by P. A. Piatt
When Abner announced that he had applied for a commission in the ISMC, his parents reacted exactly as he had expected. His father angrily demanded that he withdraw his application, and his mother disappeared into her bedroom in tears. Two days later, as he prepared to catch the train for the induction center, his mother fought back a new torrent of tears and smoothed his hair.
“Be careful, Abner.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Steer clear of danger.”
His father waited for him at the door, and for the first time in Abner’s life, the two shook hands.
“Stay out of trouble, son. If you need anything, call.”
Their private disappointment became public pride when word that he had received the L’Ordre de la Galanterie made it back to Terra Earth. His father was on a contract in the Felder Reach, but his mother’s holos were filled with stories of her new-found popularity as the mother of a hero, her efforts at matchmaking for Abner, and admonishments to be careful and write soon.
Fortis keyed her latest and sat back to watch. A blue-tinged electronic version of his mother hovered over his desk.
Hello Abner,
I hope this finds you well. Everything is fine here. We all love and miss you.
Do you remember Mrs. Armstrong? Her husband is aide to the territorial governor. Anyway, I saw her at the community center with her daughter Elspeth yesterday. Elspeth is quite the beauty, Abner. I know that you would agree. I promised her that you would holo her when you got time away from your duties. Be a dear, Abner, and write when you can. She comes from the finest sort of people, and I think you two would make a lovely couple. It never hurts to plan for the future. After all, the future will be here before you know it.
Anyway, I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll let you go. Please write back as soon as you can.
I love you.
Holographic Mother waved, and Fortis caught himself before he waved back.
He sighed and hit Reply.
* * * * *
Chapter Three
Mikel Chive, the GRC Director of Security on Eros-28, suppressed a smile as he entered the windowless interrogation room. The gray dirt walls swallowed the light cast by the single-bulb light fixture on the ceiling.
The prisoner was standing in the middle of the room, shackled to a heavy eyebolt anchored in the floor. She’d been defiant at first, but two days in the cold, damp cell with no food or water had crushed her spirit. Her face was drawn from fear and exhaustion, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet.
Chive wrinkled his nose at the sharp stench of dried urine.
“Will you give me your name?”
She shook her head and lowered her eyes.
Chive knew who she was from her fingerprints and DNA, but he wanted her to give him information, and it was a good way to start. She was the first member of the resistance he’d captured, and he wanted to squeeze her for every bit of information she had. But, to do so, it was critical that she talk.
He flashed his friendliest smile.
“What harm could your name do? I can’t just call you ‘woman,’ can I?”
No response.
“If you don’t answer my questions, I’m going to hurt you.”
She stayed silent.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Raisa.”
She flinched but still said nothing.
“Oh, yes. I know who you are.” He leaned in until he could smell the sweat and fear in her grimy hair, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I know who you are. I know about Belson, too.”
Raisa lunged at the mention of her son. Chive backpedaled until her shackles jerked tight and she fell to the floor. He motioned to the guards standing in the shadows behind her.
“Get her up.”
The guards hauled Raisa to her feet by her arms and held her there. Chive stepped forward, paused, and punched her hard in the stomach. Her breath whooshed out as she doubled over and fell to her knees. He gave her a moment to recover and then snapped his fingers. The guards pulled her up, and Chive saw a string of bile clinging to her shirt. He grabbed a handful of her disheveled hair, jerking her head up.
She spat full in his face.
Chive stumbled back and wiped at his eyes as the guards threw Raisa to the floor and started pummeling her.
“Wait!”
The guards stopped and looked at Chive.
“Pick her up.”
They stood her up again, and this time Chive didn’t hesitate. He drove a fist directly into her face. There was a satisfying crunch as her nose shattered. Raisa clutched her face and collapsed to the floor. Chive delivered a sharp kick to her ribs.
“They told you we would use a mind probe to interrogate you, didn’t they?” he said as he stood over her prostrated body. “Maybe some drugs?”
Raisa moaned.
He kicked a hand away from her face and ground his heel into the palm. Raisa squealed and tried to pull her hand away, but he continued to twist his boot until the bones snapped. She screamed and finally managed to jerk her hand free.
He chuckled at her pain.
“You have the power here, Raisa. You get to decide how I treat you. If you answer my questions fully and truthfully, I will treat you well. If you lie to me, I will hurt you. If you refuse to answer my questions, I will hurt you. Do you understand?”
Raisa didn’t respond, so Chive kicked her in the ribs again. She cried out and tried to roll away from further abuse.
“You see? I asked you a question, and you didn’t answer, so I hurt you. Do you understand now?”
This time, she gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Good.”
He snapped his fingers and two guards picked her up while a third slid a chair underneath her.
“Let’s begin.”
For the next hour, Chive peppered Raisa Spears with questions about the resistance and her role in the demolition of the garage. When she hesitated or told him an obvious lie, she paid with pain. Chive was careful not to push her too hard until he was certain he had everything he was going to get from the shattered woman. Her answers soon became nonsensical, and she drifted in and out of consciousness. That’s when the mercenary knew she was finished.
