by P. A. Piatt
The assault team took their positions at the target building. On command, the breacher hammered the door open, and they charged inside. Once again, Fortis and the medic Durant could only listen as the team swept through the house. When they finished the sweep, they mustered out front with Fortis.
“There’s no one inside, but somebody was just here. The stove is still hot,” reported Heisen. “There’s a hole in the back wall. Maybe they went out that way.”
Fortis tried to reach Ystremski, but the blowing sand interfered with the high frequency line-of-sight radio.
“Form a skirmish line and let’s move to the edge of the city,” he told Heisen. “Maybe we’ll get comms there. Make damn sure nobody heads out into the desert.”
The assault team spread out and moved through the few remaining houses until they reached the edge of the city. The wind stiffened as they left the cover of the buildings, and when Fortis hailed Ystremski again, he got static in response.
A twinge of panic hit him in the gut. Their plan was simple and should have been easy to execute, even in the dark with limited communications. Now, Assault Team One was somewhere in the darkness, and he had lost comms with them. The wind and blowing sand played tricks with his hearing, and he heard invisible hovercraft engines in the sky all around him. The unexpected sifter added a level of difficulty to every aspect of the operation, and Fortis mentally kicked himself for not considering the weather.
Suddenly, his earpiece came to life.
“Fortis, this is Dolph, do you copy?”
“This is Fortis, go ahead.”
“Ystremski has been calling. They are fifty meters straight ahead of your position with the package. Advance and link up with them, and I’ll drop in for pickup.”
“Roger, wilco.”
Fortis leaned close to Heisen. “Get another head count and then we’re moving out,” he shouted at the assault team leader. “We’re moving to meet Team One and our ride fifty meters out.”
Fortis and the Space Marines advanced slowly as the sifter whirled and blasted them with sand from every direction. Fortis estimated each of his steps was about half a meter, and a figure loomed at him out of the darkness when he got to ninety-seven.
It was Ystremski.
“My whole team is here, and we’ve got a guest,” the corporal reported. “Dask Finkle.”
“Outstanding.” The lieutenant thumped him on the shoulder and then keyed his mike.
“Dolph, this is Fortis, we are standing by for extraction with one pax.”
The hovercopter settled to the surface, and the Space Marines raced up the ramp. After the assault team leaders reported all their troops were aboard, Fortis climbed the ramp and belted into a seat next to their restrained and hooded prisoner.
“Dolph, this is Fortis, all Marines are onboard. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
The aircraft made climbed uncertainly from the desert floor and banked toward Fenway. The craft lurched suddenly to the left and shook violently. The lurch became a roll as thousands of rocks pummeled the body of the craft.
“Hang on!” shouted Dolph from the cockpit. “Shit—”
The hovercraft slammed the ground, rolled once, and came to rest on its left side. The howl of the engines was replaced by shrieking wind, and what sounded like shrapnel rattled the stricken craft.
By the light of the battery-powered emergency lighting, the Space Marines tumbled from their seats and hauled their prisoner to his feet.
“We’re taking fire!” Heisen shouted.
“That’s not incoming, that’s rocks,” replied Ystremski. He turned to Fortis. “What’s our move, sir?”
“Check the cockpit for Dolph and Rentz.”
The corporal jerked his head toward the cockpit, and Heisen clambered forward. The hooded prisoner twisted and shook his head. Fortis yanked the hood off.
“That’s not a sifter blowing out there, it’s an Eolian Blast! We need to get under cover!” Finkle shouted.
“A what?”
A boulder slammed into the hovercraft and everyone ducked.
“An Eolian Blast! A fucking tornado made out of rocks. If we stay here, we’re dead.”
Just then, Heisen returned.
“Windshield is smashed, sir. Rentz is dead and there’s no sign of Dolph.”
“Take off these restraints, and I’ll lead you to safety,” urged Finkle. More large rocks pelted the craft. “We need to go now, before it gets worse.”
