The Far Field: A Military Science Fiction Epic (Seedlings Book 1)

by Richard Sosa

  Sandhez breathed a sigh of relief but still readied his rifle and watched the backside of the building from his covered position. He watched the Flyer bang on the ground and skid around before coming to a stop. Tech Brgit-jec opened the canopy and with a wide smile waved to the marines.

  From across the open area in front of the hangar, captured mercenaries were walking toward them with arms in the air and Dask’s team was behind them marching them forward.

  On the other side of town on the Bramton Ridge, Iris read her IARI. “Looks like Ra’s calculations solved the Orbital Platform communication link. An early warning system is coming on-line tomorrow.”

  Rik followed the same story. “That will make Karl happy. There are a lot of things going into production faster than I expected.”

  Iris frowned. “Humm, Ra probably needs to stay clear of Karl, I don’t think he should trust that old man.” She looked up out the window. “Shit, that’s not—”

  The pulse lasers cut through Iris’ unit at an arc left to right as Rik and Iris rolled to the floor. Rik glanced across the park and instantly ducked and shouted too late. “Incoming, we—” Laser darts pounded the outside and ricocheted back to the park, others ripped through the wall, breaking glass and exploding inside. Iris crawled to a low cupboard and opened it, she pushed two pulse handguns to Rik and rolled back with a large rifle in her arms and tapped a command through her wrist unit to activate disrupter technology around their unit.

  “Don’t stand. Load up,” Iris shouted. Rik was already scooting to the corner of the window and checking his weapon.

  She entered a code on the side panel of the rifle and the proximity reader flashed. She immediately pointed the rifle at the door. “Get down,” she shouted, “they’re at the door.” She shot multiple rounds at the door, it blew open and lasers blasted into the unit. A flash grenade flew in the air and Rik batted it with his laptop out to the patio. The explosion threw them on their backs. Rik’s ears rang, and Iris lay motionless on the floor. Two attackers leaped into the smoke-filled room and Rik cut them down with his pulse weapon. He ran to the door and fired into the stairwell before more attackers had a chance to enter the building. When he looked back Iris was up and firing into the park. “I have to secure the bottom entry,” Rik shouted. He leaped down the stairs, weapon ready and thought, ‘gods, please no children in the adjoining unit. Please.’ At the entryway, he crouched as three more men raced toward him. One rolled as Iris’ rifle round hit him in the face, the other two stopped abruptly as Rik fired directly at their chests, point-blank range. Both men tumbled back. One stood up, looking at Rik, then down at the bloody gaping hole in his rib cage, his eyes rose to meet Rik’s, he smirked and stood, lifted his weapon and went down when Rik shot him in the head.

  Residents exited their units and raced away from the park some carrying their children. Thumping and pinging sounds occurred as lasers continued to hit the walls of Iris’ unit. Rik saw more men using cover to get closer. “I need your big gun down here.” Lasers covered the area, grazing is arm, he hid behind cover and fired both pistols.

  Iris positioned herself on the floor with a clear view through the plate-sized holes in the wall. “I am using a randomized distance laser cutter on them,” she set the code and fired with an arcing motion across the park. The return incoming barrage of lasers tore into the pod unit. Holes punched through the walls as plaster and ceiling material fell around her in halos of swirling dust. Iris’ scope registered the data and she aimed again in the general direction as her tracking technology locked. “Got it. Engaging.”

  The laser fire from Iris’ weapon was multiple red and purple pulses that moved in a slow arc over the field then instantly speed forward as it homed in on each targeted mercenary. The trees that were providing cover shredded as laser fire cut through tree trunks and branches and struck mercenaries who dove for cover. Without disrupter technology, they had no place to hide. Leaves and branches showered down on them. Several made a quick retreat and watched the true believers falling as Iris covered the park with laser darts that splintered and tumbled like M16 projectiles in the jungle. The spent lasers were suspended in the air and then blinked out. “We’re out of their tracking range,” a mercenary shouted and shouldered his rifle, “Open fire.” The rag tags stood up and begin shooting at the pod unit. The return fire from Iris’ weapon cut them down again. Ragtag mercenaries stumbled to the ground; their bodies exploded in sprays of blood while the force of the laser impact spun them around. Others leaped for cover only to meet splintered lasers bouncing close to the ground at face level killing them instantly. The ones who never fired a shot, watched the new fire pattern from Iris’ weapon hang as points of light in the air further from the last set then disappear. At the bottom of the hill, Dask’s soldiers blocked their escape route and once in position Dask’s men opened fire with the same type of weapon. The fighting ended with the few remaining mercenaries surrendering.

