Rebel (The United Federation Marine Corps)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  Then it was her turn. She put some lilac bath salts in the tub and filled it, stripping out of her clothes and slipping in. She let the salts soothe her, body and mind. As the water began to cool, she got out and emptied the tub. She took her shorts, shirt, underwear, and shoes and placed them in the tub, then poured the remainder of Doug’s solution over them. Doug had assured her the reagent would not harm the tub’s surface, and with the toilet exhaust fan on, most of the fumes went up and out of the bathroom.

  Not quite everything was eaten away, however. Michi turned on the showerhead and thoroughly rinsed the tiny scraps left before picking them up and putting them in a trash bag.

  She was done.

  It was still early, but she went to her small bedroom and got into bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin. She lay there, wide awake for almost 20 minutes before she started to cry. Within moments, she was sobbing, and it was another five minutes before she stopped.

  She wasn’t crying over Hokkam. Hokkam meant nothing to her—and that was why she was crying. The first jack had been an accident. Michi had attacked him with violent intentions, but she hadn’t planned to kill him. The thought really hadn’t crossed her mind.

  But Hokkam was different. She knew him, she planned out his death, and she had killed him in cold blood while watching his life fade as she stared into his eyes. A normal person would feel something after taking a life in such an intimate manner. It could be sorrow or regret. It could be exultation or thrill. It could be anger or bitterness. But it should be something.

  Michi felt nothing.

  Michiko MacCailín had been a love-struck teenager, a ballet dancer, a First Family girl with whatever future she wanted. That Michi would have been horror-struck at the idea of taking any life, much less a human life.

  That Michi was gone, though, probably forever. And the new Michi cried when she realized that. She wanted the old Michi back, and she was sure she despised the new person she had become.

  Chapter 24

  Michi waited at Bridgette’s restaurant in a corner table, out of the way of the rest of the patrons, an untouched Danish in front of her. She wondered if the rest of her notes had been read. The rally was scheduled to start in an hour, and all the WRP staff would be there, but she hoped that she had convinced them to see her first. If not, she would contact the council members after, but if Hokkam had any planned role in the rally, then Cheri and the rest should know that he would be a no-show.

  At 8:35, just when she had about given up hope, Cheri, Rangle, Sven, and Gabriella came in together. Gabriella spotted Michi first, and all four came over and sat down beside her.

  “You wrote that this was vital,” Rangle said, sounding as if he was being put upon. “We’re a mite busy today.”

  “What is it, dear?” Cheri asked. “Why didn’t you just tell us yesterday instead of all the mystery? We compared notes, and you gave us all the same thing. Rosario said he had more important things to do this morning, we couldn’t contact Su, and Hokkam’s probably already at the rally.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Michi calmly told the three board members. “And he won’t be coming. I wanted to let you know before the rally started that you needed to elect a new chairman.”

  “Why, has Hokkam resigned?” Gabriella asked. “He never told me he was considering anything like that.”

  Cheri stared into Michi’s eyes for a moment. She saw something in the young woman that spoke more than mere words could. “It was necessary?” she asked.

  Michi nodded.

  “What was necessary? What are you talking about?” Gabriella asked, her irritation beginning to show.

  “Rangle, you are the acting chairman for this. If need be, you will talk. You wrote the talking points for Hokkam, so you are the most familiar with them,” Cheri said, taking charge.

  “But what about Hokkam? Can somebody please tell me what is going on?” Gabriella persisted.

  “There’s no time for that now, Gabby. Hokkam’s gone, and we’ll leave it at that. And no, you cannot call him. We’ve got a rally going on, and I suggest we get there.

  “Gabby, get a hold of Su. Tell her to get to the office for an emergency meeting at 6:00.”

  She held up a hand when Gabriella started to protest. “Not now, Gabby. Let’s get to the square. Michi, are you coming with us?”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Rangle muttered as they left, but he followed Cheri’s commands.

  The five made their way to the square, but even from two blocks away, people filled the street, making progress almost impossible.

