by Alan Black
Stone wondered at her confidence. She was so sure in her leadership she trusted her followers to obey without bothering to verify their actions. He knew her well enough to know she would follow up later for a report, yet she trusted their willingness to obey and perform. He shook his head wondering if leadership confidence was a marine thing or if he could learn to do it, too.
He was surrounded by leaders of all types, both good and bad. He learned things from them all of the time, but when he tried to apply what he learned, he made mistakes. Both Grandpa and Thomas said it didn’t matter if he went left or right, just pick a direction and go. Still, he couldn’t help replaying his choice of abandoning their compound and going south. How many people died because he ran south? Would more have survived if he had run west or east? Could they have defended the compound?
“Excuse me, Ensign Stone?” A voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked down from his perch on the wall. Dr. Wyznewski stood with a couple of scientists waiting for his attention. Triplett stood a few feet away, shunned and ignored by her fellow civilians. With a sigh, he climbed down the wall, followed by Allie and Tuttle.
“What can I do for you, Doctor Wyznewski?” he asked.
The man’s eyes twinkled, “Call me Whizzer.”
“Whizzer?” Stone grinned.
“Yeah, I’ve been called that by everyone except my parents since I was in the fifth grade.”
Stone nodded. “Whizzer it is. You can drop the ensign and just call me Stone. Everyone does.”
Whizzer smiled, “Everyone except your family and they call you Trey, right?”
“Then you know about my family?.”
Whizzer snorted, “Possum poop on a popsicle, Stone. Everyone knows who you are. Did you think your identity was a secret? I’m a scientist. Not a great one, but good enough to know it behooves me to know who I’m working for.”
“Fair enough. What can I do for you?”
Whizzer glanced at his fellow civilians. “Me and a couple of the boys would like to go outside the wall and scavenge along the trail left by those whatever they were.” It didn’t matter to him that half of his boys were female and all of them were past the boy and girl stage by fifty years.
Allie said, “Absolutely not. It’s still too dangerous. We’re tracking those creatures, but we don’t know if they will double back on us yet.” A couple of marines bolted over the low gap in the wall rushing off in the latrine’s direction. She signed with resignation. “Well, apparently the latrines are available again.”
Stone asked, “What’re you scavenging for, Whizzer?”
Whizzer looked startled, “Hell’s bells, Stone! We won’t know what we’re looking for until we find it. It’s all scientific curiosity.”
Stone gestured toward Triplett. “Are you taking her with you?”
Whizzer said, “Of course. She’s one of the best xeno-biologists in human space. Looking at strange creatures is her bailiwick. Whatever else she might be, she is an expert at non-Earth fauna. Look, Stone. I’m a geologist. I can barely tell the difference between a hare and a hedgehog. Doctor Triplett’s knowledge is invaluable. Believe me, none of us are interested in discussing her politics or her views on anything other than her scientific knowledge.”
Stone said, “We don’t have the manpower to send marines to protect you outside the wall. We’ll come help if you get in trouble, but out there you’re on your own.”
“Terms understood and accepted.” He turned and raced toward the barricade exit, bounding over the low wall at the gap with more youthful exuberance than his age would indicate. The other scientists followed. Triplett followed, slowly and sedately as if trying to hold on to what little dignity she imagined she still retained.
Unseen by any civilian, Private Tighe slipped over the wall in a spot away from the gap, climbing up and over with one hand quicker than Stone could have managed with two. The marines on watch ignored her. Stone and Allie saw her and neither commented.
Allie said, “Whizzer took off like he was afraid you’d change your mind.”
Stone said, “I might have. Letting civilians go without a protective detail is a stupid thing to do. You answered no to his question, remember?”
Allie nodded. “Yes, it’s a stupid thing to allow. So why?”
Stone shrugged, “They could die in here just as fast as out there. At least this way, they’ll get killed on their own terms. It’s their choice to go, not mine. I just didn’t tell them they couldn’t have a choice. They are grown-ups, right? And educated ones.”
