Militia Up

by J. L. Curtis

  Nicole met him at the bottom of the ramp, and it was all he could do not to reach out a hug her. “Why are you still up?”

  “Somebody had to monitor the radios, and I was the only somebody here. I also dumped all our data up to the ship, just so we have a pristine copy, just in case.”

  He reached out to her, “I’m sorry you got stuck with waiting for us.”

  “I didn’t mind, I got some work done, and I’ve been running data correlations for the last couple of divs.”

  Boykin walked down the ramp and he said, “Both of you hit the rack. I’m going to flip the comms to alert mode, and we’ll worry about the follow up tomorrow.”

  They nodded and started for the billet, and Fargo projected, “I love you, Nicole.”

  “Love you too, now stop that!”

  “Yes, dear.”

  He heard a most unladylike snort and saw Nicole shake her head, as she said something to Boykin.

  ***

  Daman caught Master Chief Magar as he exited the Hab, “Paras, you seen McDougal?”

  “Nope,” he thought for a sec, “He came off watch at all balls. He should be in the rack.”

  “He’s not. He seemed real nervous when I went off at twenty last night. I never saw him come in the Hab. All balls?”

  “Midnight for you ground grippers. Shit, where could he have…”

  “The maintenance unit.” They turned and both headed around the Hab to the maintenance unit. Daman popped the door and sighed, “There he is.” McDougal was face down on the work bench, snoring softly, surrounded by pieces of hardware, trailing cables to his data comp and the maintenance comp. “Mac! Wake up, Mac.”

  McDougal jerked up, staring wildly around, “Wha… Did something… What time izzit?” He finally focused on Daman and the master chief and slumped. “How much trouble am I in,” he asked softly.

  The master chief glanced at Daman and stepped forward, “None. We were worried that you weren’t in the Hab sleeping.”

  McDougal swept his hand vaguely toward the hardware, “Trying to figure out why I killed all those…”

  Daman interrupted, “You didn’t kill anybody. You saved our lives.”

  “But innocent people…”

  “They weren’t innocents, they wanted to overrun us, and you can damn well bet they would have killed us, given the chance!”

  Mac mumbled, “Not like war, I didn’t mean…”

  Master Chief Magar motioned toward the door, and Daman took the hint, leaving the two of them in the maintenance unit. “Mac, war, police actions, and security details like this aren’t a lot different when you come right down to it. People are still trying to kill you, either for the land, whatever you’re protecting, or the detailee. Except they aren’t in armor and they tend to hide in the general population. Think about it. These turds had illegal fully automatic needle guns. That’s not something law abiding people do.”

  “But there were women and children out there…”

  “Who were active participants? One of the needlers was used by a female. Remember, the female of the species is always the more deadly.”

  Mac shook his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt people, I only wanted to stop the… projectiles.”

  “And you did a damn good job of it.”

  “But it wasn’t supposed to kick them back, not like that!”

  Magar laid his hand on Mac’s shoulder. “Son, I’m not complaining. You built something that worked. Granted it didn’t get fully tested, but it worked at the right time!”

  Mac punched up the maintenance comp, stabbing his finger viciously at part of the circuit on the screen. “This… This is what I fucked up. I didn’t dial down the max rejection loop. If I’d scaled that with the rest of it…”

  “Deity be damned! Senior Sergeant, you did your fucking job and a lot more. It is not your fault they died. Get that through your thick Euro ethnic skull. I’m putting you in for a damn medal for what you did. Shut this shit down and go get food, then take your ass to the rack. You go back on watch at eighteen. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir, Master Chief. But I’m afraid…”

  “The captain will cover for you. He’s not one to leave his troops hanging out. Now either go, or I’ll go get an injector and put your ass under.”

  Mac reached up and shut down the maintenance comp and picked up his data comp. “Going Master Chief, I’m going.” He groaned as he got up and walked slowly to the door.

  ***

  Three days later, Fargo knocked on the colonel’s door. Zhu glared up at him, “What?”

  Since he wasn’t invited in, Fargo said, “The troops are wondering what is going on with Smallwell, the local feeds aren’t saying anything about him being charged with the murder of our two troops.”

