Blocker moved closer, turning so he could see Ayliss framed against the other fires. “Sure sounds like a crazy guy to me, First Sergeant. Giving up all that for this shit.”
“Heard he reupped out here, too. Finished two hitches, then got his old job back.” The two soldiers exchanged grins, the tension of the conversation with Ayliss easing. “Now why would a smart guy like Olech Mortas rehire somebody he’d fired, after all these years?”
“That’s easy. He’s not half as smart as everybody thinks he is.”
Can I say I miss you, just between you and me?
I’ve lived, I’ve cried, and almost died, all thanks to you.
I have a gift I never gave, but it’s all yours
Can’t wait to see you again, dear Sammy the Sim.
Ayliss and Selkirk stopped to chat with different groups as they passed among the campfires. The veterans were clearly intending to sleep out under the stars, and had already begun to arrange their bedrolls. After exchanging pleasantries for a few minutes, Selkirk steered Ayliss outside the illuminated ground so that they could approach the Banshees’ fire.
“That’s them there. The big blonde is named Deelia. She talked the others into accepting their discharges and seeking greener pastures.”
“And the guy she’s holding?”
“That’s Tupelo, the one I told you about. Deelia’s husband. He’s supposed to have been one of the mechanics on the Banshees’ armored suits. For a guy who just spent seven years as a suit jock, he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it much.”
“So you think he’s something else.”
“He’s got Spartacan deserter written all over him.” The Spartacan Scouts were an elite reconnaissance force made up of conscripts and worse. “The Banshees and the Spartacans have always been simpatico. His skills could be useful.”
A careless boot scuffed the dirt in the darkness nearby, but before Selkirk could react, a lone figure walked up. Unkempt hair, boyish looks, and eyes that glowed with something more than firelight. Selkirk relaxed and put a hand on the man’s arm.
“Hey there, Ewing. Coming back from a walk?”
“Oh, the journey’s just starting, Selkirk. You know that.” The tone was dry and detached. “Who’s your lady friend?”
“This is Minister Mortas. Ayliss, this is the best communications man the Force ever cashiered, Christian Ewing.”
“Hello there. It’s nice to meet you.” Ayliss extended a hand, and Ewing swayed slightly when he reached for it.
“I thought First Sergeant confiscated your smoking gear.” Selkirk’s comment caused Ewing to smile.
“He’s got his stashes, I have mine. Besides, McRaney always has a little something extra for me when he visits.”
Ayliss flashed a meaningful look at Selkirk. Depending on the source, McRaney was either a violent smuggler or an out-and-out pirate. Either way, proof that he was working with the veterans could get the colony’s charter revoked. She decided to keep Ewing talking.
“So why did the Force get rid of its best commo man?”
“A question I’ve asked myself many times. It’s not like I was the only guy in the fleet who enjoyed a bit of the herb. You know, I only started smoking to keep awake on radio watch. A night in space can last a long time . . . or maybe it never ends. Anyway, nobody cared until I started to ask if anybody else was hearing the music.”
“Music?”
“Yeah. Music. Like nothing I’d ever heard. Couldn’t tell if it was instrumental, or voices. Beautiful, amazing stuff. Didn’t hear it all the time, but every now and then it was like they were performing just for me.”
“And how’s that? That they were doing it just for you?”
“Radio watch that late at night, this far out in space—who else was listening?” Ewing tilted his head back, studying the stars. In the distance, an ore transport blasted off from the spacedrome on top of Zone Quest’s mountain. The dull rumbling seemed to drive a pulse through the orange fire of the blastoff, and its reflection gave Ewing’s face a mournful look. “I miss that.”
He patted Ayliss on the shoulder before walking off.
“Hey Minister, come on up here!” Lola, the lead Banshee, called over a bare shoulder, and Ayliss responded by jogging up the file. At daybreak, the five Banshees had shaken her from the sleeping bag she’d shared with Selkirk. Dressed in form-hugging running gear, they’d invited her to join them for morning PT. She’d enthusiastically accepted, and so far had found the running easy.
The small file had shuffled past the collection of burned-out fires and circles of bedrolls before heading toward the veterans’ settlement and Zone Quest’s facility. The open ground had quickly shifted to fields of dark rocks, the Go-Three that the humans and the Sims both wanted so badly, and they now ran past knee-high spikes of the stuff.
“That’s a good man you have there, Minister.” The dark-haired Banshee’s name was Lola, and she’d been the group’s leader in the war. She nodded at a spot several hundred yards away, where Selkirk’s lone figure ran on a parallel course. He wore a small automatic weapon on a sling and kept it tight to his side as he loped along.
“He certainly is.”
“Of course he’s a sitting duck, exposed like that. So I bet that old bodyguard of yours has got people covering you from the high ground.”
Modest cliffs rose just beyond Selkirk’s jogging form, closer to the old Sim colony and the mining operation. Somewhere up there, Blocker was shifting the other bodyguards around to keep the runners covered.
“He’s not so old, and he’s a vet like you.” Ayliss glided along easily. “Two tours in the zone, got just about every medal you can think of.”
