“Kaufman, I’ll be at Fort Brenon in one week to oversee the official formation of the taskforce and to send you onwards.”
“We’ve got one week to both select and train our team?”
“Sorry, guys, I know it isn’t ideal, but that’s all the time we have. You are both capable police officers, as are all the people on the shortlist I’ve given you. I have to ask you to give up your old badges. Your precinct has been informed of your transfers but not of your new posts. For now, The ID you were given at the desk will get you everything you need.”
Denton handed a similar identity card over to Barski. They took out their wallets, removing the city badges that they’d worn for so many years. It was a sad moment to have to hand them over, but after the exhausting months of hunting their last target, there was also some relief in it.
“How about our weapons?” Max asked him.
“The handguns you checked in at security have already been transferred to your new identity cards, you can collect them on your way out. Keep onto your precinct car for now, I will have it delivered back to them later in the week. Good luck to you both.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Barski.
Kaufman nodded. He knew they were going to have to move fast, but his life was changing in minutes. They left the IBI’s new office, which was little more than a stripped shell, remaining silent until they had collected their weapons and climbed into Kaufman’s car.
“Don’t you think we’re in a little over our heads?” asked Max.
“If there was anyone better suited to the job then I’m sure we wouldn’t have been asked.”
“Seriously? We’re just a couple of city detectives, surely there’s someone else?”
“Not necessarily, they don’t want anyone from the military as they know nothing of policing actions, and we have the best record of any department in the city.”
“And you don’t think that your recent stint on the news channels influenced them somewhat, Eric?”
“It’s possible, but the fact is we can do this. We have worked our whole careers to serve the people, who would we be if when faced with such a scenario we turned our backs?”
Max looked out at the entrance to the parking lot as their car coasted towards it and the vast city out there. He was starting to see why Kaufman was so convinced by the plan.
“This is nothing more than a larger scale of what we have already been doing. Every day we wake up to give everything to solving crimes and catching criminals, now we will just do it throughout the Solar System and with a larger budget.”
“How about the organised crime guys?”
“The PPA? They’re job is to handle the organised crime outfits on Earth. We are handling independent gangs, not the mob. There may well be some crossover with their department. I doubt the mob bosses are too happy about these gangs either, as it’s bad for their business.”
“Seems like we’ll be stepping on a lot of toes.”
“We’ll be stepping on more than just that. We’re going to be breaking more than a few skulls over the coming months, Max.”
It was an hour’s drive before they could even reach the outskirts of the city, and another hour driving south before they reached Fort Brenon. The base included a surprising amount of open terrain, land that would be invaluable to any builder, but it was ring-fenced for military training and practices only.
They approached the base from the north, reaching the very tip where the principal twenty buildings were, all identical and forty storeys high. The modern and immense manmade structures were in stark contrast to the open land around them. The military base featured almost every kind of simulated combat environment, from open ground warfare, mountainous terrain, city fighting, block war battle and low gravity practice.
The base was surrounded by a fifteen metre high wall around its perimeter, but with no barrier against any flying vehicle. No shielding device had ever been successful as a barrier against objects. Instead the base relied on a series of high power tracking turrets, which would disable any unidentified craft with pulses of energy, reducing their power to enough for an emergency landing only. Additional cannons were fitted for a more aggressive defence.
The defence systems were used across a wide variety of applications, from inner-city towers to military bases and power stations. They were proven so effective that nobody dared putting them to the test anymore. On approach all vehicles were required to lower to twenty metres and queue for entry into the facility through the guard towers. The Marine base was one of the few locations they had ever known where traffic was light, they only had to queue behind three other vehicles to get in.
“Identification please,” asked the guard.
He was stood on a tall tower with several military vehicles parked on a landing pad behind him. He scanned the ID cards of the two men.
“Lieutenant Kaufman, General Chambers requests that you report directly to him at HQ. Please follow the signs, Sir.”
“Thank you.”
Much of the military hardware on site was astonishing to see with one’s own eyes, having only ever seen it on news stations. It was rare for them not to be involved in combat somewhere, but the major powers on Earth had been officially at peace for a century. Huge military transports were scattered about the facility, with heavily armoured vehicles ten times the size of their Ford flying about the facility.
Kaufman followed the signs to the HQ building, driving between the impeccably clean tower blocks. They reached the far end of the structures and could see a parking zone at the end of the highway. Before it was a line of columns leading towards the most lavish building on site. Kaufman brought the car in and lowered it onto the marked zone. They stepped out of the vehicle and Eric swiped his ID card into a machine nearby. The car lowered into an underground car park, the elevator returning into position just five seconds after the car had vanished.
The two men turned and looked up at the building, it had only one entrance at the very base, through the line of columns. It had been made as a tribute to military academies of the past. Two guards stood at the entrance in dress uniform with their rifles at their sides. As they approached the doors slid open.
