by C.S. Stinton
* *
Dawn tried to be gold as it crept up on Hardveur, but the moment the sun’s rays hit the pollution and stained metal of the city’s walls, the golden cascade turned to a murky brown. Ramirez woke to a morning tinged sepia, like her life was an 0400 hours ultranet showing of an ancient movie.
Already there was noise from the living room, so she grabbed her old Academy sweats as she slunk out of her bedroom and towards the wafting scent of promised coffee. Harrigan sat in an armchair directed at the window, bathed in the warning beacon of the light of a disappointing daybreak, mug in his hand. It was full, no longer steaming, untouched.
He jerked as she padded out of her room, head snapping around before he made himself relax. ‘...morning.’
‘You couldn’t sleep either?’ She headed for the kitchen and the coffee machine.
He snorted. ‘Look at this. All we’ve been through last night and all we’re going to go through today, and we get less than six hours’ sleep between the pair of us. But today’s the last day. Better make the most of it.’
‘The last day?’
‘Come on, Ramirez. You‘re hoping to take down Vincente today. To, if not rip out Ragnarok’s heart, cut off its limbs. If you can get a ringleader and a whole bunch of their people, then you can be done here. Hand the rest over to Beyer. You‘re not here to get bogged down for months, you‘re here to throw water on this fire.’ He turned back to the sunrise. ‘By evening your assignment here could be over. So I‘m enjoying my last morning of freedom.’
She let the silence linger while she poured her coffee, and bit her lip before she said, ‘What happened to your unit on Isis?’
He paused a long moment. ‘Like I said. The story in the file.’
‘I wanted your version.’
There was another wait, then he dragged a raking breath. ‘Null shot one of their hulks at the planet. It drifted past the defence grids on no power and this one happened to be the one in a thousand which hit. A research facility in the southern hemisphere where one of the fleet’s best weapons scientists had been working went dark. We were on search and rescue... or search and destroy.’
He put down his mug. ‘Intel was botched to begin with. The orbital scans of the area were too old because recon didn’t want to hang around the area too long. The Null weren’t just beginning to infest the facility, they were entrenched and already arming it. Our drop-ship took a hit from a SAM on the way down and it were a miracle our pilot landed us in one piece, but there was no way that thing was taking us home again. We didn’t get closer than a mile from the facility before we found they were jamming our comms and, just as the ell-tee gave the order for us to bug out, knowing this situation was way too fubar’d for us to continue, the goddamn Null hit us.
‘And these weren’t shamblers, these were fast-moving, gun-toting - the nightmare scenario. Ell-tee bought it in the first salvo, so did five others. I was platoon sergeant, I gave the order, and we had to bolt closer to the facility to get out of the ambush, entrench ourselves, and put down whatever Null we didn’t shake. Including the ell-tee. So we had no comms and they were running interference with our ultranet signal so we couldn’t get no satellite uplink to locate us. We just had dense jungle, the direction of the facility, and the slightest guess on where we were. No comms. No backup. No retrieval boat.
‘When I gave that order for us to continue storming the facility, to take those charges and blow that thing to hell, I wasn’t trying to be a hero, Ramirez. I thought we were dead men and all I wanted was to take those Null with us. I swear to God, I don’t even know how I managed to make it out alive.’
Ramirez kept her expression studied. ‘You were the only one.’
Harrigan looked away and took a sip of cold coffee. It spoke of the perfection of his poker-face that even this didn’t make him grimace. ‘So they brought me up for gross incompetence, said I should have aborted the mission - like I could do that - and shipped me off to Justice.’
‘You destroyed the facility. You should have been commended for that.’ She padded across to the comfortable chairs, perching on an armrest.
‘A whole platoon died. Somebody needed to be held accountable for that. Who were they going to punish? The intel officers who gave us old information? The battalion strategists? Why, when you can punish some sergeant nobody cares about?’ He shrugged. ‘So, there you go. The file was right. You‘re right to hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you for that, Harrigan. But you shouldn’t have deserted.’
He stiffened. ‘The Fleet needed me to be a scapegoat more than a soldier. Manning a traffic control outpost in the sleepiest, safest, most unimportant corner of the Confederacy. What a loss.’
‘It’s not down to us to decide if our duty is important or not. If we got to do what we liked all the time, it wouldn’t be duty.’
