by Kal Spriggs
She hadn't even considered Johnny Woodard in that light. Yes, he seemed like a decent guy, but she didn't know anything about him. She couldn't guess at his homeworld, at his past... and after Marcus' surprises, she was not about to get involved with anyone without knowing everything she could about them. She had enough with surprises and secrets.
Mel didn't know how to say that, though. For that matter, it made her feel uncomfortable to realize that if she did know more about Tank, it might well change things quite a bit, which shocked her. Yes, he seemed nice enough, he'd even given her a pistol, but it shocked her to realize just how much she did like him, for the little that she knew of him.
Tank seemed to sense her distress, “Sorry,” he said, “I didn't mean to...”
No wonder he was pissed off that I grouped him with the others when I accused them all of being potential saboteurs, she thought.
“It's fine,” Mel said sharply. “Tank... Johnny, it's not you...”
“Ouch,” the big man winced, “Please don't finish that sentence. It's older than spaceflight and every time I've heard it, it basically means I'm crashing and burning.” His deep voice was rueful, but he said it with a smile and he didn't get angry.
Mel flushed, “Sorry, but I really mean that. Things for me right now are... well, really complicated.” She wasn't making anything better, she realized, but at least he wasn't taking it badly.
Tank gave a wave around at the empty warehouse, “Oh, I get it. You don't want to mix business and... well, whatever we would be.” His voice held resignation and no little amount of bitterness.
“It's not even that,” Mel said. “It's...” She trailed off. How could she put into words that the only man she'd ever loved was the man who had killed her parents? How could she explain that while she still felt something for Marcus, she also felt guilty as she thought about it.
“I get it,” Tank said. “You don't need to explain.”
She could tell that she'd hurt him, though. Why do I always hurt people without meaning to? She almost started to explain the whole situation with Marcus, but then she thought better of it. The story was still too new, too raw for her to talk it through. For that matter, she didn't know how much he knew about Marcus' past.
Mel sighed, despite his words, she could tell she'd hurt the big man. She reached out and touched his shoulder.
“So, uh,” she desperately looked for some change of subject, “why are you here?” Smooth move, she thought, ask him why he's a fugitive from the law, that will make him feel better.
A wall seemed to settle over his face. “That's complicated.”
Mel blinked at that. “Uh, unfair, you made a move on me, the least you could do is explain why you're on the run.” She realized as she said it that it wasn't fair of her, but it was too late.
Tank shook his head, “That's fighting dirty.” He smiled though, his white teeth bright on his dark face. “Fine then, you want to know why Johnny Woodard is on the run, I'll tell you.” He pulled back his sleeve and displayed a tattoo. The colors and letters glowed on his skin and Mel's eyebrows went up as she read it.
“UNMC? Guard Marine Corps, right?” She stared at the eagle, globe and spaceship symbol and then read the text beneath, “142nd Recon Regiment?”
He pulled his sleeve down and gave her a nod. “Yeah.” His deep voice was sad.
“My second family. Most of the Marines, they wear powered armor every mission, most missions we wore recon armor, went in with no electronic equipment, just our GMARs, combat knives, and enough flatpack rations to keep us going for a few months.” He used the acronym for the Guard Marine Assault Rifle off-handedly, as if everyone knew what one was.
Mel's eyebrows went up. Marine Recon teams were the most elite of the Guard ground personnel. There were rumors about single teams of them stopping armies in their tracks or toppling dictators.
Unlike most of the other armed forces, the Guard Marine Corps still had a good reputation. They were an all-volunteer force and they most often were the ones who ended up fighting pirates and tin-pot dictators. Unlike the Guard Army, their ranks weren't made up of conscripts from sending systems or shanghaied planetary militia. They were a truly professional military force.
“So how'd you end up here?” Mel asked.
Tank gave a shrug. “My team had a mission go bad from the start. Went in on a recon mission at Thornhell. Supposed to evaluate the uprising there, see if it had ties to Guard Free Now.”
Mel winced, “I was sentenced to Thornhell.”
His eyes went wide at that, “Well, I can tell you didn't go, not enough scars.” He shook his head, “Good for you, because the place is a hell-hole. The surface is bad enough, nothing but those damned thorns as far as you can see, growing everywhere that man hasn't burned it clear. That stuff will grow back overnight if you let it, too.”
He shook his head and his eyes went distant, “No, what's really bad is the lithium mines. That's what kills most of the convicts there, that shit gets in their lungs and just tears them up from the inside.”
Mel winced. “What happened?”
“It was a Guard Free Now operation, they smuggled the convicts guns for a revolution, but the bastards were using them on their fellow prisoners as much as anything else. We didn't have a lot of resources with us, just my team, our GMARs, and a bit of explosives, but we took down their little warlord, took him down hard.”
“What happened?” Mel asked.
“Well,” Tank shrugged, “We came out of that thorn jungle fast, a mess of his followers behind us, ran right into a mercenary company and they helped us hold them off. We thought we were clear, until we got back to headquarters for a debrief and it turned out that Junior Warlord back at the mines was the Warden's nephew. Apparently they had some side deal going where the Warden smuggled ore off the planet, his nephew just made certain it stayed off the books.”
