The Forgotten Outpost

by Gus Flory

  “You’re not cleared for here, man. You need a cosmic clearance to come back here.”

  “Is that a thing?”

  “You’re a dead man. They’ll either shoot you on sight or they’ll detain you and you’ll be disappeared. You’re done, man.”

  “Who are you working for?”

  “I’m SSIS. COINTELPRO.”

  “I want names.”

  “Cone, man. And Fontaigne. Get me a paramedic. Please.”

  A dark pool of blood was forming on the floor around James’s shoulder and along his arm. He grimaced as he looked up at Diego.

  “Where’s Moxley?”

  “I don’t know. Call a paramedic, would you?”

  Diego fired the pistol at the floor by James’s head.

  James yelled in pain and clasped his ear.

  “Where’s Moxley?”

  “He’s in Building 12 in Government Town. Right outside the studio, four buildings down.”

  Diego picked up James’s pistol and put it in his belt. He walked out the studio door and stepped onto a large concourse lined with multistory habitations, upscale restaurants and shops. Trees, hedges and flowers permeated the concourse with greenery. This district appeared to be gated from the rest of the city.

  An alarm was sounding.

  “Return to your habitations or duty stations,” a voice said over the intercom. “Force Protection Level Four is in effect. Return to your habitations or duty stations.”

  The concourse, shops and restaurants were empty except for a few people running to their habitations.

  Diego walked down the concourse to Building 12. He pushed open the front door and entered a plush habitation. A man sat on a couch in a sunken living room watching the riots on a wall-sized flat screen.

  “Grab a beer, man. They’re saying the mob busted Marko out of jail. But it looks like the police are getting things under control. The Governor has declared martial law. T-FORCE sent in their scrubs for support. But their main maneuver element is still on Enceladus. I thought you were still taping.”

  Moxley turned around and saw Diego standing behind him with pistol drawn.

  “Zanger?”

  “One move and I shoot.”

  Diego walked around the couch. Behind him, Gov. Cone was on the screen conducting a press conference. Police Chief Arbona Halili, Gen. Freitas and Col. Butcher were standing beside him.

  “Titan Police and T-FORCE have the situation under control,” Cone said. “All citizens are ordered to return to their habitations or places of work. Anyone in the corridors will be arrested and prosecuted. We are working with T-FORCE to identify the instigators and organizers of this disturbance. They will be brought to justice as will anyone who has destroyed property or committed acts of violence. The rule of law will be maintained.”

  Diego took a look around the living room. It was palatial.

  “Looks like you’ve done well for yourself, sergeant.”

  “You don’t know who you’re talking to, Zanger.”

  “I know.”

  Diego pulled the diary out of his pocket and tossed it to Moxley.

  “I’ve been looking all over for this.”

  “I’m taking you in.”

  Moxley laughed. “That’s funny, man.” He raised his wrists. “Take me in. Let’s go. Haha. You’re so done, man. I’m SSIS. I work for the CEOC. I report directly to the chief of SSIS on Earth. Just by stepping foot in Government Town, you signed your death warrant.”

  Diego stood in front of him looking down at him on the couch. Cone on the screen behind him was answering questions from the press.

  “You murdered Specialist Rocha. You knowingly participated in a terrorist attack that killed dozens of people, including LT Obuyaye.”

  “That’s right.” He stood up from the couch holding out his wrists. “Who are you taking me to? The cops? T-FORCE? This is going to be fun. You really are a dumb soldier. A pawn in the game. Take me in, man.”

  Diego fired his pistol into Moxley’s stomach.

  Moxley fell on the couch and doubled over, holding his hand over his guts as blood ran over his fingers.

  “What the hell, man?”

  “I was going to take you in. But your mouth made me think otherwise.”

  “I’m not a soldier, man. I’m just an actor playing a role. I’ve got a wife and kids. We’re going to Earth after this assignment.”

  Diego lifted his pistol.

  “Don’t do it, Zanger. Sir. Please.”