‘You heard the saying, "when a stupid man does something he’s ashamed of, he claims it’s his duty"?’ Harrigan raised an eyebrow.
‘No. But it’s a fallacy to say that means all duty is stupid.’ Ramirez looked at him. ‘I don’t hate you for Isis. It’s not my place to stand in judgement of that. The work done by the Marines - I know I can barely imagine it. I don’t even resent you that much for deserting. But then you went and blew your life’s savings on a ship and turned to smuggling for the black market.’
A sneer tugged at his lips. ‘Not that many legitimate jobs for an AWOL soldier.’
‘Desperation is a reason. Not an excuse.’ She drained her coffee cup. ‘We’ll be ready for Ragnarok when they act today. One way or another. If it goes well, it’s over.’ She stood. ‘I respect what you‘ve done here. I respect that you‘ve been trying to do the right thing, and I believe you when you say it’s for the right reasons. And I am... grateful what you‘ve done - for Tycho and me in that warehouse, and... in that interrogation room.’ She forced herself to relax before pushing on. ‘And my gratitude will be reflected in the report I submit to the JAG when you‘re back on Odin.’
Harrigan sighed as she walked off. The sun was higher now, creeping in the gaps between the buildings, spilling natural light through cloudy skies to return Hardveur from its gloomy brown to the dazzling lie of silver. ‘You know,’ he mused, ‘if that was my last dawn as a free man, it was a crappy sunrise.’
14
‘The HCPD released a statement this morning on the attacks at the protest in Omar Square last week. Assurances were made by Police Commissioner Miles Beyer that the the investigation is progressing and arrests are expected soon. Responsibility has already been claimed by the terrorists calling themselves "Ragnarok", a group implicated in multiple violent strikes in the past fortnight. Ragnarok claim they act in retaliation for the curbing of personal freedoms brought about by war-time laws. In light of this, the city’s eyes fall upon the joint press conference to be held by Mayor Kelvin and former Mayor and political protest leader Graham Locke today...’
‘Oh, local news,’ Tycho said, propped up on her pillows as she watched the pad attached to a metal arm on her hospital bed. ‘I love how you act like I‘ve lived under a rock for the last month. Who is this shadowy group who‘ve brought turmoil to the city and publicly released videos proclaiming their identity, intentions and reasons? Enquiring minds need to know!’ She dragged her finger across the news anchor’s face and the feed changed both on her pad and the larger screen set into the wall. ‘Ooh, football.’
‘You don’t even like football, Tych.’ Ramirez stood at the foot of the bed, pad under one arm. The staff had allowed her to come in with the rest of the morning’s visitors, and she’d found her partner in a state so good she suspected heavy medical drugs were playing a lead role in this performance.
‘No, I don’t like watching football with you, ‘cos you explain all the rules to me. I tell you what, Chief, you better sort out Ragnarok quick or I‘m going to go mad from this news on repeat.’
‘So noted. I’ll get it done, Tych. For you.’
Tycho sighed and muted both screens. ‘You could sound a little more like I‘m dying. That is, technically, possible.’
‘I‘m sorry. How are you feeling?’
‘About the same as when you asked thirty seconds ago: numb, drugged-up, and bored. It’s not really a big deal. Wiggling your toes? Sorely overrated.’
‘Good.’ Ramirez pulled out a pad, lips thin. ‘I hate to do this. But I need your help.’
‘Already? Can’t get by without me?’
‘This is serious, and I feel terrible needing you to do work when you’re recovering, but I can’t -’ She looked away. ‘I can’t do this part without you, Tych.’
Tycho tilted her chin up half an inch. ‘Chief. You know me. I got your back until I’m dead.’
‘You almost did die -’
‘But didn’t. What do you need?’
Ramirez exhaled and put the pad on the bed next to her partner. ‘There was a targeting module and beacon for a 2288 Machenry in the crate Jovak brought. Vincente took them out before you blew it up, do you remember?’
‘No,’ said Tycho cheerfully, reaching for the pad. ‘That’s the best bit about being shot, I don’t remember it. But I remember the module and beacon. Those are some fancy bits of tech. You think he’s going to use them?’
‘I think he’s going to use at least the module, if not the beacon, to shoot Mayor Kelvin today.’
‘Well. Shit.’
