I waved, then jumped out of the plane and plummeted down towards the forest canopy. The skies looked eerie, a dark blue that suggested the clouds were crammed full of water. It struck me that I was in very deep shit if the rain started to fall while I was still in the air - I had no idea what would happen if the rain started to hammer the chute - but there was no time to do anything, but pray. I pulled the cord at the right moment and braced myself as I fell into the canopy. I wasn't sure what would happen if my chute wound up hanging from a tree either, apart from the hunting team laughing their asses off when they finally found me ...
The skies opened bare minutes after I hit the ground. I scooped up the parachute, packed it into my bag and stumbled away from the landing zone, knowing I didn't have much time before the hunters gave chase. Water splashed down around me, running down through the trees; I headed downwards, despite the risks. It would be harder for them to pick up on my trail. I was drenched within seconds, soaked to the skin; by the time I reached an overhang I could use for shelter, it seemed rather pointless. Thunder roared overhead as I pulled the map out of my pocket - luckily, it was waterproof - and checked the compass. I wasn't quite sure where I was, but if I kept walking southwards I would eventually cross the river. That would take me down to a place where the river divided into two branches, which would tell me where to leave the river and keep walking south. Or so I hoped. There was no way I could read the skies, given how overcast it was; if I was so far wrong that I couldn't find the river, I was hopelessly lost. Gritting my teeth, I returned the map to my pocket and started to walk.
It felt like hours before the rain finally came to a halt. I allowed myself a moment of relief, then walked with more caution. The rain hadn't just made visibility a joke, it had covered up my movements and hidden any noise I might make. Now, they could hear me if I stepped on a twig or did something equally stupid. I listened as carefully as I could, but I couldn't hear anything that was remotely human. Insects were buzzing through the trees, birds were flying high overhead and small animals were jumping through the undergrowth. I blinked as the skies cleared and sunlight came pouring down, then kept moving as the temperature began to rise. It wasn't long before I was hot, sweaty and uncomfortable. I seriously considered taking off my uniform, before deciding that a modicum of comfort wasn't worth giving up the camouflage. A naked man would be much easier to catch.
I pulled a ration bar from my survival pack when I felt a hunger pang and chewed it slowly, without stopping. The ground had dried rapidly, forcing me to pick my way forward with extreme care to avoid leaving marks. I thought briefly about reversing my boots, to make it look as though I was headed in the other direction, then dismissed it as a tactic that only worked in bad novels and worse flicks. Besides, I couldn't do anything of the sort unless I walked backwards and then I’d only walk into something.
Something moved behind me. I froze, then turned; I saw nothing, but for a second I heard a snatch of someone whispering. I dropped low, crawling forward on my belly as fast as I could. How the hell had they caught up with me so fast? Did they have a tracking dog with them? I’d heard about K9 units, but I’d never seen one ... a dog? How did one evade a dog’s nose? There were chemicals one could use, yet I didn't have any of them. Water? Water might work, but I wasn't sure just how far I was from the river. I glanced at the compass, just to make sure I was going in the right direction, then kept moving. From time to time, I heard noises behind me, but they didn't seem to be getting closer. Maybe I was imagining them ...?
Or maybe they’re driving me into a trap, I thought. I had no intention of surrendering quietly when they found me, if they did. Maybe I hadn't been allowed weapons, but I still had my fists. If there's someone ahead of me ...
I cursed, mentally, as the temperature grew hotter. We hadn't been told just how many men were attached to the hunting unit, but I could guess. Assuming the upper platoons were the same as ours, there were nine squads ... and ten of us, parachuted into Kirkwood. That suggested each hunting squad had eight men - and, perhaps, radios. Maybe they were trying to coordinate a pincer, slowly tightening the noose around me. Gritting my teeth, I turned and crawled to the side for several minutes, then returned to walking south. It shouldn’t be long until the river ...
It still managed to surprise me when I walked into it. I had never seen a river on Earth and the handful of rivers I’d seen on Mars had been orderly, designed to serve as training grounds. This river had burst its banks; I could see trees poking up from the water as it poured onwards, down to the sea. I heard someone or something behind me, again; cursing, I splashed forward and into the water, allowing it to carry me down towards the distant fork. If I was being hunted by dogs, they’d have some problems tracking me once I was in the water.
I could have enjoyed the water, even though my uniform rapidly became waterlogged - again - and I had to grab hold of a branch to ensure I stayed afloat. Swimming in the pool was a chore, not a hobby; the water training we’d endured had been savage, leading to at least two recruits quitting when they almost drowned. I honestly couldn't understand why some people swam for fun. Now, though, I thought I understood. It was almost relaxing ... hell, I almost fell asleep before I saw the fork in the river and swam ashore. I checked my compass, walked south long enough to be out of sight, then rechecked the map before starting my walk once again.