  “We cut that too close,” Cheri said, awe in her voice evidence that the numbers of people who showed up was a surprise to her. “Rangle, try and worm your way up. Tamberlane and Fort will already be there.”

  “Fort” was Fortitude Fein-Simak, their rally master. He was part stage director, part cheerleader, and he was nominally in charge of the rally. However, this was not just a WRP event. Other organizations had been approached, and several had already sent reps to the WRP office to help plan, and more than a few had probably just shown up to take part.

  A person holding a placard turned back, and Michi saw the image printed on it. It was her, in her red-headed glory, looking particularly fierce. The words “Red Athena” were printed under her photograph.

  “That’s pretty impressive. Tamberlane’s doing?” Michi asked Cheri.

  “No, ours says ‘The People’s Valkyrie,’” Cheri told her. “And the photo is a little different. That means your performance must have caught on. That’s reassuring.”

  The three women worked their way forward, keeping close to the buildings lining the street. Up ahead, they could hear chanting, but it wasn’t until they managed to worm their way into the square itself that Michi could make out what the chant was.

  “Red Athena! Red Athena!” the crowd yelled out.

  “Looks like Fort went with the other name,” Cheri said matter-of-factly. “His call, and whatever catches on. The ‘Valkyrie’ was my idea, though. Oh, well.”

  Michi felt uncomfortable seeing so many placards with her photo on it. The overtly sexual flair to the WRP version bothered her. At least it was that of her redhead alter-ego, and that put some psychological distance to it. She was glad when the chant shifted to “Worker Justice Now!”

  Crowd chanting was a science. Fort might be leading the chants, but he had a team scattered around the rally, taking measurements of the volume and intensity of the crowd. All of that was fed to an AI that calculated when to change chants and when to try new ones. It might seem like mob rule, but it was a carefully choreographed and continually changing ballet.

  At 8:15, Fort stopped the chanting, and through his bullhorn, told everyone that it was time for the Propitious Interstellar anthem. The crowd booed him unmercifully, but as the recorded music played, most of the people joined in, singing as far out of key as possible and changing more than a few of the words.

  After the anthem, Rangle took the bullhorn and welcomed the crowd in the name of the WRP. He stressed that this was to be a peaceful rally, to which some people booed. He spoke for a few minutes, seemingly as ease. Michi wasn’t sure she could have pulled off speaking in front of so many people with so little advanced warning.

  He turned the bullhorn over to representatives from some of the other organizations that had gone public in opposition to martial law and the presence of the Marines. Michi listened to them with only half an ear. She jumped up on a fire hydrant and looked at the line of jacks blocking B Street. Unlike at the rally in which Franz had been killed, this time they were backed up by about 30 Marines in their armored combat suits, “PICS,” they called them. The stood motionless behind the jacks, looking impressive, Michi had to admit. Michi wondered what options they had if it came to an open confrontation with them.

  A camcording of Henry Jugos, the same human rights champion whose arrival had been announced back when Franz had spoken, was replayed for the crowd. In it he urged them no
t to back down and to demand their charter be honored. When martial law had been declared, the PI lawyers argued that this allowed them to nullify Jugos’ visa, and so it was back to court.

  Scotty MacScotty, an irreverent comedian whose real name was a loosely-held secret, was next, and he had the crowd roaring as he skewered the company. Michi normally thought he was funny, if a little crude for her taste, but this time, she let the humor pass her by. She was watching the jacks and the Marines for any sign of action.

  “There’s trouble in Dundee,” Cheri relayed to them in a whisper, one hand over the ear into which her PA bud was inserted. “The crowd tried to take over the company office, and the Marines pushed them back. There are some dead, but I don’t know who or how many there are yet.”

  Dundee was Kakurega’s second largest city, the planetary capital, and the site of PI’s Plant 4, where large items were fabricated. There was a higher percentage of indentureds and fewer PI management at that factory than at perhaps any other company facility.