‘Quite.’ Ramirez grimaced. ‘I don’t know if the beacon’s going to be used. But is there any way to pick up on its transmission if it is? If someone plants it on the Mayor, I want to know.’
‘A targeting beacon is going to transmit on a low frequency which the module will be programmed to receive.’ Tycho tapped the pad, brow furrowing. ‘It’s military hardware so your average pad isn’t going to pick up such a low-band frequency…’
‘So it’s hardware I’ll need?’
‘It would be,’ said Tycho. ‘But your pad isn’t the average pad. You think I let you walk around with a normal pad? The trick is going to be software which can scan the different wavelengths for the right transmission, identify it, and narrow down where it’s coming from.’
Ramirez frowned. ‘Can you do that?’
‘Honey, it’s me -’
‘Can you do that in three hours on a not inconsiderable amount of painkillers?’
Tycho pursed her lips. ‘There’s a really angry nurse who confiscated one of my pads already because I wasn’t resting when I was supposed to.’
‘I hate doing this,’ Ramirez said, ‘I hate asking you, I hate putting this on you, but -’
‘Sara, relax.’ Tycho lifted a hand. ‘It’ll get done. If I have to hide the pad and spit out my meds, I’ll get it done. Three hours of defying medical staff won’t kill me. Are you all right?’
‘I‘m not the one who got shot -’
‘But you are waging a one-woman war on terrorism. Which makes you a prime candidate for your own reality-vid feed - which I would watch, by the way, and vote you out so they brought in someone more hilariously incompetent. Because if I‘m going to get shot I reckon I get to laugh when it happens to other people. But you‘re also in a hell of a bind.’
‘We got Navarro,’ Ramirez said in a tight voice. ‘We have this lead. I’m going to face it head-on. If it is Locke, I’m hoping he’ll show his hand.’
‘You still think it’s him?’
‘He’s suspicious enough without the implication in trying to kill me. The close coordination between his movement and Ragnarok… and listen to Ragnarok’s rhetoric, there’s an ideal at work, and someone who understands the use of theatrics to sway minds. Navarro’s right, Vincente’s just an ex-soldier doing a job and killing people; he might be making use of the light-show but he’s not the one running it, and it wouldn’t occur to someone like him to set it up. We‘re talking about a person who at best is a serious showman and, at worst, is a Grade A crazy idealist. Either fits Locke. Vincente has a boss. All eyes are on Hardveur. This hit is going to happen at a joint event with Locke. Hardly anyone knew where I’d be to set me up for the shooting, and the gunman not only worked for Locke but was a member of Ragnarok.’ Ramirez paused. ‘You disagree?’
‘No,’ Tycho said. ‘That’s a pretty compelling list of reasons to at least keep an eye on the bastard. I just don’t like this shadowy stuff.’ She made a face. ‘You also dodged the question.’
‘Noticed that, huh?’ Ramirez’s expression turned rueful. ‘I‘m okay.’
‘You‘re allowed to say you‘re not all right, you know. Stars don’t collide when that happens. I think they did studies on it; I‘m sure I could refer you to journals for evidence, but I‘m a bit busy getting over being shot. And don’t look like that when I mention it, or if you are going to feel guilty, feel so guilty that you answer my question!’
Ramirez couldn’t stop a grin, however laden with guilt that grin was. ‘I could be doing better. But I could be a whole lot worse.’
‘How’s Harrigan? I mean, how’s he helping you, I don’t care about him.’
‘He’s irreverent, a crook with no regard for the law. Deeply arrogant and annoying.’ Ramirez sighed. ‘Again, I could do worse.’
‘Is he going to be enough help for you to get to the bottom of this?’
‘He’s going to have to be.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I‘ve got to make this work today, Maggie. I‘ve got to pull this off. Otherwise I‘ve got nothing to justify arresting Navarro the way I did, I have no leads, I have no backup.’
‘You’ll do it,’ said Tycho, voice calm, reassuring. ‘I trust your instincts. I trust your sense. But there’s one thing in your plan which makes me trust even more in your success.’
Ramirez opened one eye. ‘What’s that?’
Tycho grinned a sunny grin which lit up her pale face and made her seem far removed from a tired and small bundle under white hospital sheets with a prospect of never walking again. ‘I’m involved in this plan. How can you lose?’