Pala and Denten walked toward the center of the camp, viewing the injured. Of the four who arrived in the shuttle, one of them, a biologist, didn’t look like he’d make it through the night. Dr. Laramie was working on him. And how many more injured would there be? How many dead? The strike had been well organized. Too well. Of those left alive, who else would logically be involved?
Her own unit and that of Base One had the highest number of survivors. Cabot had been in hers. Were the two with him accomplices? The scientist, no doubt. They'd probably still be alive if something in their plans hadn't backfired. The other ranger’s body had been off by itself, so it was probably just the two. Harlen had been at Base One and in a key position, like Cabot.
Quade beckoned her and she left the scientists with their wounded comrade. Quade’s face was grim beneath his visor.
“What’s the final count?” she asked.
“Alive, we have our nine. Base Two, no survivors, Base Seven, also nine, though one’s on the way out. Base Four, four. And only Makel from our Base Camp. So far, that’s twenty-three. Sixteen are rangers, five injured. Seven civilians, three injured, including Makel. Let's hope the other bases bring in more.”
That was a lot more dead than one-quarter. It was almost a full one-third. She quietly asked, “What happened out there?”
“Dunno. Right away we took care of Base One’s two gunneries. We started cleaning up, looking for wounded. I unjammed the visors and suddenly another sphere was shootin’ at us.”
“It must have come from Base Two. But we’ll find out more when we can establish contact with them. Set a detail to crystallize the bodies as soon as any ships arrive with supplies.”
“Physe is already settin’ up.”
“I’d imagine it won’t be long before the rest of the base units head this way. We can load the crystallized bodies into one or two of their StarGazers and make them into funeral ships. Make a detail to assist the medics with the injured. Also, organize a guard duty. Send Roccio to me. I’ll give the same directions to Physe, since ships will land closest to him.”
Quade nodded. They were quiet a few seconds, and then Quade asked, “You think Khamasa or Stastny will challenge your command?”
“Stastny can’t; he's no longer military. Kong Khamasa can challenge all she wants. It isn’t happening. I’ve got her outranked by spades.” She just hoped Khamasa was still alive and wasn’t involved on the wrong side.
Denten ended his discussion with his two colleagues and joined them. He looked over at Quade. “Makel’s pretty bad. You really messed him up.”
“He tried to escape. Prisoners sometimes get injured that way. Better than being shot.”
Denten frowned and nodded slowly. His voice was soft when he answered. “I suppose there is that.” After a pause, he said to Pala, “If you don’t need me, I’d like to put the science station back together before all the ships get here.”
“You should probably rest. It’ll get hectic as soon as the ships start arriving.”
Still frowning, the scientist shook his head. “Laramie’s already packing it in, but I don’t sit still well. Never have.”
“That's fine, but you may have to move your station. I think we’ll need that space for more injured.”
Denten’s frown deepened. “Okay, well just show me where I can set up, then.” He and Quade walked away, pointing at an area near the animal holding cages.
Pala found Physe at the edge of the body dump, fixing a place to prep the dead. He had six tables arranged side-by-side to crystallize the bodies before loading them on a ship. He was setting up the seventh. Now that the bodies were all in one place, the stench was almost overwhelming. He already wore a surgical mask over his nose and mouth, and Pala noted the small bottle of camphor in the tools tray at the head of each table.
Helping herself to the bottle in the first tray, she wiped a tiny pat of camphor above her top lip and covered her nose and mouth with her hand. Physe looked up briefly at her, and then down at his processing table again. “I think this’ll be a big enough space. Some of the crew on those ships will have prepped a few bodies on the way here.”
She nodded. “As soon as the StarGazers start arriving, Quade will pull two random cadets from each unit for immediate guard duty, six hour rotating shifts. The rest of the healthy will split between you, for body processing and Quade for hospital duty. No rest for anyone unless they’re bona fide injured.”
“Bona fide.” He waggled his head from side to side, still working on his table.