  “We knew that was a possibility when we set this up,” Gabriella said quietly as she took a glance to see if anyone was listening in. “Hokkam said that we might need a spark to get the fire going.”

  “Hokkam is out of the equation now,” Cheri answered. “So it doesn’t matter what he said. We might have that fire, but will it engulf us all?”

  Behind the Marines, Michi saw movement. It was one of the T2000 forklifts, the big ones used to move vats of base materials. It stopped in back of the Marines, and someone climbed onto the forks. The operator raised them, lifting the passenger above the Marines and jacks and in view of the crowd.

  It was Dr. Keller, the deputy mayor. The fact that a public official was sitting on a yellow forklift with “Propitious Interstellar” printed on the side of the cab was a telling connection that did not slip past Michi.

  “People of Tay Station, this gathering is illegal and you are ordered to withdraw. Despite no permits being issued, we have used patience as a show of good will. That good will has been exhausted, so as law abiding citizens, you must go home.

  “If you have reasonable grievances, you may come down to the city offices during normal working hours and file them.

  “As a member of the city council, I am issuing the order to cease and desist as per City Proclamation 19.815.3062, the previously declared imposition of martial law. Failure to do so can result in arrest and imprisonment for a period of no more than ten years.”

  As if in a Hollywood flick, a round, red object sailed from the crowd and arched over to strike the mayor on his thigh. The tomato had been ripe enough to splatter, covering him in juice and seeds.

  The crowd roared with laughter and the deputy mayor hurriedly motioned for the forklift operator to lower him. The laughter broke off and faded to nothing as the jacks, who had been lining B Street, split in the middle of the line and marched smartly to each side of the street, leaving the center open. A few people moved forward as if to enter the opening the jacks had made.

  “Get out of here,” Michi said to Cheri and Gabriella, pushing them back.

  They didn’t argue, probably thinking of what had just transpired in Dundee. A few other people started to edge back as well, but the bulk of the crowd just stared to see what would unfold.

  Michi was not surprised when the Marines started moving in their huge combat suits. For something so big and unwieldy-looking, each Marine smoothly stepped forward, each rank in unison as they passed through the jacks, then spread out, shoulder to shoulder, completely blocking B Street and extending along the entire west side of the square.

  A voice came out of some unseen speaker, “This is your last warning. Leave the square now and return to your homes or you will be forcibly evicted.”

  Quite a few people turned to push their way out, but the sheer number in the square made that difficult. A person holding one of the rally signs tried to push past Michi, dropping the placard. Michi saw her own face as the sign fell, hitting her in the head before it fell between the people onto the ground. Michi might have thought the irony of getting hit with her own photo was funny if the Marines hadn’t then started a slow march forward.

  Screams erupted from the crowd as people tried to get out of the way. The Marines did not fire any weapons, but merely walked forward in lockstep, using their combat suits as bulldozers. A few young bloods tried to hit the Marines with rally signs, and one young man jumped up on top of a Marine only to be casually plucked off as if he was an errant kitten and tossed aside.

  Behind the Marines, the jacks had formed back up. Several of them pounced on the young man who’d just been tossed. A few people lost their footing. Michi became incensed when the Marines kept marching, stepping on those on the ground. An older lady fell, and a Marine stepped squarely on her. The woman went still.

  “They’re not resisting!” she shouted, her voice lost in the bedlam.

  She wanted to strike out at the Marines, and she had to fight the impulse to wade into them. Her blood boiled, but the rational part of her mind argued that she couldn’t do any good in jail. She wavered for a few moments as the Marine line moved inexorably forward, the eager jacks rushing to arrest anyone who was left as the Marines stomped over them. Finally, the rational Michi gained control, and she turned to flee.

  She would leave the square to the Marines and bring the fight to them another day and on her terms, not theirs.

  Chapter 25

  The three friends jumped at the chime.

  “Check it, please, Doug,” Michi said, trying to sound calm.