  Iris heard Rik’s pulse pistols firing rapidly and she heard return fire. “Rik,” she rolled, crawled, and then got up and ran to the busted in the doorway to crash through it. She rolled into the stairwell where Rik was backing up, firing, pitching one nonworking pistol to the side while lasers hit around him. She shouted. “Stay down, I am shooting right over you.” The lasers passed over Rik and he felt the heat and heard a zipping sound while he closed his eyes from their bright light. The laser darts shattered near his feet and bounced out in front of him, arced and hit their programmed targets. Rik heard multiple thud-like sounds as lasers penetrated flesh and bone. When she stopped firing there was silence, smoke, and the smell of burnt flesh. A fire was burning in Iris’ unit and the unit fire suppression system was already hissing as it worked. She looked at the smoke pouring out of her unit and it was quickly mixing with a greenish mist. “Thank gods for that.” She sat back on the stairs while Rik made his way up the stairs to her side, moving shakily on all fours, his legs moved like they were made of rubber.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  In a small interrogation room, Dask and his senior interrogator monitored their screens ignoring Rik and Iris who waited for Doctor Megs to show up. In an adjacent holding cell, there was a group of men in dirty camo handcuffed in their chairs. Doctor Megs arrived and glanced worriedly over at Rik. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to cut open their head or anything like that. There is only one person in the group that is commissioned and Dask can interview him for a court-martial hearing, the rest are going to be released to the local police authorities.”

  Rik looked around behind him as if she was speaking to someone else and said. “They only tried to kill us, and they tore up our place. I am disappointed that we can’t hurt them, a little.”

  Iris looked up from reading her device. “Our place?”

  “Your place,” Rik caught himself and corrected, “I am just a hanger-on with no place to live,” then he said to the doctor, “what are you going to do, why are you here?”

  “Protocol Seven Four B,” Iris said quickly as she read at her IARI, “she has orders to electrocute their balls. Always does the trick.”

  Megs gave Iris a stern look. “I have work to do,” and she left the room.

  Rik waited for Megs to leave and then said. “Wait. She said she wasn’t going to hurt them.”

  Iris peered to make sure Megs was out of the room. “Rik, why don’t you keep up? I shared a file about male Aoife anatomy with you a long time ago. They don’t have much feeling down there. It will hurt but that much.”

  “What?”

  Megs came back into the room. “Rik, she’s fooling with you.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he smiled.

  Megs used her finger to gently tap a syringe. “It’s going to hurt like hell. I think I can extract both testicles fast but without pain killers, it’s going to be painful, regardless of anatomy. You two are here to restrain him. He’ll want to squirm you both need to hold him down hard. When we’re done here anyone up for ice c
ream?”

  The smile on Rik's face disappeared and Iris shifted her stance. He frowned and glanced at Iris. “No. I must have missed that file.”

  Megs laughed and Iris smiled nervously. “I am here to conduct the brain scan and officially administer a telling focus drug,” Megs said, Dask and the military doctor will talk to him and then later he will be sent to an interview with the Military Judge Advocate’s corp.

  Rik confirmed, “Truth serum?”

  “Yep,” Iris said, “except perp, there won’t have to drink it,” she said to Megs, “you can be scary, really scary especially when you’re joking around.”

  Dask signaled to the soldier guarding the door and he opened it. Two guards brought in a large man who positioned himself as the leader. His front teeth were black from lack of dental care, he had a scar along the side of his face and his blond dirty hair was thinning on the crown. They sat him down and transferred his restraint to the floor around the chair. The prisoner looked around and smirked. Megs placed a small tube in a slot on the back of the chair and closed the unit then typed the authorization on her IARI. Unknown to the soldier, the telling drug entered his body through his spine, and he began talking with a renewed voice. “Can a guy get something to drink around here?”