“Physe,” she waited until he turned to look at her, “I want Roccio sent directly to me.” She stabbed her finger at him to emphasize her words.
He gave a sharp nod, all manner of play gone. “Ma’am. Directly.”
“Thank you.”
“Ma’am.” He turned back to his work again.
Pala turned away, pulling on her visor. She remote dialed into The Hawk’s system with her command code. Flipping through the channels, she searched for any frequencies that had been unjammed, but there was still nothing on any other Base’s screen.
“Red Wing, Red Wing. This is The Hawk. Repeat. Red Wing. This is The Hawk. Come in Base Five. Come in.” On every station she set the message to repeat every seventeen minutes, with an alert if there was an answer. A ship showed above the tips of the taller gopher trees, but it wasn’t The Hawk. It eased down to settle where her ship had been. She squinted her eyes, and the screen automatically adjusted the depth gauge to read the flight number. 161089. Civilian Chief Stastny from Base One, not only Cabot’s uncle, but also liaison to the Miners’ Union. He’d better not think he could step in her way, especially given his relation to Cabot. This was a military operation now, and he was under suspicion.
Pala started toward him, but before she covered half the distance, Khamasa’s Korean face flashed on the screen in her visor. “Pala de la Croix.” She bowed low, showing respect.
“Kong Khamasa.” A sigh of relief swept through Pala, and she returned the bow. Khamasa was from Base Six. The sergeant she'd spoken to there had found her. Through her lower visor, she saw the hatch door open on Stastny’s ship. The Civilian Chief’s dark, square frame filled the gap and then stepped out. He stood with his hands on his hips scanning the area, frowning. As Physe began to mete out Pala’s orders, Stastny stepped over to him, puffed out his chest, and began to gesture aggressively. He practically dwarfed her young Master Sergeant. Even so, he wasn’t going to get far with his bullying. Sure enough, Physe shook his head and pointed to Pala, effectively dismissing Stastny. The Civilian Chief spotted her and strode her way with fury in his step, his shoulders thrown back.
Khamasa said, “I am on the way to Base Five. We have had no luck reaching anyone there, either. Estimate one hour ten. Will advise as to status and request instructions at that time.” She bowed again and the screen blanked. She had taken the subordinate stance without challenge.
As Stastny approached, Pala caught a glimmer in her visor from Red Wing’s frequency. Just a brief shimmer. Stastny opened his mouth to speak, but Pala held up her hand. He would have to wait. She called up Khamasa again. “Did you see it?”
She nodded. “We’re on the way.”
“Sending my image to you. You can compare it to yours for triangulation. The Hawk will assist.” She touched the send button on the side of her visor, and Khamasa bowed low again and disappeared.
Pala called Suez on The Hawk. Before the ranger could speak, Pala said, “Change destination to Base Five. Coordinate with Khamasa on Decider.” Suez nodded and was already reaching for the navigation controls when Pala pulled off her visor and focused on The Civilian Chief. This was going to be touchy. “Stastny –”
“What happened?” His face was an impenetrable front, no amenities, pleasantries, or concern about the living. Did he already know what happened and was pretending otherwise? His gaze, however, was searching around her, for someone or something. Probably for Cabot.
“We we
re attacked, as it appears all bases were. Cabot was shot down. I’m sorry.”
His dark face blanched and his voice dropped to a choked whisper. “Where were you?”
An odd question, except that the proximity of her canteen is what caused Cabot’s death. He could take her answer any way he wanted. “Too far away.”
He tightened his lips and stared off at Physe, who was still giving orders to Stastny’s men. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “Your sergeant is pretty bossy. See that he learns some respect. This is how we’re going to d—”
“Sir. My cadet is doing exactly what his direct orders commanded. I respectfully remind you that the moment this mission was attacked, the jurisdiction became military and will remain as such until we return to Earth.”
