by Susan Kelley
Emma found the correct disc and sat down at her desk. Her computer wasn’t the newest but it worked fine to open the information file. The first touch of the screen brought up the transcription from the medical school lecture.
She skimmed the estimations of the Recon Marines’ speed and strength, having witnessed a feat that exceeded the guesstimate. Another part of the disc held a short video of the marines competing against each other in hand to hand combat, amazing shooting demonstrations and the scaling of obstacle walls. The doctor spoke over the video, explaining the enhanced reaction time, superior eyesight, incredible balance and muscle endurance indicative of efficient use of glycogen stores. Along with the obvious physical magnificence, the marines possessed genetic codes to help fight disease and heal quickly.
The head of psychiatry took over the lesson to share his opinion of the marines. Part of their genetic design had resulted in above average intelligence, but after that the lecture became even greater speculation. The professor raised more questions than he had answers for, opining that no one could answer unless they gave the marines full mental health examinations. How had their childhood isolation affected them? How had the constant exposure to war and complete absence of social experience melded to create a unique context from which an alien mindset might emerge? At some point would the intelligent, physically perfect specimen turn on its creator? The professor put forth the prospect of a ‘god complex’ psychosis developing among the marines. He predicted they would eventually turn on the civilians they were designed to protect and then each other until only one remained.
Emma recalled her thoughts at the time. She’d already served hundreds of hours working with soldiers returned from combat with emotional wounds so deep they would need years of therapy to heal. She’d viewed the Recon Marines with an empathy her teachers and fellow students couldn’t. Instead she’d wondered what grains of humanity and sanity lingered in the poor marines’ minds. Their unnatural origins, cruel upbringing, brutal training and prolonged exposure to violence and stress would push any normal human over the edge into madness. But they weren’t normal humans.
A quiet hum like a vibration penetrated the thin walls of the surgery. The low voices of men followed, including Vin’s deep tones.
Emma turned off her computer with a light touch to the screen. She no longer needed to refresh her memory. What she didn’t understand was how Vin came to be here.
She checked the tie on her robe and went outside. A vehicle nearly as wide as the street sat in front of her surgery. Vin stood on the boardwalk with Moe and Vannie, but he looked at her. Now that she knew what he was, many small things about him made sense. Like the wariness she read in him and the oft confused language issues. He wasn’t brain-damaged but enormously socially backward. His slow answers and odd questions resulted from his struggle to understand slang and social habits. He was trying to fit in and appear normal. A rush of sympathy so large it brought tears to her eyes rushed through Emma.
Vin stepped toward, his hand outstretched but stopping short of touching her. “Did that bastard hurt you when he knocked you down?”
Emma realized he probably saw her clearly in the dark though the starlight gave her only the hint of his facial expression. He wouldn’t understand her tears or want them if he did. “No. Just the night air after being in the warm.”
“Vin caught the guy and brought their hopper back here.” Moe gestured at the vehicle in the street. “He wants to take it up to the mining port and see about our supplies. He said lots of cargo ships came in when he traveled through there.”
“I guess we should have known the withholding of supplies was the first attack on us.” Her medical supplies, basic foodstuffs like sugar, salt and a few other things they couldn’t grow or make themselves had sunk to critical levels. “We’ve already paid for more than a month’s worth of regular orders and a few specialties but do you think they’ll give them to you? Aren’t they held in a depot with all the supplies for Hadrason’s Mine?”
“They’ll give them to me.” Vin turned to Vannie. “I’ll go in the morning as soon as I set up the sweeper for you on the river, but I’ll need a list of what’s is owed you.”
“Dillon would know,” Vannie said. “He always compiles what everyone needs, adds it up and then distributes it. Except for Emma’s medicines. She writes that up herself.”
Vin sighed, a very human reaction. “Dillon is the guy that didn’t hear the gate being opened?”
Moe snorted. “He’s a good lad just not the type to know about security, fighting and such. Maybe a little too in love with Emma, distracts him some. He can go with you. They should at least know his name at the depot.”
Vin looked toward the door to his shop. “Do you want me to kill them or drop them in the middle of the jungle somewhere?”
“Putting them down out in the trees would be the same as killing them,” Vannie said, his tone as casual as Vin’s. “Can’t have that on my conscious, and Emma would never forgive us.”
Vin glanced at her but Moe spoke before she affirmed Vannie’s words. “Why don’t you and Dillon dump them on one of those transports going off world. Pick the right one and it’s in empty space for months before delivering its haul.
Vin nodded and then climbed onto the back of the hopper. He lifted the prisoner up and handed him down to Vannie. Vin handled the large man as easily as if he were a child. Vannie dragged the man into the shop. The night eased toward dawn, details emerging as Emma moved closer.
Tape covered the prisoner’s eyes, ears and mouth but otherwise he appeared uninjured. Not that she intended to examine him after what happened a few hours ago.
Vin sprang down from the hopper, his hands full of odd shaped items. They followed Vannie inside to where he deposited the bound man on the floor beside the other prisoner. The man in the chair jerked upright when he saw Vin, his eyes going wide. Though not for long as Vin covered his eyes, ears and mouth also with tape. Then he moved behind the prisoner and wrapped some strange looking rope around the man’s wrists. A brief light flared and then Vin rose.
