Lord Banshee- Fugitive

by Russell O Redman

  A Political Officer on Mars had no assigned duties and no specific powers but embodied the full authority of the state and the will of the people in the institution where they served. Poloffs were chosen by their peers for their integrity and good sense. They could intervene in any dispute under their jurisdiction and, although it was rare, could reverse any decision that struck them as unjust or offensive. A poloff who greatly exceeded their authority could be fired, but in practice it had almost never happened.

  Far from the Soviet model, which used the poloffs as another mouthpiece for the dictators on top, Martian poloffs were more like the tribunes of the Roman Empire, chosen from the plebeians to defend their rights. They had reported independently to the Martian Council. The Governors had fought to suppress the institution, without success until Ngomo provoked a crisis so serious that he was granted the power to outlaw them entirely. I had thought that proved the impossibility of justice on Mars, that power was the only law.

  It did not. The rebels had hired them en masse. They moved invisibly under assumed names with false ID’s, as did the Spooks, but with far more success amongst people grateful for their service. It was very late in my career as the Assassin that I learned the truth. It had set my head spinning, and I spent an entire day hiding beneath the sand, trying to understand how I could have been so completely wrong, so willfully blind.

  Begum/converse, “They said yes and requested a copy for themselves, so I sent the token to both ships. It seems we have another token war under way, a more targeted and professional attack. I expect ACC and Forward Command are both offline to protect their own officers, and for everyone’s sake I hope they are successful in shielding the Viceregal entourage and Lunar Communications.

  “There are hundreds of additional ships with unknowable affiliations streaming towards our location and the LUVN. Our duty is to return you home safely, so we are going to leave now, before they come into firing range. Brace yourselves.”

  The Columbia did a fast slew and slammed us with two-G for three minutes. This continued on a random cycle; every two to five minutes we would swing a slew, hammer a hard acceleration, then do it again in a different direction. Mixed in, I could feel the crack of the lasers. Sinbadson and Sa’id tried to follow it on the ceiling monitor, but I soon became pressed to identify the Quetzalcoatl and its protective entourage in the distant swirl of ships. We may have offered them some support just by leaving, since we were drawing half of the new assailants in pursuit.

  If all our potential enemies had been behind us, we could easily have left them in the distance, but of course half of them were in front, converging on our probable path. The Columbia dodged and spun, but our objective was obvious and the new enemies formed into a coordinated wall in front of us, one that did not disperse as the terror of the TDF drew near. Like it or no, we were going to have to fight our way through.

  I was still thinking like a terrestrial warrior. As we drew near the wall of ships, first one, then several raced forward. We had no sound, but I could imagine the battle cries filled with hate. Then, as each one began to close with us, they seemed to lose interest, veering randomly and finally reversing direction to rejoin the ranks of their comrades. Except they did not; they continued back along the paths they had come. One by one, ships that had been close to them or had joined them in the rush forward, turned back as well. Their more belligerent comrades armed their weapons and began to fire missiles at the cowards who were in retreat, who fired back in self-defence. Gaps opened in the wall and Begum steered us towards the largest of these.

  Belatedly, I recalled that the TDF had weaponized the LE token so it could be deployed through any open comm channel. Every battle cry had become an open gap in their armour. Wang had used exactly this tactic to befriend the first wave of the Imperial fleet. It struck me as odd that they had fallen for the same trick twice, but we might be facing a very different set of enemies this time. They had not properly debated what had gone wrong because it had apparently gone right far more spectacularly than anyone had anticipated.

  Heedless of the risk, we raced through the gap with missiles flying past us aimed at what seemed like every ship in the sky. Our own lasers popped out and cracked repeatedly, killing as many missiles as we could. The Columbia slewed to meet a new threat, but not fast enough. There was a series of bangs along the side of the hull, and a sudden drop to zero-G. Hull breach alarms started to wail but faded rapidly to silence as the air in the hall outside our room was rapidly withdrawn to prevent it from being lost.

  Sa’id, “Iron rain. Did not catch it in time. Feels like we have lost our main engine.”

  TDF marine all the way. Cool, calm, precise diagnosis. Staring death in the face and asking the time of day for the official record.

