“Captain McKenna!”
McKenna turned as a group of eight young hotshots approached him. He looked confused, Malone thought. He never bothered to chat with anyone. His eyes were always locked forward, never moving. Malone didn’t follow the guy around, but he got the feeling he and his boys were the only ones to stop to talk with him. They were still in their PT gear and still a mess of sweat and dirt, but knowing that guy’s name was enough for Malone to strike up a conversation.
Malone couldn’t help but smile. The legend in front of him. “Captain McKenna, always leaving us in amazement!” he said. He hoped McKenna remembered them, but then again, they’d only introduced themselves once before. This could get awkward fast.
“Anchor Squad, right?” he said.
Yeah, it was a funny name. “Ananke Squad, sir.” The eight of them comprised the Ananke Unit, a new breed of strike team to counter the rising threat of urban terrorism on Ceres and Phobos. Their immediate lead was Captain Durant himself. Tier One training, impeccable gear, they had it all; finally the prestigious police unit Mars needed.
Mars used to be known for fearsome troops. Once, just the thought of a Martian trooper had been enough to invoke fear – especially for those Earth Fed bastards. Malone had just turned sixteen when the war with Earth ended, barely of age for active combat, but he was eager. He’d been mid-flight to Titan when the surrender came from Victoria.
Men like McKenna and Durant were legends. The embodiment of Martian pride and vengeance and I don’t give a damn what anyone says. You didn’t become someone like McKenna without a few broken bones and spilt blood.
“It’s always a pleasure, Captain.” Malone extended his hand. What a hell of a grip he had. The stories were all out there, giving him a bad rep. A scary one, too, not that he needed it. He was a big bastard. McKenna had to be at six-five. He was clean-cut like most of them, and he looked civilized and all, but his blue eyes were like lasers. Like he was always miles away. You couldn’t help but give your full attention when you locked eyes. It made him intimidating to someone like Malone.
“Thanks,” McKenna said. His booming voice only jacked up the fear factor. “What’s your name again, kid?”
“Malone, sir.”
“You fellas get off a training circuit or something?”
Malone glanced left and right and saw the other boys panting. They’d lose that love for air with more training. “Five mile run and hand to hand sparring is the best way to start a day, right, sir?”
“I wouldn’t know. I think I’m lucky if I can get my boots on these days.”
“Ha, don’t be modest, sir! We’d all kill to be at your level.” Still incredibly fit for his age and not a speck of grey in his combed, wavy brown hair.
“Right.” McKenna chuckled, shaking his head.
“Say, Captain McKenna, have you seen Captain Durant lately? We were supposed to report to him earlier after training. Said he had an assignment for us.”
“You just missed him, actually. He probably went off to Colony Operations. He lingers around there.”
“Great! Thanks, Captain. Well, we won’t keep you any longer.” Malone extended his hand again. As he looked at McKenna he felt as if the man had some sort of respect for them. Not the dismissive look.
“No problem.”
“Hey, maybe you can spar with us someday, show us some of that old MSC?” In that moment, Malone couldn’t help but get serious with him. His grip tightened in response to McKenna’s. Martian Shock Combat was the primary hand to hand teachings of the old Mars Colonial Navy. The Earth Council made it illegal to practice after the war: too brutish, too lethal. Shockingly, the Martian pre-war hand-to-hand was even more feared and renowned. MSC was created with only one goal in mind: exploit and kill. It claimed a surprising number of kills in CQB situations and was designed with a three-step incentive: stun, expose, and kill. The style itself was formed incorporating many existing fighting forms, including Keysi, Aikido, Sambo, Judo, and Silat, making any situation adaptable and able to overcome. It’s now illegal status was just another checkbox for how else they could rip the Martians’ balls off. Another way to show Mars that Earth had won.
Guys Malone’s age hadn’t received the trials or indoctrinations of a fully developed Martian trooper, including full MSC training. They were pups, vulnerable to feelings, morals. Things that could kill them. Late in the war, resources were scarce, and time even more so. It was basic, weapons specialization and then out the dropship. McKenna knew well that Durant had been passing his skills down to his men, however. He’d stumbled onto the sparring sessions once or twice. The training was brutal, and Malone and his men lived with the bruises. The techniques were old but deadly.
