Apparently Grotto Corporation had heard their prayers for another combat deployment mission as one became available to Reapers across Grotto space who had achieved enough hazard service hours. The Baen 6 fleet had seen more combat since it’s founding than most Reaper fleets by a modest margin, and it had been tapped as the flagship for the operation.
Each Reaper who qualified was invited to attend on a first come first aboard basis until the full complement of one thousand marines were mustered. The list filled up within hours, as the hazard pay was doubled, with an unprecedented bonus award easily the size of a full death benefit upon mission completion. The threat level was Alpha Class, and beyond the skirmish with the Helion elites on Tetra Prime the Reapers of Tango Platoon had not faced a threat so aggressively classified.
Still faced with a grinding slide into debt even after six years of battle and no closer to changing Orion’s future of life-bonded workforce servitude, there was little discussion of the matter between Sura and Samuel. They had to make a play, risk and reward, because the safety net had never been there in the first place, and they had finally seen the truth of that. Samuel and Sura agreed to a paper divorce, so that Samuel’s medical debt became his own. They used the remaining funds to pay Sura’s expatriation fee. Orion had not begun compulsory school so he had no pro-rated life debt.
After the expatriation of his now ex-wife, Samuel used what they had left to purchase a long term lease on an orbital space station just on the edge of the Baen system. It was a modest sized station that functioned primarily as a fueling point for ships moving in and out of the Baen system in addition to a secondary function as a trading post for the various smaller industries that moved goods through the handful of warehouses and retailers on the station’s main deck. There were several hab-block style compartment clusters that were mostly used as temporary housing for ship crew during docked repairs.
It would be a tough place for a single mother and her son, though Samuel had them set up with the funds they would need to survive while he was gone. If the mission was a success he could pay off his medical debt, cover his own expatriation fee, and have enough to set them up with a new life far from Grotto. As it was, Sura and Orion would keep a low profile and wait for him on the station.
They made love on that last night as if it would be the last time, which they did every time he left, though that night it had felt different. It had felt to Samuel, for the first time, like this time it could be true. He’d felt that certainty so powerfully that he’d gone into the Reaper financial benefits office and double-inspected his death benefit assignment just to be sure.
All Reapers who had served a minimum of two years were assigned a death benefit, which was to be paid to whomever the Reaper logged as his or her desired recipient. After those two years the benefit amount, which was modest, would slowly grow by miniscule daily increments.
If Samuel died on the mission he knew his death benefit would at least get Sura and Orion off the station with enough resources to provide for them while Sura pledged to a new corporation. There would be no homestead without his survival. At least Samuel knew that if he were to die, Sura would be able to take her time and find a corporation more suitable and less grindingly inhuman. One way or the other his family would be taken care of. That was a certainty he needed to combat the growing feeling of doom that had been building in his mind ever since waking up in the middle of the night several times while home. His nightmares of Tetra Prime were now joined by twisted visions of downspire. Decisions made, there was nothing more he could do and he committed himself to the mission at hand.
The planet designated UK1326 was a small grey world, and had it possessed 0.2% less mass it would have been classified as a moon. As it was, the unique planet hung in a wide orbit between two dying stars.
Conventional planetary science estimated that within another few thousand years the increased gravitational pull of the two suns would rip the planet into pieces as the entire sector was slowly drawn into a black hole. Such natural phenomena were not uncommon in the deeper parts of necrospace, where the star systems were at their most ancient.
In their early education, children in the Grotto system, like those in most other corporate institutions throughout the universe, were taught that known space was shaped like three interconnected rings, each smaller one inside the borders of the larger one.
The largest was frontier space, the wild and untamed fringe of the universe containing the newest planets and the youngest of star systems, many of which were still molten balls of rock and swirling clouds of gases.
The central ring was generally referred to as mapped space, or more commonly, corporate space, and contained the bulk of human civilization, as many of the planets and star systems within were matured enough to sustain life.
The smallest ring was called necrospace, sharing the same designation as the forgotten and used up worlds of corporate space. Within necrospace the planets were ancient, the star systems decayed and dying, and any resource of value already stripped away. However, there were often anomalies of physics that puzzled scientists of the age, and many suspected that necrospace might actually comprise more area than any thought possible. It had proven difficult to create accurate mapping of necrospace beyond a certain point.
There were a multitude of planets and systems in necrospace that had been successfully mapped and exploited for what little wealth remained, but once ships reached a specific distance from corporate space it was as if the laws of physics became more fluid.
A scientist named Dorian Ellis pinpointed the border within necrospace, and thanks to his discovery, spent much of his life working there, funded by an Archon Industries grant, to discover what exactly was going on. Dorian died before he could draw any definitive conclusions. His funding had been pulled in the later years of his life due to failure to yield any profits, as apparently it had been seen as venture capital and not an actual grant.