  Our Eng flew to a wall and began querying one system after another. She blanched and slowly started cursing, rising in pitch and despair as it became clear what was happening. We were not quite aimed at the Moon, but it would be close. Our speed was far higher than even FAS were permitted to use so close to inhabited planets, and we would have been on an unbound orbit leaving the Solar System except for one final obstacle that lay along our path: the Earth. We were a brick made of steel, uranium, missiles and rubble aimed squarely at the southern Pacific Ocean off the coast of Soam Chile.

  That was not why she was cursing. White as snow, she turned to face us.

  Eng Tu’ivai/local, “Unless someone can catch us, and there is no one who can, we can evacuate all but one of the people on board the Columbia. One of us must ride this ship into the ocean. It is not a matter of space on the transports. We must use one transport to carry our uranium cores away from the Earth, and that transport cannot carry any living being. We have plenty of space on the other three, but the transports cannot carry enough fuel. We weigh too much with the medical equipment that must be included.”

  To MacFinn/private, “Temporary backpacks until we get to the Moon?”

  He shook his head. MacFinn/private, “A week from now if ye dinna do more damage, na today. Ye’d be dead in an hour. E’en Agent Lakshmi-Lee will be drainin her meds. A backpack might run out too soon, and ye know what that could do. We’ll need more time than they can give.”

  Begum/global/urgent, “Prepare to evacuate the ship. The passengers in D1-8 take priority over everyone else, no questions and no objections to be considered. First departures will be in two hours, after we pass the last clump of bogies.”

  Sa’id/local, “She just told me that in her estimation and that of the senior officers on the Cruiser Lansdorf, we six might be the most important people in human space right now. I doubt that is true, but if so, she must be number seven.”

  Eng Tu’ivai/converse, “And she will demand to ride the Columbia to the Earth. We will not let it happen. We swore when we volunteered for this mission to bring ALL of the Banshees home, not just the ones on the guest list.”

  She brightened momentarily. “The Admiralty just responded to our distress signal! They were listening after all. They are dispatching lighters to help bring us in. Ah, but our own plan just barely left the transports in bound orbits around the Moon. The lighters can retrieve the transports, not help us evacuate even a single extra soul. The battle we just passed through is now streaming towards us and every warship is being deployed against the enemy. They could not have caught up with us anyways.”

  Her brief hope had faded, but now turned to something akin to disgust. “Bizarre! We just got word from Forward Command as well. The Viceregal Fleet is inbound and will secure the Moon against attack within twelve hours. We only need to hold on till then. By then, all that will be left of the Columbia will be ripples on the ocean. They wish us well. What does that mean?”

  I thought they had arrived already. Clearly, I was behind the times. To me personally, that news meant I had a few hours to get as deep below the surface as possible before all hell broke loose searching for me. Maybe a bit more if they were occupied with rebellious factions
.

  Sinbadson/local, “It means Admiral Wang has told them we will deal with it ourselves. It means the earth stations have already been occupied by the Viceregal fleet and he knows something that makes him suspicious. He is no longer willing or able to dispatch the Stingray to rescue us.

  “It means every TDF ship near the Moon and every Imperial ship in Forward Command is fully occupied fighting the largest pirate attack we have ever seen. He must choose between defending the fifteen million people on the Moon or rescuing one TDF officer. Eng Tu’ivai, command is a lonely job.”

  So, we were on our own.

  Me/local, “Is there any way we can lighten these medical units?”

  MacFinn/converse, “Please, lad, do na say more. If ye scare me one more time there may na be a problem wi an extra body.”

  The Eng took a closer look at the field station. “It does have a very sturdy construction.”

  MacFinn refused to consider the possibility. “Lass, I know exactly how t’lower the weight by twenty five kilos. I ha done it b’fore. It’d take twelve hours in a machine shop. We are in an airtight room, the machine’s hooked to a patient who’s one o’the most important people alive, and we ha less than two hours t’complete the work. We left the spares on the Lansdorf attached t’people who need’em, so these are all we ha. It’d na be enough. NO! Let’em think it through up front. Their job, not yours.