Allie looked around and spotted a marine out of his combat suit. He had a bandage across one shoulder and was bracing his leg with a homemade crutch, “Evans, get up on the wall and keep an eye on those …” her voice dwindled away as a four-foot crab shell sailed over the wall, floating on air like a Frisbee on the wind. It looked more like the spun metal shield for a modern gladiator than an animal’s remains.
Whizzer came racing back through the wall gap, chasing after the crab shell. He managed to scoop it up just about the time it dug a divot into the rocky soil. He grabbed the shell by its edge, curled his arm, and with a mighty twist and grunt, flung the shell skyward. It fluttered a bit against the breeze and managed to sail over the wall and out of the canyon. The older scientist whooped with childlike enthusiasm and raced after his new toy.
Evans laughed. “Aye, aye, Lieutenant Vedrian. Babysitting overwatch duty.”
Allie said, “Just try not to let them get themselves killed, Marine.”
Stone slipped his hand around Allie’s and gave her a squeeze. “I know holding hands with someone higher up in the chain of command is against regulations, so if anyone asks, you’re just helping me keep steady on my feet after a long illness.”
“Screw regulations, Stone.”
Stone gave a poor imitation of a shocked look on his face, “Why Allie Vedrian! That is not a very marine thing to say.”
“Well, I don’t see we’re going to get out of this alive, so what do I care if someone knows I’m dating the governor?” She leaned over and kissed him.
Stone said, “Wait. I’m not so sure we’re dead here. I don’t see any way out, but that doesn’t mean we’re dead.”
Allie laughed, “I’m not saying I’m ready to give up, lie down, and die. I’m going to go kicking and screaming, fighting tooth and nail to the last breath. I’m just saying the odds are against both of us getting out alive. The last roll call is coming quicker than I planned, so after lunch, I plan on stripping you naked and performing a complete and thorough inspection, just like this.” She leaned over and kissed him soft and wet.
The odor of wet, dark chocolate swirled around his head. He wasn’t sure whether the odor was overpowering or if something else was making him dizzy, but he suddenly felt weak in the knees. “After lunch? Maybe we should—um, you know, before?”
“No, ‘um, you know’ comes after lunch.”
Stone asked, “Well, I am hungry. When’s lunch?”
Allie shook her head and waved Major Numos over. “That’s the problem, Ensign Stone. Lunch. We’ve tried sending hunting parties out, we’re only about half sure of what we can and can’t eat. Plus, our hunters are marines. We’re fighters, not scavengers.”
Numos added, “Dollish has been good about cooking whatever we bring back, but even having lost as many people as we have, it’s difficult finding enough food to go around.”
Allie nodded, “We have gone through all of the databases we can find on plants and animals, including yours and Commander Wright’s from your first stay here. We even pressed Doctor Triplett for more data on what animals were edible, however, she keeps saying she needs more time to study the animals before authorizing us to eat anything.”
Numos said, “Anything except the big male you killed back in the meadow and with as many of us as there are, it didn’t take us long to go through him. We did leave a lot of him behind when we departed for the safety of this canyon, but what we c
arried barely lasted a day.”
Stone shook his head, “So, no lunch?”
Numos said, “I was just about to send a hunting party out when you woke up. Good thing they didn’t go, they might have been caught in that crab mob. I wouldn’t have sent out suited marines and unarmored marines wouldn’t have stood a chance out there.”
Allie agreed, “I imagine our suits will hold up to their pinchers, but I wouldn’t want to be the marine to test the theory.”
Numos said, “No, and it’s only a guess we can out run them. We’ve only seen them marching and doing fancy parade ground maneuvers. We don’t know how fast they are, if and when they decide to move quickly.”
Stone shook his head again, “So, no lunch, really?”
Numos turned and ordered a group of suited marines to hunt on the plateau above the escarpment.
Stone shouted at them, “Do not hunt drascos. Anything else is fair game if it looks edible.” Each marine grabbed an unarmoured marine holding baskets and ropes. They rapidly scaled the canyon walls and disappeared over the rim.