  Zhu killed the holo in front of him in disgust, “That should be the least of your worries. Meecham is wanting to charge you and the two troops at the sites with murder for killing those innocent civilians. And that whole thing with your jumping in armor and firing that cannon into that apartment. The owner is complaining that the whole upstairs of that building is going to have to be renovated…”

  Fargo reached out and felt the colonel’s anger, worry, and distaste for the entire situation. Probing a little deeper, he felt the thoughts of whether or not to tell Fargo what else was going on. “Colonel, you’ve seen the vids, what would you have had me do? I had unarmored troops in the open, being sniped at.” He pushed a little on Zhu, to see if he would talk to him.

  “Come in and close the door,” the colonel said. Fargo did so, and assumed the position of parade rest in front of the colonel’s desk. Zhu looked up at him, frustration in his eyes. “First it was you killing Perez, and now this cluster. PLANSEC is supposedly trying to round up some of the peaceful protesters from both sites, but apparently not with much success on anything other than the proles. No Firsties have been picked up, and they haven’t even notified ORBCON to check the station for escapees, nor has GalPat been formally notified. Matter of fact, the director directed me to keep it low key and she doesn’t want any GalPat involvement. It’s to the point that they have officially listed Halvorson senior and Archer senior as missing and presumed dead in a liteflyer crash somewhere between the two properties.”

  Fargo glanced down, “What? They know from DNA…”

  The colonel held up a hand, “I know. Apparently both Freeman and Park are having problems with some of the dead identified at both sites, too.”

  “Firsties?”

  “That, and apparently some of the second wavers were involved, at least one of which is related to Freeman himself. But the company has apparently directed that all this be kept quiet, which is why nothing has been on the local feeds. There have been a lot of FTL comms in and out of the Palace by the director’s office in the last three days.”

  Fargo whistled, “That can’t be cheap.”

  Zhu shoved back from the desk and got up, pacing back and forth. “No, and it’s all coded in private code. Have your troops seen any more protesters, or anything else?”

  “Nothing. Not a soul, no movement showing up at all on surveillance, and nothing on the comms frequencies we were monitoring. And direct liaison with the TBT reps has indicated that they are seeing nothing interrupting the beams, and nobody causing any problems anywhere. That’s quite a change from the last two months, which apparently has them worried.”

  Zhu snorted. “They should be thankful for that.”

  “I don’t think that it’s as much that, as they are waiting for the other shoe to fall. I’ve never seen an optimistic techie in my life.”

  Zhu planted both hands on his desk and looked at Fargo, “Who are you?”

  Fargo reached for his mind and felt the honesty in the question, but he said, “What do you mean, Colonel?”

  “You’re not the normal militia captain. You don’t cower when you come in here, you’ve got loyalty from a GalPat warrant and medic, you didn’t hesitate in either of the situa
tions to do what you needed to, and last, but damn sure not least, you’ve apparently got the loyalty of an entire company of very senior Ghorka, all of whom are combat vets.”

  “I’m… just an old retired GalScout. I did a tour in the Terran Marines before I came over to the Scouts.”

  “You were never GalPat,” Zhu asked incredulously.

  “No.”

  “Combat?”

  “I was in the Cluster Skirmish. That was at the end of my career.”

  Zhu looked down, then back up, “The lost Marine company, you’re that Fargo,” he asked softly.

  Fargo could only nod.

  Zhu said quietly, “You personally carried the five survivors in their armor to the LZ, which was not supposed to be possible. You tried to kill the Intel weenie that gave you bad data. Courts martialed, then overturned. No wonder they’ll follow you into hell.”

  “I don’t…”

  Zhu stood, walked around the desk, bowed and offered his hand. “I apologize for the way I’ve treated you, Captain. I cannot make any excuses for my behavior.”

  Fargo reached out and took it, sensing Zhu’s mind, Damn, he’s actually scared of me and what I’m liable to do. And he truly believes they’ll follow me in anything I do. “I don’t believe you owe me anything, but I will accept the apology. We’ll be out of your hair in another ten days. That is the best I can offer.”

  Zhu nodded. “I will press the director to put Smallwell on trial before you leave. I will impress her that it would be in her, and Endine’s best interest to do so. I will hint that if they don’t, GalPat may be forced to step in.”

