China Mike

by P. A. Piatt

  “Crawl-walk-run,” replied the lieutenant. “First, we have to crawl. We check out the weapons and gear, test communications, and give the assault team members a chance to familiarize themselves with each other during the initial entry.

  “Then we walk. We’ll dim the lights and the assaults will become more complicated. The assaults will speed up, and the team will break up into smaller elements to hit all the doors in the space. Other Marines will resist the assault or play innocent bystanders, and we’ll simulate casualties.

  “When the teams are confident in their movement and ability to handle the unexpected, we run. Full mission profile. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong and usually at the worst time.”

  “How long is all of this going to take?”

  “Not long. Two hours, maybe a little longer. We train urban assault as one of our core war-fighting competencies, so crawl and walk will be refresher training because the men know what to do. Chief Schultz provided enough weapons and equipment for two teams, so Corporal Ystremski selected our twelve best Space Marines. They just need some time to get comfortable.

  “Once we finish here, I’ll take the platoon to a spot outside the facility that Chief Schultz told us about so we can test fire the weapons. After that, we’ll be ready to go.”

  Chive nodded his approval. “Good. My driver parked the crawler in the garage area. Your men are welcome to look it over when you’re finished here. The hovercopter is at our compound; you and your men will have time to inspect it well before any mission.”

  “Thank you.”

  The training continued at a rapid pace. The assault teams moved with deadly purpose and overwhelming force. Ystremski had the opposing force use every dirty trick and tactic imaginable, but the result was always the same: the Space Marines secured the building and carried the detainees out in restraints.

  “LT, I think we’re there,” the corporal reported to Fortis. “Unless you have something else you want us to try.”

  Fortis looked at Chive, who shrugged. “Corporal Ystremski, if you’re satisfied, I’m satisfied,” Fortis replied. “Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Chive’s crawler is available for us to look at on the way out to test fire the pistols. After that, I’ll put Assault Team One on alert.”

  * * *

  Chive’s driver met the Space Marines in the garage.

  “My name is Dolph, and this is a Multi-Purpose Mining Platform, or Meep-Meep. I call her Roadrunner.” After a pregnant pause, he continued. “Roadrunner is basically a large, battery-powered motor mounted inside a heavy-duty body fitted to accept a variety of mining machinery. She is capable of carrying a plasma-fired deep-drilling bit, a surface excavation blade, and a high-pressure fracking pump, along with a half-dozen other resource exploration and extraction rigs.

  “I discovered Roadrunner in one of the remote garages, where she’d been abandoned by a failed mining venture. There were two ore cars parked next to her, so we modified her for use as surface transport. We removed the ore chutes, welded benches inside the cars, and sealed the vents against sifters. There is a positive air pressure system inside the cabin and cars for use during high dust conditions to keep the dirt out and protect passengers.

  “She was originally configured as a tracked vehicle, but the tracks were so slow and inefficient that we modified the suspension to accept standard axles and knobby tires. She can do seventeen kilometers per hour forward and eight in reverse, and a full battery charge will last eight to nine hours at full speed.

  “She can fit through most of the roads in Boston without the ore cars. There are some narrow alleys that she won’t fit through, but I know where those are, and we can plan around them. Have a look.”

  Fortis looked inside the cockpit and saw a bewildering array of levers, switches, and gauges. He counted six gear shifts and five floor pedals. Some things were marked in foreign languages and several lacked any labels at all.

  “All of these to drive around?” he asked Dolph, standing at his elbow.

  “No, most of those controls are for the detachable equipment. Her main controls are a lot like those on the first-generation heavy battle mechs.”

  Fortis gave Dolph an inquisitive look, and the mercenary chuckled. “I was a mech driver in the Space Marines a long time ago.”

  Ystremski and the assault teams rehearsed mounting and dismounting the converted ore cars, first with one team and then both. They determined that the rear car provided the greatest freedom of movement for the assaulters, so Fortis decided that the command element would ride in the first car and leave the second car unobstructed. The rear car would also serve as the casualty collection point, and the medic would ride there with the assault teams. The Space Marines would load detainees into the first car with Fortis and an armed escort.

