by Cain Hopwood
Once they were all there, he began. “This is an update, but I’m also open to ideas and interpretations. So everyone, speak freely.” He glanced around the room, ensuring that he got a few nods before continuing. “Before he was cut off, Lieutenant Moss managed to get us some intel from the redoubt Gritz had under observation. It’s a covert recording of a conversation between two high level Marbelites. It’s not much, and because it’s in a local dialect, I had to get a Marbelite to translate it, so the content still needs to be confirmed.”
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why ask us?” Said Sandy Lepok. “Surely the admiral will have better resources to analyze this.”
“Probably, and he’ll get a copy. But the more time we spend on Marbel, the more familiar its situation is becoming. Now, I haven’t entirely lost confidence in the Galactics, but I’m concerned as to how a group of mountain village clansmen managed to assemble a fleet of aircraft sufficient to enforce a no fly zone covering half the continent. And, how they did it seemingly right under the centarch’s nose. It seems like a big gap in the centarch’s intel. So consider this meeting more of a second opinion.”
Sandy nodded. He continued. “I’m going to play the recording and the translator’s commentary side by side. He claimed not to speak the language well, but he kept up fine.”
He opened Moss’s file then the recording of his conversation in the bar, displaying them both on the conference table. Then he started both running. The Marbelites in the image started speaking their gravelly dialect, and a moment later another voice cut in using Galingua.
“Halt the recording, I hear who these two are now.”
The colonel paused Moss’s recording, but left the translator’s going, just as he’d done earlier that evening.
“This big fellow is the Mantoy clan chief. I don’t recall his name, but there’s no mistaking his voice. The smaller one is not familiar to my ear at all, but he’s from up north so I would say he’s affiliated with Kromac.”
The colonel then paused the translation as well. “Kromac is the warlord who’s managed to unite the clans and bring them together in this insurgency. He’s also the Marbelite that Murdoch took a pot shot at.”
Sandy blinked. “Murdoch missed?”
“No, he hit Kromac in the head, unintentionally.”
“Their heads are just full of adipose tissue. Murdoch knows this. That won’t even slow him down.”
“No, but it pissed him off. And the attempt on his life has accelerated his succession plans.”
“Hence the no fly zone,” Sandy said.
“Yes, though it seems from this conversation, not all of his flunkies are one hundred percent behind him.”
The colonel resumed both recordings. The small Marbelite spoke first, and the translation continued a moment later.
“He’s gone too far this time.”
“I agree, …plan is madness, but what we do to stop. He is …darling of the clans. Things will …run their course. I am chief, my clan committed to support.”
“But at what cost? I …been with Kromac since beginning. He …only chief to unite clans, only one with vision goes beyond clans. But this …step too far.”
“His vision doesn’t matter. Mantoy committed, I pledged support. While conflict continues, he will have it. Is out of my hands.”
“Surely, you talk to other chiefs, feel them out, explain what he is about to do, what will mean.”
“At what cost? Ruin Mantoy name? No clan would trade or treaty …for ten generations. We reduced, fade obscurity. Better Stetlak rain fire down from heavens.”
At this point the small Marbelite seemed frustrated, at least he jumped up and down before continuing.
“And if plan works what then? Galactics gone. We …no power stations anymore, no manufacture flyers, roads in ruin. We may as well be bombarded from orbit, result same.”
There was a long delay before the Mantoy clan chief spoke.
“For Mantoy, …result no different. I am not Kromac, I can’t see past my clan’s needs. But I see this, if …succeeds …we’ll be free of Stetlak. If have to, we can learn to build roads and flyers again.”
The colonel stopped the recordings. “The conversation continues for another few minutes, but the rest is just small talk. You can run through it in your own time. What you’ve just heard is the pertinent part of the conversation. Thoughts?”
Pascale was the first to speak. “What they’re saying doesn’t sound good, but there’s no detail at all. Just a vague reference to a plan.”
