Maranta

by Frank Carey

  "Aerith? I thought she was under Space Command protection!" Capt. Marta McMurphy, Executive Officer of the team said as she read the report.

  "It looks like someone screwed the pooch on this one. I'll find out who, meanwhile, Royce, Aerith is your cousin and I know you and her are close. Marta, you're her mother. Do I need to ask you two to sit this one out?"

  "No freaking way, Captain-Ma'am," Marta said.

  "Royce?"

  "No, ma’am. Aerith's family, so I need to go. As for my XO, I would rather not try to stop her," he said as he looked down at Marta.

  "Copy that. According to the report, Mr. Mauro has less than sixty hours before he's barbequed from the inside out. He's the son of a high-ranking Earth diplomat, and he's a freaking computer genius which is probably how he hacked his way onto that trip. He has Rotarr's Syndrome, and his spare booster was lost during the fracas."

  "Damn, it never rains." Royce said.

  "No, it doesn't. I know your team is supposed to be heading to extended rest and relaxation, but this mission is priority, and you're the best we have. Royce, not to get too delicate here, but is your wife going to be OK with this? I've already got a political mess brewing with Mauro being there, and I don't need the elf Queen coming after me."

  "Liz, you worry too much. Losira is a very understanding person..." he stopped when he saw Marta rolling her eyes. "Anyway, we'll be in and out before she knows I'm gone."

  "I wish I was coming with you," Liz said. "I'd rather face killer robots than an angry elf Queen..." The captain was interrupted by a commotion out in the Squad Bay. "What the hell?" Liz said while palming the door open.

  With Liz leading the way, the three officers walked into the squad bay to find three Marines holding down an individual in a dark leather duster while a forth was on the comm with security.

  "Atten-shun!" the Marine on the comm said as she hung-up and stood at attention.

  "Let him up!" Royce growled. The Marines immediately stood at attention while Harm stood up and brushed himself off. "Hey Marta, Royce, Liz. How's it going?"

  Two jaws dropped while Royce's scowl got deeper. "Harmon," he growled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  Chapter Nine

  One year prior to Maranta Five...

  Harmon circled the stolen shuttle around the darkened field while looking for heat signatures, hopefully from his partner and the two customers he was supposed to bring to the meeting. If he saw nothing by the end of the next turn, his instructions were to bug out and take the ship to Station One for a quick sale. He checked the lateral scans one more time for patrol ships but saw nothing except for the occasional night flier.

  For the last nine years—ever since the divorce—Harmon had worked alone, making runs from one planet to the next, from this outpost to that one, moving illegal or illicit merch between sellers and buyers, but things got hectic, so he brought on a partner.

  Jurzik Malf, a middle-aged Tralaskan with a penchant for fine perfumes, seemed like the perfect fit, at least on paper. He had connections, few morals, and a nose for profit. For the last six months, they had worked the precious materials—silks, rare cloths, fine clothing, and the like—market between Earth and Government Planet. Their profits soared, as did those of their investors.

  Forty-eight hours ago. Jurzik called him with a special order—a transport filled with computer parts. Harmon went over the details and saw a simple snatch and grab, so he took the job, snatched the transport, and brought it here to this deserted airfield on Tralaska where he circled while looking for Jurzik and his clients. Just as he was about to leave he saw three heat signatures emerge from an old hangar and wave at him, so he brought the ship down nearby. After securing the ship, he walked out to meet his partner and the two clients.

  "Jurzik, that was cutting it a little close," Harmon said as he walked up and shook hands with his partner while the two clients hung back in the shadows. As he was an elf, Harmon could see in the dark, so he glanced at the two of them while memorizing their faces for future reference.

  "Sorry about that, it couldn't be helped. Did you get everything?"

  "Haven't got a clue. You know I never look at the cargo. All I know is the ship wallowed in the turns, so it has something aboard. Maybe down pillows?"

  One of the two customers called Jurzik over and spoke to him in hushed tones while Harmon watched a meteor fall through the moonless Earth sky. After a short confab, he returned. "Harm, I seem to have forgotten to tell them you're an elf," he said apologetically.