  They were in an apartment into which Doug had gotten access. It was furnished, if somewhat tacky, and from hints Doug had made, it was used as a secret getaway for higher ups in the company technical division when they wanted discreet liaisons. Doug guaranteed there was no surveillance leading to or inside the getaway. Michi thought it ironic that they were using what PI management had set up for secrecy, be it for an amorous reason, to possibly plot against the company.

  “It’s them,” Doug said, checking the wall screen. “At least it’s Ms. Baliles and two men.”

  “Am I OK?” Michi asked Tamara after switching on her face-spoofer. When Tamara said yes, Michi nodded at her, and Tamara opened the door.

  Michi had been standing regally in the front hallway, her back highlighted by the afternoon sun. The effect, which the three of them had worked out, was spoiled by Rosario pushing her aside and quickly checking the apartment. Cheri and their guest came in, but Rosario held up his hand to keep them from talking while he took a portable scanner out of his pocket and checked for whatever he suspected.

  “OK, it looks clear,” he finally said with a scowl on his face.

  Isn’t he ever happy? Michi wondered before turning to greet her guest.

  The man standing in front of her looked to be in his mid-thirties, stood about two meters tall, and was a trim 85 kg. He was supposedly an accountant for Jericho Trading, responsible for accounts payable to Propitious Interstellar. Jericho Trading was a Brotherhood company, just one of the many, many companies who bought PI goods and kept an office in the city. In reality, “Mr. Samuels” was a bishop in the Brotherhood military, if their information was right, and he wanted to meet the “Red Athena.”

  The fact that he was in the military but undercover made Tamara declare that he was a bonafide spy. Michi had to agree, but Tamara seemed too excited over the fact. She had been in the condo when Doug had suggested the location for the meeting, and she was adamant that she was coming, too.

  Michi was in full costume for the meeting, which had taken over a day to set up. The location proved problematic, what with Mr. Samuels being unable to visit the WRP offices and Michi not willing to go out in public in persona. It was Doug who came to the rescue with his division’s little sex hide-away.

  Mr. Samuels had extremely white teeth, Michi noted as he held out a hand.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” he said, smile dazzling. “Should I call
you Athena?” he asked with just the right degree of lightheartedness.

  “Valkyrie was better,” Cheri muttered under her breath.

  Cheri was now the chairman of the WRP. She had been the unanimous choice, and Tamberlane, who had always been in on most chapter decisions anyway, and been elevated to full board status.

  “Sure,” Michi said. “And should I just call you ‘Bishop?’”

  “Touché, young lady, touché. But I think Mr. Samuels will be fine,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Ms. Baliles has been kind enough to show me some of your recent recordings. I have to say you cut an impressive figure.”

  Michi wondered if that had been a double entendre, but she simply asked, “So I can assume your interest in us means your, uh, company, might be willing to render assistance?”

  “While my company appreciates your situation, and while we philosophically stand for human rights and freedom of speech and actions, sometimes our support is more of a moral type rather than the material.”

  “So you mean you will root for us, but in secret so as to not upset the Federation.”

  “M—uh, Athena, it’s not that easy,” Cheri snapped, eyes blazing.

  Michi didn’t care. Cheri was her friend, but this pompous ass came to ogle her in her costume, see the “Red Athena,” and maybe ask for a photo with her, and he offers nothing?

  “No, Ms. Baliles, she’s only saying what is evident,” he said to Cheri before turning back to Michi. “No, we are not ready to offer overt aid. However, we can offer some information when it is feasible, and we will be monitoring the situation. If it escalates to a certain point,” he held up a hand as Michi was about to interrupt, “and what that point is, I frankly don’t know. But if it reaches there, we would be forced, on humanitarian grounds, to assist. Exactly how or in what form? I don’t know. My job now is to gather information so that we are able to react quickly if and when necessary.”

  Michi started to protest again, but as she thought about it, what the bishop said made sense. She could not expect the Brotherhood to risk war over worker conditions on a Federation planet. They fact that they were even monitoring it was gratifying.