Numos turned back to Stone. “Maybe a late lunch or early supper. If you’re really hungry, we could scrounge you up a piece of survival nutrition bar. We’ve been saving a few of them for the seriously wounded. Since you’re still on the list, I’m sure we can get you a small chunk.”
“Gaaak! No thanks. Not even for—um,…maybe just a small bite so I could say I had lunch.”
Allie poked him in the chest, moving him a step backward. He may have grown to be her height, but she still massed a good deal more than he did with her heavier muscles. She said, “No. You can wait like the rest of us, Ensign Stone. Those survival bars are nutrionally balanced and our wounded need that more than you do.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.” Stone managed to look contrite.
“Yeah, I know you’re sorry, but you can still wait. My marines don’t eat until the wounded have eaten. My NCOs don’t eat until their fireteams and squads have eaten. I don’t eat until my NCOs have eaten. Major Numos doesn’t eat until I have eaten.”
Stone nodded, “And as governor, I don’t eat until Major Numos has eaten, is that it?”
Numos smiled, “That would be me, the civilians, the navy, the medical corps, and then you.”
Stone shook his head in surrender. “I thought rank had its privileges?”
Allie said, “You don’t have rank, Ensign. You have position. They’re two different things. The privilege of rank is the honor of commanding loyal troops. Far too many officers forget that.”
Numos said, “We need to talk to Agent Ryte. I’d like to know if her drones have picked up any information on the Hyrocanian encampment. Are we safe here or do we need to move farther away? Or maybe she’s spotted some of our missing people.”
Stone pointed up the path away from the wall to where the woman sat. The trio followed his pointing finger. “Don’t you think she would tell us if we were in danger? Wouldn’t she say something if her drones caught sight of Hammer’s Charlie Platoon?”
Allie added, “I would like to think so, but EMIS agents are trained to keep secrets. It’s what they do.”
Stone wanted to argue how all EMIS agents weren’t like that, but she was right. His father had been EMIS before marrying his mother. He hadn’t shared that bit of information with his son, keeping it a secret for years. The only other EMIS agent he knew on a personal level was Maggot, from the Ol’ Toothless investigation. He couldn’t say why, but he had never really liked the man, in spite of his being a close friend of his parents. The man was too good at sneaking around things and lying to get things done. Stone preferred a more honest face-to face approach.
He wanted to say Ryte would give them straight up answers or he would throttle them out of her. He wanted to say it, but didn’t. She stood waiting for them, a look of complete innocence on her face.
TWENTY-FOUR
Stone sat quietly listening to Ryte, Numos, and Allie babble on about distance, vectors, and stealth capabilities. He thought about saying something about defective camouflage but kept his mouth shut. He certainly didn’t need these people thinking he was insane and they all seemed to agree their systems were working perfectly whether he could see them in gilley mode or not.
Flashing a video of torn up dirt and twisted metal on her dataport viewer, Ryte said, “We aren’t far enough away from the compound to keep the Hyrocanians from finding us if they make a concerted effort.”
Numos agreed. “We only managed to get about fifty miles away. With our wounded and injured, we couldn’t go any farther and this canyon gives us a small measure of protection from local dangers.”
Ryte said, “I haven’t been able to keep watch over everything all at once, but I haven’t seen any indication the Hyrocanians have been back to the compound since their initial investigation after it self-destructed.” Unasked, she added, “Nor have I seen any indication of Hammermill’s Charlie Platoon. I have done a scan of their ambush area. The ground is chewed up and there aren’t any bodies. Not ours or Hyrocanian. I’m sure the whole area would be a party for a team of crime scene investigators with more DNA scattered about than they could hope for, but my drones don’t have sensors that delicate.”
Stone interrupted. “Drones. You said that in plural. I’ve seen one. How many do you have?”
Ryte said, “Just two, Ensign Stone. Believe me, I wish I had a flock with an attendant crew of operators, but I don’t.”