“We’ll see,” he smiled.
Malone smirked before finally releasing his best grip. Despite his views on McKenna, the man was one of the old wolves. No disrespect to him, but his time has passed and the torch along with it. Malone and his boys were the future of this force. He wouldn’t mind throwing Old Red-Wolf McKenna to the ground to prove that.
***
Hardy heard a couple of whistles and a few claps outside his office, but along with that, a few jeers too. Looking at the time and hearing two rough knocks on his door, Hardy already knew who it was. He had summoned McKenna for 9:30, fifteen minutes from now. After last night, Hardy had given him the day off. A mistake. Poor bastard didn’t know what to do without a case but maybe pop a cork.
Today, though, Hardy didn’t have a case for him. He’d always tried to make sure McKenna was treated fair, as fair as a trooper should receive. McKenna always saw himself as small. Sure, he got ahead of himself like any young fool, but he always knew his place. Much too humble for this planet of rich suits and sharks. Looking at the file, however, it was certain McKenna was out of Hardy’s hands.
In a way, McKenna couldn’t have been more right: all men were small. But what he could never figure out was that small men could have big beginnings.
“Captain McKenna. You needed to see me, sir?” McKenna said from the other side.
“Get in here.”
McKenna walked in almost cautiously, not sure what to expect. “Durant said it was urgent,” he said.
There was a nice view of the tundra from Hardy’s office. He couldn’t face the kid yet. McKenna had to know something was going on as Hardy continued to stare outside.
“Take a seat, kid.” The ticking from the seven-foot grandfather clock cut the silence. Hardy would normally vidcall Alan for case assignments. Vidcalling saved McKenna the walk of shame down the hall that he’d experienced just now. Today it had been a few claps, still mostly jeers, but as it was usually the latter, Hardy supposed it was an improvement.
McKenna had hardly ever set foot in Hardy’s office, tastefully themed in Old Earth Victorian décor, if Hardy did say so himself. It was still new to McKenna, judging by how he looked around at the antiquities in the room. Collecting them was a relaxing hobby Hardy had found after the war. Militaria from all periods, Old Earth to New. “How long have you been here, Alan?”
“Sir?”
Hardy had to close the file now. No way about it but straight through. “Here. On the force. How long have you been here?”
“Since the beginning, sir. Almost ten years now.”
“Long time. I’ve never asked you, kid, but what kept you here?”
“Warren, if you’re trying to tell me something on how I snapped on Richter, I—”
“Richter’s an asshole, and a drunk closely after. But he’s one of us. One of the old wolves. That’s how we treat our troopers here, Alan, by giving them a place. Most of us found work off-planet. Freight pilots, security, Red Dust. Some of us stayed and tried out police work.”
“I’ve been here since the beginning. I watched the Council strip us bare. Neuter us. I saw the MCP rise from that. It was a small idea that we could still call dignity. Maybe I just have an attachment to the force.”
“Mhm. And damn fin
e job with Tariot. Chase is pleased. He left you a fruit basket at the clinic, which I promptly took when you were catching up on sleep. I know you don’t like fruit. At least, I think that was you that said that once.”
McKenna looked confused. Honestly, Hardy was confusing himself. “Always a fantastic job,” Hardy continued. “With Tariot, those church zealots on Phobos, the dark-market dealers on Ceres... I could keep going for quite a while. Your record is impeccable. The best damn cop I’ve ever seen. Not to mention the war—”
“Admiral…”
“You could have any police or paramilitary job from here to Pluto Correctional if you wanted. And with the way the force here treats you, I’m surprised you never took another opportunity.”
“Mars is my home, Admiral. She always will be. I was born here. Someday I’ll die here.”
“Goddamn, son.” Hardy couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d never seen McKenna disrespect anyone on the force. Always turning cheek and letting the blows glance … mostly. Richter was a prick. But Hardy was proud to still see a hint of the trooper in Alan.