Dorian had become convinced that a civilization much older than humanity had populated the area of space that existed on the other side of what had become known as the Ellisian Line. He postulated that there must be a singularity at the center of the universe, drawing old space into itself even as frontier space expanded, which held with conventional astrophysics understanding of the age.
However, where Dorian’s theories became untenable within the corporate world was his adamant belief in this unnamed ancient civilization. He claimed to have been to a planet on the other side of the line that contained a dead city, filled with artifacts that had led him to believe that this ancient civilization had attempted to alter the singularity. He insisted that somehow they had broken the laws of physics, and that the very fabric of the universe had remained broken long after their passing.
Sadly, he was not able to provide an accurate location for the planet, and was professionally deposed. His numerous volumes of photographic evidence supporting his claims were later deemed fraudulent. Dorian had died in relative poverty and professional disgrace, though he was still credited with the discovery and subsequent establishment of the Ellisian Line.
Corporate ships did not cross the line; because the locations of planets or entire star systems would change, maps could not be trusted on the other side. The distance between one place and another would warp in transit.
In corporate culture it was considered unprofitable to venture beyond the Ellisian Line. Even pirates would not venture beyond it, much less the various squatter flotillas that wandered the universe; which was why Samuel found himself leaning forward in his seat with a sense of shocked curiosity as the shift manager displayed the first of several maps detailing the mission.
“You were all made aware of the Ellisian Line during your compulsory education, and from the looks on your faces I can tell that you realize this map details a small star system on the other side of the line.” The shift manager looked out at the assembled marines, “I had the same look of shock on my face, but you’ll get over it.”
She zoomed in on the map, past the line, to reveal a more detailed photo image of UK1326. The surface of the planet swirled with dark clouds of grey and black, and what little ground they could see looked to be rock scrabble and vast expanses of barren earth.
“The information you are about to receive is classified, and I will remind you that any breach of the non-disclosure agreement you signed upon taking this mission will be treated with the upmost severity,” the shift manager warned as she gripped the edge of the podium and looked hard at the assembled marines. “We don’t know how or why, but UK1326 and its two suns appeared during a routine scanner sweep by a Grotto chartered prospecting ship. By happenstance the prospectors took the same route back to corporate space three months later and the scanner revealed the same star system, existing in space in the same coordinates. Thanks to the report, this system has been under observation for six months, and it has yet to disappear, making it anomalous compared to the other systems on the other side of the Ellisian Line.
Several probes have been sent to the planet and it has been determined that a derelict city, with no signs of life, exists on the planet surface, and Grotto has decided that the time has come to exploit the opportunity.”
The sound of several hundred marines breaking the silence with a mixture of whispers, groans, and exclamations of awe swept over the room. The shift manager allowed the moment to settle in, and then continued.
“The planet designated UK1326 and the two dying suns around which it orbits prevent the planet from having any discernible night or day cycle. It exists in a perpetual half-light, which when combined with the frequent and thick cloud cover creates an environment poorly suited to effective probe reconnaissance missions beyond broad stroke observation.” The shift manager activated another screen to reveal a multi-dimensional terrain map populated with various figures that Samuel took to indicate foot soldiers.
“Reapers are designated as militarized salvage operators. We do not have the sheer number of soldiers required to responsibly seize a city sized objective. However, given the unknown nature of the city and its apparent lack of a living population, there is no avenue within corporate protocol to requisition the use of elite troopers, and not enough revenue assurances to justify the presence of mercenary contractors.”
“Oh man, is she going to say what I think she’s going to say?” asked Ben as he leaned over to whisper to Samuel, who had still not gotten fully used his friend’s now completely digitized voice.
“I have a bad feeling that she is, poor bastards” grumbled Samuel as he gripped the sides of his seat, having realized who all of the figures were supposed to represent. “This mission is getting spookier by the second.”
“As some of you might have guessed, Grotto has authorized the founding of Penal Legion 223 for this mission.
A full legion of five thousand convicts from Gulag 223 completed their training while we were in transit to the mission site and they will be our vanguard.” As she spoke, the shift manager pressed an activation key to animate the figures, who moved through a monochrome cityscape in large groups.
“Monitored and commanded by their Line Wardens, the legionnaires will make planetfall at eight different sites and converge upon the city. Though our intelligence on the exact size of the necropolis is incomplete, we estimate by the architectural borders that the legion will be able to sweep and clear the target within sixteen hours of planetfall. Naturally, if resistance is met that timeline could be altered. Once the penal legion has seized and secured the city, Reaper detachments will make planetfall and begin exploration and salvage operations.”
The shift manager shut down the screens and looked sternly at the marines.
“This Reaper cadre to which you now belong has been assembled from a multitude of fleets and though you may not know the marine on either side of you, be keenly aware that each of you are here because of your distinguished service records, proven loyalty to Grotto interests, and your desire to achieve success.