“You got this, Vin?” Vannie said as he and Moe headed for the door. “I have to get the men going to the river.”
“I’ll join you soon.” Vin went to his workbench, gathering up lines and hoses attached to some kind of robotic device.
Emma didn’t doubt he heard her approaching him. She skirted around the prisoners whimpering behind their gags to join him. “Is this the thing you made to protect the men working the river?”
He leaned down to check something, his long fingers skipping cleverly over dials and connections. “It should keep them safe, at least from the metal traps.” He paused and looked at her. “They could come up with something new.”
“Vin.” Emma put her hand on his arm, feeling muscles tighten beneath her fingers. “Thank you for helping us.”
He looked down at her hand on his arm and then up at her. The intensity in his eyes almost sent her back a step. “Promise me that you’ll stay out of the shop and away from these guys while I’m at the river.”
She couldn’t have said no to him even if one of the prisoners was bleeding to death. “Do you trust my promise?” Giddiness tickled her middle. Was she actually flirting with a Recon Marine? But she leaned toward him.
A flicker of uncertainty in his eyes warmed her as much as his answer. “You lack a sense of self-preservation and have too great a need to help and protect others. Even those who don’t need help or deserve it. I don’t know if it’s your medical training or something inside you.” He again looked down at her hand on top of his arm. “I vow that these men do not need medical attention. Will you stay away from them?”
“I will.”
He nodded and returned to tinkering with his machine, forcing her to drop her hand. She studied his profile, seeing him as she hadn’t before. He was a handsome man, verging on beautiful with his high cheek bones and square jaw. His complexion appeared tan but she knew he’d b
een genetically designed with a skin tone to withstand most suns’ rays. His lean, graceful body completed the most attractive package she’d ever met in a man though she wasn’t one to be impressed with physical appearances.
Only today had she noticed how gorgeous he was. Today she’d recognized the haunted look behind all the caution in his cool gaze. Today she saw the loneliness and the forlorn search for familiarity in the military neatness of his shop and sleeping quarters. Was the assistance he gave Hovel Port without being asked only his engrained habit of serving civilians? Or was he just a lonely man trying to find a place?
Vin gestured for her to proceed him out of the building, kicking the door closed behind him. He hefted the equipment to his shoulder and headed down the street toward the south gate. The miners already trudged that direction to start their day. They greeted Vin and then picked up their pace to match his strides. Some laughter and animated conversation drifted back to her as the men pointed at the thing on Vin’s shoulder.
Did Vin understand how much the miners accepted and trusted him? It had started with his role in saving Russ and then his handling of the beasts who’d invaded the settlement. By tonight they would know about the robbers and perhaps have the first supplies from the depot in weeks. But with Vin’s background he might never feel he’d given enough to complete his tour of duty. He was broken in a deep, dark place in his soul. Lucky for him she was a doctor.
Chapter Seven
The supply depot sat near the airfield. Vin counted five freighters on the ground unloading and five being loaded. He bade the nervous Dillon wait with their stolen hopper while he scouted the ships preparing to leave. Minimal crews of ten worked the big slow ships. He slipped inside one and found the living quarters empty as the crew used their last hour on planet to breathe fresh air and stretch their legs. Dozens of the rough men stood in a loose pack between the ships, passing bottles back and forth. No guards on the cargo which appeared to be stacks of lumber.
Vin hadn’t specialized in the biological sciences like his fellow Recon Marine, Mak, and had no idea on what made wood so valuable they would fly it through space. The vast hold did make a perfect place to stow the robbers.
One of the better qualities of a hopper was its nearly silent flight. Vin returned to Dillon and flew the craft to a spot where the crew members wouldn’t see them on the far side of the ship he’d scouted.
It took only a few minutes for Vin to sling a robber over each shoulder with Dillon’s help. The weight of two men challenged Vin’s strength as he climbed the steep stairs into the cargo deck. The men didn’t struggle, still sedated from the infusion Vin had given them once he’d loaded them in the hopper. He set them down, not carefully, near the tightly secured lumber. He used the ionizer to soften the ropes securing them. He figured they wouldn’t wake up for another half a day by which time they’d be in deep space and too far afield to turn back. They could send a subspace message back to Merris Five and report their failure. Hopefully they weren’t the type of men likely to make such a report out of loyalty to an employer like Hadrason.
Dillon looked relieved to see Vin when he returned to the hopper. The man’s emotions made little sense to Vin as the young man acted resentful most of the time.
Vin flew the hopper in a wide arc back to the depot. No other personal transport lingered in the parking area in front of the sprawling building though four large, wheeled vehicles sat tight against bays lining the sides of the structures.
Dillon took out the electronic reader that held the settlement’s supply list. “Do you think they’ll give us what is owed us?”
“They will.” Vin wasn’t leaving without it and there didn’t appear to be enough people about to stop him from taking it. “Let’s go.”
Vin had visited this building when he first arrived on Merris Five. The large open store made it impossible for him to feel comfortable even with his blending-in talent. Today it appeared empty though the same stout man stood behind a counter with a flashy hand-sized computer in front of him.