Just then he saw movement out on the tundra. Walking slowly across the plain was a small pack of Martian red wolves. Imported hundreds of years ago from Earth, the breed was large now. Hardy’s grin faded as the wolves stared back at him. The pack got smaller every year. “It makes me sick the way some of these guys look at you. Some of those older guys try to shake an opinion out of bullshit, and the younger guys don’t know what we went through towards the end. What you went through.”
“I don’t let schoolyard talk get in the way of my job, sir.”
“You deserve better, kid. Better than what I can give you. That’s my point here.” Hardy had thought it would be easier to get his point across, but McKenna’s modesty was dragging it out.
“Sir, what is this all about-?”
“Shut the fuck up for a second, kid! Your position as a Mars Colonial Detective is terminated.” That goddamn clock kept ticking, cutting the silence.
McKenna sat motionless. He picked the most immediate response available to him but stumbled on the delivery. “I don’t believe I put in for early retirement… Sir.”
“I’ve seen you drink sometimes, Alan. You sure you didn’t…?”
“Warren, this is serious. There’s been some mistake!”
“Relax son, I’m only kidding, ha-ha. What the hell, Alan? You pissed that harvester pussy was able to swipe at you? Just a joke.”
“Jesus, Warren,” McKenna said as he exhaled with relief.
Hardy and McKenna were friends. Hardy didn’t know if McKenna had many. Didn’t think he cared, honestly. He put up with Hardy’s shit jokes and Hardy put up with his even shittier ones. What could be a better basis for friendship? But today Hardy thought his jests were far fouler.
“About the drinking, that was the joke. You are being terminated, kid.” Fuck, I can’t help it. Sick humor.
“Goddammit, Hardy!”
“Terminated is not the word though, my apologies! It’s a relocation. This one’s out of my hands.” He tossed McKenna the hard copy file of the transfer order.
As McKenna opened the file he noticed the paper was littered with red wording, markings and official seals of approval, with ECG being the most notable phrase littered all over it.
“Earth?” McKenna said. Clearly the last location he’d expect.
Hardy’s as well. “The Blue Jewel. You’re to take the first available flight off world.”
“Earth?” McKenna stood up, angry. “Who authorized this, Hardy?”
“Like I said, it’s out of my hands, Alan. The Earth Council wants you. I don’t know why. It’s classified, but you can be sure it’s no small matter if you’re wanted by the Council itself.”
McKenna sat back down. The Earth Council of Governments was the supreme law in the Sol System. He began looking over the document for the fine print and something caught his eye.
He saw Hardy’s signature of approval, marking Hardy’s transfer of his person. All that was missing was his own compliant signature.
“Hardy. I’d have to volunteer for this assignment. You already signed…”
Joking aside, Hardy knew McKenna had to be thinking something ill, most likely of him. “I know, I know.” Hardy took a seat. “Look, kid, I’m going to be straight with you. For as long as I’ve known you, I always knew you were somebody special—”
“Jesus, not this crap again,” McKenna scoffed as he rolled his eyes.
“Hear me out this time. When we formed this police force together, I knew it even then that it was the beginning of the end for me. This was my retirement.” McKenna knew this wasn’t one of Hardy’s normal pep talks now. Hardy wasn’t one to show vulnerability. “My place is here. It’s where my story ends. But you? Whether they love or hate you, the other guys in this building think you’re a damn god. Untouchable. You’ve always had something inside you, something that drives you. Even I haven’t figured out what it is. You’re meant for far greater things. Staying here is killing you, kid. You visit that cemetery every day, get berated by the force and drink yourself to sleep, all on the same night. Why stay here with that routine when you can be something else out there?”
McKenna went numb, staring off into space, not even looking at the file anymore. “I wish I could give you more here, what you deserve, but the Council beat me to it. Alan, you can’t keep doing it. Avoiding the force, drinking to forget. You need to start over.”
“It what’s best for me?” he sneered.
“What you deserve. Isn’t that what she always wanted? For you to be more?” Had Hardy crossed a line? Gone too far? Maybe he had. McKenna’s eyes went back to fixate on that signature, but he had heard him. “Of course, I won’t force you. A man makes his own choices.”