Before them was a huge lobby entrance, decorated with countless military artefacts of the units that were stationed there, ranging from tribal swords of the 19th century to battle flags, uniforms of famous generals and rows of medals. It was as much a museum as an entrance hall.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
They turned to see a female officer at a desk. Her uniform was pristinely turned out and her confidence clear.
“Lieutenant Kaufman and Sergeant Barski, we’re here to see General Chambers.”
* * *
The two detectives stood before the General’s desk. The room was quiet, Chambers flicking through information on a screen on his desk. He was young for a man of his rank, likely in his early forties. Looking at both his uniform, his body language and the room they were in, they could see that Chambers was a man of absolutely thorough organisation and strict standards, more than would be expected of his position. Finally he looked up at the two men, scanning them intensively.
“Gentleman, I have been given orders to provide you with facilities and quarters for seven days. Now, this is a military base, I don’t like police or whatever other kind of force you are infringing on my ground.”
“I don’t like this either, General, but we have our orders, we’ll do our best to stay out of your hair and be completely cleared out on the seventh day.”
“Kaufman, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“I was told you have been given the rank of Lieutenant, and yet you do not address me as you should.”
“Well, General, if I was a military man it would be different, but I’m not. We are responsible for entirely different things, please provide what has been requested and we will be gone before you know it.”
Chambers sighed. He hated the fact that they were being for
ced upon him. He also hated the fact that they were obviously being set up as paramilitaries, and that he had no control over them.
“Tell me, Lieutenant, what are your duties?”
“To bring to justice the criminals responsible for the recent spate of heists and robberies throughout the System.”
“If these gangs have gone beyond the point that they can be controlled by colony police forces, do you not feel the military should take control?”
“No, all due respect, General, but you have too heavy a hand for this work. This is a policing action.”
“I am going to give you what you need because those are my orders, but know this, I don’t like it. I don’t like the orders, I don’t like your new organisation, and I don’t like you. And when everything comes collapsing down around your ears, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces!”
“Good to know.”
Chambers shook his head, Kaufman insulted him in every way, and he was angry that he couldn’t intimidate him. He looked down at the screen on his desk, checking the information.
“You are being billeted at Block 8, report to the main desk and they will see to your needs. You’ll have full use of the training facilities. Mr Denton has requested your presence for his arrival at Training Zone D at 1300 hours.”
“Thank you, General. I know you don’t like this, but we are all working for the same thing here.”
“Indeed, fall out.”
The two men left the office, neither particularly happy with their welcome.
“Nice to see we’re popular,” said Max.
“Yeah, well that’s not going to change. We’ll be upsetting a lot of people from now on. Trick is to remember that we have Presidential approval, so they can dislike us all they like, but its tough shit!”
“As long as we get results, that is.”
Kaufman looked at Max concerned, he knew the pressure they would be under was immense. For the next seven days they didn’t have to worry about the criminals or the politicians leaning on them. After that though both sides would hound them equally.
* * *
Kaufman and Barski had long settled in to their new quarters. They’d brought nothing with them except what they wore that morning. It was five minutes before one in the afternoon, the time they had been told to wait at the training ground. Military men would be stood to attention, but they were not of that doctrine. Kaufman leant against a wall whilst Barski sat on another.
Training Zone D was a desolate place. In the distance they could make out the army and marine soldiers training at the other zones, but this one had been completely handed over to them. The zone was a self-contained facility, typically used for covert and special operator training. They were standing before a small drill square, but the rest of the zone was occupied by several live fire practice ranges, an assault course, close quarter combat training buildings and a gymnasium.
They were sitting in the shade that the gymnasium provided when they heard a ship approaching, right on time. They were not at all accustomed to the military discipline in time keeping, but neither did they have any desire to become accustomed to it. The transport flew in overhead, closing down to a cushioned landing.
The craft was a Marine unarmoured transport, capable of carrying sixty fully equipped soldiers. They could only operate in the Earth’s atmosphere, but were a popular and cheap means of transport on the planet. The doors slid open and a ramp lowered to the ground as the vehicle came to a complete rest. Denton strode out from the doorway, followed by a trail of men, some in various police uniforms, others in a mix of civilian attire.
“Form up! Ten wide, five deep!” shouted Denton.
It was a formal meeting for the potential list of officers. Kaufman was far more of the informal approach to such things, but he knew it was necessary for such a large and varied group. Like the two of them, they had no bags or personal items with them at all. They formed up as ordered in front of the transport, until everything went silent, the engines of the vehicle finally powering down.
“Welcome all of you to Fort Brenon! Everything you see and do here is top secret and you are not to discuss with anyone outside of the people you see here today unless authorised to do so!”