“Maybe so,” Sandy Lepok said. “But the clan chief seems pretty concrete about its consequences.”
“Yes, the phrase that got me was ‘Galactics gone’. What kind of plan would ensure that the Galactics leave and never come back?”
Sandy’s face looked like she’d just eaten a lemon. “I don’t know. Nuclear maybe, or biological, something catastrophic.”
The colonel raised a hand. “You’re hanging a lot off a single phrase, that could be a mis-translation.”
“Maybe so,” said Pascale. “But then they talk about having no power or flyers, no Galactic technology. It’s clear they’ll be doing something that will make the Galactics either not able, or not want to return.”
“They could just be striking a deal with whoever is supplying them with gear. Maybe the Marbelites are expecting that group, whoever they are, to drive the Galactics off and leave Marbel to the Marbelites.”
Pascale tilted his head. “Colonel, do you know why Stetlak annexed Marbel in the first place?”
“No, I don’t. Marbel doesn’t seem to produce much for export. I’m struggling to understand what Stetlak are getting out of this planet that makes it worth their while.”
“It must have something the Galactics want,” said Pascale. “Someone is supplying them with a lot of ships. And that can’t be cheap.”
The room fell silent. It was Sandy Lepok who spoke first. “Whatever the reason, we have to consider that there’s probably another starship involved. The northern tribes are fielding a lot of ships. Too many for them to have been transported here on our starship; at least, not without the centarch noticing.”
“Do you mean to say this could be part of a conflict between centarchs?” Pascale said. “That isn’t something we want to get involved with.”
“No,” the colonel said with a wry smile. “But you can bet there would be a few defense contractors back home that would rub their hands in glee at the prospect of playing a couple of centarchs off against each other.”
Pascale shook his head. “When you tell them about the Chonai insurrection that will change. Centarchs have the resources of all the planets they’re supplying with ship fuel to call on. I would imagine that when they go at it with intent, things get ugly fast.”
The colonel put his hands flat on the table. “It all comes down to why Marbel, and who’s supplying them. Moss may have to stay out there longer than he wants if we’re to find that out.”
“I’ve got a way to help there,” said Pascale. “If we can get some help from the admiral, I’ve got a way to resupply Jon with an orbital drop.”
The colonel nodded. “Well he’s okay for now. But, as soon as this weather clears we’ll re-establish contact. Moss is better placed to determine who’s supplying these insurgents than us. It’s just a shame we can’t drop people from orbit, he’s woefully under manned for anything other than reconnaissance.”
— 38 —
Jon stood at the top of what amounted to a sheer drop. The stars above him were blazing bright, but the valley below was shrouded in fog, a fog that had been rolling in from the lowlands for the last couple of hours.
He checked the straps on his pack, then ensured that both ARX-70s were slung and secure. The first half of the descent would be fast and hairy, and a rifle swinging around would be treacherous. Given what he was about to do, he should have strapped them to his pack. But not having a firearm close at hand, seemed even more foolhardy than having one swingin
g wildly.
At least he’d be able to see where he was going for the first thousand meters. With fog coming in, the bottom half of the descent was going to be interesting. Still, at least that meant that he’d be shielded from prying eyes.
He double tapped a tooth and activated a thermal overlay. The image was out of alignment so he blinked a couple of times to reseat his datatacts. They’d been glitching lately; ten days in near Antarctic cold was drying them out.
He didn’t really need the overlay, at least not until he hit the fog, but below him, right in his path and hidden under the cloaking white blanket, was a field of boulders and ledges. He’d picked the easiest route through on the map, but finding it in limited visibility wouldn’t be easy. Even with the overlay.
“How are we looking?” he asked.
“We’re looking fine,” Skip responded. “Because we’re safely and sensibly back here in the snow cave. Though Murdoch is getting vertigo from your feed.”