Finally, he stood in front of her and pulled her head back by her hair.
“I think we’re finished here. Time to go, Raisa.”
He laughed aloud at the look of hope that crossed her filthy, battered face.
“This isn’t an interrogation anymore.” He kicked the chair out from under her, and she slumped to the floor. “Now I’m going to punish you for blowing up my garage.”
* * *
The GRC planetary governor of Eros-28, a prematurely bald man named Czrk, sighed with frustration and dropped his pen on the open file in front of him. His staff, gathered around the conference table, were somber, except for his security director, Mikel Chive. Chive was his usual expressionless self, and his lack of visible concern tweaked Czrk’s nerves.
“Over a hundred vehicles buried by a terrorist attack and nobody saw a thing.”
The governor’s eyes went from face to face, but none dared meet his gaze except Chive.
“Two weeks’ worth of work, ruined in an instant! What happened to our vaunted security force? Where were they when the attack occurred?”
“I only have so many men, Governor. They can’t be everywhere. If the maintenance crews had locked the doors behind them, the attack could have been avoided.”
The maintenance chief, Blud Leutgen, slammed his beefy palm on the table. “You can’t prove that, Chive! We sealed that door after we loaded all the gear in there. Don’t pass your failures off on my people!”
The governor held up his hands. “Gentlemen, gentlemen! We can sit here and point fingers, but it won’t solve the problem of a hundred vehicles under three meters of dirt. Where are we on the excavation?”
Bob Drager, the governor’s executive assistant, chimed in. “Sir, we didn’t learn about the attack until after the dust storm
started. We thought it was just going to be some wind, but it turned into a full-blown sifter and halted all outside work. As soon as the storm blows out, we’ll get crews over there to excavate the site.”
“We’ll have to clean each piece of equipment again, but I can add extra shifts to get it done as soon as possible,” added Leutgen. “Is there space in one of the other storage garages?”
The governor looked at Jan Stepnow, the facilities supervisor, who nodded.
“We can make space in Garage Five. I’ll have my folks get started at once, sir.”
Czrk gestured to a pudgy man in a bright orange jumpsuit. “Chief Schultz, do you have anything to report?”
The chief of the colonial police force shook his head. “No, sir, Governor. We haven’t been able to get out since the sifter started. We will go out as soon as possible.”
Governor Czrk nodded and consulted his meeting agenda. “And finally, the weather. Mr. Yuri, please, make the sifter end.”
The governor’s science advisor was a slight Asian man seated at the far end of the table. He gave a nervous smile and cleared his throat. “Good news, Governor. Our surface sensors detected a significant drop in wind speed over the last six hours, which indicates the storm center has passed earlier than predicted. We’ll have more accurate information as soon as I can get a link to the weather satellite, but at this time, I estimate that the storm will abate within twenty-four hours.”
The staff traded nods and smiles. They lived in relative comfort and safety in the underground corporate facility, but many of their workers lived in the city. Every day those workers couldn’t get to work was another day of reduced productivity. Corporate headquarters was quick to harangue Governor Czrk when he failed to meet production schedules, and they weren’t interested in excuses about the weather.
To complicate the situation, a section of the extensive network of access tunnels under the city, known as “the subway,” had recently collapsed and killed over two hundred workers before rescuers could dig them out. Tension between the workforce and management was at an all-time high, and the extra work incurred by the garage attack would only intensify the strain.
Mr. Yuri gave a self-conscious chuckle. “The possibility of an Eolian Blast will persist until atmospheric pressure stabilizes.”
An Eolian Blast was a small area of extremely low pressure and high winds spawned by a dirt storm known as a sifter. A sifter carried dust and sand, but an Eolian Blast could pick up sizeable rocks and hurl them at life-threatening speeds.
Governor Czrk sighed. “Then we should all take care not to be outside when it does. Thank you, Mr. Yuri.” He looked at his agenda again. “It looks like that’s it. Unless there’s anything else?”
No one spoke.
“Thank you, everyone.”
The group stood as one and filed out of the conference room.
Czrk signaled to Chive. “Mr. Chive, a moment please.”
When the two men were alone, Chive pushed the door shut.
“Any word about the attack? Have you found the perpetrators yet?”
“Governor, my men are no more capable of operating in a sifter than Fat Schultz and his idiot police force. When the storm lifts and excavation begins, we’ll collect what evidence we can. Our prime suspect is Dask Finkle, but until we convince the population to turn him over, he’s a ghost.”
“Why do they insist on protecting him? Don’t they understand that the resistance makes life difficult for everyone, not just the GRC?” Czrk rubbed his pate with both hands, frustrated. “Why won’t they cooperate?”
“Governor, just say the word, and my men will get their cooperation.”
Czrk stopped rubbing and stared at Chive. “We tried that, remember? Your men turned a minor disagreement into a full-blown riot that shut this place down.” He shook his head. “No, thank you. Not again. We need to be careful or this thing is going to get out of control.”
“Have it your way. I’ll keep working my sources; maybe we’ll get lucky.” Chive turned to leave.