  “Lass, look at me. I ha bin in the TDF for longer’n ye ha bin able t’write y’name. It’ll be one o’them up front who takes the plunge, na the Cap and na ye. I know how they think.”

  We sat quietly for fifteen minutes. MacFinn turned to the field station and made a few adjustments.

  MacFinn/local, “Lad, I just got our flight plan. It’ll be rough. Ye’ll be more stable asleep than awake. I hope ye do na mind if I set ye up now. My dear Eng, do we have foam filler we can pack around our two patients t’give more support? Somethin wi a little spring? Aye, that’ll do. Just do na get it near the infusion tubes – these things – cause it dissolves the casing.”

  Eng/converse, “We use emergency supplies that dissolve critical parts of the field station? That’s crazy!”

  MacFinn/converse, “Aye, tell me about it. Hard problem though. Both are useful in differnt places. It is only puttin them together that makes a problem. It’ll be fun tryin t’meld the Martian, Belter, TDF and LR surgical techniques into a single hospital. Leigh, ha ye figured out yet how t’mount that saw in an autodoc?”

  Kaahurangi/converse, “No. May never have time if I get caught up in organization. Eng, would you like a pretty problem to work on for the next few years? It seems that ExA did not consider saws and knives to be high tech and did not suppress their development by Martian engineers. Qinghai Mining have an absolutely fascinating precision saw that can cut single cells out of a tumorous bone. We want to mount it in an autodoc, but there is no space in the current design. You would need to consider geometrical, chemical, medical, mechanical, control, and strength issues, with the latter set by the requirement that the patient not die if a grenade explodes in zer stomach. Their solution is so different from ours that we are flummoxed trying to see how to merge them.”

  MacFinn/converse, “If it sounds interestin, look us up: Surgeon Leyland MacFinn, or Surgeon Leigh Kaahurangi. Not sure where ye’ll find us, but we can introduce ye to some of their Eng-equivalents.”

  Eng/converse, “Who? THEM?” She pointed at the ceiling.

  Both surgeons laughed uproariously.

  MacFinn/converse, “Lass, ye look exactly like me when the lad here made the suggestion I go visit ’em. But, na them up there. They’re crazy in some way. Get past the crazy ones and the rest are people, just like us. Some are proud, some cranky, some nasty, but most’re friendly, thoughtful, ha great humour, and some’re so full’o love ye wish ye were neighbours.

  “Their ships’re beautiful inside. We ha these great monitors on all sides that can display anything, an we use’em for that up above. They ha steel plates, but they paint’em. Fabulous colours, every room and hall a differnt style. I could b’come an art critic, I could!

  “You’ll like the people.”

  She sputtered. Eng/converse, “I... I’ll think about it.”

  But the look on her face suggested she would rather ride the Columbia to extinction than meet a real Martian Eng.

  MacFinn/converse, “Good, ye’re ready lad. I want ye t’sleep a wee. An no dreams, ye hear?”

  2357-03-20 07:00

  A Candle in a Dark Wind

  I woke again in a cramped room filled with people. Zero-G still, so we must be on the lighter, not the Moon.

  MacFinn/local, “Good, good, na much the worse for it. Few bruises. No cuts. No internal bleedin. Ah, lad, ye’re back an good to go. Need ye awake for touchdown, just in case. Darken y’mask. Lots o’people comin soon who ought not t’see y’face. Agent Lakshmi-Lee is t’y’left. T’y’right we ha a bundle o’surprise. Prepare y’self for the Moon-shatterin blast.”

  They pulled the opaque bag off Begum, and MacFinn administered the small injection that allowed her to wake up slowly. She remained immobile, probably paralyzed until the anticipated shock wore off.

  “Aaaow. Where am I? No. NO! NONONONO! I cannot be here! NOOOOO! Those mutineers. Who did it? Who died?”

  Sa’id/converse, “Cap, they said you had been injured in the iron rain attack. They sent you off on the first transport for treatment. It is our great honour to escort you to the TDF hospital on level fifteen of Tycho London. It is not a normal TDF entrance but should be safe from prying eyes. And Cap, please be careful what you say out loud.

