China Mike

by P. A. Piatt

  Jandahl moved closer and watched and listened for a response. There were no guards posted and no one sounded an alarm, so he approached the wall. It was three meters high and constructed of the same mud that the colonists in Boston used for their buildings. There were lights at regular intervals along the wall, but they did little to illuminate the area outside.

  I guess they’re not expecting visitors.

  He found a place where the smooth surface of the wall had cracked and, with some effort, he dug out enough dirt to form a waist-high foothold. He scraped out another at shoulder height and he used them to climb high enough to get a look inside.

  The inside of the mercenary compound was unremarkable. The dome was the main structure and there were eight windowless, single-story buildings in two neat rows around it. Jandahl didn’t see any building numbers or signs to indicate what the buildings were. He spent a long time searching the wall and buildings for external cameras or sensors but saw none, so he boosted himself onto the wall and dropped into the compound.

  The first two doors he tried were locked, but the third doorknob turned in his hand. As Jandahl was about to crack the door and peek inside, a sixth sense screamed “RETREAT!” He barely made it around the corner before the door crashed open.

  Two men dressed in black uniforms dragged a third man outside. The man hung limp between the mercenaries and his bare feet left ruts in the arid soil.

  “I can’t believe this fucker died already,” remarked one of the men as they hauled the body to the crawler.

  “At least he’s not beat up too bad,” his partner replied. “We can stick a needle in his arm and dump him in town. Just another dead junkie.”

  The two men laughed as they returned to the door. When they opened it, Jandahl heard the unmistakable sound of a woman screaming.

  Jandahl waited several long minutes before he continued his survey of rest of the compound. The doorknob on the first one opened, and the contents stunned the intelligence operative. The entire building was full of laboratory equipment. He scanned the flasks and barrels stacked on one side and realized it was a China Mike lab. An industrial-sized China Mike lab.

  The Kuiper Knights are making China Mike!

  He pulled the door shut, then tried the rest, but they were all locked.

  He decided to leave before he was discovered. Although he and Chive were nominally on the same side, now that he had discovered the security director’s secret, he knew that if he was found inside the compound uninvited he would end up “just another dead junkie,” too.

  He saw some barrels and pallets stacked up against the wall near where the crawler was parked, so he used the junk as a ladder. Once he was clear of the compound and there was no alarm was raised, Jandahl began the long walk back to Fenway. His mind raced as he thought about his discovery and he debated his next step.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Space Marines debriefed their first mission according to standard ISMC practice. The most junior member of the assault team recounted the raid from his perspective, followed by the second most junior, and so on, until it was Fortis’ turn. It was a slow and painstaking process, but it ensured that every data point was collected in a way that a top-down debrief could not. It kept all the men engaged as follow-on missions were planned and their ideas were incorporated. Finally, it gave ISMC leaders an opportunity to identify which Space Marines had leadership qualities.

  It annoyed Fortis that Chive and Dolph weren’t present for the debrief. The platoon was smart enough to recognize the strain in the relationship between their commanding officer and the director of security, but Fortis cut off any criticisms of the Kuiper Knight and his organization.

  When it was Fortis’ turn to speak, he was open and honest in his assessment of the raid. He took responsibility for his mistakes in a self-deprecating manner without eroding his authority as the platoon commander and an ISMC officer, and Corporal Ystremski nodded his approval when the lieutenant finished and there were no more questions.

  The corporal took charge of the men.

  “Third Platoon, fall in!”

  Fortis, who had expected the corporal to dismiss the men, gave him a quizzical look.

  “First things first, LT.”

  The doors at the far end of the dormitory opened, and Corporal Anderson and Private Lopez entered the space. Each man had a grip on one side of a large metal jug, and Lopez was carrying a sleeve of reusable plastic cups in his free hand.

  “What’s this?” asked Fortis, as the two Space Marines set up a serving station while the rest of the platoon smiled in anticipation.

  “One of the GRC machinists is a former Space Marine, and he has a son who’s a crew chief for a hovercopter assigned to Second Division,” Ystremski explained. “When he heard there were Space Marines on Eros-28, he introduced himself to some of the boys and offered to help solve our problem.”

  Fortis grinned as the platoon lined up while Anderson and Lopez doled out the contents of the jug. “And what problem would that be, Corporal?”

  The last of the platoon received their cups, and Ystremski handed one to Fortis and took one himself. The raw alcohol fumes burned Fortis’ nose, confirming the contents of his cup.

  DINLI.

  “We didn’t have a way to toast a successful mission. Until now.”

  Fortis raised his cup. “To the dead and the living.” He tipped his cup until a splash of the fiery brew spilled onto the deck. The platoon did the same and then returned the traditional toast response.

  “DINLI!”

  Corporal Ystremski quaffed his cup, took the cup from the lieutenant, and tossed it back.

  “Sorry, sir. Doctor’s orders.”

  * * *

  Lieutenant Fortis and Corporal Ystremski kept Third Platoon busy with a full schedule of training built on their experience from the first mission. The Space Marines ran multiple scenarios in their berthing compartment mock-up. They didn’t hear from Chive again until late in the afternoon.