“Hey! There’s fuel leaking in here. This fucker’s gonna blow!” shouted one of the Space Marines.
Fortis looked at Ystremski.
“Fuck it.”
The corporal stepped forward and cut the restraints off Finkle’s wrists. The resistance leader motioned behind him.
“Grab the back of my belt and form a chain. Make damn sure you’ve got a good grip, because if you get lost out there right now, it’s over. How do we get off this thing?”
Fortis pointed forward. “The ramp’s no good. Go out the windshield.”
Ystremski grabbed his arm. “LT, grab the prisoner and everyone will line up behind you. I’ll bring up the rear and make sure everyone gets out.”
“Are you sure? You should—”
“No time to argue! We have to go now!” Finkle shouted.
Fortis latched onto Finkle and someone grabbed his belt.
“Go, go, go!” shouted Ystremski, and Finkle led the chain of Space Marines through the gore-covered cockpit of the wrecked hovercopter and into the storm.
The wind tore at Fortis and a sudden spray of gravel almost made him lose his grip. He tried to watch where they were going, but driving sand stung his eyes and clogged his nostrils. The line of Space Marines accordioned as they clung together and stumbled through the maelstrom.
After what seemed like hours, Finkle stopped at a small building and kicked the door open. He staggered inside with Fortis, the Space Marines following close behind. Fortis was able to breathe again, and he sank to his knees and coughed up the dirt that filled his mouth and throat. Through slitted eyes he saw Finkle stride across the room and point to low arch set in the wall.
“We can’t stop here,” he told Fortis. “Follow me, we’ll be safe in the subway.”
Finkle disappeared through the arch, and Fortis stumbled after him, trailed by the rest of the Space Marines. A set of stone steps wound down another five meters and ended in a dark, cavernous space. Fortis lost track of the resistance leader in the confusion of their flight from the storm until lanterns threw dim light around the room. Finkle moved from sconce to sconce and sparked them to life, and Fortis was finally able to get a look at his surroundings.
All around him, Space Marines hacked and coughed as they struggled to clear their airways from the choking dust driven by the storm winds. Water splashed across his face and when Fortis looked up Finkle pushed a plastic bowl into his hands.
“The tap’s over there.” Finkle pointed to a bent pipe sticking out from the wall. “Get your men cleaned up before the dust dries and turns to concrete.”
“Over here,” Fortis croaked, and grabbed the nearest men. “Water.”
The troops gathered around the tap and took turns scrubbing the dust from their nostrils, mouths, and ears. Fortis tried to take a headcount, but the dim lanterns made it difficult.
Corporal Ystremski loomed out of the shadows. “All present or accounted for,” he rasped. “Four walking wounded, one head injury that requires a litter.”
Fortis stared at Ystremski for a long second before he comprehended what he had been told. He’d been so focused on surviving the Eolian Blast that he hadn’t considered injuries.
“Head injury? Who?”
“Redman. A big rock hit him behind the left ear and knocked him out cold. Doc Cowher took a look, but he won’t know much until Redman wakes up.”
“The others?”
“Bumps and bruises, mostly. Lemm might have a broken arm. Just another day in the Corps, sir.”
Ystremski laughed and then doubled over into a coughing spell. When it was over, he hawked and spat.
“DINLI.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Seven
At Fenway, Dolph squeezed his eyes shut against the blast of air that blew the sifter dust from his uniform and waited while the vacuum sucked it out of the airlock. Mikel Chive and two Kuiper Knights watched from behind the glass. When the decontamination procedure was completed, Chive met Dolph at the door.
“Well? What happened? Where is Finkle?” the mercenary leader demanded.
Dolph ran his tongue across his gritty teeth and spat before he answered.
“That little sifter turned into an Eolian Blast that blew my hovercopter out of the sky,” the pilot replied. “We went down and rolled upside-down, and I was thrown out the windshield. When I came to, I was under a pile of rubble and the Space Marines and the prisoner were gone.” He hawked and spat again.
