The Forgotten Outpost

by Gus Flory

  Tupo turned around and looked at him. “He speaks.”

  “What’s the information?” Zaba asked.

  “The pop star. Moira. She’s SSIS. PSYOPS.”

  “Tell us something we don’t know,” Tupo said.

  She smiled at him and looked forward out the windshield.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Somewhere safe, where the Federation won’t come looking for us,” she said. “We need to hide out for a while. We’re going to have to avoid the cities. The police and T-FORCE are heavy on the ground at the moment. We split up after our meeting at Bobby’s place. After what you told us about T-FORCE blaming the Einstein Plaza attack on Sonny, Aiden, Damien and myself, we felt it’s best to lay low.”

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  “He asks too many questions,” Zaba said.

  “When you were unconscious, we had a debate about your fate. Zubin wanted to dispose of you. Pristina argued that you might prove useful to us. We put it up for a vote.”

  “It’s good to know I won the vote.”

  “The vote was an even split—six-to-six,” Tupo said. “We decided we couldn’t get rid of you without a quorum.”

  “How did you vote?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “There was another vote at our meeting,” she said. “I’ve lost the confidence of the Noer people. I’ve lost confidence in myself—in my ability to find common ground with the Federation. It’s Zubin’s time now. The people love him. I think it was the right choice. Zubin is less conciliatory toward the Federation than I, but maybe it’s past time for that approach.”

  Diego studied them from the back seat. Zubin was gazing out at the dark moonscape, watching the road and the haze and dust in the light beams. Tupo seemed relaxed, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Where does that leave me?”

  “Zubin thinks we may be able to use you for leverage with the Federation. For propaganda purposes.”

  “I’m a hostage.”

  “That right,” Zaba said.

  A display on the dashboard flashed.

  “Drones,” Zaba said. “Inbound from the north. One hundred clicks.”

  He tapped at the display on the dashboard. He turned off the headlights.

  “I’m turning off the road,” he said.

  “The Carmichael Colony?” Tupo asked.

  “We can take cover there until the drones pass.”

  The rover sped fast up and down sand dunes. It launched off the top of a dune and floated in the darkness before bouncing onto the next dune. The display panel showed the drones moving quickly on their position.

  Up ahead, the skeleton of a domed structure extended upward from the sand. In the green glow of the night vision display, collapsed walkways could be seen extending outward from the dome to the ruins of habitations, greenhouses, a power plant and other structures.

  Zaba drove the rover into the wrecked dome using the night vision display for guidance. He parked under a half-collapsed overhang.

  The drones approached at 500 meters altitude. Three of them flew in formation toward the Carmichael Colony.

  “Have they spotted us?” Tupo asked.

  “Possibly,” Zaba said. “Hard to tell.”

  “We’ll know if they fire a Diablo missile at us,” Diego said.

  They watched the display panel as the drones passed over the dome and circled around.

  “If they’re looking for us, they would’ve picked up our tracks with their infrared cameras,” Zaba said.

  “Maybe,” Diego said. “They might be using night vision instead, or radar.”

  The drones circled the ruins of the colony, then turned west.

  “We’ll wait here until they’ve cleared the mountains,” Zaba said.

  He turned on a spotlight and scanned the interior of the dome. These were the ruins of what once was the central plaza for a large, vibrant colony.

  “What happened to this place?” Diego asked.

  “About five thousand Noer colonists lived here,” Tupo said. “Jeb Carmichael was the founder of this colony. He was one of Titan’s first commercial nitrogen harvesters. The colonists here would pull nitrogen and hydrogen right out of the atmosphere and liquefy it. Then they’d launch the containers up to barges and ship them to Mars and Venus. Hydrocarbons, too. The Martians and Venusians are willing to pay premium prices due to the lack of those elements on their worlds. Carmichael got into the manufacturing business using Titan’s low temperature and resources to produce every type of good that can be cheaply manufactured here. His automated factory was on the south side of town. They produced industrial machinery, rockets, space transports and consumer goods, and barged them to the Inner Solar System. Within a few years Carmichael Gas and Industry became the most profitable company in the Solar System.”