“I can’t think of too many medals.” That came from Tin, a short, pretty Banshee in the middle of the file.
“And why’s that?”
“Because Banshees don’t think much of medals!” The five veterans proclaimed, laughing as one for a moment. In the short time she’d spent with them Ayliss had heard several pet phrases like that one, many of them instilled during Banshee Basic.
The ground started to rise, with more of the black spikes appearing on either side of a dirt road cleared straight through them. Ayliss knew that any obvious changes to the landscape had been the work of military engineers or Zone Quest, as the Sims who’d lived there originally had concentrated on not altering the landscape.
Jogging over the rise, they now passed a field of jagged black rocks taller than a man. That was a sign of rich deposits, and one of the reasons the Sims had decided to live in this area.
“Did Hemsley pick this route for you?” Ayliss felt the first runnel of sweat down her back, enjoying the exertion. The terrain to their front rose dramatically only a few thousand yards away, into a jagged black mountain insulated by low Zone Quest buildings.
“He did suggest we run by the headquarters, yes.” Lola flashed a challenging smirk at her. “Just showing Station Manager Rittle that we’re friends with the new minister.”
“Which of these mansions is mine?” The spiked slopes of the ore mountain had been cleared and leveled in numerous places, and the residences of the Zone Quest management team were easy to spot. White walls, broad balconies, and gun turrets.
“You didn’t expect them to let you live inside their wire, did you, Minister?” Deelia, the muscular blonde, called out from the rear. “That really nice house there, the big one with the walkway going all the way around the second floor, that one’s yours.”
Ayliss looked more closely at the mining compound above them, noting for the first time the double antipersonnel fencing that surrounded most of it. “Now why would they fence off a place that would get blasted right off the slope ten seconds into a Sim attack?”
“Very good, Minister!” Lola smiled while taking them down a side road, away from the mountain. “So
unds like you know something about Sammy’s habits.”
“Just what I’ve been briefed, that’s all.” Ayliss saw a chance to hear about the Banshees’ combat experience, and felt her pulse climb. “Nothing like what you must’ve learned.”
“Oh, there’s not that much to learn about Sam. He’s just like any other guy.”
“Except his dick doesn’t work!” Tin and one of the others shouted at the same time. Although the physiology of male and female Sims included genitalia almost identical to that of humans, the Sims were unable to reproduce.
“That’s probably why he never gets distracted. Sam’s a focused guy, Minister. Goes for the throat every time.” Lola gave her a sideways glance. “Don’t be in such a rush to meet him.”
Ayliss shifted into ministerial mode, disturbed to have been read so easily. “Got my hands full just meeting everybody here.”
The file turned away from the hill, heading back toward the spike-covered ridge where the veterans had made their home. The dirt road twisted and turned, and the Banshees picked up the pace. Every now and then the bouncing figure of Selkirk would appear, shadowing them much more closely now, weaving his way through the black spear points.
“You gonna meet the Station Manager today?” Lola didn’t seem to be breathing heavily at all.
“I imagine he’ll be there when they give me the keys to that house.”
“Give that fat fucker our regards.”
“You should do that yourself.” Ayliss made the words an invitation. “I invited First Sergeant Hemsley, but I don’t think he’ll attend. He’s gonna miss something fun if he doesn’t.”
“You gonna shake things up your first day?”
“Come along and see.” Ayliss looked over her shoulder at the rest of the women. “Now, are we going to actually get a workout here, or are we going to stroll the whole way?”
The sun was high in the sky when Station Manager Rittle took the rostrum. A temporary stage had been erected in front of Ayliss’s new house, with Zone Quest bunting and a wide canopy overhead. Upper- and middle-management staff from the mining operation were seated in the shade, with Ayliss and Selkirk in the front row. Blocker and two of her guards, wearing body armor and holding short-barreled assault weapons, stood at the back. Gathered directly in front of the stand, but much lower because of the slope, was a well-scrubbed contingent of Zone Quest miners. Farther back, a loose collection of veterans—including the Banshees—stood in the sun.
“I greet the arrival of Colonial Administrator Mortas with great happiness, as I’m sure all of you do as well.” Rittle wore a khaki full-body suit and dark glasses and, despite Lola’s description, was only slightly overweight. “The personnel turnover on Quad Seven has gone on for too long, and I look forward to days of greater organization and increased cooperation.”
The mining staff clapped politely, while the veterans exchanged subdued glances. Only a few hundred yards up the slope, the antipersonnel fence that enclosed the mining site stood out against the black rock.
“So, without further ado, I present this humble abode”—Rittle turned an open palm toward the building behind him—“to Minister Ayliss Mortas. May her stay with us be long.”
More applause, this time joined by some of the veterans when Ayliss rose from her seat and approached the podium. Although her clothes were immaculate, she was wearing the same trousers, boots, and long shirt from the range the day before.
“Thank you very much, Station Manager, for your warm welcome and this wonderful structure. I’m happy to accept it in the name of the Veterans Auxiliary.” Ayliss looked out over the audience, seeing First Sergeant Hemsley appear in the rear of the crowd. Over his shoulder she could make out the low ridge of dark points that stood over the veterans’ subterranean home.