The man looked surprised when they entered. “Dillon Gore? I wondered when someone would come from Hovel Port. Word came from the mine office that no one was permitted to deliver to you folks. No one had the sand to disobey them. I have all your things from the last two shipments set aside.”
Dillon sighed and smiled. “So glad to hear it, Mr. Banner, and I brought some silver to add to our credit. This is my colleague, Vin Smith. Vin, this is Paul Banner, the only man outside Hovel Port who doesn’t answer to Hadrason Mining.”
Banner shook both of their hands, a strong grip but without the calluses of a man who did physical work. And he offered no assistance other than holding the door while Vin and Dillon carried the supplies out to the hopper.
After Dillon and Banner compared lists to make sure they had everything, Vin gave the storekeeper Emma’s list of medical supplies. Vin followed him around while he moved through the stores and picked out the things on the list and a few things he had locked up behind his counter.
While Vin shadowed Banner Dillon roamed the store and picked up things, examining them in a suspicious way. Vin didn’t understand until after he took Emma’s things to the hopper and returned to see what kept his companion.
“You have a girl waiting for you, Dillon?” Banner asked.
Dillon laughed, and his face darkened. He glanced at Vin with an expression that might have been guilt. “I’m hoping so, Mr. Banner. Do you think a pretty woman would like this?”
Dillon had selected a glass vase, its top swooping in fanciful curves like a frozen sea wave. Did women find such things pretty? Vin knew Dillon intended it for Emma, surprising himself with his insight. And shocking himself with a spurt of anger. At whom?
Before he could think himself out of it, Vin started a tour of the store. An entire shelf of odd shaped glass vases lined the back wall. They lacked any discernible function, and he’d seen nothing like them in Emma’s surgery. Did that mean she didn’t care for trifles or that she hid her means to possess them? Her family fortune could buy her all the baubles she wanted but that would give away her disguise. Damn. He searched a small display of gaudy jewelry. The selection overwhelmed his decision making ability. They all looked silly to him and he’d never seen Emma wear a necklace or ring.
Vin gave up and headed for the front of the store. Why did he search for a gift anyway? Because she made his heart race and he wanted to press his body against hers? Because she looked so fragile but her heart was that of a fighter? And for all her strength, compassion ruled her actions, even for the two bastards he’d left on the cargo vessel. Emma wasn’t like anyone he’d expected her to be. She wasn’t like anyone else in the universe and certainly wasn’t a spoiled rich girl.
A display near the front of the store stopped his thoughts and his feet. A glass pane protected them from handling. They looked like a perfect fit for Emma’s small hand.
Banner stomped from behind his counter. “Do you like those, Mr. Smith? I’m thinking of sending them back with the next silver cargo. Can’t seem to sell them to any of this lot at the mine.”
Vin had lots of credits to his name thanks to the crystallized iron he’d taken with him when he left his brothers behind. “I’ll take whichever one is the most expensive.”
* * * *
Emma stowed the supplies, thrilled to have her shelves full of antibiotics and pain relievers again. Her refrigerator now held intravenous blood replacer and more medicines than she hoped to ever need.
The blue tinged vase from Dillon sat on top of the counter. She’d accepted it from him at dinner the previous night, not wanting to embarrass him in front of the other diners. Dillon’s shy courtship continued no matter how much she discouraged him. Moe told her to make her denials firmer but she didn’t want to hurt the young man.
Baubles had never interested her, and Dillon’s gift wasn’t of good quality, but she would display it for a while. Hovel Port needed more young people so Dillon could
meet someone else.
Vin had said little the night before, reporting the successful dumping of the robbers onto an outgoing freighter. The rest of the town had sorted through the supplies with jubilation that lent a celebratory air to the evening. Though most people had stayed up later than usual, Emma had noticed the men leaving for the river at their usual early hour. The ten day cycle ended on the morrow so today should be a good day of panning in the shallows. While the men worked, Emma intended to begin Vin’s treatment.
Emma wondered if she should have dressed in a more professional manner. Her well-worn tan blouse hung over her hips, covering much like a short dress. She hadn’t donned a real dress since arriving on Merris Five. Short boots served as her footgear, the same as most people wore. But she’d decided to approach Vin as a friend, not as a doctor. She would use her training to help him but as someone who cared about him.
After reading more of the psychiatric speculations about the Recon Marines, she’d gathered together the few known facts. The marines, either because of training or some genetic predisposition, made terrible liars. They exhibited extreme loyalty to duty and each other. Protecting civilians had been drilled into them as a sacred duty above all others. She intended to test Vin’s honesty.
She could only help him if he admitted to his background and the appalling upbringing he’d suffered. Likely the reports on their training recorded only a small portion of what had been done to them, the least horrid part.
Emma stepped out into the bright light of morning. By afternoon the clouds would close in and the rain would move in after dark. The handful of children living with their parents in Hovel Port played in the street. Three boys and two little girls tossed homemade gliders into the light breeze. Emma smiled at the delight on their faces as one of the little toys flew in a graceful loop nearly as high as the buildings.