  Ystremski gave Fortis a thumbs up. “This will work just fine, sir.” He turned to Dolph. “How loud is this thing? Will they hear us coming?”

  “The crawler operates on battery power, so the motor is virtually silent. There is still some vehicle noise from the couplings and the brakes, though. There are no private vehicles in Boston, so the residents know it’s us when they hear us coming. We can mitigate that by stopping short of the target, or perhaps not stopping at all, if your men can dismount while the crawler is moving.”

  Ystremski nodded. “I think we can manage that, if it becomes necessary.”

  Satisfied with their inspection of the crawler, Ystremski formed up the platoon and headed out to test fire the pistols. Fortis and Chive met at the garage door.

  “I may have underestimated you and your men, Lieutenant,” Chive said as he extended his hand. “I had my doubts, but I think this will work out for both our benefits.”

  “We will do our best to help bring down the drug cartel,” replied Fortis as they shook.

  Fortis hurried outside to catch up with the platoon, flexed the hand, and tried to shake off the uneasy feeling he got from the mercenary. Chive’s attitude towards the Space Marines had done a complete reversal, but it didn’t seem genuine. Instead, it was almost as if he had rehearsed it. The quiet warning Jandahl had given about Chive and his men was still fresh in his ears.

  “They’re not your friends.”

  * * *

  The pistols Chief Schultz issued to the Space Marines were magazine-fed, semi-automatic ballistic weapons.

  “These things are three hundred years old, LT.”

  Ystremski handed one to Lieutenant Fortis. The officer locked the slide back and peered down the barrel.

  “The lads did a good job cleaning them up.”

  “Yes, sir, they did. The actions and triggers are smooth and the magazine springs are strong. The ammunition is a different story.”

  The corporal gestured to the ammo cans. “When we opened the crates, all the cans were rusty and dented, and a couple had failed seals. We got about a thousand good rounds out of the four crates, so we have plenty to train with.”

  The platoon set up a simple four-meter firing line and took turns slow-firing the pistols, both to familiarize themselves and to test the weapons. They progressed to double-taps on multiple targets, and then to fire-reload-fire drills. It didn’t take them long to develop proficiency with the pistols, so they pushed the targets out to twenty meters.

  “It’s a good thing we’ll be working close-in,” quipped Ystremski as round after round impacted the dirt around the targets. “These guys can’t hit shit past four meters.” The corporal took his place on the firing line and the platoon chuckled as he struggled to hit the longer-range target.

  “These pistols are shit,” Ystremski growled when he finished. Fortis laughed as he took his place on the firing line, but his results were no better. He wasn’t a great shot to begin with, and the old pistol did nothing for his accuracy.

  “Should we give them back to the chief?” Fortis asked after he finished firing.

  “This is all they have, LT. We can’t go in empty handed. Besides, the guns are mostly for
show. The governor said there aren’t any firearms in Boston, remember?”

  “Yeah. All right then.” He motioned for the corporal to follow him. “I have something I want to talk to you about while they’re shooting.”

  The pair stood out of earshot of the other Marines.

  “Have you met anyone named Jandahl, or heard the name?

  “The name doesn’t ring a bell, LT. How did you meet him?”

  “He approached me in the corridor when I was on the way to medical. He told me he’s some kind of investigator for GRC. He warned me about Chive and these missions. Said that Chive has something going on behind the scenes, and he’s using us to do it.”

  “Weird. This guy works for the GRC?”

  “That’s what he said. I don’t know, maybe he’s a crackpot who’s been out here too long and he’s playing some kind of joke. He might be a member of the cartel running a little psyop on us.”

  “Or he might be telling the truth. You want me to ask the men if he approached any of them?”