Jon allowed himself a small smile. “That’s going to get worse shortly. Now, can you disable my recovery drone? I don’t want it going off when I take this drop.”
“I kinda figured that. Are you sure we can’t talk you out of this lieutenant?”
“No. Dawn is close, it’s miles back to a more reasonable descent, and then we’d have to approach down the valley. Besides, I’ve got you two to watch over my shoulder.”
“Fat lot of help we’ll be.”
“Well, you can start by telling me if there’s any patrols out.”
Skip fell silent, presumably he was running through the various cameras they had trained on the redoubt. “Nope, all clear. The fog seems to have grounded them.”
“Good,” Jon said. “I’ll get moving then. Let me know if the situation changes.”
He closed his eyes and visualized the first few turns, feeling how his body would twist and push against the G forces. The first couple of turns were key. Especially when there was a ten foot drop to start the run. He had to remember to resist the urge to show off. No one was watching. No judges, no media and no peers. Flow, speed and fluidity did not matter. The only thing that mattered, was getting to the bottom in one piece. However long it took.
He took a deep breath, let it out and cleared his mind. Then he pushed strongly off and was momentarily in free fall. For just a second, he felt like he was in the BC backcountry. Then, the surface came at him in a rush and he hit the surface, though barely made a sound. He knew the snow would be soft, but not quite that soft. For a moment he was buried up to his waist nearly coming to a stop, before bursting out in a billow of powder.
He shot down the slope, the combination of a ten foot drop and a fifty degree slope accelerating him like a bullet. But this first pitch wasn’t long, and he couldn’t afford to pick up too much pace, so he cranked out a few quick turns, getting his speed back under control, then looked ahead.
Coming up fast was a line of rocks, glowing with heat in the thermal overlay. Only the eye of a competition free skier would have considered the rocks navigable. Jon drifted right looking for the gap to a chute he’d spied earlier.
Once he found it, he made for the chute, stopping at the entrance. The chute was narrow, just over a meter wide in parts. What was worse, it zigzagged through the rocks, so straight lining down wasn’t a possibility. Fortunately he had another option.
Jon dialed his skis back from the long, wide, and stiff profile he’d been using, to shorter and even fatter planks. Now he was sliding on what amounted to a couple of small snowboards, and he could easily and safely side slip down the chute.
It took a couple of minutes to navigate, and as he came out the bottom the first tendrils of fog swirled around him. Visibility was reducing fast, and from here on down he’d have to be especially careful. He reverted his skis back to their original shape and moved off. The slope was still steep, but the snow was crisp and squeaky. From memory this powder field was long, nearly a kilometer of vertical before the final set of rocky cliffs just above the redoubt.
He was only half way down when Skip came over the tac-link. “Lieutenant, you’re not going to like this, but we’ve got movement at the entrance.”
“What is it?”
“Looks like a patrol.”
“Galactic ships, or local flyers?”
“Galactics.”
“Crap! How long have I got?”
“A minute, maybe two. They’re still doing their walk around.”
Jon’s mind raced. He’d planned to pick his way through the next set of cliffs like he’d just done. But that took time. And this new patrol were Galactic ships. Unlike local flyers, they launched vertically as soon as they cleared the redoubt’s entrance. That would take them straight past him.
He needed a plan B, and he needed to get off the slope. Without hesitating he pointed his skis straight down, and took off. Within two turns he was at race speed. He was carving deep trenches in the snow as his Volkls bit deep into the soft surface. This would eat up the vertical fast. But with limited visibility, at this speed he’d never stop in time once the cliffs appeared.
“Skip, there’s a big lumpy rock outcrop at the top of these next cliffs. Should be just north of center. Drop a heads up marker on it.”
“Sure.”
A moment later the marker appeared in his vision, complete with a handy distance-to figure. He still had over five hundred meters of vertical to go.
“Lieutenant, you don’t have much time, the pilots are getting in their ships.”
