by Rolf Nelson
Helton examines the book closely.
Helton: Hmmm… That looks like… almost like some of the things carved into the stones at Planet Movers grav-post sites.
Allonia: Is it a book about them?
Helton: Could be. Huh. Looks like there are some marks showing up inside, too.
Helton holds the book angled to the light, looking at the edges of the pages where they are damaged by the grenade. He sees faint scattered dots and lines, with more around the edges of the crater. No obvious groups or patterns, but most marks are very small lines, little more than dots. More than just noise on a bad photocopy, but no clear or obvious patterns.
Helton: I wonder?… I’ll have to borrow a microscope or scanner from Stenson to get a closer look. See if there is anything legible inside. I’m sure those weren’t there earlier. One more thing on tomorrow’s list. What’s up?
Allonia: Just dropping by to say thank you for sending Kwon and his family this way. He’s a great cook, and I was going crazy down there trying to get three meals a day for everyone. He makes it seem easy. And knows what to do with just about everything! And little Kimi is the cutest thing! Quinn has been treating her like a favorite little sister.
Helton: Kwon’s an old friend, helped me out more than once. Trying to find someone here not being leaned on by Seymore whom I can trust is difficult. Just when I think things are turning to shit, something good pops up.
Allonia: Unless it’s more shit, first.
Helton: Well, yeah, that too, but things are looking good at the moment. Anything else?
Allonia: No, just thanks, good night, and see you in the morning!
Helton: You’re welcome. G’night.
DISSOLVE TO
INT - DAY - Engineering
Stenson and Helton sit at a workbench with a scanner over the book. They are looking at a screen with an image of the book’s cover.
Stenson: Let’s see what we have here. Visible first.
The image zooms in gradually and becomes slightly more detailed.
Stenson: (Thinking out loud) Enhance contrast …
He fiddles with the controls and the images get much sharper.
Helton: OK, cogs and chains for sure. Definitely Planet Mover style. Any matches with known engravings?
Stenson: Easy to check… (taps at the computer for a second) Nope, nothing exact. Hmmm… Twelve gears, 144 links. Pretty common gear and link count, typical gear ratios with teeth in multiples of six. Pretty basic style composite. OK… IR?
The image changes, but not much.
Helton: UV next, I suppose?
Stenson fiddles again with the controls, looking back and forth between image and controls as the image changes
Stenson: Chem scan says… Not off-the-shelf molecules… interesting chemicals. Should be both photo and oh-two reactive.
Helton: React to light or oxygen?
Stenson: (Cautiously) Nnnnooooo… I think… I think it’ll only react to oxygen in the presence of light, or vice versa. Have to play with it a bit to find what sort of concentrations and intensity and wavelength it likes best, but I’d bet that’s it.
Helton: So, not your garden-variety desert guru text?
Stenson: Nope. That it most assuredly is not, unless you consider the Garden of Eden to be “garden variety.”
Helton: Look inside now?
Stenson: Be my guest.
He waves Helton toward the book. Helton removes the book from the scanner, opens it to the first page on the undamaged side, slides it back under.
Helton: Can you composite all those?
Stenson: Patience, patience.
Helton: Visible first?
The screen shows a few faint marks scattered about the page. The contrast is enhanced, but there is nothing obvious worth further attention. Clicking to IR and UV show no change, though in different colors. Scanning shows most of the page to be a sea of chemical signatures with no distinct patterns.
Stenson: Well, nothing there… or perhaps, a lot of nothing there yet.
Helton: So, we just leave it out in the weather and wait?
Stenson: Pretty much. Lots going on here, so I don’t really have time to experiment properly. In the meantime, I’d leave it open with a wide-spectrum light on it, check regularly, see what happens.
Helton: Any ideas?
Stenson: More ideas than Harbin has ways of killing you, but until I have more data it’s just wild speculation. I like knowing enough to make educated guesses.
Helton: So just… be patient?