The temperature kept rising, drying me out. I paused to eat another ration bar and take a drink of water, then kept moving. Tiny insects buzzed around me; I tried to swat at them, then gave up and endured their attentions as best as I could. I’d never seen anything like them on Earth (I later learned some idiot had introduced creatures called mosquitoes to Mars). I kept an eye on my compass as the trees hedged closer - I could have sworn they were moving, if I hadn't known it was impossible - trying to make sure I was on the right route. It would be easy to accidentally lose my bearings and turn east or west. I picked a way through the trees carefully, freezing in place as I heard something crashing through the branches. Moments later, a large animal came into view and peered at me with dark beady eyes.
I stared. A deer? I’d only ever seen cartoon deer, portrayed as sweet animals in flicks about the evils of hunting for food. Not that that had impressed everyone, in the Undercity. Rats might be disgusting creatures, but there were people who raised them for food, just to have a change from ration bars. The deer staring at me didn't look remotely sweet or harmless. It was pointing its horns at me in a decidedly threatening manner. I reached for the Ka-Bar, cursing the flat ban on guns. Killing the creature before it killed me might be difficult.
Maybe it recognised the threat. It turned on its heels and gambolled away into the distance.
I watched it go, then resumed my walk. We’d been told we might have to catch, butcher and eat wild animals, but it wasn't something I’d had to do yet. It wasn't something I was looking forward to. Besides, taking the time to kill and eat the deer would probably have given the hunters enough time to catch up with me. That would have been more than a little annoying.
Someone probably introduced a lot of different animals here, I thought, as I kept moving onwards. They must have been out of their minds.
I’d read, somewhere, that the original settlers had tried to transfer breeding populations of just about everything from Earth to Mars, even though not everything had actually managed to last long on the planet’s surface. Earth itself was a polluted mess that only harboured the toughest and least pleasant of creatures, including the Undercity’s dwellers. There were even people who believed the Undercity was literally populated by sub-humans, creatures created by incestuous breeding and exposure to random mutagenic compounds dumped by one corporation or another. They seemed to assume we were so different we couldn't even breed with normal humans.
There was no truth in that at all, as far as I know. Sure, some of us had genetic modifications running through our DNA, yet we were still human. And incest was very - very- rare, even though t
he gangs happily broke all the other taboos. But it didn't stop people being idiots.
It was another hour before I finally saw the flag, fluttering over the RV point. I allowed myself a sign of relief - I’d made it - then ran forward. If there was still someone after me, I’d be ahead of them ... I heard something, all of a sudden, and swore out loud as I reached the flag. Four men emerged from the trees, wearing camouflage uniforms. They’d been very close and I hadn't even realised they were there.
“I win,” I said, although I wasn't sure if that was actually true. They’d been so close that part of me wondered if they’d let me reach the flag before showing themselves. I didn't think they’d be punished if we escaped, not when this wasn't part of the endless competition. “I beat you ...”
They dogpiled me. I barely had a moment to react before I was on the ground, one of them pounding his fists into my side while another grabbed at my hands and a third covered my mouth with his hand. I bit him, of course, and kicked out at the others, but it wasn't enough to win the fight. They were just too strong and experienced for me to beat. I grunted as something cold and metallic was pushed against my head ...
... And I plunged headfirst into darkness.
Chapter Seventeen
Officially, captured personnel are expected to give nothing more than their name, rank and serial number. However, for reasons expounded elsewhere, the Empire rarely regarded any of its prisoners as legitimate combatants - and, unsurprisingly, its enemies tended to do the same. POWs could therefore expect everything from immediate death to torture, if they refused to talk. Marine corps training, therefore, is designed to prepare a marine for an unpleasant experience, should he fall into enemy hands.
-Professor Leo Caesius
When I woke up, I was naked, cuffed and trapped in a dark cell.
Those bastards, I thought, as I looked around. There was nothing in view, save for dark walls and a solid metal door. I got to the goddamned flag!
I tested the cuffs carefully, just in case, but no amount of pulling or tugging would budge them in the slightest. We’d been taught to look for weaknesses - cuffs linked to pipes that could be broken, for example, or broken bottles that could be used to slice through ropes - yet there was nothing useful in sight. Grimly, I resigned myself to the fact that I was a prisoner - and that I was at their mercy. We’d also been warned that no one even bothered to pay lip service, these days, to decent treatment for POWs.
“The Empire has a habit of treating its prisoners badly,” Bainbridge had said. It had all been theoretical at the time. “They have no hesitation in returning the favour.”
It wasn't a pleasant thought. The gangs had used torture on Earth just to illustrate that they were in charge. I’d seen a woman who’d had her teeth knocked out, just to keep her from biting, and a man who’d been hamstrung to teach him a lesson. I have no idea what happened to the woman, but the man had died shortly afterwards. Suicide ... or someone taking advantage of an easy target? I honestly don’t know. Whoever held me prisoner wouldn't do anything too drastic, would they? It was a test ... and yet, people had been killed or injured in Boot Camp. That too wasn't a pleasant thought.
I frowned as I heard something in the distance, someone screaming in pain, begging for mercy. It was terrifyingly realistic. Chills ran down my spine as I realised the speaker was pleading, but his pleas were intermingled by screams as ... something ... was done to him. I tugged at the cuffs again, feeling panic howling at the back of my mind. All my training was meaningless if I could barely move, if I couldn't fight back. They could do anything to me ...
