Rebel (The United Federation Marine Corps)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

“I see by your reaction that you recognize my little friend,” Chopra said as Henderson gave him his dosing unit. “Don’t worry, it won’t turn you into a flesh-eating zombie. Although, that might be a better fate, if you ask me. A barely aware vegetable who just sits and soils herself seems a lot worse to me.”

  “But that’s illegal, isn’t it?” she asked.

  Chopra and Henderson broke out laughing at that.

  “You are really in no position to protest, young lady. And while Propoxinal is technically illegal, I can use whatever I want, based on my own judgment, with regards to security. You are an enemy of the Federation, and I will do what I have to in order to ensure your threat is neutralized.”

  “But you won! You won the battle. There is no more threat,” she cried, her voice getting more panicked.

  “And that is what I intend to find out. You see, Miss MacCailín, you are telling me that, but can I trust you? Can I be assured that right now, more of your friends are not massing for an attack?”

  “I’m telling you the truth!”

  “PFC Henderson, do you believe Miss MacCailín?” he asked his assistant.

  “Sure, sir. She sounds like an honest sort,” he said with a smirk on his face.

  “And I believe you, too,” Chopra said with mock sincerity. “But I have been wrong before, and as they say, better safe than sorry.

  “Henderson, give her the prep,” he said handing the man the dosing unit.

  Henderson took it, entered a code, and then held the unit against Michi’s arm.

  “No!” she shouted, more afraid of the serum than anything the jacks had done to her.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Chopra said. “That’s not the Propoxinal. That’s just a small depressant that I’ve found makes the Propoxinal more effective. You’ve got another five minutes before you get that.”

  Michi jerked on the cuff locking her to the bed, ignoring the pain each jerk shot through her.

  “Look at her struggle,” Chopra told Henderson. “The human condition is fascinating, and you need to understand it if you are going to do well in this job. We have suicide bombers, willing to die for a cause, but when we threaten the mind, when we threaten to change the very core of a person, they all fight. I would wager that Miss MacCailín there would have been willing to die for her cause. But look at her struggle so frantically now.”

  Just then, the door opened, and three Marines marched in. One looked at his PA, then said, “Michiko MacCailín. She’s a general in the NIP.”

  “I’m aware of who she is, First Sergeant,” the second Marine said. “I saw the camcordings.”

  “Can I ask you what you are doing here, sir?” Chopra said.

  “Merely checking on our prisoners, Chief,” the first Marine said.

  “Well, as you can see, I’m in the middle of an interrogation, so if you could come back later, I would appreciate it.”

  “I can see what you are doing, and no, we’ll check now. The captain is a little busy to arrange his schedule around yours.”

  The captain came forward, and Michi could see the bars on his collar. She looked lower, and she caught the nametag: Lysander. Was this the man she had been attacking? He looked like the Marine she has seen on the holo.

  He looked over her, then turned to Chopra and asked, “Why has she been abused?”

  “Wasn’t me. The jimmylegs got a little too enthusiastic. Besides, that arm wound was your boys’ doing,” he said, pulling out his PA and handing it to the first Marine, the one the captain had called “first sergeant.”

  The first sergeant looked it over, then nodded and handed it to the captain.

  “He’s right,” he said.

  Captain Lysander looked it over, then handed it back before asking, “So you didn’t do that, but why hasn’t she been given medical treatment?”

  “There’s no requirement for me to do that, sir, as you know. She’s an insurgent, and a free citizen. If she was a Class Four, the company here would be required to provide the treatment, but as a Free Citizen, she needs to provide her own.”

  “And did you offer it? Did you contact her family? It doesn’t matter, though. As a prisoner of war,” the captain said, emphasizing the words, “we are required to provide full medical treatment.”

  “She’s an insurgent, a common criminal, sir, not a prisoner of war,” Chopra protested.

  The captain turned towards the chief warrant officer and snarled, “She was wearing a uniform, right? She headed an army, right? She’s a grubbing POW, and I really don’t think you want to fight me on that, Chief!

