by P. A. Piatt
“Let Chief Schultz know, and you can visit them whenever you want.”
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
On the Fleet flagship Atlas, Colonel Sobieski examined the art in the office belonging to the aide-de-camp to General Gupta and tried to ignore the intestinal gymnastics taking place in his stomach. Sobieski wasn’t the nervous type, but the general’s mercurial temper was legendary and the news about Third Platoon was certain to provoke an explosive response.
Captain Nilsen, the general’s personal assistant, gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t be much longer, Colonel. May I offer you some coffee?”
“No, thank you, Captain.”
Under normal circumstances, Sobieski would have accepted her offer and relished the opportunity to sit and enjoy the view. Nilsen was a stunning blonde from the northern regions of Terra Earth, with ice-blue eyes, flawless skin, and a shapely body that was barely disguised by her tailored utilities. He got a faint whiff of an exotic fragrance; ISMC regulations forbade perfume in uniform, but she was the general’s aide.
Today, even the stunning Nordic beauty wasn’t enough to distract him from the sense of dread that grew with every minute. He was a veteran of many bug hunts and had never shied away from a tough assignment, but for some reason this one had him on edge.
DINLI.
A detailed depiction of the famous Space Marine bug hunt on Bezel Nine caught his eye and he studied the oil painting closely. Although traditional art forms were still practiced on Terra Earth, Sobieski had become so accustomed to pixelated holographic images that the swirls and strokes that created the stunning contrasts in the almost solid white painting were remarkable. The artist had captured the fight between the Space Marines and the bugs with subtle splashes of red and black. It impressed the colonel, even though he knew the battle had taken place deep underground, far below the frozen surface. When he—
“Colonel. Colonel?”
Captain Nilsen’s smooth accent jolted Sobieski from his reverie.
“The general will see you now.”
She led him to the door, rapped three times, and opened it.
“General, Colonel Sobieski.”
Sobieski gave Nilsen a half-smile as he slipped past her into the general’s office.
“Kivak, come in,” said General Gupta as he rose and gestured at the seats in front of his desk. “Sit down. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Thank you, sir, but I’m fine.”
Gupta dismissed Nilsen with a wave of his hand, and she pulled the door shut behind her.
“What’s on your mind, Colonel?”
Sobieski cleared his throat. “Well, General, I’ve got an issue with the recall.”
“Don’t we all.” General Gupta gestured to the papers spread out across his desk. “Five thousand Space Marines spread all over hell and back, all of them doing their best to avoid the recall. What’s your issue?”
“A platoon from Foxtrot Company was misrouted.” As soon as he ended the sentence, Sobieski caught himself. “What I mean, sir, is that they’re not on Eros-69.”
Gupta’s eyebrows furrowed, and Sobieski recognized the sign of an impending eruption. “Where the hell are they?’
“Eros-28, General.”
“Eros-28? That place is a goddamned truck stop. How did they get sent to Eros-28?”
“I’m looking into it, sir, but it seems they were bumped from the Eros-69 liberty shuttle and somehow wound up on Eros-28.”
The lie came too easily, but Sobieski wanted to protect the rest of his men from the general’s wrath. He had relieved Reese and Brickell and ordered them back to Terra Earth for reassignment; that was punishment enough. He didn’t want to give the general a minor issue to focus on, even if it was caused by the recalcitrance of the air boss.
“So, get them back.”
Sobieski winced. “That’s the issue, sir. The air boss won’t send a transport to pick them up without your authorization. He’s under orders to dedicate all his assets to the recall.”
It was the Staff Law of Thermodynamics: If the heat was on the air boss, it wasn’t on Sobieski. He hated to use it, but it was the truth.
General Gupta shook his head and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Are you telling me that two full-bird ISMC colonels aren’t capable of working together to recover a platoon from some other planet?”
“No, sir. We are more than capable, but your orders were specific. The trip to Eros-28 is a multi-day mission and given our current alert condition we could sortie at a moment’s notice and leave behind a shuttle along with the platoon.”
After exposing the air boss, Sobieski took the opportunity to give his fellow officer some cover.
“All we need is your permission, sir, and we’ll get it done.”
“Okay, Colonel. Go down and tell the air boss that you have my authorization to send a shuttle to recover your lost platoon. Is there anything else?”
Sobieski jumped to his feet. “No sir, that was it. Thank you, sir.”
As he was reaching for the doorknob, Gupta’s voice brought him up short.
“Colonel, I saw the passenger manifest for the transport headed back to Terra Earth and I saw Captain Reese and Captain Brickell from your Battalion. They’re headed back for reassignment?”
Dread washed over Sobieski. “Yes, sir. I relieved the captains and made them available for orders.”
“I’m not in the business of micromanaging my Battalion commanders, but would you care to explain why?”
“Captain Reese is the officer who signed the orders that sent Third Platoon to Eros-28. Brickell was Foxtrot Company commander and let it happen.”
Gupta glared at Sobieski for a long second before he nodded.
“Good decision, Colonel. Carry on.”
* * *
After the office door clicked shut behind Fortis, Chief Schultz cleared his throat and Director Chive snorted.