Stenson: Yup, ‘fraid so.
FADE TO BLACK
Levels
FADE IN
EXT - DAY – Training ground near the ship
The recruits, SGT Kaushik, CPL Kaminski, and 1SG Reel stand in the morning sun. The recruits are in a two row formation with Kaushik and Kaminski as the squad leaders. They are all dressed in simple camo fatigue uniforms. Arrayed before the formation is a series of mannequins, each clad differently. From left to right are:
● Simple cloth tunic and trousers, nothing but a belt knife and a staff leaning against it
● Padded cloth reinforced with leather arm, leg, and chest protection, a saber and spear
● Romanesque body armor, greaves, shield, helm, sword, vambrace, spear
● Chain mail and some plates, good helm, sword, bow, spear, ax
● Full articulated plate of steel, sword, crossbow, bow, ax, mace, flail
● No body armor, just a uniform, helmet, simple bolt rifle, bayonet, and revolver
● High-tech body armor covering more body area, obvious electronics, semi-auto rifle and sidearm
● Full articulated power-assisted synthetic/composite armor, lots of electronics, several weapons with lights and laser ranging and target designation units
● Full space armor, remote-powered beam weapons, machine guns, grenade launcher, etc.
Harbin stands before them, sometimes pacing back and forth slowly as he talks, looking them in the eye to emphasize points, occasionally shrugging to acknowledge that he knows he’s simplifying things. His tone is patient and quietly emphatic; it’s a topic he knows well.
Harbin: If you get mugged, your home is attacked without cause, your ship is hit by pirates and you are dumped in a desert, or you are fighting for the survival of the species, you fight with whatever you have, and the only rule is: win. That’s been true since before humankind had language to call ourselves “human.” But humans seem to like rules, even when they don’t all make sense. And there are always charismatic egomaniacs, or God's Prophet of the week, or someone out to save us from ourselves who think they know how to run things if only we’d just do what they say and follow their rules (snorts in derision). Sadly, there are always too many bloody ignorant save-the-worlders, my-tribe-firsters, and NIMBY’s willing to do what they say and try to enforce their laws on folks. So here we are. In an undeclared war, the rule book is pretty slim. In a declared war the rulebook may be a bit thicker, and the contract spells out the details. The rules might sound stupid at first, but there ARE reasons for them.
All of you have heard this before, but not from me. Today we introduce you to the basics of the combat levels. Following the bloodshed of the mid- and late 21st century, people thought we needed more rules about warfare, something with more teeth. Then the stars went away and we were all fighting for our survival system-by-system, and everyone came up with their own rules. After the stars came back not every planet was on the same tech footing, but some people still managed to piss in everyone’s oatmeal, or have competing interests, even with a hundred other worlds on which to get out of each other’s way. Humans are not the most rational pieces of meat.
And we still didn’t know anything about the Planet Movers, except they had tech at least as high as our best and about the only common element of their carved symbols that we do understand are the sword and spear. So, the surviving planets decided that we would only allow fighting between declared combat
ants at whatever level was the lowest military technology they would both agree too. More rules.
He pauses and shrugs eloquently at the skepticism showing on the recruits faces.
Harbin: If there is significant fighting in an undeclared war, anyone can show up to the party and have target practice, and some people seem to just love to do that, so most people have learned to keep things at least sort of honest.
As a potential Plataean soldier, you have to learn how to use all potential weapons because you might have to use them. If you try to cheat, you open the entire unit to all offensive firepower anyone wants to have fun shooting your sorry ass with. Smuggle a level seven pistol to a level four sword fight, and you might discover yourself finding out how well your chainmail handles a close-laid barrage of artillery shells that a neutral observer and camera crew send your way for shits and grins and film rights because they’re bored. You will adhere to strict level compliance, or you will get killed by the first officer or NCO who sees you doing something illegal. You can always use lower tech, and sometimes it’s all you’ve got. Occasionally it’s even the best choice. It’s what the contract says that you must live by. If you can’t become competent at them all, you’re only good as a limited-contract temporary. But you can still find good jobs if you can do any of them particularly well. We’ll give you a basic introduction to each one and see how well your natural instincts match it. You will get more advanced training in the second phase of initial training with a larger group.
