Mayrik trooped the line of shocked paramilitary insurance professionals, and strode over to Caccamo. “I bet you had the same non-compete orders from your superiors. Eh?”
“I wouldn’t know, pal,” Caccamo replied, half-suppressing a yawn. “I never pay attention to orders.”
Mayrik spat on the ground. “Liar! You’re one of them! You’re part of the corruption that stains our honor.” He returned to the center of the cleared circle and addressed the seated audience, spreading his arms dramatically. “That’s why I’ve thrown my lot in with the Leveler leader, Zhakar-Ree. Why I brought both HUB and the new Revenge Squad teams here today with minimal bloodshed. I want you to join us in a new fight for our freedom – to be free from the corruption and commercialized terror – and if some of you will go to your graves hating me as a traitor, so be it. All of us who fought in the civil war know what that feels like. But there are some who were born here and never fought in the war. Never had to choose sides. And after we are all dead, future generations will come. It is for those who will follow us that I do this thing. Let them admire us for believing in them, and doing what was right. I will not let us stumble blindly into tyranny, not after we fought so hard to escape our bondage.”
Mayrik stopped, and appeared to count silently inside his head in an effort to control his anger. “Am I boring you, Miss Lazheet?”
“Yes,” replied Not-Magenta. Lazheet, eh? That was a cool name. “You lost me at bondage”, she said. “Makes you sound like a religionist. Or a pervert.”
Mayrik’s jaw clenched tightly enough to turn his teeth metamorphic. “Well, then. If I am unconvincing, perhaps my friend, Zhakar-Ree, should take over?”
The HUB leader nodded at his Leveler counterpart and the armed Levelers waiting in the shadows disarmed the HUB personnel, and forced them to sit alongside their Revenge Squad counterparts on the amphitheater of rocks. Simple as that.
They talk on Earth of how you can boil a frog alive. The HUB people were not only boiled by the Levelers, but they didn’t even act surprised.
Bunch of drellocks.
“There is no need to be afraid,” said the Leveler leader, rising from her seat. “Even these two–” She pointed at Caccamo and me – “can still live if Mr. Caccamo reveals the access codes to the Revenge Squad HQ. We simply wish to acquire your facility and its contents without a wasteful loss of good people. As for you others… Revenge Squad and HUB alike, join us!”
I couldn’t make out the Leveler woman’s heritage. Under the manipulation of imperial geneticists, humanity had branched into specialisms so you could guess a stranger’s service branch from their physique. Zhakar-Ree had mixed heritage. Middling stature but she didn’t look like Earthborns. I guessed she was a cross of Tactical Marine with space rat, but it was difficult to tell because she wore voluminous robes and head wraps like a Saharan nomad.
“Neither HUB nor Revenge Squad is comparable to the Human Legion,” said the woman in a smooth tongue that betrayed an upbringing a world away from the crèche of a Marine depot planet. “There is no cause, no ideal that you fight for. Your eventual deaths in the service of Revenge Squad or HUB will have no meaning. Most of you were heroes once. Now look at you! Doing the dirty work of distant financiers who care not who lives or dies so long as quarterly profit targets are met. You don’t even deliver justice. You promise base revenge, and offer it only to those who can afford to pay.”
Lazheet hooted in derision.
If I were in this Zhakar-Ree’s boots, I would have kicked them through Lazheet’s teeth to shut her up, but the Leveler leader trusted the power of her words in a way I never could. “I see I do not convince you,” she said to Lazheet with a false smile. “Why not?”
Lazheet looked our captor right in the face. “Because you’re just piss and hot air.”
Levelers moved in to club her down, but Zhakar-Ree-waved them away. “No, give her the space to show who she really is.”
The woman who looked uncannily like Magenta rose to her feet. “You tell us the Legion had high ideals worth fighting for.”
Ragged cheers sounded at the mention of the Legion we had all fought for. Eventually.
“Yes,” replied Zhakar-Ree. “The leadership were problematic, their principles warped, but the core principle was admirable. Every one of the brave souls on the Beowulf and Themistocles, who dared to stand up against overwhelming odds for what they knew to be right, is an inspiration that reaches through the centuries to us today. You would do well to remember the mutineers who created the Human Legion.”