  Megs offered. “I can get you some water.”

  “No, I want something harder. How about some Reip-throl, and a few snorts of reginetell.”

  Meg didn’t look up from her work. “We can’t give you hard liquor or illegal drugs, you know that.”

  He gave her a dangerous leer. Megs maintained her clinical face and she placed an instrument on his forehead and then checked his eyes. She looked over to Dask. “O.K. Dask, he’s ready.”

  Dask stepped forward. “Soldier.” The word captured the prisoner’s attention and he snapped up straight. Dask continued. “Tell me about the mission. I want all the details including who ordered it.”

  The soldier responded with no hesitation. “Bishop self-righteous Wegin-ouk, they call him the ‘Provider’,” the man snorted, “that’s a joke. He paid us 60 credits a month, drugs and women and in return, we fight for him and train his stupid congregation. Those people are zealots. Dip shits. Fanatics. Looks like it didn’t go so well for them. I don’t give a shit.”

  Dask read his report. “We have evidence, eyewitnesses, survivors, surveillance audio, and ballistics, that you ordered your men to shoot at the congregation members before you surrendered. Why did you kill the followers?”

  “Because they’re stupid zealots and the Provider didn’t want witnesses? Duh.”

  Dask leaned closer to the soldier. “Are their others?”

  The man looked at Dask with a defiant smirk. “There are always others.”

  The interrogator, an older man with silver-gray hair, touched the soldier on the shoulder. The soldier jerked away and shifted his scowl to him. The interrogator said. “Son, tell us about your organization and besides the Provider are there others who have the same goal as the Provider?”

  The soldier shifted as if getting comfortable again. “The funding came from the Cleric. He has the credits for weapons. He’s well-funded,” he hunched his shoulders with nothing more to offer.

  Dask brought him back to the conversation. “You’re spending the rest of your days in prison for murder while these the people that funded this operation enjoy life as if nothing happened. You must not be a very smart man. Do you know the name of this cleric?” The man hunched his shoulders. Dask’s got closer to the man’s face. “You ever hear the name Abulanket?”

  “Yeah, that’s the guy. That’s where the funding came from. Man, what a self-serving pious man and stupid as all hell. Wegin-ouk hates him but they use each other like ‘whores’ to get what they want. I don’t care about their religions. They pay me. Abulan… whatever his name is a radical Rapitonic terrorist and he worships the wrong god.”

  Dask asked. “What about Wegin-ouk? A terrorist as well?”

  The man stared back at Dask with eyes that have given up on common decency, “Wegin-ouk and I worship profit and self-gratification,” then he tossed his head back bored by the interrogation, “I don’t get involved in politics. It’s all bull shit. I just know that Wegin-ouk is one of us. That Abulanket fella has to pay me a double to work for that…” he stopped himself in mid-thought and stared at Doctor Megs, “you’re making me talk. I am going to kill you.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Wegin-ouk packed his duffle quickly making sure the two bundles of money from Abulanket’s ‘donation’ were secure at the bottom of the bag hidden under his filthy undergarments. He surveyed his dingy one-room making sure he left nothing of value. His charged antique pulse pistol was stowed in a breast pocket and he opened the door to peer down the hallway. He closed the door carefully behind him.

  “You still owe for last month’s rent. I need to collect something today. Where are you going?” Wegin-ouk turned around to see the unit manager a kid but still taller than the ‘Provider’. The kid didn’t look at the Provider and continued to type on his virtual device, “You owe one hundred twenty credits.”

  “I am taking clothes to the poor and I have credits to convert. I’ll pay this afternoon,” Wegin-ouk said.

  The young manager nodded his head. “Mister Tanger told me to collect something today or he’ll lock you out and confiscate your things,” he pointed to notes on his IARI.

  Wegin-ouk grabbed the shirt of the manager and put the pulse pistol under his chin. His breath was rancid and smelled of alcohol. “Leave me alone to do gods work, if you say anything, I’ll blow a hole through your skull. Understand?”

