The Forgotten Outpost

by Gus Flory

  The windows looked out over the buildings, hangars and towers of Camp Hammersteel. Kraken Mare could be seen through the haze. Saturn glowed faintly in the darkening sky.

  A few contractors were sitting at the bar nursing drinks.

  “How ya doing, Pris?” the bartender asked.

  “I’m hanging in there.” She looked at the menu. “I’ll have a lemon drop and the shrimp Pomodoro.”

  The bartender looked at Diego, then turned to Pristina. “Technically, he’s not supposed to be in here.”

  “He’s my guest. Can you cut me some slack, Donny?”

  He smiled. “Anything for you, Pris.” He handed Diego a menu.

  Diego ordered a burger and a club soda. Soldiers were prohibited from drinking alcohol on Camp Hammersteel. There were always those willing to break the rules, but Diego had no problem with the policy, knowing that it made life a little easier on commanders not having the hassle of regular weekend insobriety.

  Diego followed Pristina to a table for two by the window. She sat and looked out at the view with her elbow on the table and her chin propped in her hand.

  “It’s the best view on the camp,” she said.

  “One of the best I’ve seen in the Solar System.”

  Titan’s long night was falling. In the darkening purple sky, Saturn glowed faintly through the clouds. A band of orange light burned on the dark horizon.

  “The nights are long here. But I like them. When we’re behind Saturn out in the darkness of space, it feels like the troubles of the Solar System are far away. When the clouds clear and reveal the night sky, the stars can take your breath away.”

  Diego nodded, looking out at the dim moonscape.

  “But I take it you’ve been to several moons,” she said.

  “I’ve been to four. Five if you count a training exercise on Phobos. Then there were a few asteroids. One planet. Mars, of course.”

  “You’re from Mars?”

  Diego nodded.

  “I’ve been to all the moons of Saturn, the big ones, anyway, but I’ve never left the system.”

  “As far as moons go, this isn’t a bad place to be from. It beats the moons of Jupiter by a long shot.”

  She smiled. “You’ve never been to Earth?”

  “Negative. But I plan to someday. Take my family there. Feel the sun on our skin and breathe the air of our home world.”

  “My uncle’s there. After the war, he was sent to Earth as part of a delegation to meet with the Solar System Assembly. He sends messages sometimes.”

  “What does he say?”

  “He says Earth is a nice place to visit but he wouldn’t want to live there. Actually, he says it’s not that nice.”

  “What does he mean?”

  “He says the dramas and news we watch here about life on Earth don’t portray reality. Earth is polluted and in ruins. Disease is rampant. Most people live in squalor while a select few lead lives of luxury. The culture of the common people has devolved in ignorance, depravity and criminality. There’s much destitution and unhappiness there. Oppression.”

  “Sounds like anti-Federation propaganda to me.”

  She smiled. The bartender brought their meals.

  “I’m leaving Camp Hammersteel,” she said. “They’re transferring me to T-FORCE MAIN.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I may be back. Your commander will need a political analyst. Perhaps it’ll be me again, but that depends on the new advisor.”

  Diego turned his drink on the table, slowly spinning the glass.

  She took a sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass.

  “Tell me, Pristina, why did they target Oscar Bennett?”

  She set her glass down. “I was sitting next to Oscar in the plaza listening to Governor Cone. I saw their eyes meet. It was strange. Then the explosion came. The terrorists were shooting into the crowd. One ran up to Oscar and grabbed him. I ran after them. You saw what they did to him.”

  “But why?”

  “He always tried to be impartial in his analyses. He was seen as sympathetic to the Noer and their issues, not against them, anyway.”

  “It seems to me, they wanted him as a hostage. Maybe to behead him like they did to Sergeant Moxley. But why him?”

  “Why Sergeant Moxley?”

  “I don’t know. I need to know more.”