  “First Sergeant Phantawisangtong, get Doc Botivic over here to check her out. I want the letter of the law followed here.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” the first sergeant said before speaking into a throat mic.

  The drugs Henderson had given her were kicking in, and her mind was getting fuzzy. She knew what was happening, but its import was somewhat lost on her. Another doctor was coming?

  “With all due respect, sir, this is an FCDC matter, not a Marine concern. I’m in charge of interrogation, and you can’t be interfering in that. If you have a complaint, you can register it with my major,” Chopra said.

  “Do you know who I am, Chief?” the captain asked.

  “Yes, of course, sir. But—”

  “But nothing. I’ll have your ass if you fight me on this. I’m going to get her treated, then you can interrogate her to your heart’s content.”

  Michi’s heart fell. She was not being saved, only given a short reprieve. She shouldn’t have expected anything more from the infamous captain.

  “Why the hell do you care? She jumped two of your Marines, brought a whole cliff down on them. She attacked your company?”

  “I don’t care about her, Chief. I care about us. We’re on a dirty mission here, and I intend to keep us as clean as possible despite that. And it didn’t do her a lot of good, did it. Not one Marine killed.”

  Despite the cotton closing in on her mind, that caught her attention. No Marine killed?

  “I killed one of your Marines,” she stammered out.

  All five men in the room turned to look at her, the Marines with bemused smiles on their faces.

  “I killed one of you bastards. Me!” she asserted.

  “I think she means Ling,” the first sergeant said.

  “Oh, so you killed Sergeant Ling?” the captain asked, stepping up to stand over her.

  “If that was his name,” she tried to say with a snarl. “I crushed him in the Ledges.”

  “Yes, Sergeant Joab Ling. He’s been with me quite awhile. Well, after he gets out of regen, I’m sure he would like to meet you,” Captain Lysander said with a condescending laugh. “Not everyone gets to meet his killer.”

  She looked at him in confusion. Regen? But he was dead! Or was he? They hadn’t stuck around to make sure, but all his readings were off.

  “Oh, you messed him up but good, girl,” the first sergeant said. “And he’s going to have to live that down. I think half of the Corps sent him stills of that camcording you made with your foot on him like some big-game trophy. But no, he’s going to be fine. All you got was his pride.”

  Michi felt deflated. She couldn’t believe the guy was still alive. She had failed. With the effects of the drug given to her, she almost broke down into tears.

  “Um, Captain? Take a look at this,” the third Marine said, speaking for the first time.

  He had picked up the doser, and now he held it out for the captain. Captain Lysander looked at it, a look of anger coming over his face as he saw what the next dose was.

  “Propoxinal, Chief? You know that is proscribed!”

  “Not for her, sir! I can use whatever means I deem necessary. Look the frigging regulations up, if you want,” Chopra said.

  “For insurgents or terrorists in the course of an operation, yes. For listed groups like the SOG. But not for prisoners of war! POWs can only voluntarily offer information, not be coerced, and certainly not by
proscribed drugs! You are breaking about a thousand treaties on this!” he yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

  “I’m going right to my major on this!” Chopra yelled, not backing down.

  “Tell your fucking major whatever you want! I’m telling you now, Chief Warrant Officer, if you value your career and if you don’t want to spend time in the brig, you will cease and desist. You will not attempt to interrogate her. I will be checking back, and if you fight me on this, your pathetic life, as you know it, is over. Do you understand?”

  Michi could see the anger warring on Chopra’s face, but he bit it back down and said, “I understand.”

  “Len, I want you to stand here until Doc arrives. Get her treated. Then I want someone in here every day to check up on her. First Sergeant, come with me. Let’s see who else in this hellhole thinks he’s above the law.”