  “Thank you, that’s all we can ask. I’d like to be able to have our folks know the killer is getting his just desserts. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back for comms checks.”

  “Dismissed.”

  Fargo stopped by the mess and grabbed a bulb of coffee, then walked slowly back down the hall, trying to determine how best to tell the sites the current lack of status on Smallwell. Stepping back in the office, he was surprised to see Nicole sitting at the console typing away. “What are you doing here?”

  Nicole held up one finger, and went back to typing. Finishing up, she turned with a flourish and a smile, “Covering for you, as usual.”

  Fargo cocked his head. “Say what?”

  “You had an encrypted from Captain Jace. It was tracking data on the Firsties. They’ve all gone to ground at their ancestral homes. Well, except for the Abruzzi clan, they are business as usual.”

  “Did you… did that end up in…”

  “No, it’s not in GalPat’s database. I don’t share everything we get.” She got up and gestured to the chair, “All yours. I’m going to pee, get coffee, and go back to the Intel section.”

  She gave him a quick kiss in passing, and walked out the door smiling.

  Boykin and Grayson came in a seg later, just as Fargo was saying, “Okay, all sites listen up. Here’s the latest on Smallwell. There isn’t an update, per se, but Colonel Zhu, the head of the GalPat Det is going to the director of Endine with a strong hint that if they don’t do something, GalPat is going to step in and take over the prosecution.”

  Boykin shook her head, and Grayson said, “Fuckers. GalPat should step in, should already have stepped in.”

  Horse came over the radio, “The good colonel understands we’re not happy doesn’t he?”

  “I impressed that on him this morning. He doesn’t want us to go rogue, especially after what happened the other day.”

  Jiri said quietly, “He does understand, I think. The captain got him off the credit chip. Ten days gentlemen, ten days. Remember that.”

  Packing Out

  Hyderabad sat at the last module at the space station, and Captain Jace sat on the bridge scanning the cameras incessantly. Liz glanced over, “Captain, I’ve got these. You don’t have to sit here and watch them.”

  Jace shrugged. “So you’re telling me to go away?”

  Liz smiled. “Politely, but yes. You’ve got more important things to do. Keldar, Wallace, Khalil, and Klang are all waiting for the stores to be delivered, and Evie’s off talking to ORBCON about our pickup and departure routing. The Ching is in his hole as usual, and you’re as antsy as a nearporcupine. We’re not due for another comm with Captain Fargo until eighteen, and yes, you’re getting on my nerves.

  Smiling ruefully, he got up, “I can take the hint. I’ll go bother them. If anything comes in…

  “You’ll be the second person to know, Captain.”

  Jace grinned and walked off the bridge without another word. A div later he stood at the hatch as Wallace walked back aboard, “We’re good, Cap’n. Topped off the H2O, stores are loaded, fueling is complete. I’ll have you a load sheet shortly, along with a revised weight and balance.”

  Jace nodded. “Thank you, Wallace. As soon as Evie gets back, I plan on undocking and resuming our orbital parking slot.”

  Wallace nodded, wondering, Normally, every captain I’ve served with pores over weight and balance like a… What was that fish, Piranha? Yeah, Piranha over a piece of meat. This one, he glances at it and files it. Either he’s awfully good, or… No, he’s that good. I’ve never seen such smart ship handling in a pig like this one. In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a bastard configuration. It’s armored like an assault shuttle, but it’s not… But, it’s got the hardened main deck, the clamps, and… there are a lot of spaces blanked off. And there’s a lot of military hardware on here for a supposedly civilian ship.

  Wallace and Liz sat in their cabin after dinner and Wallace turned to her, “What do you think about this ship?”

  Jace, sitting on the bridge, perked up, I wondered when Wallace would get around to this. Time to bring him and Liz in and sign the NDAs.

  Liz looked up from her data comp, “It’s got some interesting equipment. Some of it is more advanced than what I used.”

  “And the crew?”

  Liz cocked her head, “They’re an interesting mixture. And they seem to get along all the time.” She lay her data comp down, “What are you getting at?”

  “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that there are so few of them? And we don’t usually see them? But maintenance still gets done, and all the PM paperwork is always filled out? And the equipment. Lots of GALSPEC, and it’s newer and in better shape than anything I remember on active duty.”