  The security director appeared at the door to their dormitory and waited until the lieutenant called an end to the exercise.

  “Still practicing, Lieutenant?” Chive said as Fortis and Ystremski approached.

  “Always,” replied Fortis. “We’re rotating in the Space Marines who aren’t assigned to Assault Team One or Two. It’s good training, and it gives us a reserve of troops in case we need them.”

  Corporal Ystremski followed the two men as they walked out into the corridor.

  “Did you get any useful intel from Baird or Root?”

  “Hmm, not yet,” replied Chive. “These things take time. I do have a new target for this evening.” He handed Fortis a file. “Pai Choon. She’s an electronics technician and a member of the same China Mike cartel cell as Baird.”

  Fortis scanned the folder. “I thought you didn’t get any useful intel from Baird and Root yet.”

  Chive only hesitated for a split second, but it was enough to confirm his deception. He cracked a self-conscious smirk.

  “I have other sources, Lieutenant.”

  “Sure, of course.” Fortis passed the folder to Ystremski. “We’re going to incorporate our lessons learned from last night’s mission. Is your crawler driver available?”

  Chive shook his head. “Sorry, no. He’s back at the site and won’t be available until later tonight.”

  Fortis thought for a second. “Huh. Okay, I guess we can brief him up before we take off.”

  “That’s fine. We’ll be here at the same time tonight. Should be another easy breather.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  Fortis and Ystremski watched as Chive disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor.

  “I don’t like that guy,” Ystremski said in a low voice. “There’s something not right about him.”

  “Yeah, I agree. I don’t know whether to trust the info from that Jandahl fellow, but the vibes I get from Chive are all bad.”


  * * *

  After the training session, Fortis visited Marx and Landis. The pair greeted him with anxious smiles.

  “What’s the word, LT? When are we getting out of here?”

  “Soon; that’s all I can tell you. I tried to negotiate with the governor for your release, but he insisted that you remain in custody until we’re evac’d. The Fleet is still on alert in orbit around Eros-69, but I expect them to pick us up any time now.”

  Their smiles turned to frowns, and the two Space Marines slumped into their seats. Fortis shook his head.

  “You two should be happy. You’re damned lucky the governor has agreed to let you leave with us. What the hell was going through your minds, messing around with China Mike after you were warned not to?”

  “Hey, LT, we didn’t do anything. That was a total set up.”

  Fortis held up his hands. “That’s not what the police say. Lucky for you, you won’t have to convince the judge.”

  “What about the ISMC?” asked Marx.

  “I don’t know that the Corps will ever know about it. That’s up to you, I guess. I don’t plan on reporting it unless it’s absolutely necessary. Corporal Ystremski said he’ll handle the justice on our end as long as you don’t do anything stupid between now and our departure.”

  The pair smiled again, and the relief on their faces was evident.

  “LT, we’ll do whatever you say. Just don’t forget about us.”

  Fortis laughed as he stood up. “No chance of that happening. Ystremski won’t let me.” He paused at the door. “Be patient. We’ll be back aboard Atlas before you know it.”

  Fortis hated to lie, but Marx and Landis didn’t need to know about the missions their fellow Marines were involved in with the Security Directorate. He also knew that anything he told the pair would likely reach Chief Schultz through microphones in the ceiling, and he didn’t want to reveal what they were up to.

  * * *

  Fortis and Assault Team Two linked up with Chive and Dolph outside Fenway. As the assault team passed around the photos of Pai Choon, Fortis briefed the mercenaries on their new procedures.

  “I’ll ride in the cockpit with Dolph,” he said. “On our first mission, I had zero situational awareness in the ore car. As the mission commander, I need complete visibility on everything that’s happening during the mission.

  “The assault team, led by Corporal Heisen, and the team medic, Private Durant, will all ride in the second car. After the mission is complete, we won’t leave until I get a positive head count from the assault team leader.

  “My men don’t know what a China Mike lab looks like, so any information you can provide would be helpful,” he told the mercenaries. “I expect this raid will take longer than the first one, because they’ll conduct a thorough search for tunnels and hidden doors.”

  “Whatever you think is best, Lieutenant. We’re here to support you,” said Chive.

  Dolph nodded his agreement, and Fortis gave the order to mount up.

  The crawler lumbered along, and Fortis conducted a radio check with Corporal Heisen. In addition to the radios carried by each team member, they decided to leave one in the cockpit and the two converted ore cars. It was probably an unnecessary redundancy, but it didn’t cost them anything, and if they needed it, it would be worth the effort.

  The set up for the second mission was identical to the first. Dolph piloted the crawler to a halt in front of a house and illuminated it with the searchlight. The assault team formed a stack, breached the door, and poured inside. Seconds later, two of them dragged a hooded figure outside and dumped her in the second car.

  Fortis listened as Heisen directed his team through the house. The long periods of silence on the radio unnerved him, but he knew it would take time for the assault team to thoroughly probe every inch of the building in search of drug-related materials and tunnels.

  Finally, Heisen called all clear and the assault team exited the house and made for the crawler. After he confirmed the head count, Fortis gave Dolph the okay to head back to Fenway. As the crawler jerked into motion, Fortis checked his watch. The entire mission had taken nine minutes. Nine minutes? It felt like forever.