“One more thing, Mr. Chive. Don’t call Chief Schultz ‘Fat Schultz’ anymore. He’s a senior member of my administration, and you will show him the appropriate respect.”
* * *
Foxtrot Company formed up with the rest of the Battalion in the hangar to embark the personnel transports that would deliver them to Eros-69. The atmosphere in the hangar was carnival-like, and there were smiles everywhere Fortis looked. Even Captain Reese had a smile on his face.
Reese approached, and Fortis came to attention and rendered his best parade-ground salute.
“Good morning, Captain.”
“Ready for some liberty, Fortis?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s going on, Captain Reese?” Captain Brickell walked over and stood close to the two men. “Is there a problem here?”
Just then, a group of Space Marines carrying cases of various sizes and shapes entered the hangar and waved to Captain Reese.
“Hey, Captain, where do you want us?” asked the sergeant leading the group.
“Right there is fine,” replied Reese. He held up a clipboard and leered at Fortis. “There’s been a slight change of plans. The commanding general decided he wants to take the division band with him to Eros-69, so I had to shuffle some liberty assignments.” He made a show of examining the clipboard. “Third Platoon has been reassigned to Eros-28.”
“What’s Eros-28?”
Reese chuckled. “I don’t know, but it’s not Eros-69.”
Captain Brickell looked at Fortis and shrugged. “Tough luck, kid.”
* * *
Two men were huddled over a rickety table in the back of a small bar in Boston, the capital city of Eros-28. The bar was hidden behind an anonymous unlit doorway in an alley full of dusty, unlit doorways. It was a place where private conversations could be held and secret deals could be made.
“They got her, Jandahl.” The larger of the two, a ham-fisted man by the name of Mandel Spears, punctuated his statement with a thump on the table.
“I’m sorry, Spears, but what do you want me to do?”
“Get her out of there.” Spears’ hands trembled as he flexed his fists. “We have to get her out of there.”
Jandahl laid his hands on the table, palms up. “How do you propose to do that? We don’t even know where they have her.”
“You’ve got people on the inside. I know you do! They can find out.”
“People on the inside?” Jandahl shook his head with a wry smile. “You give me too much credit, my friend. I’m just a clerk. Even if I could find out where they’re holding her—which I can’t—why would I?”
“She’s my wife!” Spears slammed his hand on the table hard enough to make their mugs jump, and the few other people in the bar looked over. Spears leaned even closer and lowered his voice to an urgent whisper. “She’s my wife. We have a son, damn you. That’s why.”
“She’s your wife, and I warned you not to get her involved.” Jandahl looked around the room, but everyone had gone back to their own business. “Look, Spears. This thing is bigger than you or me or Raisa. I really am sorry that she got caught up in it, but she knew the risk she was taking. Does she know the identities of the others in your cell?”
Spears shook his massive head.
“Well, that’s good news. Perhaps they’ll decide she doesn’t know anything and turn her loose.”
Spears fixed Jandahl in an icy stare. “You don’t really believe that, do you.”
Jandahl suppressed a shudder brought on by Spears’ piercing glare. “No. I don’t.”
Spears covered his face with his hands and his shoulders heaved as he sobbed. Jandahl waited a few seconds before he patted Spears on the arm.
“Come on, Spears, control yourself. You’ve got a son to think about.”
Spears wiped his eyes. “I moved him to—”
Jandahl cut him off with a raised hand. “Whoa! Uh-uh, don’t tell me. The less I know,
the better.” He stood, pulled some wrinkled company scrip out of his pocket, and threw it on the table. “I have to go. Have another one on me before you leave, okay?”
Spears nodded.
“I’ll be in touch.”
* * *
Word flashed around the hangar that Third Platoon had been replaced by the band. There were anonymous catcalls and some laughter as Fortis led his men to the adjoining hanger to board a separate transport for Eros-28. The mood of the platoon had turned ugly, but when Fortis looked at Ystremski the corporal shrugged as if saying, “DINLI.”
The Fleet had to pass Eros-28 on the way to Eros-69, so the Space Marines of Third Platoon would arrive at their liberty location a day before the rest of the division landed on Eros-69.
The trip to the surface of Eros-28 was short but eventful.
The shuttle pilot struggled to get a fix on the navigation beacon at the spaceport, and when she gave up and engaged the autopilot, the shuttle rolled and nearly dove nose-first toward the surface.
“Are you sure about this?” she hissed through gritted teeth as she struggled with the controls. The shuttle bounced and bucked as it clawed downward through thick clouds of dust. “This dust storm is murder, and there’s nobody answering the hailing freqs.”
“This is where Battalion ordered us to go. Can you get us down?”
“We’re about to find out.”
The shuttle slammed belly-first onto the surface, bounced once, and came to a rest.
“Here you go, LT. Get off my ship so I can get the hell out of here.”
Third Platoon literally got their first taste of Eros-28 when a whirlwind of dirt flooded into the troop compartment. They cursed and spat as they followed Fortis onto the landing zone, fanning out and crouching as the transport’s engines wound up and the craft blasted off.