Stastny’s face now flushed at the edges. After a brief pause, he spoke, anger raising his voice. “Now listen. I have seniority over you, not to mention time in grade. And I'm not going to listen to some snivel nosed kid. This is my mission and I—”
“No sir. This is a completely new mission now. Again, I remind you, one that is military in nature.” Stastny opened his mouth to speak again and Pala held up her hand to forestall him while she continued. “I acknowledge your seniority. I’m counting on you for advice. But, the fact remains, sir, that you now fill a civilian office in conjunction with the Miners’ Union.”
He snapped his mouth shut, pivoted and stalked back to his men. Pala watched him go. Her suspicions had been confirmed: Stastny knew about the attack and the canteen. Eventually, she’d confine him in one of the animal cages, but for now she’d let him move about freely. Use him as bait to see if anyone contacted him.
CHAPTER
16
Three-and-a-half weeks before the Colossus mission, Riyst sat with Cabot in The Last Real Bar Before Oblivion, sipping from his tumbler of Firone Whiskey. He’d developed quite a taste for it while there. He held the glass up to the light, admiring the dark liquid. Not quite as pure as that on Firone, but then, without the additives, the batch would sweat too much and spoil in transit. And that wouldn’t do.
Beside him, Cabot was rambling on. He wished the kid would just shut up. He'd bribed the bartender to let him in, but the boy repaid it by talking nonstop.
“—In addition to spending too much time running around with you, Pala’s convinced I’m cheating on her,” Cabot finished and took a deep draught of beer.
Riyst looked through his glass at the girl dancing on the bar directly in front of him. The yellowed light of the room confused the sheen on her skin, giving it a jaundiced glow. She twisted and turned her body. Her thighs pulsed her pelvis forward in a cycling rhythm while her bare breasts swung heavily. She caught sight of Riyst holding his glass high toward her, and blew him a kiss. The four other girls dancing on the bar blew kisses, too.
“You are. With about five girls.” Riyst pointed to the dancer, chuckling. Driving like a splinter between the future Isberg couple, he’d been pricking each of them in little and big ways. He didn’t know how much more Pala could take before leaving Cabot, but it couldn’t be much more.
“Somehow I don’t think five will make it any better than one.”
Turning to face Cabot, Riyst saw Quade approaching with long rapid strides, a harsh scowl on his face. It seemed that Pala had decided to act on the information he’d leaked about their whereabouts. This wasn’t quite what he’d expected, though.
Cabot noticed Riyst’s stare and followed his gaze.
Both stood and faced Quade. He was bigger than both of them combined, and Riyst knew first-hand about those fists. They'd fought against each other in training exercises.
Looking unconcerned, Cabot smiled at his oncoming friend. “Buy you a beer?”
Quade stopped in front of them, great chest heaving in heated anger, his scowl getting darker and darker. “What are you doing here?” He jutted his jaw at the gyrating girl.
Cabot waved an expansive hand. “Just havin’ a drink with a couple friends. All right, maybe five friends. Well, it’s more like five naked girls. Nothing m–”
His teeth snapped shut with a shattering clack when Quade’s fist landed under his jaw.
Across the room, the bouncer bolted in their direction. Nearby patrons scattered, and the dancing girls cowered at the end of the bar. Riyst carefully backed away.
Quade stood still while Cabot regained himself. “You’re the dumbest pile of dog crap I’ve ever seen. You’re here while Pala’s sittin’ at home waitin’ for you. You know, after a year of lies, she doesn’t even get upset over you any more. She's just angry. That means she’s just about finished with you. As for me, I’m done with talkin’. I’m just gonna beat it into you.” He raised his fist, but before he could deliver, Cabot launched at him, catching him around the hips and driving him into a table. The bouncer dodged to a safe distance.
Riyst shook his head. This really complicated things. General Grollier wouldn’t be happy. Neither would Stastny.
CHAPTER
17
As the light sharpened in the shadows, an occasional bird shrilled, but those were few and far between. Pala could see quite clearly that the vegetation around the camp was brown and dying. In some places it curled, dry and crumbling. In other places, the plants withered and rotted into an oozing, fetid mush. This was definitely more than shock.
