by Rob Buckman
“Also, see if you can get any more information out of him as the where they might have taken the others. Then get Sergeant Rice to have his people start tracking them.”
“You going after them, Sir?”
“That's what we came here for isn’t it?” As they wandered around the perimeter and back to the life pod he could see the Chief deep in thought.
He didn't say a word after Mike said they were going after the remainder of the survivors. He just gave him a rather slow smile and a nod. As dawn crept up over the Eastern horizon, they were up and moving. Mike decided to take everyone with him, including the wounded man. For some reason that didn't sit well with Harwood, and he protested that the trip might kill him. His suggested that he stay behind on guard fell on deaf ears as Mike cut him off and told him he was going. He turned away, but Conner Blake saw the dirty look he gave Mike retreating back. Harwood then made an excuse about retrieving his gear, and entered the life pod before joining the rest of the party. By that time, the injured man had already been moved. All went well for over an hour following the trail the Marines found and they made good time through the underbrush, even carrying the wounded man. Then a massive explosion shook the tree behind them, sending the local bird life squawking into the air. The dense forest shielded them from the worst effects, including the flying debris that came crashing down. The shock wave caused a rain of insects, leaf matter and a few branches to fall, but no one was hurt.
“What the hell!”
“They came back and hit the life pod, that's what.” Harwood spluttered, a look of fear on his face, “thank god you made us all leave, Captain.”
“Shit!” Mike swore. "That's just what we need. I was hoping to use the pod.”
“It also means they could be on to us now, Sir.” Conner Blake whispered into his ear through the comm channel. Mike nodded.
“We'd better get a move on people. The locals are bound to send someone to investigate and possibly track us.”
Instead of speeding up Mike slowed them down and covered their tracks as best he could. It was almost impossible to hide the passage of such a large group from a good tracker. Where possible they used animal tracks or natural trails through the brush, but that meant they had to take a wandering trek to get to wherever the survivors were. For almost half a day, they traveled in the opposite direct to the one they wanted. That was all right as well, as any tracker would expect them to head in the direction they'd taken first, not reversing their course. That night, after bedding down, Mike and Conner took their nightly walk around the perimeter, and gave them the first chance to talk in private.
“What do you think, Sir?”
“About what?”
“The explosion.”
“I'm not sure.”
“Me neither. Seems strange they'd take so long to come back.”
“True and why blow it up? Why not just fly it back to the settlement.” Mike mused.
“Umm, a life pod does have a few valuable bits of equipment aboard.”
“Right.” He shot Conner a quick look. “You think our Mr. Harwood set off the self destruct device?”
“He did go into the pod just before we left, said he had to get his gear.”
“But why for God's sake, what's the point?”
“I might be barking up the wrong tree here, Sir, but to advertise that someone else was out here?”
“You mean warn the Sirriens we are here?”
“Makes sense to me.”
“Jesus! What a suspicious mind you have Conner.”
“Well,” he said with a grin, “with all the other shit… sorry, Sir, things that have been happening on this trip, it wouldn't surprise me.”
“Also, no way we can prove the ship was out of fuel.”
“Good point, Sir. Not only that, but the ship's log and any other evidence.”
“Damn! Point taken, I should have thought of downloading it, but he had no way of knowing I was going to use the pod to get us out of here.”
“True. He could have expected you might and took measures to stop you.”
“Chief, this is beyond me; you seem to see dark deeds afoot in this mission.” Mike shook his head. He hated intrigue and double-dealing.
“It's just little things, Sir, and I could be wrong.”
“No, I hate to say it, but I think you're right. This mission was doomed to fail from the start, or was supposed to.”
“That's one thing that had Harwood worried for some reason. You might just pull this off and get us back home.” Mike chuckled softly at the comment.
“And I might make Admiral one day as well.” He said it more as a joke than anything, what with his stellar performance so far.
“That you might, Sir. That you might.”
In all, it took another day to reach the outskirts of a settlement where the trail ended, having to cut back and around the dense tropical growth. Under the canopy, the heat was appalling, and more than once Mike had to order stim tabs for all of them, just to keep going. At last, they reached the end of the trail near the settlement, but Mike waited until after dark to move up where they could see it. As frontier settlements go, this one was well founded, with wide paved streets, sidewalks, and street lighting. Obviously, this moon was settled a long time ago, as there was none of the makeshift appearance of many human colony towns or mining camps. Most of the buildings were constructed of native Fieldstone, or brick, but there were a few newer looking ones made of concrete. By dusk the town quieted down, and by nine in the evening the place looked as dead as a graveyard. They could hear music and see bright colored lights from another part of the town, guessing it to be the entertainment, or bar district. The music had an Irish sound to it, reminding Conner of home and Saturday night dances at the local pub. As good fortune would have it, the town fathers had set the buildings apart from the other, with wide expanses of native tree and bushes between them in a park like setting. That made life easier for the raiding party as they moved from park to park, sliding into the shadows. Mike wished they'd managed to make a low level pass over the moon, or could uplink to a Landsat in orbit. All the instruments in his HUD could tell him was what he could see with his own eyes and not much else. It was curious that the place wasn't on a high alert, but other than a few people on foot and some vehicle traffic, there was no evidence of troops. At last, they found what looked like the government center, an imposing stone building in pink stone.