  “No. Let’s keep this between us for now. It’s probably nothing, but if he’s telling the truth, this thing just got a whole lot more interesting.” Fortis sighed and rubbed his face. “Either way, we’ll hold up our end of the bargain with Governor Czrk. I don’t care who’s doing what here on Eros-28 as long as we take Marx and Landis with us when we leave.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty

  Three hours later, Chive sent a messenger to alert the Space Marines of an imminent mission, and Fortis led Ystremski and Assault Team One outside to board the crawler. Fortis rode with the assault team and passed around the photographs the messenger had given him.

  “There are two targets, a woman and a man. The woman’s name is Shelly Baird. She works in the electronics department, and she’s an active member of the resistance. The man’s name is Chick Root. He’s a former welder who quit in protest back when the Security Directorate operated against the resistance in Boston. Baird and Root live together, and the GRC suspects that Root is operating a China Mike laboratory in their home.”

  Private Redman raised his hand. “Sir, what does a China Mike lab look like?”

  Fortis and Ystremski traded glances. “That’s a good question, Private. I don’t know. For now, treat anything that looks suspicious as drug-related, and we’ll sort it out with Chive when we’re done.”

  The assault team committed the images to memory while Fortis peered out through the view port. Outside, the city was black, and he swore under his breath. He had zero awareness of where they were or what the situation was outside the crawler.

  Their plan was simple. The crawler driver would pull up in front of the target location and shine a spotlight on the door. The assault team would dismount and conduct the raid. Meanwhile, the medic would move from the front car to the rear and leave the hatches open behind him. When they completed the assault, the team would fall back with the detainees, load up the crawler, and roll away. Radio communications would be kept to a minimum, since the radios were from the colonial police, and the Space Marines didn’t know who might be listening.

  The crawler lurched to a halt, and the spotlight stabbed the darkness. The hatch banged open and Assault Team One disembarked the crawler and approached the lighted door.

  The assault team formed up in a stack and crouched behind the breacher who examined the door. Just then, the door swung open and a sleepy-looking man poked his head out. The breacher pulled the man through the door and tackled him while the rest of the assault team surged forward into the darkened interior. Within seconds, the breacher had the surprised man’s arms and legs restrained.

  Less than a minute later, three of the assault team members exited the dwelling. Two of them were carrying a figure that struggled in their arms, while the third struggled to get a hood over the prisoner’s head. It was obvious that their captive was female, and the Space Marines were firm but not rough. Finally, they got the woman restrained and hooded.

  Ystremski’s voice crackled over the radio. “All clear. Targets are secure, location search in progress.”

  Ninety seconds passed before Ystremski and the last member of the assault team emerged from the house. The Space Marines put their prisoners in the first car and mounted up. Fortis climbed in behind them. The crawler jerked into motion and the spotlight was extinguished.

  Fortis and the men exchanged nervous smiles and high-fives on the way back to Fenway. Fortis recognized the effects of an adrenaline surge in their flushed faces and shiny eyes, and he felt a twinge of jealousy. Corporal Ystremski, sitting on the bench across from him, slapped him on the knee.

  “Fucking clockwork, LT,” he blurted. “Just like we rehearsed.”

  Fortis nodded. “A little too slow, but yeah, it seemed okay to me.”

  The Marines stared at the lieutenant in shocked silence for a long second before Fortis’ face cracked into a wide grin. Ystremski started laughing, and the rest of the men joined in.

  “Did you recover any China Mike?”

  Ystremski shook his head. “Negative. Nothing obvious, anyway. There might have been a hidden door or something, but we weren’t going to find anything like that unless we destroyed the place.”

  At the mention of China Mike, the male prisoner struggled and tried to sit up. Private Yew jumped on top of him and pinned the prisoner’s head to the floor.

  “Take it easy, Yew,” ordered Ystremski. “There’s no need for that.”

  “Stay down,” Yew told the prisoner before he climbed off. He gave Corporal Ystremski a long look after he took his seat, but a second later he was smiling and laughing with the rest of the assault team.

