Star Mage Exile

by JJ Green

  Half an hour later, Speidel gave them a final briefing as they descended to the planet.

  “Listen up,” he said to the eight mercs seated on each side of the shuttle, looking uncomfortable in normal clothes. “Orrana’s a young world, geologically speaking. Too young to be settled, in my opinion. It’s highly volcanic, and while that makes for lucrative mining operations, the effects are pretty much what you would expect on a relatively new planet: regular eruptions, earthquakes, tsunamis, geysers, boiling volcanic springs, and so on.

  “The biggest settlement is on one of the most stable landmasses, and it’s a pretty lawless place from what I can gather, which suits our purposes perfectly. That sword cuts both ways, however. If anyone gets into trouble, they only have themselves or us to rely on to get them out of it. There is a local civil control force but it’s probably either ineffective or crooked. It’s unlikely to interfere in any fights and we might find ourselves on the wrong side of it if it becomes known why we’re there. If they don’t already know what the Dirksens are doing, they probably aren’t going to do anything if they find out.

  “You’re likely wondering how we know where the Dirksens are holding the victim. The simple answer is the boy’s been fitted with a transmitter. It’s embedded in him, so we have his exact coordinates. We only have to break or sneak through the Dirksens’ guard, rescue the lad, and escape with him. Duchess will be ready to run the moment we have him aboard.”

  Smitz said, “You left something out, Captain.”

  “What’s that, Private?”

  “What’s our cut and when do we get it?”

  “What?”

  “The Sherrers must be paying a fortune to rescue their kid. What I want to know is, how much of that cred are we seeing? What’s our bonus?”

  “No one’s mentioned a bonus, Smitz.”

  “We’re taking all this risk so Tarsalan can buy another pretty ring?”

  “You’ll get what you’re paid,” said Speidel. “Now be quiet.”

  “Right,” Smitz said. “I’ll remember that when the Dirksens have me cornered in a dark alley. I’ll be sure to give them her home address.” He spat into the gully that ran down the center of the small ship.

  Speidel grimaced in disgust. “What the hell are you chewing, man? Hand it over.”

  His face set in anger, Smitz pulled out his packet of herb and gave it to Speidel, who put it in his pocket.

  “Take these,” Speidel said, handing out breathing masks. “Wear them at all times and never breathe the local air. The atmosphere has enough oxygen, but the CO2 level will kill you. I’m hoping we won’t have to stay the night there, but if we do, change the filter every day. Everyone take one of these too.” He opened a drawstring bag containing small electronic devices. “They’re comms with high level encryption, as you won’t be wearing your helmets.”

  Carina took one of the small gadgets and pushed it into her right ear. She pulled her hair forward to cover it. When Speidel spoke again, she heard his voice loud and clear.

  “Now I know we don’t do much plain clothes work,” the captain continued, “so some of you might not feel comfortable with it. What you have to try to remember is that, until we’re inside the place where they’re keeping the kid, you’re to try to forget that you’re soldiers. Whoever’s guarding the child will be on the lookout for anyone who seems like they could be ex-military.”

  Pondering the captain’s words, Carina’s gaze roved over her fellow operatives. Smitz was the largest of the bunch. He was built like a heavyweight fistfighter and wore a permanent scowl. Brown was as tall as Smitz but more supple and lithe. He moved like a predator. Next to Brown was Atoi, who loved to work on her upper body strength. Her bull neck and biceps were stretching the material of her shirt.

  On Carina’s left sat Carver. She had a scar that ran diagonally across her cheek and under her nose, permanently lifting her top lip. It wouldn’t have been expensive to get the scar fixed, but Carver seemed to like the look. Halliday sat on Carina’s right. He had the gaze of someone who had seen enough horror for several lifetimes. Further on from Halliday were Jackson with his prosthetic arm and Lee, who had a nervous tic that made him blink excessively.

  They were gonna buy it for sure.