Stone could smell the spearmint on her. He didn’t know why, but he knew she was being honest. He leaned against Jay, as she and Peebee lay snoozing in the sun. They were hungry and wanted to go into the forest to forage, but he assured them they would go together after he spoke with these people. Neither drasco evidenced any deception on Ryte’s part or if they did, they didn’t say so.
Numos said, “We can’t get you more drones, however we can supply people to help you operate them and we have people to help analyze their data.”
Ryte said, “I’m sorry, it’s classified equipment. I can’t let anyone else near them or the data they produce. Most of the tech isn’t much different than what your military equipment has, but by our mandate, the Empire Military Investigative Service must have equipment you don’t have access to. Otherwise, how could we investigate? The tech was designed by EMIS research teams and hasn’t been approved for military use.”
Allie spat, “That’s stupid—”
Ryte interrupted, “Of course it’s not stupid. The spread of technology must be controlled. Nothing smaller than a marine combat suit has camouflage capabilities because we don’t want criminals—and gods-forbid—the Hyrocanians, getting their hands on something this small. It’d be a disaster.”
Allie said, “Marines don’t allow our suits to be taken by Hyrocanians.” The tone in her voice left little doubt she didn’t like Ryte.
Ryte spat back, “No, that doesn’t mean you’ve protected the tech. I’ve documented proof Triplett managed to get specs on a marine suit and tried to transmit it to the Hyrocanians.”
Allie, Ryte, and Numos all managed to say “bitch” in three part harmony.
Stone tsked, “Such language, people. Petty Officer Ryte, I mean Agent Ryte—”
“Tammie, please,” Ryte interrupted. Her smile earned Stone a glare from Allie.
Stone continued, “Tammie. Okay. You say Triplett tried to transmit it. She didn’t succeed?”
Ryte flipped her hair back from her face and stared at the sky. Her tongue danced out of her mouth, tapping her upper lip in thought. “I don’t know. I intercepted many of her transmissions while I was at Lazzaroni and again on the Vasco de Gama. How do I know if I stopped them all? I think I did, but what if I’m wrong? If we were near a base, I would lock her in a cell and send in a team of interrogators to peel her down to skin and bones to get at the truth. Here?” She shrugged. “I’ve confiscated her dataport and I’m trying to unlock it. So far I haven’t gotten past her firewalls. Without her lawyer present,
I can’t even ask her for her passwords as that violates her right not to self-incriminate.”
Numos said, “I don’t really care right now what damage she’s done, just so she doesn’t do any more. We still need more eyes on your drone data, even if you keep the specs and the drones themselves under a tight leash. What are you using the drones for right now? Are you still looking for Charlie Platoon survivors?”
Ryte shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve only done quick flybys of the ambush site and near the compound area, using rapid search patterns without any real results. I have them running data grid patterns farther out. I’m actually setting them on automatic as I don’t want their electronics hacked or someone tracking them back to us. I have them on full camouflage, running silent with cameras running full on.”
Numos asked, “How long can they fly?”
Ryte said, “They have the same components as your suits. And your suits can go how long?”
Numos answered, “How long our suits last is classified. Sorry, I’m not authorized to share—”
Stone snorted in frustration but didn’t say anything.
Allie said, “What we can say is because the skin is photosensitive, the suits can operate longer than the marine inside, but not if they are camouflaged.”
Ryte nodded, “My drones have small turbines in the tail fins that spin as they fly. The wind itself keeps them powered when camouflaged. The limiting factor is the data.”
Numos frowned. “Limited data storage? That doesn’t make sense. My dataport is small, yet it holds more data than I could read in a lifetime. Why would you build a system with such limited capacity?”
Ryte shook her head. “No, Major. It’s not the amount of data, but the timeliness of the data. Each drone could fly for months on end collecting data second by second. What good is six-month-old data? I’m keeping one drone on overflight of my target area at all times. I bring the other back to dump data every twelve hours or so. I keep rotating them back and forth. On the flights back and forth I’ve set them to run quick searches around the compound and search for your missing platoon. It’s on one of those return trips I saw a crab swarm and saw it break and change direction rather than confront a group of night stalkers.”