Jon just grunted as he tried to hold the G forces in check. The cliff was coming up fast, but even so he waited until the last possible second before twisting his skis sideways to slow his headlong rush.
“Where are you?” he muttered to himself. Then, the rocky knoll appeared out of the mist and he made for it. Below it, there was a thin tendril of snow that led to the edge of the first of a series of steps. The only reason he recalled the steps, was because when he’d mapped the slope looking for a way down, they’d caught his attention. They were exactly the kind of features a free skier looked for in a competition descent.
Jon slid to a stop, heart thudding, he had to give his legs a couple of seconds to recover. But he also had to keep moving; over thinking his next actions, would be a bad idea. He peeked over the edge and found his target, a small patch of snow covering a ledge twenty feet below, and a little way out.
He pushed back a little, so he had a clean run up, then shoved hard.
The takeoff was clean, and even though he had to windmill his arms to keep upright, he was on target. His landing though, was hard. The snow clinging to the precarious ledge was firm and had no give at all. But he’d stuck the landing, and it caused something in his brain to switch. The soldier faded into the background, and the competition free skier he’d been years ago, came to the fore. He filled with the confidence of youth and pushed off again.
One, two, three, he took the next steps in a sequence. Traversing down the near sheer face of the cliff via a sequence of drops. Each landing was hard, but he kept moving, stayed in the flow and didn’t lose his rhythm.
A smile crept across his face as he twisted through one hundred and eighty degrees while he took the last drop. It was a long one, but with the extra rotation he landed facing straight down the pitch, so instead of having to absorb the whole drop with his legs, he shot away from the landing like a bullet. He was only a short distance above the redoubt now, and moving fast.
“The ships have lifted lieutenant, get under cover!”
Four quick turns had him on the roof of the redoubt, just over the balcony they’d been observing. As he slid to a stop, he disengaged the ski bindings and his boots loosened. Then, with a single movement he unslung one of the ARX-70s, and vaulted off the edge of the roof.
It only took a moment to cover the balcony’s door and ensure it was deserted. With that done, he slipped into the shadow under its roof, just as the two patrol ships roared overhead.
— 39
—
Jon waited until the patrol ships were well clear, then shrugged off his pack. He didn’t want to be carrying around avalanche drones and shovels while inside the redoubt. He quickly rifled through it, grabbing spare magazines, coms relays and the last of the micro surveillance drones. Then he detached the second ARX-70 and swung the pack up onto the roof. He’d retrieve it, and his skis, later.
Once ready, he looked up to where Skip’s drone was emplaced. He couldn’t see the tiny device, but Skip would be watching.
“The room is clear, so is the corridor. Once you’re in, I’ll emplace more permanent comms.”
Jon eased open the heavy door and slipped into the room. Skip’s sparrow followed and started working at the hole it had drilled above the door. He gave the room a quick scan and then focused on the corridor.
He couldn’t see the two micro drones they’d sent in earlier. His eyes darted to the dark ceiling, they’d be up there somewhere. The micros didn’t have much smarts built in, but basic programming caused them to seek darkness when they lost communications.
The far end of the corridor opened into another room, presumably the twin of the one he’d entered by. There were several doors on the corridor’s right side, and an opening in the middle on its left. That led to a stairwell.
“The optical relay is set up. You’ll need to place another inside the barrier. It should be somewhere between you and the stairwell. That should allow me to reestablish contact with those drones and keep in contact with you. Before you do that though, let the sparrow out.”
Jon backed up and cracked the door so Skip’s sparrow could get out. It was too big and noisy to be following him around on a stealth incursion.
“I’ll clear the far room first,” Jon subvocalized. “Watch my back.”
A few stealthy steps had Jon beside the corridor’s first door. He listened for a moment, then moved farther down the corridor. This was the most dangerous part of the operation, he was working completely blind. A few more steps had him at the junction where he stole a quick glance down the stairwell. It was empty. Then, he crossed to the other half of the corridor.