Now that Stastny’s ship was here with its shuttle, Pala would go fetch Cabot’s body. She detoured first to the newly relocated science station where Denten was concentrating on Bardef’s wrist. The gouge where the scientist’s ID chip had been was doughy and white, swollen almost three times its earlier size.
Denten paused his work with Bardef and reached for her hand. He turned it back and forth. The swelling had gone down, as had the initial redness. It almost looked like a normal wound again. He let go and grabbed a jar of antibiotic that sat beside Bardef. “Yours looks better. I suspect that could be because of the drugs I gave you for your back. It might have worked a one-two punch with the antibiotic. I’ll give you another dose. Hold still.”
Pala spoke to Bardef while Denten packed more medicine on her wrist. “Speaking of sick, there’ll be a lot of injured coming in, but we'll have rangers with medic training coming in, too. So, I want you to take it easy with that infection. Try to keep it from getting worse. I'll assign someone to help you find out what’s wrong with the vegetation.”
He nodded and Denten asked, “Vegetation?”
Bardef answered, “It looks like it’s all dying off. Got any ideas about that? It’s pretty severe for just shock and we all sterilized before we came. The equipment, too.”
“None. I’ll keep it in mind while I search through Makel’s research, though.” Denten finished with Pala’s wrist. He turned her around and inspected the wounds on her back. “What’s the plan for today? Just wait for the injured to arrive?”
“That’s the idea. First, though, I plan to go get those bodies we left in the jungle before it gets too busy." She pointed toward the tents and picked up her visor. "And you need to get some rest.”
“I will later. I’m still wired up from everything that's happened. I’m going to start reading Makel’s stuff.”
She met his gaze. “I’m serious. Do we need to drug you?”
He hesitated, and then shrugged. “I’ll try. If I need something, I’ll let someone know. Makel’s research will probably put me to sleep anyway. Chemistry always does.” He grinned.
Reaching again for Bardef's injured wrist, he said to his colleague, “I’ll give you some of what I gave our Marshal here. Maybe they’ll do the trick, though your infection might be too far along. We may have to get a bit more radical with you.”
Pala left the two scientists deep in discussion about treatments and went in search of the handcart. Skirting the camp, she loaded the cart into the shuttle and took off. As she moved away from the camp, the vegetation color shifted to a brighter and brighter green, but still she sa
w patches of brown. Reaching the burnt clearing, Pala dropped the shuttle to the ground. Even in the midst of the charred vegetation, she smelled the three decomposing bodies.
She backed the handcart off the shuttle and piloted it to the bodies. Two days in the sun had been brutal on the badly damaged corpses, leaving them almost unrecognizable. The red of the blood was dark brown, almost black now and the skin had a yellow overtone and was split from bloat. Multi-legged bugs and slimy, green worms crawled over everything with wet movement. Flying bugs massed in the air above the destroyed bodies.
She stared at Cabot's remains. She’d never found what brought on the altercation between he and Quade, but it was enough for General Grollier to take the unit away from Cabot and give it to her. With her in charge, though, the chances for failure of any secret mission rose considerably. At that time, she’d assumed that Cabot’s worsened attitude in their relationship was due to loss of pride. Apparently, that wasn’t the only reason. He’d failed his superiors. Bitterness laced her words. “I wasn’t supposed to get command of the unit, was I? You were in a key position for your secret mission until your fight with Quade. And it was integral you lead the mission. But how did you end up dead instead of me?”
Cabot’s body didn’t answer her. Just like he’d never answered any of her direct questions during all those months they'd dated. She lurched to the ground beside him and savagely brushed the insects off his body. A sharp twinge arced across her back as she rolled the body into a body bag and onto the handcart. Apparently Denten’s magic drugs hadn’t kicked in all the way.
Pala piloted the handcart to the shuttle and unloaded Cabot’s body. “We all trusted you with our lives. Do you even know how many people you and your friends killed?” She wasn't sure he deserved to be with the dead of his own kind. She would have left him behind, if answers weren't needed so badly.
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