McKenna knew the truth. He couldn’t argue any of it under any circumstances. Looking at him sometimes, it was obvious how Lily’s words twisted his mind. She still spoke to him somehow. McKenna leaned forward and signed his signature, making the transfer final. Hardy smiled. He was happy for him, truly.
“What could the ECG want with me?” McKenna muttered.
“I’m not surprised at all. You’re a marvel, Alan. It’s about time someone else noticed. I think the system needs more men like you.” Hardy was doing his best at being reassuring to the guy, even though he made an ass out of this whole awkward situation not one minute ago. “I’ve heard rumors that the Council has started recruitment drives, if you will. Something for new developments on Earth. This has to be related.” Having said that, though, both men knew nothing was ever simple with the ECG. “They gave me some instructions for your release and a holofile that’s biometrically sealed. Cute touch. For your eyes only, I suppose.”
McKenna didn’t know what else to say. Hardy couldn’t blame him. His entire life had been on Mars. The only times he’d been off-world were the settlements on the moons of Mars and Saturn during the war. There was no telling how long he’d be on Earth for his assignment, and indefinitely was a sure possibility.
Hardy walked up to him, and like a respectful soldier McKenna did the same. “Well, kid, I know neither of us has ever been much for words…” Hardy offered his hand at first, but soon couldn’t help but open his arms. His wife told him his hugs were more like bear hugs than anything else. All joking aside, McKenna wasn’t just his best friend, he was a brother. Hardy had known the young Martian wolf since he was a pup. Through all of the wars, all of the battles, all of the laughter, all of the sorrow. Hardy knew he felt the same.
Hardy was losing his best friend to the Council today. Damn them. “You take care, kid. If you ever need anything, or if they realize they made the biggest mistake hiring your ass, I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Warren. And maybe lay off the cheese and cold cuts for a while, huh?”
“It isn’t easy keeping this pristine figure, kid.” McKenna made his way to the door, but Hardy had to tell him one last thing. “Those Earth bigots… Don’t
let them turn you into some mindless Enforcer, blasting everyone who doesn’t see their way of the universe. Remind them just what the hell a Martian really is. Fortune favors us.”
“Fortune Favors the Bold.”
***
An hour later McKenna arrived at his apartment in Dome Three. He’d never thought this would be his last time looking at it. It was organized almost obsessively, everything in its place. Clothes pressed and hung, literature in its proper spot on the shelves, a hobby bench with paint supplies, models of tanks and planes on display on various cabinets and a well-organized ammunition reloading bench. No pictures, no mementos, nothing that invoked the past.
McKenna took off his coat and shirt and threw them on his desk and fell onto his bed. The only instructions Hardy had been given by the ECG was to release him from duty. The rest was in a DNA-locked data file. He opened the file by pulling out a small tab on his OPIaA, where a holographic scanner slid out with a blinking red button in the middle. He placed his thumb over it, allowing his DNA to be read through tiny secretions in his skin. Just like that, the file opened.
McKenna expected video mail of sorts, or maybe a direct link to a Council member. The whole thing felt like a secret black op, as the Council was extremely secluded. On the contrary, however, the file was a plain set of instructions.
Captain Alan McKenna,
You are hereby relieved of duty as a Mars Colony Police Detective and will be briefed of your new posting soon. Rendezvous with Emissary Lyle Brooks for further instructions. He will be awaiting your arrival tomorrow, 1030 Hours, Earth Standard Time, at Freedom City Blue Sector Two, Orbital Gate Three, at the Level 105 landing pad. A shuttle has been arranged for you along with an Earth care package. See FMC Pilot Gregori Dubrovsky for transport.
With care,
Earth Councilor Windsor
“Well that’s a two weeks’ notice, all right,” McKenna grumbled. He packed shortly after; one bag, all he ever needed. Now he would get a little shut eye, though he wondered if he’d even be able to sleep given his new orders. A meeting with the Council could be life altering.
The Black Cell Page 7