  "So?" Harm replied.

  "So, I'm sorry to have to do this," Jurzik said as he pulled out a pistol and shot Harm in the middle of the chest, knocking him twenty feet across the field where he lay in a crumpled heap.

  Moments later the transport lifted off leaving Harm on the ground with a smoking patch in the middle of his chest. In the distance, a ground vehicle approached from across the mown field.

  ###

  Harm was standing in a room watching another copy of him—or was he the copy and the other the real one? —arguing with Marta. Damn she was looking fine even in a power suit. Standing in a doorway was his cousin, Royce, who was yelling orders to Marta and the other Harmon. Everything was happening in slow motion which Harmon found irritating."

  "What do you think?"

  Harm looked to his right and saw a being of indeterminable species and gender standing next to him. Smiling, the being handed him a clipboard.

  Harmon looked down and saw a checklist with four tasks on it. The first two looked doable, but the third one... Harmon looked up just in time to see his other-self throw Marta into Royce causing both to fall backward out the door as a pair of bullets ripped through his chest.

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "Nope. I never kid," the being said.

  "What about this fourth task? It's blank."

  "TBD."

  "Huh?"

  "To be determined."

  "Oh. And what if I don't want to die?"

  "Someone has to die," the being said as Harm watched Aerith run up and beat on the door as her mother pulled her away. This filled Harmon with feeling of dread and fear. "You've made your point. I'll take the assignment. By the way, who are you and why go through all this?"

  "My name is Xura and I need to make sure you are who I think you are. Now, back to the land of the living with you," the being said as she clasped her hand on Harmon's shoulder. The vision faded out...

  ###

  "Boss! Dammit! Harmon! Wake up!" someone yelled, waking him from one of the most realistic nightmares he had ever experienced. Something about it made Harmon doubt it was a dream.

  "Who, what? What happened? Gretchen, is that you?" he said between choking and coughing. He looked and saw his armor vest lying on the ground next to him, partially fused to his coat.

  "Thank God you're alive. That son of a bitch, Jurzik, shot you point-blank. Thank the lucky stars he didn't see the vest." She stopped and saw him muttering something to himself.

  "Boss, what is it?" she asked.

  "I have things I must do, and I am running out of time. Can you get me back to where I parked Conquistador?"

  "Yeah, sure, but I think you need a hospital."

  "No, no hospital, just my ship." He stopped talking and staggered over to his coat where he pulled an undamaged bankcard from a pocket. "I can't explain, but this is yours,” he said, handing her the card. “Once you get me back to my ship, take this and start a new life with it, one away from all this smuggling crap. That’s a bearer card with twenty million credits on it. It can't be traced back to me, so you and your family are safe."

  "But boss, twenty million credits? Won't you need it?"

  He looked at her and she saw fear in his eyes, fear the likes of which she had never seen before and hoped she would never see again. "Not where I'm going," he said as he stumbled into the passenger seat of the truck. There he fell into a sleep so deep she had to check his pulse to see if he was still alive. T
hey drove all night until they got to the airfield where he had hidden his ship. She watched him take off, wondering if she would ever see him again.

  Chapter Ten

  The arrival gong startled Harm awake as the ship's automatic systems prepared for decant into real-space. Harm looked out the forward windows and briefly watched the plasma streams pass by the ship. Satisfied that all was well with the other-verse, Harm strapped in and took the controls. Moments later, the Conquistador decanted into real-space about two light-seconds out from Albion station. "Albion Station, this is Conquistador requesting vectors to LWS Septar. Priority Urgent-Sam."

  "Conquistador, this is Albion Space Control reading you five by five. Routing vectors to your NAVComp. We understand your urgent-sam and are routing you to Septar control. Have a good day, Conquistador." Urgent-sam was a code phrase meaning that this was OffSec business. He hoped Ciara had gotten him the necessary clearances, else he would be spending the night in an OffSec station Brig.

  "Thank you, Albion control. Septar, this is LTV Conquistador requesting landing clearance and instructions. Code Donkey-Charlie-fiver-seven-dingo, over."