  “This is for LT and Specialist Rocha.”

  Diego pulled the trigger and blew Moxley’s brains out the back of his head.

  He put Spc. Rocha’s journal back in his pocket and walked out of the habitation and down the concourse. The alarm still sounded.

  “Force Protection Level Four is in effect. Remain in your habitations or duty stations.”

  Diego re-entered the studio and walked across the studio floor. Alan James lay motionless in a pool of blood in the same location Diego left him.

  Diego walked out of the studio and down the hallway and to the doorway that led to the stairwell to the Governor’s office.

  He leaped up the steps and re-entered the conference room.

  “Somebody get down to Studio 6 and see where Alan is. His video stream has gone quiet and he’s not answering his handy. Get someone down there now.”

  Diego walked quietly across the conference room and looked through doorway into the Governor’s office. Cone was at his desk looking at his handheld. He set it down and took a swig of whiskey from his glass.

  Diego stepped into the office.

  Cone look up, startled. “Major. What are you doing here?”

  Cone reached for his handheld.

  Diego raised his pistol. “Don’t.”

  Cone moved his hand away from the handheld. He looked at Diego quizzically.

  “You must be upset. Being used the way you were. We used you to get inside the A.P.T. The A.P.T. used you to distract us with this fiasco on Enceladus so they could break Marko out of lockup. And now you have no one. Sad.”

  “I need to know. Where’s Amad Robodan?”

  “Robodan?” Cone laughed. “He’s fake. A creation of the SSIS.”

  “Fake?”

  Cone took a swig from his glass. “Let me take that back. He was a real person. A militia leader on Mars who had some success against the S.S.F. Army. He was killed in the Battle of Ceres. By then we had turned him into such a caricature of evil that we still needed him to rally the Army and the people to keep fighting the war. He’s been an effective tool for channeling their fears and hatred.”

  “You mean to tell me Robodan is fake?”

  “Yeah.” Cone took another swig. “Like Santa Claus.”

  “I’ve been fighting for ten years now. I’ve seen many good soldiers die.”

  “You need an enemy to hate to keep you going. It gives you cause to make sacrifices.”

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense.”

  “I’ve spent years from my family.”

  “Sit down, Major. I’ll make you a drink. Let me tell how the universe is run.”

  Diego sat in the leather chair across from Cone’s desk. He slumped in the chair, his pistol resting on his thigh.

  “I’ve fought all these years… for duty, honor, loyalty.”

  “You’re a true believer. I see it on your face, the floor shifting beneath your feet. It’s disconcerting, distressing when the scales fall from your eyes.”

  Cone stood and walked to the bar. He poured whiskey into a glass and set it down on the coffee table in front of Diego. He sat across from him.

  “For a moment there, we thought you had actually gotten us inside—discovered some kind of revolutionary technology—Russ Belfrey’s Tesla Project that was supposed to be a game changer. But it was just a clever trick. Apparently, the Noer are also skilled in the game of deception.”

  “Why did you choose me?”
<
br />   Cone sat with his legs crossed, watching Diego for a long moment, then sipped his drink.

  “I had Oscar Bennett hire Pristina Sage as a political analyst. We had been tracking her for a while and knew she had ties to the Noer underground. But Bennett didn’t know this. We had him recruit her as a Noer subject-matter expert, which of course she was. We had her under surveillance, hoping she would lead us into their movement, but we were making no headway. Then you stepped into the picture. You two lit up our biometric systems like New Year’s Day. Sparks started popping whenever you entered the room. The chemistry between you two was off the charts. We knew you were our way in.”

  “You killed Bennett.”

  “Don’t hyperbolize. I didn’t personally kill him. But he knew too much. He knew we had lost the people, both Noer and Imcels alike. He figured out we rig elections and started talking.”

  “You shouldn’t have put me in this position with Pristina. I’m a married man with kids.”

  Cone took a long sip of his drink, watching Diego over the brim of his glass.