“We fought to win freedom,” said Lazheet, passion informing her every fiber. “Freedom from extinction. From slavery. From the Cull.”
A growl of anger rose from every group. That last objective had not gone exactly to plan.
“But look at Klin-Tula,” said Lazheet. “The Legion only began settling retired Legionary colonists in large numbers about 30 years ago, and in that time things have gone from drent to drenter.”
“True,” agreed Zhakar-Ree with a fragile smile. “Because of the corruption from power and money.”
“You’re overthinking it,” said Lazheet.
Zhakar-Ree smiled with true warmth now, and played to the crowd, throwing impressive shapes she must have practiced for long hours in front of her mirror. “I’m overthinking matters. Overthinking! You cannot think too hard about the challenges of societal interaction. If you accuse me of thinking deeply upon how to better our world, then I plead guilty.”
“Good for you,” said Lazheet with an encouraging nod. “There will be a place for people like you in the centuries to come. But most of us here were born slaves, bred only for war. Me? I wasn’t even born. I was cloned in a vat.”
I’m glad I wasn’t the only one surprised at Lazheet’s comment, given the ‘oohs’ that swelled from the crowd. At least that ticked off one last question before I died. A clone, eh? I’d heard rumors.
Lazheet spat on the ground before continuing. “People like me know nothing of civil society, polite etiquette, and societal issues. What use was any of that drent to us growing up?”
“But you must see,” insisted Zhakar-Ree. “Now is different. We are different, those of us who see the future. Regrettably, there will be those who do not share our vision, but they cannot be permitted to hold the wider community in their thrall.”
“But you aren’t different,” insisted Lazheet. “The Legion carved out an autonomous region for us in the war, but hadn’t a sufficiently robust plan for what would come next. And you’re exactly the same as the generals and admirals. Worse, because you’re too blind to realize you’re repeating the same mistake. What comes after you have won your ideal world, my over-thinking friend? Eh? When you have destroyed what little we have built here, when you stand astride the ashes of this world, what then is your plan? And who will live to care?”
Zhakar-Ree stared at Lazheet, her lips pinched into a tight white line. And then she snapped, storming back into the center of the circle. “Are you going to let your attack bitch do all your work, Caccamo?”
“Lazheet is a big girl,” Caccamo replied. “She’ll do as she damn well pleases. Perhaps you’ve never met a real woman before.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Caccamo rolled his eyes. “I can’t be bothered to explain. That’s the problem with a show trial like this, only one side is truly engaged. If you don’t mind, I’ll just go to sleep until you reach the part where you sentence me to death. Would you mind awfully?”
“Don’t you dare show such disrespect!”
To my astonishment, Caccamo hung his head in shame. I’d trusted him on instinct, but maybe he’d been one with the puppet masters all along. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking my way. “I am so very sorry for my disrespectful lack of manners. Even in these trying circumstances, bad manners are inexcusable.” Caccamo got to his feet and, oblivious to the Leveler guns that were immediately trained on his head, he walked over to me
and shook me by the hand. “Welcome,” he said. “I know we met earlier in the tunnels, but I haven’t properly introduced myself. As you’ve probably gathered, I’m Laban Caccamo, formerly of the 412th TAC Marines, cross-trained to become a Navy shuttle pilot, and then served as squadron leader with the 2nd X-Boat Wing, serving aboard Lance of Freedom. And you are?”
I grinned. At least twenty guns were trained on this man, and the only question about his imminent demise was whether or not he’d be tortured first. Nonetheless, Caccamo, with his beach shorts, loud shirt, and sunglasses perched atop his bald head, looked as untroubled as if he was just about to stroll across the beach to go for a pleasant paddle in the sea. I liked this guy. “Ndeki Joshua McCall,” I answered him, “of the 801st Assault Marines.”
“Wrong!” Caccamo accelerated from amiable eccentric to glowering drill Sergeant at FTL speeds. “Don’t insult your former regiment by naming them as your own. You are a wixering little twonk who disobeyed orders. Nothing more. Did you see the instructions I left in the office?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yet you came after me anyway. Consider your wages docked. Half pay for three months.”