  Liz said impatiently, “So?”

  Wallace looked around, then said quietly, “I think this is one of those spook ships.”

  Liz burst out laughing, “Those are a figment of some newsie’s imagination. Ships like that don’t exist. Yes, this one is a little odd, but who knows all the designs out there. Didn’t you say the data plate said this one was out of Old Earth India? How could it be a spook? I’m just thankful it doesn’t stink of the Vindaloo.”

  Jace laughed, If you only knew, my dear. I think it’s time to be a little more up front with both of you, and get those NDAs signed before the troops come back aboard.

  ***

  Fargo, Boykin, and Nicole went over the recovery plan again, and Nicole sighed, “Why can’t we just pick up the Habs with the troops in them? That would save time and multiple trips to each site.”

  Fargo and Boykin’s eyes met over the holo, and Boykin said, “Well, there is a combat pick up where that is done, but it also assumes the troops are in armor. There are some pretty significant G forces involved when I tractor the modules up to the belly of the shuttle. I’d prefer to not have to scrape bloody paste off the bulkheads, and there is the issue of transferring in space. Kinda hard to do without a spacesuit or armor.”

  Nicole shook her head. “Oh I know. It’s just… They’re going to be vulnerable one way or the other.”

  Fargo leaned forward, “There isn’t a better way, not right now. We’re leaving the sonics, but we are picking up the repulsors. That will be the last thing loaded, and this plan minimizes the troop’s vulnerability. All they have to do is climb on
the roof, then step into the shuttle. We’ll pick up two teams at a time, Feeders One and Two, then Three and Four. Hyderabad is going to be in a LEO…”

  Boykin interrupted, “Do we have the timing for the passes yet?”

  Fargo shifted the holo, calling up a larger view, and added the low earth orbit pattern, “Ninety seg orbits. Should put him on top of the sites in numerical order. First and second passes are centered over Feeders Two and Four.”

  Boykin quickly did the math, “I can work with that. If I buster, haul ass for you ground grippers, after each pickup, I can make those on four passes. That’ll be nine divs to get all the players and modules back aboard. Ten and a half divs, it’s long day, but that’s doable.”

  “How are you planning to handle the modules?” Fargo asked.

  “Same way I did when I picked them up from Hunter. Drop ‘em close enough for the Captain to tractor them into position.”

  Nicole added, “Enough, already. We’ve been over and over this. Nothing’s changed. We can plan until Deity takes us all, but until we actually lift, it’s all moot.”

  Grayson woke up with a snort, “Are we done?”

  Boykin smiled as Fargo threw up his hands, “Okay, okay. We’re done. Senior, you’ve got the comms watch until seventeen.”

  Grayson nodded. “Got it, boss. You want to get outta the chair?”

  Fargo shook his head, got up, and motioned. “Your chair, oh watch keeper.”

  Grayson bowed, “Thank you Captain, my captain,” he said with a grin as he flopped down in the chair.

  Nicole coughed to cover a laugh, “I need to hit the head, and I’m hungry.”

  Boykin smiled. “I’m with you. Let’s go.” They walked out chuckling between themselves.

  Fargo headed for the mess, intending to grab a quick meal, but the colonel intercepted him. “Got a minute, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir.” Fargo followed the colonel back to his office, and stood at ease in front of the desk.

  “Sit, this may take a bit,” Zhu said. Once Fargo sat down, the colonel continued, “I spoke to Meecham, he now understands you and your troops are, shall we say, untouchable until you leave.” He brought up a holo that took a minute for Fargo to understand, as Zhu continued, “You’ve managed with two shots to apparently stop two different plots against the director and the company.” Pointing to the holo, he said, “This is a list of the Firsties’ family trees.” Seven of them lit up at the second generation level. “These seven, including Perez and Archer, were apparently dealing with the Traders and/or Dragoons. They were plotting to take over the entire planet and return it to Firsties’ control by displacing the company through breach of contract. There was some kind of deal involving mining that was being either discussed or done. None of them kept many notes, but there were quite a few documents and communications recovered from Perez’s estate. That particular plot had been ongoing at least three years, based on what Meecham and his PLANSEC folks have pieced together. It appears that no family with a patriarch still living was involved, and they are looking for the other five.”