They looked confused with this greeting as they hadn’t been informed of the reason for their assembly. One of the men in the front line, who was plain clothed, piped up.
“Sir, can you give us some indicator of what we are doing here?”
“Gentleman, you have been shortlisted for a new task force that has been established by Senator Wilks under the approval of President Baldwin. This organisation has been branded the Interplanetary Bureau of Investigation, the IBI. I am in direct control of this new outfit, based in The Spire in Los Brezos. Field operations will be lead by Lieutenant Eric Kaufman here.”
“What is the purpose of the task force?” asked the man.
“I am sorry, gentleman, time is not a luxury we have. Over the coming week, the Lieutenant here will select eighteen of you to join the force. The rest of you will be returned to your units. Good luck, I’ll see the successful candidates in seven days.”
Denton walked straight through the centre of the formed up ranks and into the transport. The engines fired up as the door shut and the vehicle rose from the ground, kicking up dust all around them. Kaufman stood before the formation of men and women before him, until finally the engines were nothing more than a distant drone.
“Listen up, I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, I will do my very best to answer them. This unit was formed only yesterday. That was the first I’d heard of it when I was recruited by Commander Denton and Senator Wilks. This afternoon I stand before you and must form a field team that goes to work next week!”
The recruits stood silently, looking to Kaufman for more information.
“The IBI’s duty is to track down and bring to justice the criminals and gangs who are committing the well organised heists and robberies around the System. You will all have seen the news stories. These gangs are jumping colony borders, and without a lot of co-operation between the forces, these criminals are going free.”
Another of the recruits spoke up. He wore a uniformed officer’s garb, adorned with sergeant’s stripes. He was of African origin, tall with very dark skin, and confident manner.
“Sir, is the IBI a police force, a military task force or a covert operation?”
“What’s your name, Sergeant?”
“Denver, Sir.”
“Well, Sergeant Denver, honestly there’s no simple answer to that. We will be a strike force operating across colony boundaries to track, hunt and destroy criminal activity, primarily focusing on organised heists.”
“Hunt? You mean kill?”
“Whatever it takes. Sergeant, these are highly dangerous men we are dealing with. Our duty is to protect the population of the colonies, and to protect the infrastructure that supports it. We will do whatever we have to do to make that happen. I can guarantee that you will see more action in the next month than any of you will face in a lifetime of street work. Anyone who is not comfortable with this should leave now.”
The first man that had spoken piped up again.
“Sir, name’s Justin Travers. Are you telling us that this new unit will be given free rein to act as it pleases?”
“Providing it gets results, yes. Now please, let me tell you what else I know. It’s important that you have as much information as possible before we continue. Most of our time will be spent off world, much of it in a ship that’s being organised for us as we speak. Those of you with close family units would be advised to think carefully before committing to this. The job will be long, it will be strenuous, and it will take you away from everything you have ever know.”
“You’re not really selling it to us, Sir,” said Justin.
Kaufman didn’t answer, he only wanted to continue to get his point across.
“It is true these are some hard facts to digest, as well as it wi
ll likely be the most dangerous job you will ever undertake. However, I have been guaranteed that anyone who makes it through selection and joins up will receive a threefold increase in pay. Additionally, you will have the satisfaction and honour in serving in one of the planet’s elite units. Ladies and Gentlemen, make no mistake, by joining this unit you will be at the forefront in protecting the public of all the colonies. But there is a high price to pay for it.”
The group was silent as they deeply considered the information they had just been given. Kaufman studied them all closely. The uniformed officers were from eight different cities and several different departments. Many who were plain clothed were likely from a variety of drug, crime and strike team units.
“No one will think less of any of you from walking away from this. I only want those who will be one hundred per cent committed, and the President has personally demanded the same. You may walk away any time in the next seven days, simply go to the base reception and they will arrange transport home. But if you stay, and you meet my expectations, know that you will be entering a war on crime from the day you start.”
They looked around at each other, no one wanted to move, but several seemed already uncomfortable with the situation.
“Please, if you are unsure, do not waste our time. You all serve the people already, your characters and devotion are not called in to question, but we do not have time to fuck around. Please, if there is any doubt in your mind, go now!”
Several of the group started to break formation and leave, a walk of shame. It was a sad thing to see such proud and upstanding officers slink off from such an honoured duty, but Kaufman would not think any less of them. Within minutes, they were left with just forty-one men and women.
“Alright! The rest of you, get signed in at Block 8, it will be your home for the next few days. In your rooms you will find combat gear laid out for you, you’ll be living in it for the duration of your time here. The training begins tomorrow. Today I want individual interviews with each of you. You will stay in Block 8 for the remainder of the day, or until you are told otherwise. Sergeant Barski here will notify you when I am ready to see you. Interviews will take place in room 12b in the block, all understood?”
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