“Any trace of the survivors?” Mike whispered to the scout.
“Not yet, Sir, but if they are here, they should be in one of these buildings.”
“Keep looking.”
“Aye-aye, Sir.” The man whispered, and vanished back into the gloom.
Mike squatted behind a bush in shadow, rifle upright, leaning against his inner thigh, eyes scanning the dark underbrush around him. The night has a particular feel, different from the day, as the thicker air transmit sound in unexpected ways. Each told its own story, a rodent foraging in the leaf mold, or a beetle walking over dry grass. They all fitting into a pattern that Mike knew well, listening intently as the cool night air slowly dried the sweat on his face, yet he hardly noticed. By midnight, the gas giant had slipped below the horizon, but even so, a trace of the pearly light still pervaded the darkness. It made for odd shadows here and there, and the light breeze stirred the foliage made it seem as if people were moving around. Corporal Rice knelt beside Conner Blake, tracking his men in his heads up display on his helmet visor. It didn't impair his vision, seeming more like a ghostly apparition in his line of sight.
“What do you think about him?” He asked softly, pointing his chin in Mike's direction. After a moment, Conner shrugged, as if unsure how to answer.
“He's got me puzzled, that's for sure.”
“Me too.” Rice answered, scratched his chin. “Look at him, kneeling there as quiet as can be.”
“So are we.”
“My gut tells me he'd done this before.” Conner turned his head slightly, looking first
at Mike, then at Rice. “Look at the other newbie's.” Rice turned his head and nodded towards two men off to their left side.
One was a Marine, the other a sailor, both young and green. They lay flat on the ground, hiding behind a thin screen of brush, heads going back and forth as they searched the surrounding thickets. It was easy to spot their nervousness, even in the semi-gloom. Conner looked to where Rice pointed, then back at Mike.
“Yeah, I see what you mean; he does look like he's been here before.”
“So, where did a 20 year old naval Ensign get wired with Marine gear, and combat experience?”
“Beats the shit out of me.” Conner spat carefully at a passing beetle before continuing, “could be he's just a natural.”
“Yeah, and pigs will fly.” Rice scoffed. “That kid's got a history, and I'd just love to know what it is.” Conner didn't answer, but he had his own thought.
Rice was right. The way Mike was kneeling showed this wasn't the first time he'd experienced combat. His stance was that of a vet, kneeling, relaxed, weapon ready but safely pointed up. He wasn't turning his head this way and that, mealy listening to the night sounds around him, much as the more experienced Marines were doing. In the end, Conner put the question mark down on his mental list of things to check in the near future. It would be interesting to see what turned up as Mike was defiantly a puzzle. On one hand nervous and unsure, the next calm, calculating and in total command of himself and the situation around him. That didn't go with the 20-year-old boy's face. Then the radio beeped.
“Found them, Sir, or think we have.”
“Where?” Mike's voice came over the squad channel.
“There's one building around the corner that had guards on it. None of the other have.” Mike nodded. It was a point. Why guard government building on a frontier world like this, unless there was something in there worth guarding.
“How many?”
“Five, Sir.”
“Can you take them out without causing a fuss?”
“Aye, Sir.” There was laughter in the man's voice. Gold bricks and screw-ups they may be, but they were still Royal Marines.
“Do it.”
“Two clicks for all clear, Sir.” The man vanished again, and in less than a minute, they all heard the double click. Mike motioned the rest of the party to follow him, and took off with a soft tread around the building. Of the guards, there was no sign, just one Marine guarding the door.
“All clear, Sir, we stunned the guards and tucked away for the night.”
“Good work.” He was glad they hadn't killed them, which he suspected, but then again, why should they.
With the advent of modern weapons and the capacity to stun instead of kill, wanton killing of the enemy was outmoded usually, and sometimes counterproductive. These were humans, they were fighting, and human history notwithstanding, out and out blood lust wasn't necessary in a case like this. The building was obviously some sort of security facility; probably the local military or police lock-up, and they made their way slowly through the building. The scouts out front looking for other military or police personnel, but those they did find were sleeping. None woke to raise the alarm, and continued sleeping, made deeper from a quick jolt from a stun gun. The ground and upper floors proved empty, so they worked their way down to the basement, and the cells.