  “Have you heard Alan James’s interview with Tupo Pelagi?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “It was livestreamed this morning. She said her husband and son are missing. She’s been questioned by the police about her husband’s affiliations. They’ve questioned her about her political activities and if she has ties to terrorist groups.”

  “You’re a political analyst. What’s your take on this?”

  “I’ve tried to remain impartial in my analysis, like Oscar always tried to be.”

  “What is your impartial analysis?”

  “Whenever a crime is committed, one should always ask who benefits? So, Diego, you tell me. Who benefits?”

  “Robodan benefits. And the Neo-Fascists. This is their modus operandi. Spreading terror and pain.”

  “There are no Neo-Fascists here.”

  “Pristina, as an analyst you should know better. Titan is a hotbed of Neo-Fascism.”

  “What is Neo-Fascism?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “It’s a totalitarian belief system whose adherents use terrorism and genocide against anyone who resists them.”

  “There’s no one on Titan who advocates for a totalitarian belief system or genocide or terrorism.”

  “I think Amad Robodan would disagree with you.”

  She leaned forward. “Amad Robodan’s actions benefit Governor Cone and the Solar System Federation. His actions hurt the Noer.”

  Diego sat up straight. He stared stone-faced into Pristina’s eyes.

  She turned away.

  “You sound like a conspiracy theorist. I didn’t take you for one.”

  The bartender placed the check on the table with a smile. Diego reached for it, but Pristina took it first.

  “I invited you here. It’s on me.”

  She paid, and they left the lounge and walked down the metal staircase. They exited the door and stepped out into the corridor.

  “I’ve got to catch the shuttle to Cassini City. It was a pleasure, Major.”

  She extended her hand and he shook it.

  “Thanks for dinner. I owe you one.”

  “No, Major. You don’t owe me anything.”

  She smiled, turned and walked away. Diego walked the corridors back to his room.

  The next morning, he entered his office, sat at his desk and checked his messages.

  He ran a search for Alan James. James had been busy posting articles and videos about the Einstein Plaza attack. Diego found the video Pristina had told him about and opened it.

  The screen was split. On one half of the screen, James sat at his news desk in front of a digital backdrop of the Martian Republic flag. On the other half, Tupo Pelagi was seated at a desk in a darkened room.

  Tupo was in her forties but appeared youthful. She had short, tawny hair, hazel eyes and olive skin. She was attractive with sharp features. She wore a white button-down shirt with a wide collar, open at the chest. James was fawning over her, scarcely concealing his attraction to her.

  “Now, Tupo, tell the folks out there what the jackboots have been doing to you and your family.”

  “Well, Alan, as you and your viewers know, my husband and son both went missing the day of the Einstein Plaza attack.”

  James interrupted.

  “Her husband’s name is Kyle. Kyle Pelagi. I’ve met him a few times. Great guy.”

  Kyle Pelagi’s image appeared on the screen. He was tall, handsome, with short black hair, a well-groomed beard, in suit and tie. He looked like a lawyer or official of some kind.

  “And yo
u’re son, Kona. He’s fourteen, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “They’ve disappeared, folks. Gone without a trace, right before this false flag terror attack was pulled on us. Isn’t that correct, Tupo?”

  “We had breakfast at home that morning. I left for work like I always do. Kyle walked Kona to school just like every morning. But Kona didn’t show up at school and Kyle didn’t show up to work. I was in my office downtown when I heard the explosion.”

  “Tell the folks what the jackboots did to you after the false flag attack.”

  “For the record, without evidence or proof, I wouldn’t call this a false flag attack. That being said, after the attack, I was in my—”

  “Folks, she can’t come out and call it a false flag terror attack because she’s the leader of a popular political party. But, Tupo, those of us who are not running for office, or have mainstream reputations to protect, can call a spade a spade—false flag terrorism.”

  Tupo sat silently letting him finish.

  “Pardon my digression, but, Tupo, tell the folks out there what the jackboots did after the attack.”

