few needed in the operations center in half an hour for Eighty-Two Twenty-Two's next operation.
Xander picked at the snack of flavored protein and hydroponically grown vegetables. He did pollute himself with what passed for coffee. He'd grown to appreciate the burnt flavor of a mass produced brew that had sat on a warmer for several hours.
"Did you see Bryan's report on that Metic Ahai thing a few weeks back? The one that killed Taylor?"
Xander nodded. "I was pretty relieved the local Doyen still talked to him." Bryan stared at his boss as the man who looked ridiculously fit, even in his mid forties, shoved more fried fake meat in his mouth.
"Why shouldn't he?" Crumbs fell out of Berne’s mouth as he talked. "His dude killed Taylor in cold blood."
"And humans killed three allied Metic Ahai in return."
"Two." CHOPS corrected. "Bryan's shoot was righteous."
Xander shook his head. "I think the Metic Ahai see it differently, sir."
Berne squinted hard. "I know you're not going soft on me, Xander."
"I'm not, sir, but..."
"Good. I’m not losing sleep over any of them, and I know Bryan sure as fuck isn’t." Berne said sharply before taking another bite. "What do you make of his conclusion?"
"That the Hetarek promised that guy something? It completely makes sense. They say they'll move his family somewhere, or give them basic freedom or something, it makes sense. Especially since that's what happened to his entire extended family. They got all moved down to that Hetarek facility in the tropics to do live in something closer to their natural habitat."
"Or so the Hetarek told everyone.” Berne pointed out. “If they wanted future recruits, it's a good narrative to tell. They could’ve killed them and we’d never know."
"What worries me more is that the Hetarek must have known to approach that guy. It means they know who's helping."
"It could be that they just put out a general bounty."
Xander shook his head. "Then we'd have other reporting of it. It makes more sense that they targeted this guy, offered him a carrot for his family, and probably some kind of stick in case he didn't comply."
The Chief of Operations drained his first cup of coffee. "The Metic Ahai are definitely a risk. But I don't think we have to worry about it too much. It doesn't look like they and the humans are going to play nicely anymore."
"It's going to happen again. The Hetarek had so much success, they'll want to give it another shot. I just wish I could give Bryan something to work with so he can get these people better it's driving me nuts. What if they get to a human next time? What if it's not a guy with an antique shotgun it's a dude with some explosives?"
"You gotta trust Bryan. That guy’s got one hell of a head on his shoulders. And he's there. You're here.”
“Yeah but I’m not doing him any good if I can’t give him anything.”
Berne put down his food and stared Xander in the eye. “You know how this goes. You've been there. When you’re neck deep in the fight, getting shot at every fucking day, killings motherfuckers every fucking day, you don't have time to stress about shit like this. You've got more important things to worry about. But you sit here in front of a fucking computer all day, and that's all you've got time to do. Trust him, and do your job but don't stress about doing your job. You’re no good to anyone worrying away at your desk. You'll have your nervous breakdown with the rest of us when we're sitting on Earth drinking cocktails. So what are you going to do to help Bryan?" He talked right through, not giving Xander time to interject or wallow in his frustration at a situation light years from where they sat.
Xander considered the immediate question, focusing on the short-range problem. “The Ahai are utilitarian to a fault. If the Hetarek are painting a broad picture, we need to paint an even broader picture. I’ll get with S’Maned and see if he can put together a better argument for Bryan to make. Maybe he can give me some insight on vetting, too.”
“If you have to.” The tablet sitting on the table by his hand flashed an alert. “I guess it’s time to sit around and watch again.”
*****
Jean hated himself for enjoying the quiet ready room. Personal space came at a premium, and the Aeneas missions, exhausting as they were, began to spoil him. As much as he'd felt uneasy at first, the days drifting on the edge of the Solar System became something akin to a day off. He always paid for it the next day, of course, operating on so little quality sleep. At least, between catnaps that restored him poorly, he had time to himself. But that solicitude was different than sitting in the pilot's lounge and briefing room, usually filled to its small but very comfortable capacity of eight, now empty save himself. One crew was dead, their chairs sitting empty, no one bothering to fill them with clutter out of either respect or superstition. Another crew fell off flight status, and, despite Lead's promise to assist with various leadership responsibilities, she stuck around for no more than a week before relocating to the carrier Intrepid. Sasha and been helping Jean assume those duties, and, surprisingly, he was good at it when he didn't disappear to the ship's gym for more than an hour twice a day. As he was for the moment, while Jean tried to fairly balance duties for overworked crews he barely knew spread across two other battleships.
The quiet only lasted until Quinn burst into the room. He wore a mismatch of uniform pants, a work-out shirt, and a pair of sandals no where near regulation. Flight crews got some slack but not that much.
"Having a little casual day, Quinn?" He mostly meant it as a good natured way to remind his fello
w weapons officer to get dressed. They weren't on alert status at the moment. Still, decorum went a long way.
Quinn grumbled, not exactly an appropriate response but one Jean could live with.
Quinn stepped over to the Alpha roster, showing assigned duties and flight schedules.
"That's fucking bullshit!" He yelled, staring accusingly first at the monitor and then at Costeaux. "What the fuck?"
Jean deduced what the man was angry about, but not why the sudden burst of rage. "It's just a four hour CAP in the morning." He said calmly.
"It's bullshit is what it is!" Quinn jabbed a finger at the roster. "We had two Aeneas missions this week, and another in three days, and they want us to take another patrol? Have someone else do it. Someone from Intrepid."
Jean eyed Quinn. "Intrepid is covering the transfer of civilians from the Ahai fleet. There's a lot more space to cover and fewer fighters."
"It's not my fault the Ahai are kicking us out." Quinn shouted defensively.
"I didn't say it was. Missions change, and someone needs to cover down."
"This is fucking bullshit." Quinn exclaimed again, storming out of the ready room as Dauod stepped inside. He tried to say hello to his crew mate, but was met with mumbled profanity.
He jabbed a thumb behind him. "What's wrong with him?"
Jean shook his head. "He's pissed we've got CAP first thing tomorrow."
Daoud sighed. "Well that sucks." He sat down in the chair next to Jean. "I just talked to the investigator."
"About that Ahai ship?"
Dauod nodded. "I asked him if I needed a lawyer and he laughed. He said we'd be ok. The Ahai are pissed."
"I don't really care if they're pissed." Costeaux confessed.
"Yeah, me neither." Dauod looked at the flight roster again. "It's not like they're doing anything to protect themselves."
Jean looked at him in mock surprise. "But they're watching for the Enki!"