I shrugged. “I’m an acting unpaid auxiliary.”
He frowned, confused for a moment. “Denisoff didn’t mention that. Did you do something to annoy my lovely friend, Branch Director Philby?”
“That’s enough,” said Mayrik.
I ignored the HUB leader. “Mr. Philby declined to wave us goodbye as we set off for Port Zahir. Yes, Squadron Leader Caccamo, I think I might have upset him.”
Mayrik looked for direction from Zhakar-Ree who shook her head.
Caccamo laughed a deep belly growl. “I like you, McCall. Leave it with me. I’ll do something about your pay. Anyone who pisses off Holland Philby deserves rich rewards.”
Zhakar-Ree snapped her fingers and our playtime was over. Levelers swarmed over Caccamo and me, holding our arms behind us as they punched us repeatedly in the gut.
“Just you listen to these two,” Zhakar-Ree told the group. “They play these silly games, acting as if they do not need to beg for their very lives. It is hot air, foolish frippery. And why? They joke because deep down they know their lives are jokes. Join us. Friends, don’t end your existence as a contemptible joke. Become the hero you once were or always wished to be.”
That won positive murmurs of support from the crowd. Disloyal vecks.
Zhakar-Ree pressed her advantage. “There is a more prosaic reason why you should come over to us. We have infiltrated many Civilian Defense Force regiments. Our influence is everywhere and growing by the day. Give us two years, three at most, and then the Cooperative will be in power. Join us now and you will be on the winning side of the struggle, the side of history.”
Our beating stopped and Caccamo immediately answered Zhakar-Ree’s call. “That’s what the Wolves said when a gang of them mutinied and took over my ship.” Wincing from the punches he’d just taken, the ancient Marine lifted up his shirt and revealed old scars across his back. “That’s where I won those lashes. I knew who to believe in when I was young. Damned if I’m going to betray a lifetime by giving in to a jumped up little drellock like you, Zhakar-Ree.”
“Perhaps you deserved those scars,” Zhakar-Ree replied. “It was the mutiny on the Beowulf that sparked the Human Legion. Perhaps the mutineers on your ship also had their valid cause for complaint against you.”
“You take the wrong message from the formation of the Legion,” said Caccamo. He spoke in an icy whisper, all his swagger gone. “It was an alliance of spacers, Marines, and officers working together who carried out the Beowulf mutiny in 2566. The very first human officers were in alliance with a Jotun officer, and with individuals whom you now label traitors – all of them working together to make the galaxy a better place. We can all of us unite here in Port Zahir, you’ve got that much right. Don’t work to divide us to promote one idea of society and crush every alternative.”
Zhakar-Ree shook her head, feigning sadness but conveying anger. “Unbelievable. You amaze me. Your words are idiotic beyond belief. Out of the lips of Revenge Squad – an organ of corporate oppression – comes a fantasy of a co-operative society. You know what makes me despise you most, Caccamo? I think you actually believe your lies. Your masters spin their stories about Beowulf and stuff it in your mouth for you to regurgitate in front of us.”
“It’s no story,” Caccamo insisted.
“You see?” said Zhakar-Ree giving a little laugh of contempt. “Even now, he cannot help himself.”
Caccamo gave his audience the full benefit of his beaming smile. “No, it really isn’t a story. I should know about the Beowulf mutiny, because I was frakking well there. I am one of those heroes you just bigged up to Corporal Lazheet.”
The laughter stopped. But I began. “Look it up,” I told Zhakar-Ree. “It’s on public record. Laban Caccamo was there as a fresh-faced Marine, there with the greenhorns who would become General McEwan, Xin Lee, and Admiral Indiya. He was there at the creation of the Legion. He made it possible.”
“I had hoped we could talk in a civilized manner,” said Zhakar-Ree. “I see now that I gave you too much credit. You–” she pointed at Lazheet. “She will join the other two.”
The Leveler guards dragged Lazheet to join myself and Caccamo with arms pinned behind our backs and made to face Zhakar-Ree.
“Give us the access codes to the Revenge Squad building and all three of you will live,” said the Leveler leader. “Prisoners to be sure, but you will be treated humanely, and released when we have firm control in this province. Or if you prefer for some inexplicable reason to follow your paymasters unto death, then so be it. Although I warn you your deaths will not be pleasant. You have until the tide comes in to make your decision.”