  “After the attack, I was frantic to find my husband and son. But the police were no help. The next day, they raided my office without a warrant or even an explanation. They took my computers, hard drives, flash drives. I was livid. The press was not interested. As you know, Alan, the mainstream media shuns me as some kind of Neo-Fascist sympathizer. They say I condone genocide. They character assassinate me endlessly and never give me a chance to defend myself. They reported that I failed to condemn the Einstein Plaza attack and that I may have even played a role in it, or at least condone it.”

  “I saw those reports. Disgraceful. An absolute disgrace. Complete character assassination, folks.”

  “They brought me in and questioned me. They hooked me up to a lie detector machine and asked me if I knew the terrorists and if I abetted them. They asked me if I knew that my husband and son had joined a Neo-Fascist terror cell.”

  “What were the results of the lie detector test?”

  “I passed, of course, because I told the truth. I know nothing about any terrorists and I know my husband and son would never join a terror cell. It’s ridiculous. But they’re keeping the results of the test to themselves.”

  “Who made you take this test?”

  “The Cassini City Police Department. Detective Norman. Jack Norman. He supervised the raid on my office and conducted the interview.”

  “It’s a setup, folks. Plain as day. The writing’s on the wall.”

  Diego’s secure line rang. He paused the video and answered.

  “Hey, it’s Marv. The boss wants you in his office.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Diego stood from his desk and walked the hallways to the command section. He entered the lobby.

  “The colonel and Major Mangal are waiting for you, sir,” the colonel’s assistant said, motioning for Diego to enter Butcher’s office.

  Mangal was seated legs crossed at the coffee table in one of the office’s comfortable chairs. Butcher was at his desk looking into one of his screens.

  “Have a seat,” Butcher said, not looking up from his screen.

  Diego sat across from Mangal who smiled at him.

  Diego smiled back and cocked his head and shrugged his shoulders, his body language asking Mangal what this was all about.

  “We’d like to discuss someone you’ve been hanging around with lately,” Mangal said.

  “Who would that be?”

  “My political analyst,” Butcher said. He turned his screen to Diego and played a video. On the screen, a surveillance video showed Diego talking to Pristina Sage in the dining facility, then having coffee, then on the treadmills at the gym, then sitting by the large window having a quiet dinner in the contractor’s lounge.

  “Looks romantic,” Mangal said.

  “Knock it off, Marv,” Diego said.

  “You two seem to have hit it off,” Butcher said.

  “She bought me dinner because she thinks I saved her life,” Diego said. “There’s nothing going on.”

  “She’s a real looker,” Mangal said. “Hot stuff. I can see why you’re attracted to her.”

  “I’m not attracted to her.”

  “Now you knock it off,” Butcher said.

  “Sir, I’ve spoken to her a couple times and had dinner with her. That’s it. Nothing happened. I’ll avoid her from now on if that’s what you’re driving at.”

  “No, not all,” Butcher said. He turned to Mangal. “Explain to our lovestruck major where things stand, Marv.”

  Mangal gave a sly smile. “She’s a honeypot.”

  “A honeypot? For who?”

  “For the underground. The Neo-Fascists. The terrorists. Maybe even Robodan himself.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says T-FORCE Intel,” Butcher said. “And the SSIS.”

  “We think she maneuvered to get assigned to Camp Hammersteel to seduce the colonel,” Mangal said.

  “But she took one look at my ugly mug and decided on a prettier target.”

  “I didn’t reveal any sensitive information to her or violate OPSEC. I can swear on that.”

  “Relax, Diego,” Butcher said.

  “We want you to continue your relationship with her,” Mangal said. “We want you to let her seduce you.”

  “She’s not seducing me.”

  “Stop being so defensive,” Butcher said.

  “Let her think she’s seducing you,” Mangal said. “Go along with it. Make her think your falling for her. Have fun with it.”

  “You’re our way in, Diego,” Butcher said. “She could lead us to the perpetrators of the Einstein Attack. To Robodan.”