... And there was nothing I could do about it.
There was a clunk as the door opened, revealing a masked man. I looked up at him, then glanced down, trying to appear submissive. Interrogators liked to feel as though they were in control, I’d been told, and it cost me nothing to play along. The tiny piece of nonsensical information danced through my mind suddenly, reminding me just what they wanted. I could spit it out right away and save us both some time. And yet, I was too goddamned stubborn to consider the possibility for long. I didn't want to give up at the first hurdle.
“You are our prisoner,” the masked man said. “This place is hundreds of miles from any possible help. You will not be rescued. The only way you’re going to leave this room is through cooperating with me. Do you know what I’m saying?”
Fuck you, I thought, but I kept my mouth firmly closed. Trying to match wits with an interrogator was a losing game, according to the Drill Instructors. They were skilled at using the tiniest cracks in one’s defences to probe through and extract information. I don’t care what you’re saying.
The masked man shrugged. “You’ll starve soon enough,” he predicted. “There’s nothing to gain by resisting us.”
Of course there's something to gain, I thought. I want to pass!
He reached down and lifted my chin so I was staring into his eyes. The mask covered everything else, wiping all traces of individuality from his face. We’d been told that most interrogators liked to hide their identities; this one, it seemed, was no different. They had a habit of being shot while trying to escape. Sure, whoever captured them might have been told they were needed alive, but no one liked interrogators. And there was a distant possibility that one’s comrades had been interrogated by the prisoner.
“There really isn't any hope,” he said, gently. “Give up now and no harm will come to you.”
I refused to show any trace of unease at his touch. It was funny; I hadn't felt so uneasy when I’d been taught how to take a punch, even though the blows had hurt. He allowed his fingers to trail over my face, then drew back as I prepared to try to bite him. It would have been futile defiance, but I wanted to do something - anything - to strike back.
He’s trying to make you feel uncomfortable, I reminded myself. I’d heard horror stories of what happened to marines - and soldiers, and civil guardsmen - who fell into enemy hands. Beatings were the least of it. And he’s succeeding.
His voice hardened. “Name, rank and serial number,” he ordered. “Now.”
I’d been told I could give those up as soon as I was taken prisoner, if I wished. In a civilised society, my captors would let my comrades know I was a prisoner and - perhaps - arrange an exchange. But I was determined to keep them to myself as long as possible. If nothing else, stubbornness would probably make me look good.
I shook my head, but said nothing.
“You’ll think differently soon,” he warned. “Enjoy your stay in darkness.”
He strode out of the room, closing the door behind him. The light went out a second later, plunging me into pitch darkness. It didn’t scare me that much - I’d grown up in the Undercity after all, where power cuts were common - but I had to admit it made me uneasy. I had known what to expect in the Undercity, while here ... anything could be lurking in the darkness. Cold logic reminded me that I had seen the cell, that I knew no one could hope to slip inside without being heard, yet the darkness still worked its way into my mind. If the intent was to weaken my resolve I had to admit that it was working.
They knew where I was going, I thought, trying to distract myself. All they had to do was lie in wait for me.
It wasn't something I’d considered, back when they’d dumped me into Kirkwood. Had the hunters actually given chase at all? Had I imagined the ones behind me? Or had there been several teams, one for each of us, including one that had staked out the RV point and waited to see who’d come along? Who had they been? An upper platoon, being tested on its hunting skills as much as we were on our evasion skills? Or a dedicated unit, one that had nothing to prove by catching us?
I’d always had a good sense of time passing, but I’d lost track by the time the door opened and someone stepped into the room. I could hear the bastard breathing, yet I couldn't see a thing in the pitch darkness. The room’s acoustics were playing merry hell with my ears; there were times I thought he was walking around me and times when I was
half-convinced he was leaning against the wall, presumably watching me through enhanced eyes or night-vision gear. And there was nothing I could do about it ... I heard the door open and bang closed for the second time, yet I had no idea if he was still there or not. Maybe, just maybe, I should call out ...
No, I told myself, firmly. That’s what they want you to do.
The lights came on again, so brightly I clenched my eyes shut. When I opened them again, I found myself staring at two masked men. I thought one of them was the man who had spoken to me earlier, but it was hard to be sure. Their loose clothes concealed almost everything that might have identified them. One of them was holding out a plate of warm food, the kind of meal I’d rarely seen before Boot Camp and never since leaving for Mars; the other was carrying a bottle of water and a pair of glasses.
“You’re bound to be hungry,” one of the men said. I mentally dubbed him Food; his companion, Water. “Tell us what we want to know and you can eat.”
I salivated. I was hungry and, no matter what they put in the rations they served us, it didn't smell as good as a proper meal. There was chicken - real chicken - potatoes and gravy. I wanted it. Oh God, I wanted it. It would have been easy just to surrender, just to give up my information. It wasn't as though it was really important. Who gave a damn about the pen of my aunt being in the garden anyway, apart from a particularly dunderheaded language teacher? I could have told them everything ...
First To Fight (The Empire's Corps Book 11) Page 16