“That was a ham-handed attempt at bribery,” the scarred man told the governor.
“I don’t know. He seemed sincere to me,” said Schultz.
Chive sneered. “That’s because you’re a fat fool.” He glared at the chief and dared him to do something about the insult. Schultz stared, open-mouthed.
Governor Czrk held up his hands. “Gentlemen, please. There’s no need for that.” He looked at Schultz. “Your case against the Space Marines is solid, isn’t it Chief?”
Chief Shultz squinted at the governor. “It sure is.”
“Tell us about it,” interjected Chive. The chief gave him a hurt look, and Governor Czrk nodded.
“That’s an excellent idea. Why don’t you do that?”
The police chief cocked his head and pulled on an earlobe. “We received an anonymous tip that some of the Space Marines were dealing China Mike upstairs at the Cock and Tail. One of my officers verified the report with a confidential informant and we made the arrests.”
“Did your officer make a purchase?”
“Um… no. He verified the report with the confidential informant.”
Czrk and Chive traded knowing glances.
“How much China Mike did the Marines have?”
“There was a plastic bag with eighteen grams in it on the nightstand.”
Czrk shook his head. “That’s not what I asked. How much China Mike did the Marines have in their possession?”
Schultz shrugged. “I don’t know. The arresting officers logged eighteen grams.”
Governor Czrk exhaled heavily and massaged the bridge of his nose.
“Fuckin’ amateurs,” muttered Chive.
“Now, look here,” protested Schultz, “it was a good bust. We got two dealers and some China Mike off the streets.”
“Whose room was it, Chief?” demanded the governor. “Was it rented to either Marx or Landis?”
Chief Shultz’s fleshy jowls jiggled, and red blotches bloomed across his face and neck. “I don’t know whose room it was, Governor. It’s
the Cock and Tail. You know how it works, the prostitutes rent rooms by the hour.” His voice became an irritating whine, and Chive had the sudden urge to grab a handful of his fleshy cheek and shake him until he squealed.
“Chief, would you mind if I spoke to the governor alone for a minute?” Chive’s tone was almost civil, but there was an undercurrent of menace in his voice.
“Ah… ah… about what?” he stuttered. “Me?”
Chive shook his head. “Not about you, Chief. If I wanted to talk about you, I’d do so in front of you.” He pointed to the door. “Please, go.”
Chief Schultz looked at Governor Czrk, who nodded.
“It’s okay, Chief. Director Chive and I need to discuss another matter that doesn’t involve the Colonial Police Department.”
Chief Schultz slunk from the room like a scolded teenager, and Chive scoffed at his departure.
“What do you want, Chive?”
“We both know there’s no way those charges will hold up in court.”
“I’m aware of that, thank you. Tomorrow, I will take the time to read through the reports and see if there is anything there. If the situation is as Chief Schultz described, then I’ll have no choice but to let those men go.”
Chive shook his head. “We shouldn’t let this crisis go to waste, Governor. There’s a genuine opportunity here.”
Czrk’s eyebrows arched. “Oh? What opportunity is that?”
“That lieutenant, Fortis, practically begged you to name your price to free his men.”
The governor held up his hand. “Stop right there. I will not extort money from Lieutenant Fortis and his men.”
“I’m not talking about money. My intelligence sources have identified five members of a resistance cell, and I want to run operations to capture them.”
“I’ve given no approval for you to operate against the resistance. Chief Schultz—”
“Chief Schultz is a fat, corrupt freeloader who sees nothing while his men actively take part in the China Mike trade; the same China Mike trade that funds the resistance.” Chive sighed with impatience. “Governor, the GRC sent me here to pacify the situation, and they gave me broad powers to do so. I trade in information to develop actionable intelligence, and my intelligence is time sensitive. If I give it to Schultz or his men, they will compromise it.”
“Chive, in case you’ve forgotten, this facility is in crisis mode. We lost weeks of progress when that garage collapsed, and I can’t afford another labor slowdown if your men arrest colonists again.”
“It won’t be my men, Governor.”
Czrk’s annoyance became puzzlement. “If you won’t work with the colonial police and you’re not using your men, then who?”
“Space Marines.”
“Space Marines?”
“Yes. Space Marines. We give them the suspect list and tell them where to look. They capture the suspects, and we take custody.”
The governor shook his head. “No, Mr. Chive. This is a local problem, and we will handle it locally. The ISMC would never allow Lieutenant Fortis to get involved in a local law enforcement problem.”
“You don’t have to ask the ISMC, Governor.”
“Then how?”
“Leverage.”
* * *
The smell of sweat and stale beer hit Fortis like a slap to the face when he opened the door to the gymnasium. The red-faced Space Marines were formed up for physical training, and it was obvious that Corporal Ystremski had pushed them hard. When the corporal saw Fortis, he called the platoon to attention.
“How did it go, sir?” he asked as the lieutenant approached.
Fortis glanced at the platoon. “Let’s talk about it somewhere else.”
“Yes, sir.” Ystremski gestured to the Space Marines. “We’re about finished here, anyway. Platoon, fall out and get cleaned up for chow. Dismissed!”