Harbin pauses and looks around at them, inviting questions.
Horkle: So if I get attacked, I can only defend myself by what a contract says I can use?
Harbin: In a declared battle setting, correct.
Darch: So if I’m about to get killed by a spear when I’m standing in a shield wall and I shoot the guy with a pistol-
Harbin: Then I’ll cut you down myself if I have to. Anyone else seeing it is expected to do the same. With medical attention you might survive a spear thrust from the enemy. You will not survive your unit if you betray their trust and endanger them.
Sanchez: That’s messed up.
Harbin: That’s how you keep wars small, prevent destroying another billion people, laying waste to planets, and entice leadership onto the battlefield to be properly dealt with. Few politicians are willing to actually fight for their beliefs; shaming them into truly defending them forces a lot of them to back down on the really stupid shit and wise up. Not a perfect system, but it’s one way to keep some of the snollygosters honest, or at least sidelined.
Horkle: So why don’t they just not declare a war and use whatever they want?
Harbin: Because assassination and declaring war is a two way street, and there are always guys willing to hire out for the right price to settle a dispute, and many freelancers are as good or better than the government hires. Especially in governments run by cronyism and nepotism. Some folks forget the lessons of history, and it’s up to people like us to remind them from time to time. Bargain honestly, and a pol is safe, even if stupid. Not so honest, not so safe.
Sanchez: Would you assassinate someone like Darch’s dad?
Harbin: (Pauses thoughtfully then looks Sanchez in the eye as he stands next to Darch) Not really my decision; I don’t usually pick the contracts. From what I know of Councilor Darch, his policies are ineffective, expensive, counterproductive, self serving, anti-freedom, and often overturned. But he is technically honest in most of his dealings, even if he abuses the intent of the law while complying with the letter of it, so I would not accept a contract against him personally. At the current time.
Recruit Darch looks a bit shocked at the baldness of Harbin’s assessment.
Harbin: Many laws and rules are stupid, and with time you will learn which you can ignore, or bend, or work around, and which are essential. But to have no rules or principles is worse, and you guys are too young to really understand that. Just remember; if I tell you how to do something, IT IS THE WAY TO DO IT! We care about what works. Even if it’s something as simple as how to shit in an outhouse, listen and remember, because there is a reason for it!
Darch: (Sarcastically) So how do you shit in an outhouse?
Harbin: (Flatly) Close the lid. Drop your gear. Open the lid. Shit. Wipe. Close the lid. Get your gear back on.
Harbin stares directly at Darch, whose smartass smile fades. As the giggling around him fades he realizes Harbin is quite serious, and Darch straightens up and his face goes blank, knowing he’s not making his life any better.
Harbin: So, let’s get started, and see how badly you can hurt yourself while trying to hurt your opponent.
DISSOLVE TO
A series of scenes as the recruits try various armor styles.
Recruits in normal camo fatigues, some of them spinning quarterstaffs are trying to show off and failing miserably because they are frequently dropping them or sending them flying. They start doing basic drills of parry, thrust, strike. Harbin briefly squares off against a recruit while the others watch. The recruit takes a big overhead swing down onto Harbin, who casually deflects it down and to the side, using its force to get his own staff spinning to bring it around blindingly fast and stop a moment before hitting the recruit’s head, holding it motionless. The recruit stares at it, then Harbin, recognizing how badly he could have been thumped. Harbin looks at him with a slight grin, and motions for him to try again.