The bonus pay you are receiving represents the degree of trust placed in you by Grotto Corporation. On the balance sheet, that pay is tallied as an investment in this mission; though I hope you understand that it is also an investment in you. This necropolis could be the greatest salvage in Reaper history, and you are here to share in that victory. Think on this as you prepare.
We reach UK1326 in eighteen hours. Squad leaders will receive updated mission specs and are to report to the penal observatory upon arrival. Thank you and good luck.”
“Does she really expect us to buy into all that loyalty gibberish? The fact that our hazard wages and paying completion bonuses still don’t equal the cost of mercs really show you how low we are on the wage scale,” Ben scoffed quietly as he and Samuel left the briefing auditorium. “I’m in it for the money, plain and simple, so don’t mess with my morale by rubbing it in my face just how cheap I am, regardless of what’s good for the Bottom Line.”
“Good,” Samuel replied. “Because that’s all that matters to Grotto too; the Bottom Line. As long as we treat the company the same way it treats us, well, that seems like the closest thing to empowered equality that we’re going to get,” Samuel snorted. “Everyone is here for the money, that’s why you and I are here, heck that’s why every marine from Tango Platoon showed up for this one. Well, except Boss Aiken, from what I heard he got promoted into Command. It just eats at me that management feels compelled to spin it like we’re doing something noble.”
“That’s corporate culture for you, man,” Ben laughed as he and Samuel headed back to the barracks for much needed sleep. “Didn’t that merc, Imago, tell you something about how the attachment of ideology to soldiering is just a way for the company to shave off some wages?”
“Pretty much,” agreed Samuel before pausing in the corridor to look at Ben. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what he said actually. What it might be like to fight for ourselves, you know pick our own missions, get paid prime wages.”
“Those dropsuits are expensive brother, and besides, you gotta pay off that spine before you can even start to save up the expatriation fee,” Ben said as clapping Samuel on the shoulder while they continued towards the barracks, “Let’s do the job, get paid, and take this thing a day at a time. Just think about it, if that city is as full of loot at Grotto thinks we could be sitting out here on an easy salvage job for years. Remember how long we had on the space hulk? Yeah the fighting part was a real beast, but the six months of no-combat salvage? That was the easiest money we’ve ever made. A duty tour on this rock and you’ll be able to expatriate, get your family off that station, and move somewhere with sunlight and fresh air, maybe some trees.”
“You are a relentless optimist, Ben Takeda,” laughed Samuel as he slid open the door of his rack, “Get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Copy that, Boss,” nodded Ben, just a slight shift in his tone as he addressed Samuel by his new rank. He continued down the corridor to his bunk, stopping long enough to playfully fistfight Harold as the two men crossed paths.
Samuel closed the door to his rack and sat down on the edge of his thin mattress. He felt as if he had a lead weight in his gut, and had been a soldier long enough to know that it was fear. Samuel had faced fear over and over in his time as a Reaper, and it had become a familiar companion.
There was something wrong about the planet they were about to reach. Something in the maps that tugged at the back of his mind, almost as if his reaction was instinctual; a threat from a half-remembered dream. No city stood empty without reason, and if Grotto was bringing five thousand convict soldiers to sweep the city then there was something management wasn’t telling them.
Samuel was reminded of the turbine station back on Tetra Prime, the pointless fight with the mech-warrior that had cost him his spine and his freedom. He had begun to doubt himself and his decisions, and suddenly found himself angry with Sura for how confident she was in him, how sure she was that he coul
d succeed, or even return to them before the credits ran out.
Sura and Orion were off Baen 6 and out of Grotto, but how long could they wait for him on that station? How long would his son have to live in the cramped compartments and corridors? At least on Baen 6 the hab-block unit had been big enough for the three of them, and there were plazas and open spaces to visit, even if they all rested in the shadow of Grotto overculture. On the orbital station Sura and Orion were sharing a single room, and there were few places the boy could go to play or run.
Samuel knew that if he survived this job he’d be able to set them up somewhere planetside on a world worth living on, and it saddened him to know that even then he would still be trapped in Grotto’s rigged financial system. He took out his data pad and ran the numbers again, as if somehow they would be different the hundredth time he calculated them.
He could pay off his debts to Grotto, and either relinquish the expatriation fee for himself or fund a homestead for his family. His choices seemed grim, unless there were indeed untold vaults of riches to be won on the dead planet. He could have freed himself from Grotto, but then he and his family would all have been living on Pier 16 without hope of ever leaving.
Pier 16 was on the fringe of Grotto space, and as Sura had discovered, there was a deep prejudice in Grotto space towards expatriated former citizens, and they’d labor in the lowest wage positions as a result.
Samuel let himself fantasize about what it might be like to actually succeed in this mission, to walk away with wages, easy salvage, and a completion bonus. There were agri-worlds where Sura and he could grow food for a living if they owned land, or they could even go to one of the wild planets on the frontier and simply live apart from corporate civilization, the same way the FOLKEN did.
Dead Worlds (Necrospace Book 2) Page 9