  “Because of your numerous injuries, you will not have to attend the awards ceremony with the rest of the crew. Com Nathan will take your place, attended by his wife and daughter. Wep Subramanian and Eng Baranbinja will also be in attendance.

  “Nav Sailor Srinagar Potemkin has been posthumously awarded the Terrestrial Defence Force Steel Plate for Conspicuous Bravery for organizing the final evacuation of the Columbia. All uranium stores have been destroyed in such a way that they will never contaminate any part of human space. The missiles were used to vaporize the uranium in a single, coordinated blast.

  “His final words as the ship hit the atmosphere were ‘People of the Earth, my dear friends, turn to your neighbours and hold them while you can.’ These words have been inscribed on the plate and recorded for all posterity.”

  But Begum was not listening any more, lost in misery, howling out her heart. I reached sideways and took her hand, but I do not think she could even feel it.

  MacFinn/private, “Gi her a minute, lad. Then I’ll open sensation. She knows they mutinied t’save her life. But she needs t’understand, it’s a soldier’s honour t’die t’save the commander, not the other way around. Ye know, our Eng was tryin t’volunteer herself until I stopped her. I could see it in her eyes. I think every member o’the crew was tryin. And Cap Thieu would ha done it too in her younger years. But up front, they knew what t’do. She’ll accept it soon, and’ll be a better Cap because o’it.”

  The acceleration alarm began to sound as the lighter slewed to land on the Moon. A conventional ion drive will scorch to vapour any material in its path, so landing pads are made of whatever is cheap and abundant locally, which on the Moon means fused regolith. Lighters have modified drives that are less destructive during landing. The jet of plasma from the drive is diluted with powdered reaction mass, also regolith, which vaporizes and cools the flow so that a much larger, cooler, slower blast of gas emerges from the engine of a Lunar lighter than from most other ships. When it hits the landing pad, the gas precipitates into fine dust, while blowing out more dust in a great rolling cloud around the landing site. Away from the dense gas around the landing pad, most of the hot dust follows ballistic trajectories through the vacuum and collects again on the surface within a few hundred kilometres. The Lunar Ministry for the Environment is quite definite that we must not nibble the Moon into non-
existence one landing at a time.

  I knew all this because I sat beside an enthusiastic flight engineer on my one trip to Tycho Hebrides, who explained everything I saw on the monitors and why it mattered. The man had a thick version of the Tycho Hebrides dialect and I wondered idly whether he and MacFinn had ever known each other.

  This time, we watched the touch down on the ceiling monitor. There were six different live feeds, from cameras on the lighter, from the spaceport, and even one from a telescope on a TDF surveillance satellite at Outer. In spite of the earlier announcement, we were not approaching Tycho London. I recognized the Outer and Inner Rook Mountains of Mare Orientale. There was a major TDF base at Orientale Tereshkova. I had been there many times before, tracking weapons and drugs. The statement that we were bound for Tycho London, on the other side of the Moon, must have been a bit of misdirection in case we were still infested with bugs.

  I held Begum’s hand as we drifted down towards the surface. A light flashed below our ship, and a terminal defence gun shattered something that was streaking towards the lighter, covering half the distance before being intercepted. Our Cap ignored the incident, but Agent Lakshmi-Lee shrieked before stifling her fear. I reached out my other hand and she grasped it in a death grip. CI does not usually give its agents training on how to face unexpected death.

  Mars did. I was the Ghost in my element. Death did not frighten me at all. Failure to complete the Mission would reduce me to a screaming pulp, but only if I could, and should, have done something to prevent it. It was the Cap’s job to bring us in safely, and the Port Authority’s job to prevent incidents like this from interfering with our landing. Both were doing fine, and I was sure that whoever had fired at us was running desperately to escape. For now, I could only offer encouragement to my team.

  As the dust began to billow around our landing pad, a hulking shape struggled out of the surrounding regolith, but the Port Perimeter guards smacked it with something that stopped it in its tracks. This was a TDF port, after all, and well away from the commercial port. It was not the first time a group of zealots with more cash than experience had attempted to hit a TDF lighter. I seriously doubted the Imperium or any of the major factions had a direct hand in such amateur attacks.