  Chapter Six

  They set up at a hostel for transient workers while Captain Speidel went out to procure some weapons. Firearms of any kind were prohibited on the planet according to the signs at the arrivals section of the spaceport, but it seemed as though no one paid much attention to the rule. Carina had seen guns and rifles carried openly as they rode the transport to the hostel.

  Orrana was a dark place in climate and mood. Thick haze generated by frequent volcanic eruptions blocked much of the sunlight. As a result, vegetation was minimal. Deep gray-green, straggly stems covered the black soil to the horizon. Speidel had told them that animal life was at the microorganism stage, so they had nothing to fear from the indigenous species. Carina doubted the same could be said for the Dirksens or their employees.

  The locals that she’d seen at the spaceport wore sour or suspicious or desperate looks, judging by what she could see of their faces. Their breathing masks covered the nose and mouth and were fastened by a strap on each side of the face and one over the top of the head. The clothes the locals wore were basic and utilitarian and their hair was plainly cut. Fashion was not of any importance on Orrana. Survival was.

  The mercs’ story was that they were a team of smelting workers. It was a subterfuge intended to account for their rough, burly appearance. If asked, they were to say that they were looking for work and were not interested in setting up their own operation. Conflicts over land, mining rights, and raw materials were rife, and the mercs were to expect scrutiny in that regard.

  As she stood in the shared hostel room and pulled tight the wide belt she wore, she hoped that no one would ask her any awkward questions. She didn’t have a clue about smelting.

  Atoi stepped into the room. “Come downstairs,” she said. Her voice was muffled by her mask, but the comm Carina was wearing conveyed the woman’s words. “Speidel’s back. We’re leaving soon.”

  Carina caught her reflection in a mirror as she left. She so rarely looked at herself in a mirror, let alone saw herself in civvies, that she paused a moment to take in the sight. She was wearing narrow pants that went down to her calves, boots that fastened with interlacing straps and a plain, open-necked hemp blouse. Speidel had told them to stick to dark colors.

  Her figure was athletic but not bulky, and she didn’t—yet—have that hard, intense expression that a life of killing had given so many of the others. Of all the squad members on the mission she thought she looked the least like a soldier. Perhaps she could find another way in life after rescuing the little boy.

  Did she look anything like a smelting worker? She didn’t think so, but her outfit would have to do.

  She followed Atoi downstairs to the hostel bar, where the others were hanging out. Speidel wasn’t there, and they were drinking the local brew. When Carina sat down at the table, someone pushed a beaker of frothy liquid in front of her. The smell of it told her the drink was some kind of alcohol. When she hesitated to try it, Jackson leaned over and said, “Speidel said it’s okay. Just one drink.”

  For the benefit of eavesdroppers, they weren’t to use the word ‘captain’ in public, nor any other terms that might identify them.

  Carina sipped the deep green liquid. It tasted like someone had fermented the local vegetation, which was probably the case. “I think I’ll pass,” she said, pushing the beaker away.

  Smitz laughed. He grabbed her cup and drained it.

  Speidel came into the bar carrying a bulging bag. He set it down on the table and handed out weapons. Though the bar was full of the hostel’s patrons, no one took any notice. It was as though on Orrana not carrying a weapon would be strange behavior.

  Jackson held up his gun to examine it. “Where are these from? The last century?�
��

  Smitz snickered and poured himself another drink from the pitcher.

  “That’s what’s available at short notice on the street.” Speidel held out his hand to take the gun back. “Unless you’d rather go without?”

  “No, no. Not complaining,” Jackson replied, pushing the weapon into the back of his pants under his shirt. “No way. Just asking.”

  After quickly checking it over, Carina tucked hers into her belt.

  Speidel said quietly, “I picked up some explosives too. C8 with delay fuses. They weren’t difficult to find and they’ll probably prove useful. They have thirty-second and two-minute delays. Okay, let’s pay a visit to a smelting plant. I’ve hired one of the local transports. We’ll talk more about the job on the way.”