  “I’m going to tell you something, Major. Something you’re not supposed to know. It may sound wicked, but there’s an ancient body of occult knowledge that’s been passed down through the ages. This wisdom has been compiled for millennia, guiding us with the practical use of historical observation—observations of each passing moment, instructing our actions, always with regard for consequent results. This course of study instructs the wise ruler how to successfully reign over the human animal—through financial control, media control, subversion, terrorism, assassination, war. Good men are repulsed by it, but it’s long been known that humans are cruel and capricious beasts. To rule them wisely, one must follow the ancient laws of power.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “The way I see it, you’re in an impossible dilemma. There’s no way out for you but death—unless you submit to me. I can save you, Major. I can teach you. Work for me. All the money you can spend can be yours. You can visit Earth. Take your family there. Or start a new life. Find new lovers. Indulge your deepest, darkest desires. Whatever you wish. All can be yours.”

  “Where’s Butcher?”

  “He left for T-FORCE MAIN. He can’t help you now. He’s flying out to Camp Hammersteel.”

  Cone gestured to Diego’s drink. “You haven’t touched it.”

  “I’ve never been much of a drinker.”

  Diego looked Cone in the eyes. Cone gazed back calmly.

  “Thank you,” Diego said.

  “For what?”

  “For telling me the truth.”

  Diego raised his pistol and shot him between the eyes.

  Diego stood from the chair and walked into the conference room. He looked out the large window at the square below. The mob had dispersed under a cloud of tear gas. Police officers in riot gear and gas masks stood in groups at different points around the square. A few soldiers were out on the plaza with them.

  Diego stepped through the broken window pane out onto the ledge. The tear gas burned his eyes. He bent his knees and leaped forward off the ledge, soaring over the square in the low gravity.

  “Look, there,” one of the policemen shouted, pointing at Diego as he fell.

  “He’s T-FORCE. Don’t shoot.”

  Diego landed and jumped again, sailing through a cloud of tear gas. He flew several meters and bounded toward the main concourse entrance.

  “Stop,” one of the policemen ordered.

  A line of police officers stood holding their shields blocking the exit from the square.

  Diego leaped over them. They tried to grab him, but he bounded again. He landed near an electric police cart. He reached in, grabbed the police officer in the driver’s seat and yanked him out.

  He slid into the driver’s seat and floored the accelerator. The police fired their weapons at him. Bullets shattered the rear window and pinged off the cart’s frame.

  Diego sped down the center of the concourse. Tear gas burned his eyes and lungs.

  The rioters were gone. Police and soldiers were everywhere. Two police carts pulled in behind him flashing red and blue lights from rooftop lightbars.

  Up ahead, a metal barricade shot upward from the floor extending the length of the concourse. Diego opened the tram door, leaped out and rolled over the concourse floor. The tram crashed full speed into the barricade with a crunch.

  The two police carts chasing him skidded to a stop.

  Diego bounded toward the entrance to a subway station. He leaped down the stairs in the low gravity, sailing downward in the long stairwell and landing on the platform.

  He could hear the police in pursuit on the stairs. He leaped down onto the tracks and ran into the tunnel. He ran in long bounds, propelling himself forward each time his feet hit the tracks. He was now in total darkness. He reached into a pocket as he ran and pulled out a penlight.

  He couldn’t hear anyone chasing behind him. He ran for several minutes. Behind him he could hear the rumble of an approaching subway train. He ran as hard as could as the train barreled toward him. Its light lit up the tunnel in front of him as it raced closer.

  Diego dove through the air. He landed on the tracks and kicked sideways, rolling onto the station platform as the subway zipped past and slowed to a stop.

  The subway doors opened and the few people on the platform stepped inside. Diego ducked into the train.

  He was breathing hard as he stood in the car. Two young workmen in coveralls watched him.

  He sat on a bench and waited.

  One of the workmen pulled out a handheld.

  Diego pulled his pistol, pointed it at the workman, and shook his head.

  The workman put the handheld back in his pocket.