  "Conquistador, this is Septar control. Authorization code accepted. Welcome back, Capt. Aymar. Your usual spot in Dorsal Bay Two?"

  "Ah, you kept it warm for me, thank you. Is my maintenance team available?"

  "Of course, they've already pulled out the lawn chairs and the grill."

  "Great, I've got a lot of work for them. Is Capt. Benson around?"

  "She's on the station confabbing with an EMEF Team. Do you want us to let her know you're here?"

  "Naw, I need to stretch my legs, but thanks anyway. I'll be there in a minute. Conquistador out."

  Harm looked out the window and saw a large pair of doors open on the back to the Septar. On the deck, he could see his maintenance team waving at him. Minutes later, Conquistador was down and his crew was connecting her to Septar's utilities.

  "Boss, good to see you back," Jonesy said while Harm handed him a bag of lollipops. Harm's crew loved lollipops.

  "Yeah, I couldn't stay away. Listen, I need her prepped for launch, and we need to install a few extras I picked up. There's a pallet in the aft bay. I promise I'll explain everything when I get back," Harm said as he headed to the exit hatch.

  Once inside the corridor, Harm pulled out his old badge and attached it to his duster's lapel. He made his way to the airlock leading into the station. Along the way, he was greeted by several members of the crew who he had worked with over the years. It truly was like coming home.

  Harmon made his way to the section of the station where the military was billeted. Checking the directory, he found where Elf Marine Expeditionary Force Team One had set up their squad bay. He noted that they had a few trainees with them. Oh joy, newbs, he thought as he headed to the designated sector.

  "Ah, the smell of nothing," he said as he reached the door into the squad bay. His cousin, Maj. Royce Aymar, founding member of the EMEF, was known for his insistence that his squad bay be kept immaculate, thus there was no smell. Harm pounded three times on the doorframe, steeling himself for what was about to come before walking into the bay.

  As expected, the bay looked like a cover shot for the Marine Corps Monthly. It was spotless. At the other end of the row of bunks, were several Marines reading books or writing in notebooks. As per protocol, at least half of them were non-elf. Anyone from any species could join the corps. Only the strong stayed.

  Harm waited to be recognized. Out in the corridor, they were required to be polite to strangers. Harm had no idea what it was like in the Marine Corps on other planets, but if you came into this room, with these Marines, you were required to play by their rules.

  "Can we help you?" One of the Marines asked. She was Tralaskan, which meant she could break him in half. Being a marine meant she could do it with skill.

  "I am looking for your commander, Maj. Royce Aymar."

  "And who may we say is calling?"

  Harm knew they had him pegged as trouble the moment he walked in wearing the duster. He exuded a smuggler persona, which was good for business, but bad for personal interactions with fine, upstanding League citizens.

  "My name is Harmon. The major and I go way back."

  "The major is busy. Why don't you come back later?" the Tralaskan suggested.

  "Naw. I need to talk to him right now. Why don't you go and fetch him for me?"

  By now, Harmon had enough of the bullshit, so he insulted the Tralaskan by inferring that she should do something menial for a common, male elf. She did not take that kindly.

  Moments later, the door to the anteroom opened. Maj. Royce Aymar, Capt. Marta McMurphy, and Capt. Elizabeth Benson walked into the squad bay to find three Marines holding down an individual in a dark leather duster while a forth was on the comm with security.

  "Atten-shun!" the Marine on the comm said as she hung-up and stood at attention.

  "Let him up!" Royce growled. The Marines immediately stood at attention while Harm stood up and brushed himself off. "Hey Marta, Royce, Liz. How's it going?"

  Two jaws dropped while Royce's scowl got deeper. "Harmon," he growled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "I'm teaching your trainees how to avoid an elf's tail during personal combat. I have to say I’m impressed."

  "You four, dismissed!." Marta said. When they returned to their duties, Marta stepped up to Harm, took his arm, and demanded, "What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be dead!"

  "I missed you too. I'm coming with you to Maranta Five."

  "Excuse me?" Liz said. "You’re doing what?"