  He clearly didn’t want to risk their conversation being overheard at the bar. The eight mercs rose and left with the captain, making their way outside. As they went to where the transport was parked, Carina got her first close-up look at the settlement. She wasn’t impressed. The place reminded her of where she’d grown up.

  Like Carina’s birth planet, Orrana was far from the center of the action and way off trade routes, and it showed. No one was planning to settle there, so no one had made any effort to create a proper infrastructure, like good roads or basic public services. From the flimsy pre-fabricated buildings to the dim street lights hung on makeshift poles, everything was temporary.

  She pondered the advisability of building a smelting plant on a planet that was prone to earthquakes, but the financial savings of refining the ore planetside probably offset the costs of rebuilding after a shock. The risk to the workers was undoubtedly low on the list of priorities, as it always was in ass-end-of-the-galaxy places.

  Carina climbed aboard the multi-person transport Speidel had rented. The heavy vibration when he started it up signaled that the vehicle ran on some kind of organic fuel. Orrana really was about the most backward place she’d ever been. She slid into a window seat and rubbed a clear patch in the grimy window with the edge of her sleeve. Speidel input the destination and the transport pulled into the road.

  “The smelting plant where the Dirksens are holding the kid is at the edge of town,” Speidel said once they were on their way down the potholed street. “We’re going to pretend we’re looking for work. Gangs of transients looking for labor are common. The guards shouldn’t be too suspicious at first. Don’t forget that you’re supposed to be contract laborers. Low-skilled, boneheaded grunts.”

  “Sounds about right,” Carver said, her scarred top lip rising in a gruesome grin.

  “That way, no one’s going to expect us to answer any difficult questions,” Speidel continued. “All we need is enough of a cover story to get inside the plant. Here are the plans.”

  He handed out thin, transparent sheets.

  “The red dot is the kid.”

  Carina studied the blueprint of the plant. It felt weird to not see the image on a visor overlay and not to be able to interact with it. The smelting plant was large and complex, and the Dirksens had secreted the boy on a basement level at its heart. As she saw the scale of the complex, the desperate nature of their attempt began to hit home.

  The Dirksens had chosen the place to hold their hostage well. Not only was the boy in the least accessible part of the complex, the place was full of people working for Dirksens: tough men and women who had led hard lives. They wouldn’t be averse to using their fists or whatever weapon came to hand to do their boss’ bidding, and there had to be hundreds of them.

  “You’ve gotta be joking, sir,” said Lee, staring at the blueprint. His nervous tic had started up. Normally quiet, the man’s outburst signaled the dismay the rest of the troop was no doubt also feeling.

  “Lee’s right,” said Smitz. “They aren’t gonna let a bunch of strangers in even if they believe our story, and if we try to fight our way in, we’re dead. With our regular armor and weapons, we might stand a chance, but with these antiques, we’ll never make it. Stop the transport and let me out. I’m going back to the ship.”

  “You’ll stay right where you are, soldier,” Speidel said.

  Smitz spat a brown, greasy ball of spittle at Speidel’s feet and got up to leave. The captain rose and roughly pushed the man back down into his seat. The soldier scowled and was about to stand again when Carina said, “Wait. What if we try something different?”

  Smitz hesitated then buckled under the captain’s glare.

  “Like what, Corporal?” Speidel asked.

  Carina outlined her plan. It would spread the mercs thin, and they would have to sacrifice force of arms to diversionary tactics and speed, but she couldn’t see how they could retrieve the boy otherwise.

  Speidel listened, his face betraying neither approbation nor disapproval.

  “I’ll go in to do the rescue,” Carina added. “The kid’s only six, and I think I’m the least scary of all of us. We don’t want to frighten him into trying to get away. I’ll need just one other person to come with me.”

  Atoi said, “I’ll do it.”