  When they arrived back at Fenway, Chive and his mercenaries were waiting on Fortis and the Space Marines. The assault team dismounted and brought their captive out. Corporal Ystremski and the rest of Third Platoon came out of Fenway to meet the assault team. The two groups unconsciously faced off.

  “That’s Choon?” asked Chive.

  “It is,” replied Fortis. “She was the only person there, but there was no evidence of drugs or lab equipment.”

  “Good job.” Chive waved at his men to take custody of the prisoner, but the Space Marines didn’t budge.

  “What’s the news on Baird and Root?” Fortis asked. “Have you made any progress with them?”

  At the mention of the first two prisoners, Choon twisted in her restraints.

  Chive gave Fortis a long look. “It turns out my information from earlier was inaccurate. We released Root earlier today; he isn’t involved with the drug cartel. We’re still questioning Baird. Satisfied?”

  Fortis looked back at Ystremski, who shrugged.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m satisfied.” Fortis nodded, and the Space Marines stepped back to allow the mercenaries to take custody of Choon. “I just want to make sure we’re doing the right thing, and that the prisoners are treated properly.”

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant,” Chive said. “We’re on the same team, remember?”

  As the crawler rolled off into the darkness, the Space Marines filed inside Fenway. Fortis and Ystremski stood silently until the lights of the crawler had disappeared in the distance.

  “I trust that guy less and less every time I see him,” Ystremski said. “I think he’s full of shit.”

  “And you’re right to think so.”

  The two Space Marines whirled around at the strange voice. A man wearing GRC coveralls emerged from the darkness. Fortis recognized him as the man who had approached him before.

  “Jandahl?”

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  Ystremski rested his hand on the butt of his pistol, and the GRC intelligence operative kept his hands open and by his sides as he approached the two men.

  “Have you had a chance to think about our discussion the other day?” Jandahl asked.

  Fortis nodded. “I have, and I’ve discussed it with Corporal Ystremski, too.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s too early for us to tell whether you’re credible or not. We have no way to corroborate your information.”

  “Here’s some information you can corroborate. Chick Root is dead.”

  “Dead? How?”

  “Chive and his men tortured him to death.”

  “How do you know that?

  “I was at the Kuiper Knights compound when they dragged Root’s body outside and stuffed him in the crawler. My guess is that they’ll dump him somewhere in Boston and make it look like an overdose.”

  “Prove it.”

  Jandahl shook his head. “I can’t. Talk to Chief Schultz and ask him if there’s any news about Root. By midday tomorrow, I predict he’ll have another OD on his hands. There’s something else; the Kuiper Knights—”

  The door banged open and Corporal Heisen stuck his head out. “Hey, Corporal—” He saw Jandahl talking with the two Marines. “Ah, sorry.”

  The man abruptly turned and strode off into the darkness. “I’ll be in touch, Lieutenant,” he threw over his shoulder. “Watch your back.”

  Ystremski elbowed Fortis. “C’mon, sir. The lads are waiting.”

  Fortis shook his head as he followed the corporal.

  “Everybody in this place is nuts.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The second mission debrief was much shorter than the first. The rough spots encountered by Assault Team One had been smoothed over, so the list of issues was much shorter.

&
nbsp; Insertion and extraction had gone as planned. Apprehending their target had been quick and efficient, but the Space Marines expressed a familiar concern.

  “We searched the entire place, LT, but we still don’t know what we were looking for,” said Heisen. The rest of the men nodded their agreement. “I saw a bunch of glassware in the kitchen, but it looked like regular dishes to me, so I left it.”

  “You’re right, we can’t be expected to do the mission if we don’t know what to look for,” replied Fortis. “I’ve asked Chive a couple times and gotten no answers. I’m going to see Chief Schultz first thing tomorrow morning, and I’ll try to get an answer for you.”

  Later, Fortis and Ystremski discussed their situation while they lifted weights.

  “What do you think of Jandahl?” Fortis said as he lowered a heavy weight bar to his chest and pushed it back up.

  “He’s as sketchy as anyone else we’ve met here,” replied the corporal as he guided the bar. “Let’s go, don’t quit. Two more.”

  Fortis grunted and lowered the bar again. “I guess we’ll know after I talk to Schultz.” His arms trembled as he pressed the bar up.

  “Last one. Come on, don’t be a pussy.” Ystremski wrapped his hands around the bar and steered it down to Fortis’ chest. “Everything you’ve got. Push!”

  All thoughts of Jandahl and Chive disappeared as Fortis focused his mind on the heavy bar. The burn in his pectoral muscles faded, and he felt a surge of strength as he pushed the weight all the way up, but he resisted when Ystremski tried to guide the bar to the rest.

  “One more,” he spat through gritted teeth. Fortis let the weight drop slowly to his chest and then shoved it up with a final mighty effort. The bar clanged onto the rack, and the young officer let his arms fall to his sides as his heart thundered, and he gasped for breath.

  “Not bad, for an officer,” the corporal commented with a smile of approval. “A private would have gotten two more, though.”