  He didn’t bother to look back at Michi as he and the first sergeant stormed out. Michi tried to process what had just happened. Henderson looked scared as he tried to remain unnoticed. Chopra on the other hand, was a volcano about to explode. He glared at Michi with pure hate. If not for the other Marine standing in the room with the doser in his hand, she was sure he would take out his anger on her.

  They all stood like that, without moving, for at least 20 minutes before a Navy doctor and two medics, nurses, or whatever they called a medical assistant came in and began to assess her. They left her on the table, but cleaned and disinfected it before starting. They cleaned and dressed her stab wound, then moved to the arm, cleaning it up before sliding it into a portable regen unit. The doctor told her it should heal within a week. The hand, though, was more serious, and they decided to put her under for prep surgery prior to regen. They put up a medical curtain to isolate her hand as they prepped it. That gave Chopra a chance to step up and kneel, so his mouth was against her ear.

  “Don’t get too comfortable, there, missy. Word is that the Marines will be leaving soon, and then there won’t be any Captain Lysander to protect you. Your ass will be all mine,” she heard before the anesthesia pulled her under.

  Chapter 35

  The next week went by in a blur, or was it dragging by slowly? Michi couldn’t decide. She was mostly left alone. Each morning, Chopra came by and formally asked her if she had any information she wanted to share. Each time, after Michi said no, he simply turned around and left.

  A Marine came by once or twice a day, checking, but not speaking to her. The doctor and his team came by twice to check on her progress. Someone brought her meals and took away her empty plates and full honeypot. The rest of the time, she was alone.

  The regen chamber on her arm was removed, and except for a tiny scar that the doctor said would fade, she would never have known she’d been shot. Her concussion would take a full regen, which was not available to her in her situation, but the effects faded, and the doctor pronounced her fully recovered. Physically, the only thing that was still wrong was her finger. Only a small portion of the finger had been lost, so after surgery, the regen should only take a little less than a month.

  She’d been issued an orange jumpsuit, and she was no longer cuffed to the bed, but she still spent the hours lying on the table, albeit with a thin blanket between her and the surface of the metal. Things were much better than her first conscious hours in the cell, but mentally, she felt worse. With time on her hands, her mind was on the 1,300 men and woman who had followed her to their deaths. She thought back to all her actions since Franz had been murdered, wondering what she could have done differently.

  She realized that she had fallen into depression. It would seem natural, given her situation, but she was afraid that this was something deeper, something clinical. She knew she could fight it. In the flicks, prisoners spent solitary doing pushup or writing. She did neither. She just didn’t have the energy. It was easier to lie in bed and stare at the lighting in the ceiling.

  She was lying there when two Marines burst in.

  “Get up,” one of the Marines said.

  She stared at him stupidly.

  “I said, get up!”

  He came over as if to help her.

  “Why? What’s going on?” she asked, a trickle of fear awaking in her.

  She’d contemplated suicide a few times over the last week, but when something actually threatened her existence, the survival gene kicked in.

  “We’re moving you, so let’s go,” he told her.

  Moving me? What the hell for?

  “Why? What’s wrong with here?” she asked.

  Images of her being taken out into the forest and shot in the head flooded her mind. She resisted, pulling back from the Marine’s grasp.

  “Look, I don’t give a flying fart if you come or go, rebel lady. As far as I’m concerned, the fuckdicks can have you . . .”

  It took a second for Michi to realize he was referring to the FCDC officers. “FCDC.” “FuCkDiCks.”

  “. . . but the captain says everyone in this building’s gotta go to the main jail. So it’s up to you. We’re leaving this planet in two hours, so we don’t have time to sit here and convince you.”

  “Come on, Tse Han, let’s just forget her,” the other Marine said.

  “You’re leaving?” Michi asked.

  “Yeah. The rebellion is crushed here, and things are acting up in—” he started before the other Marine cut him off.

  “Opsec![15]”

  “Oh, yeah. No matter, lady, we’re leaving, so it’s up to you. I ain’t gonna be dragging you to the trucks.”