  “Okay,” said Speidel after a moment’s pause, “we’ll do it your way, Lin. It sounds like it might work.”

  Chapter Seven

  Speidel stopped the transport two klicks from their destination and spent some time studying the smelting plant from afar. One of his eyes was an implant that had around ten times the capabilities of its biological equivalent.

  While the captain was studying the processes of the plant and the movements of its workers, Carina checked her weapon over again. It was fully powered, but that was about all it had going for it. Jackson’s earlier estimation that their guns were from the previous century seemed optimistic.

  Her firearm was single pulse only, and the gauge on its side indicated that it had to build power between each discharge. Great. She hoped it didn’t take long. What wouldn’t she give for her trusty Jensen 31. Consulting with Atoi, she was relieved to find that the woman had received a better model. Hers didn’t require time to recharge unless after rapid fire.

  “Okay.” Speidel turned around in his seat to face them. “The heap of ore on the right side is fed by a conveyor belt into a press to crush the rocks. Another belt takes the crushed rock inside—I’m guessing to furnaces to smelt it. We need to get some explosives onto the belt that enters the plant. That should mess the place up pretty good. Our second target is a pile of smoking waste on the far side of the complex. Nothing like falling red-hot ashes to rain on someone’s parade.

  “Another possible target is one of the chimneys. They’re wide and they aren’t that tall. Seems like concern for the environment is a concept that hasn’t arrived on Orrana just yet. Someone with a good aim might get lucky. Anyone want to try?”

  “I’ll do it, sir,” said Jackson. Lee and Halliday slapped the man on the back. With his prosthetic arm, Jackson was the obvious candidate.

  “Good,” Speidel said. “They’ve just turned on the lights, but their coverage isn’t good. Should be plenty of shadows for cover. Brown and Carver, you’re on target one. Halliday and Lee, you’re on target two. Smitz, you’re with us.”

  Smitz gave Speidel a surly glance but said nothing.

  It was nearing twilight as the transport drew close to the plant. The emissions of its chimneys were dark gray against the deepening sky, leading from a dim glow at their bases. The mercs were well beyond the edge of town, driving down an empty road.

  At a dip where the transport was briefly out of sight of the complex, Speidel stopped the vehicle again, and the five mercs who were to provide the diversions got out. They immediately stooped to grab handfuls of dirt. After mixing the dirt with a little water from their canteens, they would rub the resulting mud on their faces and exposed skin, helping them to melt into the encroaching darkness.

  Speidel held out his weapon to Carina. “Take this and give me yours.”

  Carina pulled her pulse gun from her belt. “Why, sir?”

  “Never mind
why, Corporal, just do as you’re ordered.”

  She took the captain’s gun and briefly studied it before slipping it into her belt. His weapon was a better model than hers. He was swapping with her relic so that she could protect herself better.

  A few moments later, the transport was on its way again, leaving the five disembarked mercs behind and slowly heading toward the light that glared from the guards’ office at the main gate.

  The figure of a tall woman could be seen sitting at a desk behind translucent, scratched plexiglas as they drew up. Carina glanced at the gates to the facility, which were large, heavy, and well-secured. There was no way they would be getting through them. Their only way inside was via the guards’ office. She could see a shadowy exit at the back, blurred by the degraded glass of the window.

  The guard was alone in the small room, her head turned toward a bank of roving holos that showed the activity inside the plant. She looked over as Speidel leaned out and spoke into the intercom. “We’re here to see the manager about some jobs.”

  The woman’s brow furrowed. “What’s your name? I don’t have any record of an appointment.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Speidel said. “We’re only here to ask.”

  “The manager’s busy,” the woman said. “Check the job updates in the town news or make an appointment.” She returned her attention to the holos.

  “It would only take a minute to comm, ma’am,” said Speidel. “We’ve got plenty of experience between us. Been working—”

  “Get out of here,” exclaimed the woman.