The weary Marines filed out of the gym. Soon Fortis and Ystremski were alone. They walked into the weight room and sat down, side by side, on a weight bench.
“We’re fucked,” Fortis told the corporal. “The governor won’t budge.”
“Who did you talk to?”
“The governor, the police chief, and that security guy, Chive.”
“What happened?”
“I started out with an apology and then we talked about the situation. The colonial circuit judge isn’t due for eight weeks. Until then, they’ll sit in their cells.”
“Eight weeks? Damn.”
“I explained that if we leave Marx and Landis here they’ll be screwed for life. It didn’t do any good.”
“What do they want?”
“That’s the strange part. I did everything but ask the governor to name his price and there was no reaction. Maybe this isn’t a shakedown.”
“Fat chance.”
The pair lapsed into a lengthy silence before Fortis sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’ll get court martialed again when we show up without Marx and Landis. You know that, right?”
Ystremski gave him a quizzical look.
“What makes you say that, LT?”
“Sobieski’s orders were explicit. ‘Be prepared for no-notice extraction.’ That doesn’t include cutting the guys loose or slapping a half-month’s pay down for them to get drunk. I might’ve slid by if Captain Brickell had responded to my message, but the Battalion commander? No way.”
“Have you told Marx and Landis?”
“I checked on them, but I didn’t say anything.”
“When are you going to tell them?”
“Not until the last minute. I’ll keep working on the governor; maybe I can change his mind.”
Corporal Ystremski sat silent for a moment before he cleared his throat.
“I owe you an apology, LT. I failed you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sir, I’m wearing socks that have been in the Space Marines longer than you, and I know better than to violate Sobieski’s orders. I’m supposed to be the voice of experience. I should have stopped you.”
Fortis swallowed the lump that formed in his throat before he responded. “I just wanted to do something good for the guys. They put up with a lot.”
Ystremski shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, LT. Space Marines live the life they chose. It’s no secret that life in the Corps is tough. Hell, most of these guys joined for the challenge. Remember, it takes heat and pressure…”
“…to make diamonds,” Fortis completed his sentence. “I remember.”
Those eight words, carved into the stone archway over the gate that led to the International Space Marine Corps training grounds, greeted every fresh recruit, officer, and enlisted. By the time they graduated, if they graduated, the heat and pressure of their training seared those words into their memories.
“All right, enough reminiscing.” Fortis stood up. “Let’s get the platoon to breakfast.”
The pair walked toward the door, and Ystremski nudged Fortis with his elbow. “Before we go, take a second and square your rack away. I heard there might be a berthing inspection after chow.”
* * * * *
Chapter Sixteen
After they ate and Corporal Ystremski roared through the dormitory like a tornado, Lieutenant Fortis and the Space Marines formed up in the gymnasium to pay in sweat for the berthing inspection.
Security Director Chive entered the room and stood by the door.
“Lieutenant Fortis, the governor wants to see you,” said the scarred mercenary.
Fortis looked at Ystremski and shrugged. The platoon hooted and laughed as he walked to the door.
“Don’t worry, LT, you’ll have plenty of company later to help you pay for that soup sandwich you call your rack,” Ystremski called after him.
Fortis was a little annoyed by the interruption. It secretly pleased him that the corporal had held him to the same standard as the men during the inspection, and he had been looking forward to the opportunity to wor
k out with them.
He walked past the security director into the corridor and, without waiting, started down the now-familiar path to the governor’s office. By now, he knew Chive would answer questions with non-answers. Instead, he focused on what else he could say to convince the governor to release Marx and Landis.
Governor Czrk greeted them when they arrived.
“Lieutenant Fortis, thank you for coming.” Czrk smiled and offered his hand. He turned to Chive. “Director Chive, that’s all I have for you for now, thank you.”
Chive made a noise in his throat, and his face showed his apparent displeasure, but he left without a word.
Czrk ushered Fortis into his office and closed the door. “Sit down, Lieutenant. Can I offer you a drink?”
“Water would be great, thank you.”
The two men sat down with their drinks, and Czrk smiled at Fortis.
“Lieutenant, I’ve been thinking about our earlier conversation regarding Marx and Landis. After consultation with Chief Schultz and Security Director Chive, I think we’ve come up with a solution that benefits everyone.”
“I’m all ears, Governor.”
“Do you recall when we were discussing liberty for your men, Director Chive talked about a resistance movement here on Eros-28?
“Yes, I remember.”
“Good.” The governor leaned back and made a steeple with his fingers. “The resistance on Eros-28, such as it is, began as a group of employees with the usual complaints about pay, working conditions, and so forth. Over time, they have progressed from filing grievances to organized work slowdowns. In response to the escalating problems, the GRC sent Chive and his men to help me get the situation under control.”
Fortis nodded as Czrk spoke, uncertain of where the conversation was headed.
“China Mike has flooded the colony, and we suspect that’s how the resistance is funding their activities.
“They have recently escalated their efforts and begun to engage in acts of industrial sabotage. A few days before you and your men arrived, they collapsed one of our garages and set our production back at least two weeks.”