“Gone? Where did they go? Do they still have Finkle?”
“How the fuck should I know, Chive? I was unconscious.”
“Damn it!” Chive whirled on his heel and strode away, followed by the two mercenaries.
Dolph rolled his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was a long walk back here, but I’m okay, thanks for asking,” he said to the empty room. “Oh, and Rentz is dead.” He shook his head and spat again. “Prick.”
* * *
After the Space Marines had flushed away the worst of the dust, Fortis stuck his head under the tap and scraped at the dried dirt in his ears. The water was warm and tasted like shit, but the lieutenant didn’t care. He flushed his nostrils and mouth, and, when he was done, Fortis felt vaguely human again.
The lieutenant moved around the room, exchanging nods or brief comments with his men gathered along the walls. He found Redman sitting up and conscious, a dirty bandage wrapped around his head. Doc Cowher was hovering close by.
“I stopped the bleeding and bound the wound,” the corpsman reported. “His pupils are responsive, and he’s not babbling any more than usual.”
“Fuck you, Doc,” growled Redman. He groaned and clutched his head. “I’m good to go, LT. Just a little headache.”
Fortis chuckled and patted the injured Space Marine on the shoulder. “Good to go.”
He continued around the room and found Dask Finkle seated next to a dark door that appeared to lead deeper underground. Fortis leaned against the wall and slid down until he was seated next to the resistance leader. The two men exchanged glances.
“Thank you for leading us out of the storm,” Fortis said.
Finkle shrugged. “You might be mercenaries, but you’re still human.”
“We’re not mercenaries. We’re Space Marines.”
“You work for Chive and the Kuiper Knights; that makes you a mercenary.”
“You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t work for Chive.”
Finkle shrugged again. “It’s your story. Tell it any way you want to.”
“I’m serious!” Fortis’ voice drew looks from nearby Space Marines and he lowered his voice. “I’m serious. We’re not mercenaries, and we don’t work for Chive. The governor—” He stopped himself.
Why am I explaining things to this guy?
“Look, Lieutenant. You kidnap citizens and turn them over to Chive to be tortured and murdered. I’m surprised the UNT decided to back the Kuiper Knights. I figured they would support the GRC.”
“The UNT? The UNT isn’t involved in this. At least, not that I know of. And the Kuiper Knights work for the GRC.”
Finkle snorted. “Then why are Space Marines here?”
“We got sent here by accident. We were supposed to go on liberty on Eros-69 with the rest of Ninth Division, but our orders got screwed up and we ended up here.”
“And while you’re here, you decided to hook up with the Kuiper Knights to kidnap some locals. Just for fun.”
“No! We’re not doing this because we want to. We’re doing it because we have to.”
“DINLI. That’s what you guys say, right?”
“Exactly. DINLI. Two of my Marines were arrested on charges of dealing China Mike, and the colonial circuit judge won’t be here to hear their case until long after we’re gone. The governor and I agreed that we would help his Security Directorate clear out the drug cartel so he would release my men when our transport showed up. That’s what we’re doing.”
Finkle chuckled, which turned into a belly laugh that ended in a phlegmy cough. He hawked and spat a gooey brown globule that rolled up against the wall.
“If you want to clear out the China Mike cartel, Lieutenant, you’re going after the wrong people. Chive and his men are who you should be after. We’re trying to stop him.”
The information stunned the Space Marine officer. “The GRC is manufacturing the drug?”
Finkle shook his head. “No, not the GRC, the Kuiper Knights. They’re manufacturing China Mike and shipping it out all over the place.”
“I don’t understand. Why would the GRC permit them to do that?”
“They don’t know about it. For some stupid reason, the GRC contracted with the mercenaries to run facility security here. Eros-28 didn’t even have a Security Directorate until Chive showed up. Before that, it was just Chief Schultz.”
“What’s their play? Why come here to manufacture the drug?”