“We've found them!” His comm set whispered, “down one flight and to your left.”
“On my way.” Leaving two men behind to guard his rear, Mike took the remainder down to the cells. It didn't take them long to force the locks and gather the survivors, but they came up short. Originally, there had been seven people in the life pod, with Harwood and the injured man outside; there should have been five. They only found four.
“Where's the other one?” Was Mike's immediate question. A tall, compact, sandy haired man stepped out of the group and walked over, holding his hand out.
“Hi, my name is Bettencourt. I'm the pilot of the Courier ship.” A smile crinkled around his eyes as he spoke, giving him an almost boyish look.
“Hello, Captain.” Mike shook hands.
“Not Captain, only by virtue of piloting the ship. I'm a civilian employee of the courier service.” He said with a smile.
“Ensign Mike Gray, Sir, officer commanding the rescue mission.”
“No need for the sir, try Jim, or Jimmy.”
“Thanks. So what can you tell me?”
“Not much, Laddy.” He answered, looking mournful.
“As you know, we ditched on this moon, thinking it would be the best place to hide out.” He looked a bit embarrassed as he told his story. “No such luck, the Sirriens have a large mining operation here,” he continued as Mike motion the group to follow him upstairs, “we thought we were safe and hadn't spotted us landing. We were all right for a while, then, without warning, they were all over us.”
“Yes, we found two of your people near the LZ.”
“Two?”
“Yes, a Mr. Harwood, and another man, your navigator, Jenkins, but he was badly injured.”
“Hurt? By whom?”
“The Sirriens I assumed.”
“No, they jumped us, but we didn't get a chance to defend ourselves, not that we would. No need.”
“I don't understand.”
“Earth isn't at war with the Sirriens… at least not yet, so this would be nothing more than a diplomatic situation.”
“I'm beginning to see… I think. So where was your Navigator?”
“Off in the bushes somewhere when they hit, why? And how was he shot?”
“Again, we only have the word of Harwood for that. The way he tells it, the Sirriens came in shooting and Jenkins was hit and left for dead.”
“Not true, but at least that explains what happened to them, but not how Jenkins was shot. They hit us in a flash, almost as if they were expecting us.”
“Look, we don't have the time to sort it all out now. That can wait for later.”
“What I need to know is what happened to your other passenger?” While they talked, Mike and the others went out the way they'd come to the relative safety of the bushes and darkness.
“Not sure where they've taken Lady Ann.” The pilot gave Mike a careful look before answering, but he didn't see it.
“Lady Ann?” Mike asked in surprise, “who on earth is Lady Ann, and what was she doing on board?” Courier pilots don’t usually take their girl friend along for the ride.
“She's a King's Messenger, but more of a pain in the butt the way she carried on. She's has a face that could stop a charging buffalo in its tracks, if you know what I mean.” He gave Mike a wink.
“Sound like a handful.”
“Oh, she is. Complained about everything, and to listen to her, you'd think she was the Princess Royal, instead of just a bloody courier.” Jimmy Chuckled at some secret joke but didn't elaborate.
“Sounds like a wonderful Lady.” Mike smiled sympathetically.
“Oh, she is, and partly the reason we are in the mess.” Jimmy sighed.
“She was the one who insisted we take a short cut through a Sirrien controlled Warp Point that got us into this predicament.”
“I thought you had a navigational error?”
“That was the story we were supposed to tell.” That remark brought Mike's head around and left a question hanging in the air. As he didn't add anything Mike suspected Jimmy Bettencourt didn't realize that he'd said anything out of place. As Conner said, something about this whole mission stank.
“Against my better judgment, I gave in and did as she ordered. As she's a King's Messenger I couldn't refuse.”
“I take it we have to go rescue her?” Mike joked warily.
“Oh yes, laddy, wouldn't look good on our record to go back without her after coming this far.” He sighed, as if wishing he could leave her to the tender mercies of the Sirriens. “We'd both end up regretting it.” He laughed softly at some private joke.
“They took her off so
mewhere for questioning about an hour ago.”
“Any idea why, and where?”
“As to the where, not a clue laddy, except that she's here somewhere, and haven't been shipped off to another location. As to the why, I suspect her dispatch case would have something to do with that.”
“How do you know she hasn't been shipped off planet?”
“Heard one of the guards talking about it when they shoved us in here. Said something about waiting for some big wig from in-system.”
“And her dispatch case?”
“Probably think she can open it without detonating the destruct charge inside.”