  “Where’s Cowher?” Ystremski asked Fortis.

  Fortis realized all the members of Assault Team One were in the first car except for the medic. “I think he’s in the second car, just like we planned.”

  Fortis laughed along with the other Space Marines at Private Cowher riding alone in the second car, but inside he was angry with himself. He had allowed himself to get caught up in the action instead of remaining above the fray to control the situation. He keyed his radio.

  “Cowher, this is Fortis. What’s your status?”

  The only response was static.

  “Cowher, this is Fortis, What’s your status?”

  Nothing.

  “We need to go back!” he exclaimed.

  The lieutenant realized they had no communications with the crawler driver. Ystremski tried to open the hatch, but there was an interlock on the latch that prevented passengers from opening it while the crawler was in motion. Several of the Marines shouted and pounded on the sides of the converted ore car, to no avail.

  Fortis struggled to control his emotions as he sat, trapped, with the rest of the assault team while the driver guided the crawler back to the GRC compound. As the minutes ticked by, his anxiety doubled, then doubled again.

  As soon as the crawler squealed to a halt, Ystremski popped the hatch, and the Space Marines poured out. Lance Corporal Lemm yanked open the hatch to the rear car and looked inside.

  “It’s empty,” he called.

  “Damn it!” Fortis turned to Dolph, who was waiting next to the engine car. “We have to go back. We left a guy behind.”

  Dolph shrugged. “I can’t go anywhere unless Mr. Chive okays it.”

  Fortis clenched his fists and stepped toward the man. “I don’t care what Chive said. We left—”

  “Hey, LT. LT!” Ystremski called from the back of the crawler. “Look who we found.”

  Private Cowher was standing next to the corporal. He was covered in a thick layer of dust and his teeth gleamed white in a sheepish grin.

  “Where the hell were you, Cowher?” Fortis’ relief was clear in his voice.

  “Everybody piled into the first car, so I decided I would, too. I ran back to close the hatch in the back, but by the time I got back up front, somebody had closed the hatch and the crawler started rolling. I guess you guys
didn’t hear me pounding and yelling. I dropped my radio somewhere, and I couldn’t call, so I climbed up on the roof and kept my head down.”

  Just then, Chive came outside, followed by several of his men.

  “Lieutenant Fortis, how did your raid go? Did you capture the suspects?”

  Fortis gestured to the crawler. “They are restrained in there. Do you—”

  Chive turned to his men. “Mount up. We’re heading for the site.”

  Fortis persisted. “Hey, Chive, hang on. There are some things we need to work out.”

  Chive put up a hand. “After we interview these prisoners, you and I can talk. Right now, I have more important business to attend to.”

  The mercenary turned on his heel and climbed into the engine car. Fortis stared after the crawler as it disappeared into the dark city.

  Corporal Ystremski had sidled up behind Fortis and witnessed the exchange between Fortis and Chive. “What now, LT?”

  “Muster the platoon, and let’s debrief,” replied Fortis. “We’ll get it sorted out, and I’ll tell Chive later.”

  * * *

  When Jandahl heard about the Space Marine raid, he went straight to the GRC facility and arrived in a nearby alley in time to overhear Chive tell Fortis he was headed for to the site. Jandahl knew it was his opportunity to locate the headquarters of the Kuiper Knights, if he could hitch a ride.

  He ducked into the shadows of a nearby doorway as the crawler rolled past and then clambered aboard the second car. He clung to the roof and squinted against the dusty darkness beyond the dim lights of Boston. The GRC facility faded in the background, but after several minutes Jandahl was able to make out a faint glimmer in the distance.

  When the crawler was a kilometer away from the site, Jandahl jumped off and scrambled behind a rock outcropping. From this vantage point, he could make out a low dirt wall surrounding a dome, which he guessed was the primary structure. The crawler stopped and waited for several minutes before a gate opened to allow the vehicle to enter.