“I think it’s because they can ship the stuff all over the sector by hiding it in the heavy equipment that leaves this facility. Nobody checks it, and it brings a good price in the mining colonies. Most of the other colonies are privately owned, so they don’t care what their workers are on as long as they produce.”
“What about Eros-28? Chief Schultz said the workers self-regulate here.”
“We do. It helps to have a governor that understands the labor force. When he negotiated the four-hour overtime rule, it eliminated the reason most people used the drug. There are still some people who like to ride the edge, but not like it used to be. Right before you arrived, we collapsed a garage full of equipment that was full of China Mike waiting to be sent out around the sector. They captured Raisa Shears and tortured her to death.”
The two men lapsed into silence in the flickering light.
“So, what’s next?” Finkle asked.
Fortis looked at his watch and shrugged. “We’ve got a transport to catch in seven hours. As soon as this storm passes, point us in the right direction and you’ll never see us again.”
The resistance leader blinked in surprise. “You’re letting me go?”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to hand you over to Chive now.”
“What about your men? What about your deal with Governor Czrk?”
“We took you into custody, the storm knocked down the hovercopter, and you disappeared in the chaos. We got lucky and found a place to ride it out.”
The two men locked eyes, and Finkle stuck out his hand. The two men shook hands. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you for getting us out of that storm, and good luck in your fight.”
Finkle nodded to a doorway on the other side of the room. “Behind that door is a set of steps that will take you to the surface. When you get outside, look to the right and you’ll see one of the Fenway periscopes.” He climbed to his feet. “It sounds like the wind has died down, so you should be safe.” He gestured to another door a few feet away and chuckled. “I wish you had said something sooner. I’ve been working up the courage to run into the subway since we got in here.”
Fortis stood and walked to the door. “Here, let me help you.” He pulled it open and gestured.
Dask Finkle clapped his hand on Fortis’ shoulder and then, without a word, disappeared into the dark passage.
Corporal Ystremski had watched from a discreet distance and approached Fortis after the resistance leader had left.
“What’s going on, sir? Why’d you let him go?”
&
nbsp; “We’ve been on the wrong side, Corporal. Get the men ready to go; we’ve got a transport to catch.”
* * *
“Chive and the Kuiper Knights are manufacturing China Mike at their facility out in the desert,” Fortis told Ystremski as they led the Space Marines on a fast-march through the dust-choked streets of Boston. “They’re shipping it all over the sector hidden in refurbished mining equipment.”
“Sounds like a job for the governor and Chief Schultz,” the corporal replied.
“Yeah, it does, but there must something more to the story. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“That’s what I told her,” Ystremski said deadpan.
Fortis slowed and stared at the other man for a long second before his face split into a dusty grin.
“I’m trying to be serious here, Corporal, and you’re cracking jokes.”
“It’s my duty to maintain a cheerful attitude in the face of adversity, sir. According to the ISMC Platoon Leader Manual, the Bible for young officers—”
“Yeah, I’ve read it once or twice, dickhead.”
Fortis threw a look over his shoulder at the assault team medics supporting Redman, who refused to ride in a litter.
“Good to go?” he called to them.
Private Durant waved. “He’s okay, LT.”
Fortis took a quick count of the rest of the platoon and continued toward Fenway.
“As I was saying, before you interrupted me with your wet dream fantasy, there’s something more to the story here.”
“Like what? It sounds pretty straightforward to me.”
“Like why would the GRC send a guy like Jandahl here to spy on their own facility?”
“Beats me, sir. Maybe they don’t trust the governor.”
“Huh.”
The Space Marines marched on in silence for several blocks.
“Eros-28 isn’t a stable colony,” Fortis panted. “Schultz said as much. Three governors in two years is a lot of turmoil. From what I can tell, Czrk has the place under control. Even Finkle seems to like him. If it wasn’t for Chive and his guys, the resistance wouldn’t exist. It’s almost like they want the resistance to act out.”