  “I remember them,” Diego said. “They were a flash in the pan.”

  “When the Federation arrived here,” Tupo continued, “they heavily taxed and regulated gas harvesting and industry and required costly fees and permits, pretty much putting an end to Carmichael’s profits. We had our own currency then—Titanian digital scrip. Our scrip was sought after all over the Solar System for its buying power and as a store of value. The Federation outlawed it, forcing Jeb to borrow Federation dollars to stay in business. Jeb was one of the original leaders of the opposition to Federation rule. He was one of Tiberius Marko’s main backers and financiers. When the war broke out, the Carmichael Colony was one of the first to be bombarded. Gunships blasted the colony from orbit. About a thousand colonists were killed in the initial barrage. Then the Army showed up. The survivors holed up in the ruins but were no match for Federation troopers and eventually surrendered. They were all massacred and their bodies were buried in a mass grave.”

  “That’s not an Army tactic, technique or procedure,” Diego said. “And it’s prohibited by the Law of War and Army rules of engagement. They may have been detained as prisoners of war, but not massacred. Sounds like anti-Federation propaganda to me.”

  Zaba turned around. “It’s not propaganda. The Carmichael colonists were massacred by the S.S.F. Army. They did it to send a message to the Noer about what fate awaits us if we resist.”

  “I’ve served ten years in the Army of the Solar System Federation. I’ve never seen nor heard of S.S.F. Army soldiers committing massacres. We’re trained to disobey orders if they would result in unlawful killings.”

  Zaba turned to Pristina. “It almost sounds as if he believes himself.”

  “Put on your TMS,” Tupo said.

  She climbed over the seat and reached around behind his back. Her soft, tawny hair brushed his face as she unlocked his hand restraints.

  Zaba’s pistol was aimed at Diego’s face. “One wrong move and I’ll de-brain you.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Just be quiet and put on your TMS,” Tupo said.

  All three began putting on their moon suits. Zaba and Tupo latched on their helmets.

  “Hurry up,” Tupo said.

  The doors to the rover popped open. Titan’s orange air flooded inside. They stepped out into the dark wreckage of the dome. Zaba removed a rifle from a compartment on the side of the rover. He pointed it at Diego.

  He pulled a shovel off the side of the rover and tossed it to Diego.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Just be quiet and follow, would you?” Tupo said.

  Their helmet lights illuminated the interior of the dome. Twisted metal and jumbled piles of Titanian concrete and stone were strewn about the dome’s floor. About half of the ceiling was open to the black, starry sky.

  They climbed over rubble, leaping off concrete slabs, slowly falling in the low gravity. Diego followed Tupo, who walked in front of him. Zaba held his rifle at his hip as he followed several meters behind Diego.

  They walked down a wrecked corridor. Bullet holes pockmarked the walls. Huge sections had b
een destroyed by explosions.

  “The attack came without warning,” Tupo said. “Blasts from orbit ruptured the dome and the ceiling and walls of the larger structures. Hundreds were killed immediately when the walls were breached. Then Federation drones dropped out of the clouds and strafed the colony. Many of the colonists didn’t have time to put on their moon suits. Those colonists who tried to flee in their vehicles were picked off by missile strikes from the drones. Many tried to glide out but were shot out of the sky. Carmichael began to organize a resistance. He had been prepping the colony for a strike even before the war had begun. The colonists reported to their fighting positions. Their air defenses began to shoot down the drones.”

  Diego contemplated whether to take a swing at Zaba with the shovel and crack his visor or knock the rifle out of his hands. But Zaba was keeping his distance. Diego could throw the shovel at him and make a run at him, but Zaba looked like he had military training. It was too risky unless he could get close enough to strike him.

  They reached the end of the corridor and entered a large rectangular structure.

  “This was the high school,” Tupo said. “The students were in class when the bombardment started. Most of them died in the initial blast. Then the atmosphere and cold flooded into the building killing most the rest of them.”