“Oh no,” Mel said. That kind of story was more common than she liked. Far too many of the protected worlds had Guard-appointed governors and corruption to match. The big corporations, their current target included, often had family connections with senior Guard officers. Even when they didn't, they typically found ways to build relationships to facilitate things. Bribery, corruption, even outright extortion had become a common thing on many Guard worlds. There was too much money in it for the major corporations to behave otherwise. The Security Council allowed it, as long as the corporations paid their taxes and didn't harm the security situation.
What they didn't realize, Mel knew, was that they were harming the security situation. The resentment they bred would come back to bite them in the end.
“Yeah,” Tank shook his head, “Didn't work out well. We fought our way free and the mercs actually slipped us aboard their ship, but my team was done. The Warden had ties to Guard Fleet Headquarters back at Harlequin Station. I tried to slip back home, but there were a couple Guard Intelligence men at my dad's house. The organization didn't like it much when I killed the pair of them. My dad, by brothers, and my sister and all of their families all had to go on the run, we didn't want to risk them trying to take one of them to get to me.”
She could see his hands clench into fists and his gaze go distant as he said that. It seemed that bothered him more than the loss of his career.
Mel winced at that. “I'm sorry.” She could understand that worry, the fear for one's family, only too well. Her brother was in the line of fire, neck deep in Guard Free Now. It seemed that she and Tank both worried about their respective families.
He shrugged, “It's life. I'm hoping that with access to the network I can overwrite my family's data, hide them a bit better, though they went out way past where Guard Intelligence should be looking. There are lots of places to hide out on the Periphery.”
He said that last with one of his easy smiles, though there was something about it, almost childlike, this time. His smile suggested he felt amusement over where they had gone to hide, though Mel couldn't guess
why.
“How did Marcus find you?” Mel asked.
“I was support for one of his missions, back when he was an agent,” Tank said. “He found me on Foster, I guess on his way here. I was working as a bouncer in a brothel, he knew to find me there, said one of his contacts told him I where to find me. He couldn't help me with Guard Intelligence, but he told me about this mission.”
“Well,” Mel said, “hopefully this will all work and you can go to your family.” She frowned, “Have you heard anything about your team?” An entire Guard Marine Recon team would be a powerful force, especially when they did go mercenary.
He shrugged, “No, but it's a big universe. Hopefully they're alright.”
“Yeah,” Mel said. Yet there was something about his tone, as if he knew more than he'd said. “Well, maybe after this you can go find them.”
He just shrugged. She could sense he was talked out and just gave him a nod. He moved away to go check his gear and she moved over to her own equipment. After a moment she checked the time. Bob and Aldera would be back soon. Soon they would see how well her plan would work.
Tomorrow, she thought, tomorrow we see if this will work.
She just hoped that Bob's contact came through.
***
Lindsey Bader paused as she stepped into her apartments. The lights were dimmed, just the way she liked them and the smart windows were opaque, so that the lights of the city were little more than a diffuse glow. She loved this time of evening, when she could sip at her wine and consider the city. It wasn't a beautiful city, but with the windows opaque, she could pretend she was back at university on New Paris or on vacation at Bruges. She had so many fond memories of her time on both worlds. She almost regretted the decision to come to work for the family. So many of her classmates had gone on to lives of idle luxury.
Yet she didn't regret it, she loved her work, loved the perks that came with it... and loved the power she wielded while so many of her classmates were little better than lazy wretches. Besides, that, the power she held gave her opportunities like tonight. She gave a wolf-like smile as she considered that and closed and locked the door behind her.
Dieter didn't await her, but that wasn't unusual. Her personal aide often arranged things and then gave her the privacy she preferred to do her work. He would undoubtedly be back later that night to help her clean up. His quiet professionalism was the thing she most liked about him, that and the fact that her father had cut out his tongue to prevent him from spreading family secrets. His family had been servants of hers for generations, so it was something of a reward when it had happened, but it had still given her a rush of power when he did it.
Lindsey strode through her apartment, her gaze lingered on the priceless artwork on the walls and the chromed cooking surfaces of her kitchen. Not that she cooked anything to eat, but sometimes she made the kitchen equipment a part of her games... and as usual, the cleaning staff had done an excellent job at making certain everything was spotless.
Her eyes lingered on the griddle. She hadn't used that in some time, perhaps she could work it into her routine this evening. She did like to improvise.
Lindsey swept into the bedroom and, as directed, her guest was already naked and spread-eagled on the bed. The poor girl made sobbing sounds around her gag, but Lindsey ignored them as she sat on the edge of the bed. She frowned a bit as she noticed that one of the arm restraints was slightly slack, that kind of mistake was one that she had thought Dieter would never make. Clearly she would have to talk with him
Not that she was worried about this girl. She had made her preferences clear to Erlin before. The man might provide feisty and spirited prisoners to her brother and father, but she much rather preferred her prey meek. She still remembered with chagrin the incident when she was fifteen, how the serving maid had overpowered her and escaped. Her father had not been amused. While their security had captured the woman and silenced her, her father had forced Lindsey to watch as he killed the maid's entire family, just to make it clear that her actions had consequences.