  "I'm coming with Team One to Maranta Five to rescue Tannith, Aerith, and the rest of the survivors of the destruction of the Shuttle Asgard and the possible destruction of the research vessel Tung’We."

  "How in the name of all that is holy can you possibly know that?" Liz asked. "I just found out a few minutes ago."

  "Police scanner; I find the chatter soothing on long trips. I've got a crew arming the Conquistador..."

  "And where is the Conquistador parked?" Liz asked.

  "In her usual spot in Dorsal Bay Two. Jonesy and his team are prepping her. Ah, I know," he said while pulling a flash drive out of his pocket and handing it to the Captain. "Call Ciara, she'll confirm my orders."

  "Right," she said as she headed to a secure comm station. "Take him into the anteroom. You, sir, do not say anything until I return."

  "Yes, ma’am," Harm replied as she walked out of the squad bay. "Damn, I've missed her. Oops, I don't think you were supposed to hear that."

  Royce grabbed him, and the three of them went into the anteroom. Once inside, Marta sealed the door before grabbing Harm by the collar and pushing him into a bulkhead. "Talk, damn you!"

  "Marta, he can't..." Royce tried to explain.

  "I said talk, you pointy-eared hobgoblin. Why are you here?"

  "Captain! Stand down or I will have you removed." Royce ordered.

  "Damn, I missed you, Big Elf. I hear you and Gloria got back together. How's she doing, by the way?" Harm already knew, but he wanted to distract Royce. Of all the people he knew, Royce was the best at reading Harm's emotional state. Royce may not understand what he was reading, but he could still tell something was amiss.

  "Gloria is fine. Now, what's got you so spooked? You've changed, Harm. Your arrogance is gone, and you're scared. What is it about this mission that has you so afraid?"

  "What the hell are you talking about, sir?" Marta asked.

  "Harm's pulse rate is way up. He's breathing fast and perspiring. He's scared," Royce observed.

  "It is nothing. Let it go, Big Elf. In less than three days, I am out of your hair for good. Until then, just let me play this out the way it needs to play out, OK?" Harm asked as he let his feeling show.

  "Oh my God, what has happened to you?" Marta exclaimed.

  "Nothing. Nothing happened. I’m fine. I have to save my kid and my sister, and you tw
o need to help me. Please, just let this go."

  "He's right," Liz said as she came into the room. "He's going. You two get your team prepped. I've taken the liberty of recalling Zon, Stal, and Eloen. They will arrive shortly. We leave in an hour. Harm, with me." Liz ordered. "No more discussion until we're in other-space. That’s an order. Now, move."

  ###

  Once in the corridor and heading back to the ship, Liz stopped and turned to stare at Harm. "OK, now it's just you and me. What the hell is going on?"

  He told her about the vision.

  "Is this an elf-thing? You know, they don't teach us nearly enough about elf-things at the academy."

  "Yes, it's an elf thing. Like humans, many elves believe in an afterlife which includes a heaven and a hell, only we have a bonus round where you get one final chance to get it right. I have to get this one right, for Tannith, Aerith, and especially Marta. You know I never divorced her. I never signed the papers. I have been celibate since she left me."

  "Damn, no wonder you're having visions. Are you going to tell them?"

  "I have to. How do you tell someone you're going to die in the next few hours while saving their lives?"

  "Good point."

  "Liz, what about us? What do we tell them about us working together since Spindrift?"

  "I talked to Ciara and she's approved my reading them into the op. I think Marta is going to be mad."

  "Yeah, I bet she will be," he said as they entered the ship.

  ###

  Marta and Royce gathered their gear and waited for the trainees to finish squaring-away the squad bay. Meanwhile, Sgt. Zon, Cpl. Stal, and LCpl. Eloen, had arrived on station and were already aboard Protector where they were preparing quarters for the arrival of the rest of Team One.

  Royce saw that Marta was about to ask something. "If it's about Harm, then the answer is no."

  "Sir, Royce, please," Marta pleaded. "What happened to him?"

  "I can't..." He stopped when the trainees walked up and saluted. "Ready sir, ma’am," they said while standing at attention.

  "At ease," Royce said before the six of them headed to the door.