  The image of Chopra leaning in, telling her after the Marines left, her ass was going to be his, invaded her mind. She shuddered. There was no real decision to make. Even if it were a bullet to the head, that would be a better choice than letting that psychopath get his hands back on her.

  “No, I’m coming with you,” she said, jumping off the table.

  The two Marines led her out into the hallway. Other Marines and prisoners milled about. Michi recognized Max Vickery, the colonel who had led the river commandos in the attack, but she didn’t have time to talk to him. Within minutes, they were pushed past several unresisting FCDC guards and out into a courtyard where a hover-truck waited. It was nighttime, which surprised Michi as she could have sworn it was noon at the latest. The Marines told them to get inside the truck, pushing those who were slow in climbing up.

  A hand pushed her ass just as she was clambering over the tailgate, and she was sent sprawling onto a body already in the truck.

  “Sorry,” she said automatically.

  “Michi! It’s good to see you. We thought you’d been killed,” Loski Sonutta-Lyon said. He’d been one of the main planners for the attack.

  “I think most of us did get killed,” she said bitterly. “What the hell happened?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I was back with the forward command, and without warning, we were surrounded by Marines. We could hear the fighting up forward, but there was nothing we could do.”

  The truck rose off the ground, and then pulled into a smooth forward motion. There were a few exclamations of fear. Evidently, Michi was not the only one who didn’t totally trust the Marines.

  Michi wanted to shout at Loski. She wanted to blame someone for the debacle, and it was his plan, his and Kyne’s, that they had tried to implement. She didn’t want to blame herself for being the catalyst who got the whole thing rolling.

  He looked horrible, though, and her anger faded.

  “Was it bad for you?” she asked.

  He shuddered. “Yes. It wasn’t good. I see they got to you, too,” he said, pointing at the small regen chamber over her hand.

  “I was this close to getting Propoxinal,” she said quietly. “I would have if Captain Lysander hadn’t come into the cell.”

  “You’re lucky. Kyne got it. They took me to see him, and his mind was gone.”

  Kyne was the other planner for the attack. If he was given the drug, they would have peeled back the layers, extracting a
ll he knew. In his position, he’d known a lot.

  The two sat silently in the truck as it took them to who knows where? Michi was just about to open her mouth to ask Loski a question when the truck came to a stop and lowered off hover. The two Marines who had been sitting in the back jumped out first, then shouted for everyone else to get out, too.

  Michi poked her head under the tarp and was relieved to see the city jail. She would have never thought that seeing a jail and being about to be taken into it could ever be a relief, but it was much better than a ride out into the forest.

  A Marine stepped out of the front entrance with another man and addressed the group. “I am Gunnery Sergeant Franco Torioko, and this is Desk Sergeant Wisuski of the Tay Station city jail. We are going to get you processed as quickly as possible. The jail is extremely overcrowded, so there’ll be many of you to a cell. But for you 34 people, I think this is a better alternative than had you stayed where you were.”

  Michi looked around, wondering if she could slip away in the darkness. A number of Marines were in back of them, though, looking alert. She didn’t know what she would do if she got away, so it made more sense to get inside the jail where she would be relatively safe—she hoped.

  Chapter 36

  After two days, Michi was almost missing her solitary confinement—almost, but not quite. She was crammed with 15 other women in a four-person cell. The single toilet in the corner was continually plugged, and combined with 16 sweating bodies, the smell was pretty rank.

  Tempers were testy as well. When Michi stepped on one woman’s foot while trying to get to the toilet, that woman had jumped up, blaming Michi for getting them into this mess. Normally, Michi might have faced down the smaller woman, but her guilt factor kicked in, and she just absorbed the abuse.

  More than a couple of the women remarked on the regen chamber on her hand, saying it was proof of special treatment she was getting. Several of them had been hurt and had received treatment, but not to the extent of regen. The company was not going to fork out the cash for that for indentureds, particularly indentureds who had taken up the fight against them.