  The young managers put up his arms with one hand holding his device as it was set on record. The virtual IARI vanished in sparkles and Wegin-ouk watched it disappear. “Got it,” the kid said, “just following orders. I don’t care this is just a part-time job for me. You don’t need to pay me anything, ever. It’s not my credits. You don’t need to shoot me. I am not stopping you.”

  Wegin-ouk looked at the space where the IARI was and smiled enjoying the power he held over the manager, he motioned his weapon in the kid's face. “Smart kid. Get the hell out of here and don’t say anything.”

  The boy turned around and rushed down the hall to disappear into the next hallway. Wegin-ouk left in the opposite direction at a fast pace. The manager stopped and checked to make sure the ‘Provider’ was gone and typed quickly on his device. Wegin-ouk rounded the corner of the building exit and confronted a line of rifles pointing at his face. He stopped in his tracks there was no exit. A soldier ordered. “Drop the bag and down on your knees.”

  Wegin-ouk scanned the weapons pointed at him. “I don’t kneel to anyone except God.”

  The butt of a pulse rifle to the back of his head knocked him out cold.

  Wegin-ouk woke up with a start and a noxious odor assaulted his nostrils. He twisted his head sideways and then realized he was restrained sitting in a chair. The nurse walked away from him and nodded at Dask. Wegin-ouk tested his restraints like an animal pulling and straining to get free. “What’s this? What’s the meaning of this? I am a god-fearing man, model citizen, how dare you harass me like this. Let me go. Let me go, heathen bastard.” He struggled in his chair but couldn’t move his arms or legs.

  Dask walked over. “We know about your raid. You managed to get most of your congregation killed and the ones we are arresting are talking like children. Your name came up in their confessions. You will have a trail and likely spend the rest of your days in confinement.”

  The man lifted his eyes to Dask and smirked. “At least you felt the hand of god’s wrath. I would do it a hundred times over again and now millions will enter the righteous fight.”

  Dask’s anger boiled under a poker face. “You failed, you jackass no Flyers were destroyed, no munitions detonated, your mercenaries surrendered when the real fighting began. We now have intel to route your kind and disrupt their plans. At least until we have our oper
ations completed, we have the authorization to administer a Bartonic Seven One drug to you while you await your trial schedule.”

  Wegin-ouk was defiant. “I don’t consent to that. You can’t drug me.” A Tech stepped in with a syringe and a recording drone moved around them. The ‘Provider’ watched them and shifted as much as he could away from the drone.

  Dask said. “Under military security code eight point seven nine article four B, we are hereby authorized by court order to ensure you cannot communicate to tamper with witnesses, conspire with combatants or organize others to commit violence,” Dask observed the terrified expression on Wegin-ouk’s face, “don’t worry the judge has a time limit on this gag order until we can complete the investigation.” He signaled his approval and the Med Tech put the syringe into the canister under Wegin-ouk wrist. He immediately gurgled and choked, his hands shook rapidly, and he was paralyzed as he watched the tips of his fingers turn blue. Dask watched and checked his monitor and said to the drone camera. “People, the timetable for this gag order begins now, all search teams are authorized to initiate Alpha Track Four.”

  Doctor Savan stepped in and took the syringe from her Med Tech. “Let’s test the drug before we release him. She placed an IARI unit under his hand and the unit went dead. She checked his throat and asked. “Provider can you state your full name before god.” Wegin-ouk tried to speak but only made soft gurgling sounds, he pushed air out, but his tongue was thick, and words could not be formed in his mouth. His eyes were wide. Doctor Megs typed the results into her device, “Provider can you take this writing stick on paper and communicate your name before god?” She handed him a pencil-like instrument and paper. Wegin-ouk dropped the instrument on the floor. Megs retrieved it for him and carefully placed it in his hand. When a word formed in his brain to write down, his hand became claw-like and shook uncontrollably. The pencil fell to the floor again. Megs said to Dask. “He’s muted for two days. The dye in his body will help you track him, and medical and police authorities can track him with vitals on the net scan, so when you are ready to arrest him again, the police can do that.” Wegin-ouk stared at his hands.