  The subway sped through the tunnel and stopped at the next platform. The workmen exited.

  Diego stayed on until the next stop, T-FORCE MAIN.

  He exited the train and strode up the station steps. Military Police were staged in front of the T-FORCE MAIN gate.

  Several soldiers in full battle-rattle were walking toward the entry control point. Diego pulled out his badge, clipped it to his collar and slid into their formation, moving with them past the Military Policemen. The soldiers cleared their rifles in the clearing barrels. Diego cleared his pistol and followed them inside the entry control point.

  A gate guard checked the soldiers’ badges allowing them to pass through a set of turnstiles. Diego flashed his badge to the guard who scanned it. Red lights flashed and an alarmed buzzed.

  Diego dove forward and tackled the soldier in front of him. They tumbled together through the turnstile and through the door just as it slid shut.

  He was sprawled on top of the soldier he had tackled. Diego jumped to his feet and leaped forward. He bounded down T-FORCE MAIN’s central corridor past the coffee shops, eateries and tactical supply stores. An alarm sounded.

  He crossed the main corridor and sprinted through rows of two-story containerized housing units. Up ahead, he saw Butcher exiting the T-FORCE headquarters building with his assistant and Maj. Mangal. They were walking briskly to the flight hangar as the alarm sounded throughout the complex.

  Gunfire popped and a bullet zinged by Diego’s ear. A squad of military policemen were chasing behind him.

  “Halt!” a military policeman shouted.

  “Colonel Butcher,” Diego called.

  Butcher, his assistant and Mangal ducked into the hangar. Diego leaped forward and burst through the door after them.

  He skidded to a stop inside the hangar.

  “Stop right there.”

  Diego spun around to see Mangal pointing a pistol at him, arms extended. Butcher and his assistant were against the wall beside the doorway.

  “Sir, I need to speak with you.”

  “Hands up where I can see them, Zanger,” Mangal said. “One move and I shoot.”

  Diego raised his hands still looking at Butcher.

  “Sir, before th
ey take me into custody, I’d like a word with you about Robodan. I have information that you need to know.”

  Mangal kept his pistol pointed at Diego as he pulled Diego’s pistol from its holster.

  A military policeman opened the door and popped his head around the edge of the doorway.

  “It’s clear,” Mangal said. “I’ve got him covered. Take him into custody.”

  Diego spun around and slapped Mangal’s pistol, then punched him hard across the jaw. He pulled the pistol he had taken from Alan James from his belt and fired it into the doorway, sending the military policemen scrambling for cover.

  He turned to face Butcher only to see the big colonel swing his pistol at him. Butcher’s pistol cracked hard across the side of Diego’s head, knocking him unconscious.

  The piercing pain in his head was intense. He was confused, disoriented. Everything was dark, unfocused.

  He was unsure how much time had elapsed.

  He was sitting upright. His head throbbed. Pain cut into his skull and burned his brain. He was in motion, vibrating. His weight shifted left and right. The dull roar of engines filled his ears.

  He opened his eyes. He was strapped in the back of a TH-60 that was flying in darkness. The horizon was red and orange, glowing in the twilight.

  Diego’s wrists were zip-tied behind his back. His ankles were bound. A bandage covered his head where Butcher had struck him. Blood seeped from the bandage down the side of his face.

  Butcher, his assistant and Mangal sat across from him. They were wearing headsets.

  Butcher was typing in his handheld.

  Mangal watched Diego who was watching Butcher.

  “I have something to give you, sir,” Diego shouted over the roar of the engines.

  Butcher continued typing into his handheld, not hearing him.

  Diego continued shouting over the roar. “Sir, I need to tell you something.”

  Mangal smiled as he watched. His lip was swollen and cut where Diego had struck him.

  Butcher looked up at Diego.

  “I need to tell you something, sir.”

  Butcher reached behind him and grabbed a headset. He loosened his straps and leaned forward, placing the headset over Diego’s head and lowering the mouthpiece.

  “I have something to give you, sir.”