“Station Manager Rittle and I had an opportunity to tour the new building just before the ceremony, and we both agreed it was much too big for me and my staff.” Seated behind her, Rittle’s attentive face showed no reaction. “He then told me that the construction of a medical clinic for the veterans had been put on hold in order to build this edifice. You don’t have to be the daughter of the Chairman of the Emergency Senate to pick up on an unstated message like that”—she paused, smiling, to accept the audience’s modest laughter—“and so I’m pleased to announce that this will be the new colony hospital!”
The miners began to applaud, and then the veterans joined in. Confused expressions flashed across the managers on the stand, but that all ended when Rittle began clapping serenely.
Standing at the podium, Ayliss beamed at the audience while the applause continued. Olech and Reena had taught her that smile, and made her practice it numerous times. With the look of vapid joy locked into place, she sought out the figure of Hemsley in the very back.
Clapping his hands slowly, the top veteran fixed her with a look of wary examination.
“That was an interesting performance out there,” Rittle remarked, looking over the balcony railing through dark lenses. Ayliss had just lunched with him and his most senior managers, but now they were able to converse alone. “That was nice of you, making it look like I already knew about your grand gesture.”
Ayliss joined him at the railing. The Station Manager’s house was two stories high, and the balcony ran all the way around it. The whole building was white, inside and out, with expensive furnishings brought from off-world. Exotic plants stood in ornate pots and green vines clung to the walls, an extravagance that Ayliss saw nowhere else in the complex.
“I imagine you expected me to do something along those lines. It’s really much too large for my needs.”
“It’s not so much a question of need as it is of making a statement. When you’re in charge, it’s important to look the part.”
“I would have thought that getting things done was a better indication of being in charge.”
“Oh, that’s a given. I’ve managed three stations so far, and they don’t keep assigning them to you if you don’t meet your quota.”
“I wasn’t talking about mining. I’m more concerned with Zone Quest’s obligations to the discharged veterans.”
Rittle turned toward her. “Those obligations go both ways, Minister. The colonists are supposed to maintain themselves in a condition of fighting readiness, in case it becomes necessary for them to defend the settlement.”
“You’re saying they haven’t done that?”
“I’m saying they’re not even close. Hemsley has refused to provide us with the most rudimentary information about the colonists’ organization as a military force, and their other activities have gotten them banned from the station. It’s hard to imagine them defending the place when we can’t trust them to be inside the wire.”
“What would those other activities be?”
“You sure you want to hear this, Minister? Once I bring these infractions to your attention, they become part of the record.”
“I would have thought they became part of the record when they occurred, if they’re as bad as they sound. What are you saying they’ve done?”
“Stolen Zone Quest assets, for one. You see the size of this place?” Rittle motioned with a flat hand toward the buildings, vehicle parks, and roads that sprawled along the slope to either side. “We used to house an entire Force brigade, but when it was reassigned, I didn’t have sufficient guards to secure the place. The colonists stole everything that brigade left behind, as well as a significant amount of Zone Quest property in the form of rations, fuel, weapons, and ammunition.”
“That’s interesting. Hemsley told me he and the other veterans haven’t received their standard allocation for any of those things, before or after that brigade departed.”
“Really? He seems to run a lot of live-fire ranges, for someone who hasn’t received his ammunition allocation.”
“So you ha
ve been providing the veterans with the support that Zone Quest agreed to, in exchange for being allowed to mine parts of this planet.”
“Of course not. I’m not going to give anything to people who’ve robbed me.”
“But how are they supposed to maintain themselves in a condition of fighting readiness—to use your words—if you aren’t living up to your end of the bargain?”
Rittle came to his full height and slowly removed the dark glasses. “I was hoping to avoid discussing this with you until you’d had a chance to settle in, but clearly you’ve been listening to some people who haven’t been truthful.
“In addition to the items they stole from us, your colonists have been trafficking with an individual named McRaney, who is on the Human Defense Force’s official list of pirates operating in this region of space.”
Ayliss snorted, remembering Hemsley’s response to that allegation. “If they’re not getting the support they were promised, no one can fault them for pursuing it elsewhere.”
“Our satellites have tracked several unauthorized ships landing not far from here and departing only minutes later. You might not be aware of this, but unreported contact with pirates or smugglers is a death-penalty offense.” The glasses went back on, the face blank. “As soon as I have conclusive proof linking the colonists to those landings, I intend to report these crimes to HDF Command. As someone who’s been in the zone for many years, I can assure that Command takes a dim view of anyone even remotely connected to such activity—no matter who their father might be.”
“Regardless of who my father is, I can assure you that I take a dim view of anyone threatening me—or my veterans.”
Blocker held his tongue until Ayliss’s personal vehicle took them through the fencing. He’d been standing in earshot on the balcony, an impassive statue. Now he allowed his annoyance to show.
“That wasn’t very diplomatic of you, Minister.”
Looking out through the armored windshield, Ayliss answered serenely. “Then it’s a good thing diplomacy wasn’t what I was shooting for.”
Dire Steps Page 5