CUT TO
The recruits are running a simple obstacle course in high-tech body armor, carrying small packs, lots of gear and rifles along with belts and bandoleers of ammo. They are clearly struggling with the weight, bulk, and restrictions of the gear as they maneuver over simple low walls, through a slalom course of six-inch diameter posts set in the ground, and then swinging on a rope across a short gap. One of them trys to go between two posts and is stuck, hung up on his gear. Kaminski grabs him, pulls him back a bit, unhooks the gear caught on the post, turns him sideways so he is narrower, and pushes him gently through the gap.
CUT TO
Recruits stand in two ranks wearing Romanesque armor with shields. Facing them, about twenty-five meters away, is a line of mannequins with shields. Kaminski steps up, hefts his pilum, takes a quick step, and tosses it forcefully. It makes a fast, low arc and buries itself in the shield, coming out the far side, just missing the dummy’s shoulder. Darch, next in line, takes a step forward, tries to throw it. It makes an awkward, flat arc, and lands, sideways and flat against the ground only two-thirds of the way to the target. Kaushik steps forward, and taking a quick stutter step throws his pilum. The arc is higher than Kaminski’s, not thrown as forcefully, but it comes down thwak into the shoulder of the target dummy, not the shield. He looks at Kaminski, does a friendly smile and small bow. Kaminski nods in friendly acknowledgment. Recruit Sanchez steps up and throws. It sails imperfectly through a high arc and the tip gouges in at an angle into the side of the face. Darch glowers at him, Kaminski claps him on the shoulder, and Harbin grins and nods approval.
CUT TO
Horkle and Darch run over to a port-a-potty off to the side of the training field. They are still wearing the Romanesque armor. Darch hurriedly hands Horkle his spear and leans his shield against the side. He opens the door, and steps inside. There is the rattling of shifting gear, then a splash of something large. Horkle gets a huge smile, and he nearly doubles over, an expression of mirth covering his face.
Darch: (After a long pause) Aaahhh, ssshhhiiiitttt.
Horkle: (Stifling a laugh) Lid?
Darch: (Angry) Oh, go stick it in a diseased donkey!
FADE TO BLACK
Plaque
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - Ground near the stern of the ship
The ramp is down, the thick main cargo-bay doors are closed. Allonia and Helton are out for a walk around the ship together. It’s sunny and bright with the sun at a low angle. Helton is wearing his pistol belt, and his normal functional clothes. Allonia wears a conservative calf-length
skirt and blouse in solid colors and embroidery, and her hair is in a thick braid. The camera follows them from a distance as they head for the ramp, zooming in slowly. Their conversation is inaudible, but their smiles and quiet laughter are easygoing and friendly. They reach the foot of the ramp.
CUT TO
Much closer view of them from the top of the ramp as they walk up it. Allonia’s gaze casually shifts around and wanders up into the area above the ramp, in the corner near where the inner door meets the sidewall. She looks curiously at it.
Allonia: What’s that?
Helton: What’s what?
He looks at her to see where she’s looking, and follows her gaze up to the area above.
INSET - View of the corner. In it there is a brassy patch of metal with many rows and columns of small marks on it.
Helton: Huh. Looks like writing.
INSET -Close-up of a tarnished brass plaque. There are rows and columns of etched names. Most are in English, but there are also Cyrillic, Japanese, Hindi, Korean, Hebrew, and a scattering of other alphabets. Hundreds and hundreds of them. A few have ranks next to them, such as “Capt” or “SGT.”
Allonia: Who are all those people? Or, who were they?
Helton: Hmmm… I’d guess former crew and complement. Some ships have a placard to commemorate people who have served on it. Have to look some of them up.
Allonia: That’s a lot of people. This ship must have been around a long time to have that many serve on her.
Helton: Indeed. I’m sure she has some history to her. I’ll see if Lag can find out anything about it. Maybe those names, too.
FADE TO BLACK
Power Bill
FADE IN
EXT - DAY - Cargo bay ramp
SGT Kaushik and three recruits are on guard duty, standing casually. They all wear light armor and carry light rifles. A small vehicle comes down the road from the direction of the spaceport, kicking up dust.