“Hello, my dear,” Lindsey said as she softly ran the back of her knuckles along the girl's cheek. The mix of hot tears and cool skin gave her goosebumps. She so loved her work. She could already see how the evening would go. First she would pretend to be gentle, kind, misunderstood. Only after the girl gave in to relief would she bring out the knives.
I haven't used the griddle on anyone's eyes, yet, Lindsey thought absently, I might try that.
The girl whimpered as she leaned close, “Don't worry, my dear. Everything will be alright.”
Lindsey smiled as the girl shivered and pulled at her arm restraints.
Time: 1900 Zulu, 24 September 291 G.D.
Location: Outer Neu Emshaven System
Captain Frank Bulpit-Grant grimaced as his second officer commed him. “What is it?” he demanded. He hated working for Vulcan Mining Concern. Yet his career had dead-ended in Guard Fleet, so here he was. He hated the slack he saw, things he never would have tolerated among his crews in Guard Fleet.
The latest bit of excitement with the destroyer had stirred things up a bit, but he was certain his people would be back to their slovenly ways in a few days. Why not, he thought, they'll never have a real threat this far from the frontiers, they're just here to scare away pirates and corporate sabotage.
“Sir,” his second officer gave him something halfway between a wave and a salute. Despite numerous lectures on the importance of discipline, that was as much as Frank had managed to instill in the man. “Comm traffic, the Vulcan Phoenix is inbound, one of the company's Carnivores. Says they're here to cover down on the patrol traffic after that possible raider.”
“That's good,” Frank rubbed at his face in thought. In reality, the corporation's security had bothered him from the start. The multibillion dollar mining ship was a big, slow, juicy target. It had no warp drive of its own – that would have been prohibitively expensive for a ship its size, especially since Vulcan Mining Concern operated over thirty of the huge ships in the Parisian Sector alone. Instead, they had a handful of warp drive tugs, which could envelop even one of the huge ships in order to reposition it. “Call Captain Rhodes, I'd like to coordinate a shift in our formation.”
The two destroyers tasked to patrol the ore carrier routes could be retasked with the presence of the Vulcan Phoenix, he knew. They would be better suited to outer system patrol anyway and the Carnivore-class cruiser would have better sensors to pick up anything out of the ordinary along the ore carrier routes and the speed to run down most targets as well.
“What's her Captain's name?” Frank asked
“Uh, Captain Archamboult Le Roi,” his second officer said after a bit of hesitation.
Frank gave a grimace. “Of course, Corporate would send us one of the Frogs.” He sighed, he hated working with officers from one of the French ancestry colonies. They thought just because the sector headquarters was on New Paris that they were the sector's rulers. “If he wants to talk to me personally, inform him I'm busy.”
“Yes, sir.”
Now here's to hoping for a bit more excitement, Captain Bulpit-Grant thought.
Time: 1930 Local, 24 September 291 G.D.
Location: Danzig, City of Neuhaven, Neu Emshaven System
Bob, Mel, and the others all drew to a halt outside the warehouse. “You ready?” Bob asked.
Mel grimaced, “Can I really answer that question?” She shook her head, even if everything went off as planned, this wasn't going to be the best day. She felt her stomach roil. I really hope that Marcus is in position.
The blustery, gray day was cold. The planet was barely in the inhabitable zone, yet somehow it had a population of over seven billion. “Okay,” Mel said, “let’s do this.”
Bob led the way forward and Mel's gaze swept the warehouse, alert and watchful. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise as she continued forward. I hate this, she thought. Bob's other contacts hadn't proven trustworthy;
what if this one proved just as bad?
“Hello, Paul,” Bob said. “Good to see you. How's it going?”
The man in the heavy overcoat just gave him a grunt. “You have the money?”
Bob's lips went in a flat line, “Yeah, I have the money. What's your problem, Paul?”
“My problem,” Paul said, “Is that you're bad news. Whatever your group is up to, the company is on full alert. I want my money, now, or I walk.”
“Okay, okay,” Bob said and held up his hands reassuringly, “I have the money, right here,” he pointed back at Mel who hefted a bulky duffel bag. “You have the security badges?”
“Six of them, just like you asked,” Paul said. He glanced around, “I only see five of you, where's your other man?”
Bob gave an easy smile, “He'll link up with us later.”
“Whatever,” Paul said. “Slide over the money.”
Mel stepped forward and slid the bag across the floor. She saw Bob tense next to her as Paul opened the bag and checked the money. She didn't miss how Bob's hand had dropped to his concealed backup pistol.
Mel missed the comfortable feel of her TyVex Autopistol, but it was back aboard Fenris.
“Well,” Paul said in a more natural tone of voice. “That's very nice. Very nice indeed.” There was something to the tone of his voice and Mel looked around. “Kaptain Sebastian, I think that is enough evidence for you?”
“Indeed,” a harshly accented voice spoke from off to the side. Mel spun and saw a half dozen men in uniform emerge from behind the boxes to the side.
“You bastard!” Bob shouted and drew his concealed pistol. He fired twice at Paul, but then one of the security men's stunners caught him and he jerked as electricity jolted through him.