  Diego followed Tupo into a classroom. His boots crunched on the frozen floor. Desks were turned over. Everything was coated with orange sand and dust. The wall was collapsed and looked out into the darkness. His headlamp illuminated orange sand dunes outside the walls.

  “They must have hit the school by accident,” Diego said. “Collateral damage. It’s unfortunate but these things happen in war.”

  “Seems to happen a lot to enemies of the Federation,” Zaba said.

  They climbed through an open section of the wall and jumped out onto the sandy surface.

  “The colonists built a trench defensive position on the ground here to defend the main avenue of approach,” Zaba said. “This was open rocky ground then. The Army began landing infantry troopers from TH-60s just outside the range of small-arms fire.”

  “An air assault,” Diego said.

  “The troopers hit the trenches with mortar fire and drove the colonists back. Then they started killing them off in coordinated attacks. The colonists fought hard and had some success. Their snipers were effective in killing several Army officers. But once the Army took out the air defenses, they didn’t stand a chance. They were outgunned and outclassed.”

  Zaba walked out onto the dunes. Above him in the darkness were billions of stars and the glowing crescent of Saturn and its rings.

  “Jeb Carmichael decided to surrender,” Zaba said as he walked. “The S.S.F. Army officer-in-charge had him order the survivors to surrender their weapons and assemble out here on the plain. Back then this area was clear of sand, a flat expanse. About three thousand of the five thousand colonists were out here in their TMS-2s. More than half were women and children. Some had punctures and ruptures in their suits and began falling dead in the crowd. The colonists were calling for help as their friends and family died around them. They were surrounded by infantry soldiers. TH-60s circled overhead. The commanding officer was a man named Lieutenant Colonel Luthra. As Carmichael stood out here unarmed in front of his people, Luthra walked up to him, raised his pistol and shot him through the visor of his helmet. Some of the women screamed. The children cried. Then Luthra calmly shot another colonist. Then another. Then rifle fire began to pop-pop-pop from the ranks. It picked up in intensity. The colonists panicked and tried to run. The gunfire went on for quite some time. Then no one was left standing. The soldiers formed a line and walked the expanse, stepping over the bodies, kicking them, jabbing them with their rifle muzzles, checking for survivors, executing them with single shots at close range.”

  “And how do you know this, Zaba?” Diego said. “Some Neo-Fascist told you this atrocity story?”

  “I know because I watched the whole thing. I was on the mountain ridge over there. A group of us from Simon’s Bay came to help but we arrived too late. There were too few of us to mount an attack on an infantry battalion.”

  “A well told story. But I know atrocity propaganda when I hear it.”

  Zaba stopped. “All the bodies were strewn across the frozen ground. They sling-loaded a bulldozer out here, then bulldozed sand over them.”

  “The story in the news was that Jeb Carmichael was a Neo-Fascist financier who would not surrender, and fought to the last man, woman and child, shooting down his own who attempted to flee,” Tupo said. “They teach that in the schools.”

  “That sounds more plausible.”

  “Dig,” Zaba said.

  Diego stood in the white beams of light from the helmet lamps, holding the shovel, looking at Zaba through his visor.

  Zaba pointed his rifle at Diego. “I said dig.”

  Diego dug with the shovel into the sand.

  “Put some muscle into it.”

  After several throws of sand, Diego hit something. He squatted down and cleared away the sand.

  A small gloved hand and arm were half buried. Diego got down on his knees and examined the hand. He cleared away the crusty sand.

  Tupo walked up to him and dropped to her knees. They cleared sand away from the helmet of a child. Tupo leaned back, kneeling as Diego brushed away the sand.

  The visor had been pierced by a bullet. Behind the cracked visor was the shattered, crystallized face of a little girl. Diego looked away.

  He looked at Tupo who was watching him from behind her visor.

  “There are thousands more,” Zaba said. “You don’t have to dig deep.”

  Diego stood and picked up the shovel. He walked away from the girl’s half buried corpse and began to dig. He soon hit another body and fell to his knees and cleared away the sand.

  He moved to another dune and began to dig.