  “It’s not going to work, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m married. I love my wife. Pristina will know I’m just leading her on. She’ll get suspicious. You need to find a single soldier for this operation. Like Marv or Rob.”

  “Marv? He couldn’t seduce a sexbot. Rob, he’s a meathead. She chose you. You’re our way in.”

  “I can’t do it, sir.”

  Butcher leaned forward over his desk. “Diego. Listen to me. We have an opportunity to capture or kill Amad Robodan. An opportunity to bring him to justice. For killing Obuyaye. And Moxley. And Captain Bates. For nearly killing Chief Yanez. All the civilians he killed. All those he’s killed since this war started.”

  “Are you asking me to cheat on my wife?”

  “That’s not what he’s asking,” Mangal said. “Just meet with her. Go along with it. You don’t have to take it that far.”

  “I’m giving you a direct order, Diego. Meet with this honeypot. I want you to do whatever it takes to make her believe she’s seduced you. I want you to infiltrate the cell she’s working for. Then we’re going to roll them up and kill every last one of them.” Butcher leaned back in his chair, watching Diego coldly. “I’ve talked to JAG. Article 134 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice will not apply to you under these circumstances.”

  “Article 134,” Diego said. “The prohibition against adultery.”

  Mangal sat legs crossed, watching him. He nodded his head.

  “If it were me,” Mangal said, “I’d be on it like white on rice.”

  Diego looked down at his hands.

  “We’re close, Diego,” Butcher said.

  “Havana will never know,” Mangal said. “Everything regarding this mission will remain classified.”

  “This is your chance to be a hero,” Butcher said. “For the Federation.” Butcher leaned forward over his desk. “Remember what they did to Obuyaye. What they did to Moxley.” He paused. “We’ve been given an opportunity to set right the wrongs in the Solar System. To end this here on Titan.”

  Diego was no longer looking at him, but sitting motionless, with his head down, eyes focused on the abstract patterns on the carpet on the floor. He twisted his wedding
ring around his finger.

  “Don’t let me down, Diego.”

  6. Cassini City

  Diego sat in an office at T-FORCE MAIN next to the Political Advisor’s office. The new political advisor was a woman named Madeleine Dzialyn. She was a heavyset woman who was single-minded in her hatred of Neo-Fascism. In fact, any offhand comment could be subject to her analysis on whether it revealed Neo-Fascist inclinations. Diego hated Neo-Fascists as much as the next guy, but he found himself under Dzialyn’s analysis after she overheard him discussing with a T-FORCE officer the merits of the Army’s K4 rifle versus the K3 model. His knowledge and interest in the rifles suggested militaristic and authoritarian impulses, which, unchecked, have been known to lead to genocide.

  Diego was transferred to T-FORCE MAIN to serve as the battlegroup’s Division liaison officer. They had placed him in an office directly across the hall from the political analyst office. Three political analysts worked there for Dzialyn, one being Pristina Sage. However, since Diego’s transfer a week ago, Pristina hadn’t been at her desk. She had taken leave.

  According to Diego’s SSIS handler, a man named Michael Helms, Pristina had taken leave to visit family two thousand kilometers away at the Noer colony of Simon’s Bay.

  She had left Cassini City shortly before Diego relocated from Camp Hammersteel to T-FORCE MAIN.

  His duty as a liaison officer was light. All he had to do was attend meetings and then report back to Col. Butcher’s staff anything occurring at Division that was relevant to the battlegroup.

  T-FORCE MAIN was heavy in rank, which meant the accommodations, facilities and food were of better quality than at Camp Hammersteel. And they were in the heart of Cassini City, which meant better prospects for entertainment, culture and recreation.

  But the force protection level remained elevated due to the Einstein Plaza attack. In the week since his arrival, he had yet to leave the base. But today the force protection level had been lowered allowing soldiers to leave T-FORCE MAIN as long as they carried at least two magazines, with pistol in amber status.