Zhakar-Ree trooped in front of us, her face beaming with the pleasure of her power over us.
I’ve seen people gloat that way at prisoners before. In case you haven’t, let me put you straight on a matter that was very obvious to everyone who saw the Leveler boss. She didn’t want us to tell her what she thought she needed. She would much prefer our deaths, and she would be watching every moment of our demise with gleeful attention.
— CHAPTER 22 —
If only the bishop could see us now, I said to myself, this scene will be right up his street. I think… I dunno, I get the Earth religions mixed up.
You’re right, said Efia. It’s not quite crucifixion, but close enough, and crucifixion is definitely the bishop’s thing.
She sounded pleased. I suppose it was just as well that someone was. Lazheet, Caccamo, and I were bound to metal spars sunk into the beach. Unhappy-looking HUB staff had already lashed me to the upright, and now they were binding my arms to the wooden cross beam slotted through a hole in the spar.
At least they weren’t driving nails through my wrists and ankles – and let us always try to look for the positive in any situation – but I could tell from the tidemarks on the rocks I had seen behind us that when the tide rolled in, we would roll under.
The beach outside the cave’s entrance was a flat shelf that dipped steeply down a rock-strewn slope before leveling out again. Naturally, our posts were sunk into the lower expanse of sand, about a hundred yards beyond where the shelf dipped down. We were being semi-crucified in the perfect spot, at least from the perspective of the spectators, who could bring blankets, chairs, and sandwiches if they so wanted and enjoy the spectacle of our drowning without getting wet. I wondered whether anyone had booked a band to play us out.
My experience of the event was less dry. Already, my ankles were under the advancing waves and, with the flatness of this section of beach, the water was coming in rapidly. Still, it was a sunny late morning at the beach, and the coolness of the water was what I needed to take the edge off the heat.
“Sorry, pal,” said the HUB man tying my arms back. “Nothing personal. I’d rather be tying those Leveler vecks to these posts, or b
etter still Mayrik and his pals who sold us out. But I’ve settled down now. Got family relying on me. Can’t throw my life away now that it’s worth something.”
I ignored the man’s sorrows and looked across at Caccamo. I was worried about him. I know how dumb that sounds, given I was tied to a post and told I had at most an hour before the tide would be over my head, but Zhakar-Ree had reserved a special venom for the old man. Following a token rant at the former squadron leader after he had been secured to his post, the Leveler leader had given my boss one last chance to reveal the codes that would unlock the Revenge Squad base and its armory. Caccamo had replied with such an unbroken stream of verbal filth that no one could be in any doubt that the former Marine had lived for many years amongst Navy folk. Probably just as well, because unless I had become even more mentally unhinged than I realized, there weren’t any such codes to reveal.
Zhakar-Ree had casually pistol whipped Caccamo, and then ground the old man’s sunglasses into the sand with the heel of her boot. I know we’ve all got to go one day – and that Caccamo and I were long overdue our reckoning with Fate – but there was something ignoble about the way Zhakar-Ree nonchalantly abused Caccamo. Ignoble is not a word I feel the need to use most years, but Caccamo had been part of the crazy handful of stragglers who had created the Human Legion. If not for Caccamo and his friends long ago, none of us would be on this planet. None of us would be alive, period.
He deserved better than this, and I sensed even the Levelers knew that.
All except Zhakar-Ree. Her I really did not like.
Caccamo’s head was lolling, but Zhakar-Ree had left him with enough fight that the old man could not escape into unconsciousness.
Asphyxiation is a common death for a Marine, but usually that end claims us in the pristine void of space. Drowning in water seemed so messy in comparison. Would I swallow the seawater in the end? For some reason I felt sure Caccamo would resist that surrender until the last moment.
Ouch! I felt an exploratory nip on my shin. Sand crabs had peered out from sandy burrows while we were being staked. Zhakar-Ree said they would feast on our carcasses once we had drowned, but this crab was in a hurry to test the meat. It soon scuttled away. Couldn’t blame it. My meat is hardly young and tender.
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