  He dug up body after body. Men, women and children, most killed by head shots at close range. K4 armor piercing rounds. Some pistol rounds.

  Zaba and Tupo watched in silence in the darkness as Diego dug into the sand.

  “Diego, let’s go,” Tupo said.

  “There must be an explanation.”

  “There is,” Zaba said. “Your brothers-in-arms massacred an entire colony.”

  “It’s not just here, Diego,” Tupo said. “They did this all across Titan. It was what I always feared. I know the way the Federation operates. I’ve had family killed on Mars and the Jovian moons. I know what they do to those who defy them. I’ve tried to moderate our people, to have them work within the system to prevent this from happening again. It was a great tragedy that occurred here.”

  “I know you’ve done your best, Tupo,” Zaba said. “But moderation will not save us.”

  “Luthra is a full colonel now,” Diego said. “He teaches counterinsurgency operations at the Martian Joint Military War College.”

  Diego got up from his knees and stood atop a dune. Saturn’s crescent was behind him in the darkness. He stood still looking down at Zaba and Tupo and at the ruins of the Carmichael Colony.

  “This site must be reported to the Titan War Crimes Commission,” Diego said. “They have to be informed of this and conduct an investigation. Find out what happened here. If Luthra is a war criminal, he needs to be prosecuted. He needs be punished if he’s guilty of what you say.”

  Zaba laughed. “The Titan War Crimes Commission protects war criminals. They accuse the innocent of their own crimes. They punish us for their sins.”

  “Come, Diego,” Tupo said.

  She walked back toward the ruins. Zaba waved the muzzle of his rifle at Diego who turned and followed Tupo. They walked into the wrecked dome.

  Zaba kept his rifle trained on Diego as Tupo re-locked the restraints on his wrists.

  “Is this necessary?”

  “I wonder what you would have done, Zanger, if you were a company commander and your battalion commander s
tarted executing prisoners-of-war in front of you. I wonder what you would have done if your soldiers started shooting down women and children.”

  “I would’ve stopped them. I would’ve used deadly force if necessary. It’s what I’ve been trained to do.”

  “You say that now with my rifle pointed at you.”

  “I would’ve reported this to my chain of command. I would’ve reported up the chain until justice was served.”

  “Your chain of command gave Luthra the order to kill them all.”

  “The war is over, Zubin,” Tupo said. “Get in the rover.”

  They loaded up into the rover. Zaba pulled off Diego’s armored moon suit, secured his wrists, and strapped him tightly into the back seat. Zaba drove out of dome, back out onto the dunes. They drove in silence.

  Diego wasn’t sure what he had seen. The bodies were clearly killed by S.S.F. Army munitions. But there must be a rational explanation. Perhaps this was a trick they were playing on him to gain his loyalty. He was being too careless in this mission, revealing too much of himself. He was supposed to be infiltrating their cell, gathering intelligence, locating Robodan.

  Maybe it had been a trick. He decided to go along with it, make them think he believed it.

  “You know,” Tupo said. “You seemed honestly surprised out there.”

  “Maybe I was.”

  “For a traitor and a deserter, you seem to have retained your loyalty to the Army,” Zaba said.

  “I’ve been in battle before. I’ve seen innocent people killed. But nothing to this scale. I’ve been indoctrinated to believe that Neo-Fascists commit genocide, and the Federation protects against it. We’re taught to respect the Federation and its laws, that the Federation defends our rights and freedoms.”

  “The Federation hides the truth from you,” Tupo said.

  “Do you know why we lost to the Federation?” Zaba asked.

  “You were outgunned,” Diego answered. “Outclassed. Colonists versus regular Army.”

  “Technically, you’re correct. But we had the Army outnumbered on the ground. We knew the terrain. We could’ve beaten them in a fair fight.”

  “War isn’t supposed to be fair.”

  “It was the gunships. We could defend our colonies from attacks from the ground. Even defend against air strikes. But we had no defense against the gunships in orbit, so they started blasting our colonies one by one until we surrendered. Our choice was surrender or annihilation.”