Last Man Out (Poor Man's Fight Book 5)

by Elliott Kay

  “An earthquake is just an earthquake,” Vandenberg went on. “Right until you’ve made a discovery. Then everyone thinks any infrequent phenomenon is a warning from the gods.”

  “Nobody’s going to take that seriously.”

  “No? Then what are you doing?” he murmured.

  Naomi turned to look back at the canyon wall and the path of the lahar upon which they now stood. “I’m considering the worst-case scenario.”

  * * *

  “This looks pretty bad.”

  Their hauler sat behind a line of vehicles waiting to get into the city. Dusty walls marked out a clear border between settlement and the desert. They served as a barrier against the blowing sand rather than any sort of defense, built in modular sections for ease of expansion. Yet from here, together with all the other signs Tanner saw up ahead, the walls made the place look more like a fortress. Or a prison.

  From his front passenger seat in the hauler, Tanner had a decent view of the tank on his side of the road near the city’s entrance. Several troops milled about while a couple others checked each incoming vehicle. A couple of drones buzzed overhead. Beyond the walls, a Vanguard floated by over the rooftops with its door guns deployed and manned.

  No opposing traffic came out of the gate. Tanner realized they hadn’t seen an outbound vehicle on the way here. Despite Minos Enterprise’s tight control over traffic in and out of the planet, the company staunchly maintained a policy of free movement across the world’s surface. This seemed like a sharp deviation from local norms.

  Their mercenary companion leaned forward in the back seat to watch. The hauler allowed them to see over the two cars in line ahead of theirs, one on an antigrav cushion and the other on wheels. At the middle of the queue, troops from Precision Solutions ushered the driver and passenger out of a hovertruck and opened up the back for inspection.

  A simple drone flew up to their vehicle, comprised of little more than an antigrav pad and a couple of thrusters with stabilizing fins. It flew back and forth across the cab of their hauler, flashing a bright, holographic sign: “Wait for inspection. Do not turn around. Identification will be read from your holocom. Disable any tint settings on your windows. Follow all commands from security personnel. Move forward when instructed.” Then it flew back to the gate.

  Antonio turned off the dimmer on the windshield. “Any idea what’s going on?”

  “It’s a search for contraband,” Solanke replied. “Maybe looking for a fugitive or something. We work closely with the police. Minos has criminals like anyplace else.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m only guessing. If I knew about this, I’d have said something before we got here. Nobody told me. They don’t have to.”

  “You think they’re gonna tell you when they get here?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Hope we don’t leave everybody wondering where we are,” muttered Antonio. “It already looks like this trip is gonna be longer than we planned.”

  “We’re only gonna get you a brief exam at the hospital, anyway,” said Tanner. “They’ll do a couple scans and talk to you, maybe get you some initial meds to help you sleep and such ‘til you get home to your regular doc. If you had a busted leg, we’d get it treated. Wouldn’t matter how long it took. Doesn’t matter here, either.”

  They crawled up another spot in the queue. Nobody had come up behind them. Tanner shrugged. “You’re gonna find out what’s going on, though, right?” he asked Solanke.

  An irritated rumble escaped with Solanke’s breath. “Probably not from these guys.”

  “Bad blood?”

  “We don’t all know each other. Come on.”

  They rolled up another spot, soon finding soldiers to either side. All three followed every instruction: windows down, hands visible, engine off. “What’s your business?” asked the gruff, helmeted woman who ascended the step-up to the door. “Oh,” she added, noting the fatigues in the back. “Didn’t see you on the list there.”

  Tanner’s eyebrow rose. The sentries would have seen identification for himself and Antonio. Either the sentries were sloppy, or Precision personnel didn’t have the same default unguarded settings on their holocoms. He soon suspected a measure of both.

  “They’re tourists,” Solanke explained. “Academic types. I’m on escort detail. Check the security channels, you’ll see me.”

  She only glanced once to the readout on her wrist. “Right. What’s the business?”

  “Resupply, medical check, in and out.”

  “See anything unusual out there?”

  “No. Did we miss something?” asked Tanner.

  “Apart from the earthquake?” the sentry replied skeptically. Her eyes turned back to Solanke.

  The mercenary was as surprised as his charges. “When? We didn’t feel anything.”

  “About half an hour ago.”

  “It’s a bumpy road,” noted Antonio. “We wouldn’t necessarily feel anything if it wasn’t major. Was there any damage?”

  The sentry didn’t answer right away, looking back to Solanke first. He shrugged. “Guess that makes sense,” he said. “We’d get them back where I’m from, too.”

  “It’s the first quake we’ve felt here,” said the sentry. She looked to her comrades outside the hauler. “Give it the quick look and let’s move on.” She dropped away from the door again to wave them on.

  “They aren’t running all this over an earthquake,” said Tanner.

  “What difference does it make?” asked Solanke.

  Tanner paid attention to detail as they passed through the gates. Immediately inside the city, he saw more hardware in plain view: armored vehicles, troops on the other side of the walls, and civilians seated along a wall under armed and watchful guards. Another military airvan swept by overhead. As soon as it was out of view, he turned back to their escort.

  Solanke watched the urban scenery with much the same curiosity until he caught Tanner’s gaze. Then he frowned. “Get on with your business,” the mercenary muttered, but he shrank back into his seat and called up a communications channel.

  * * *

  “We’re up to twenty-one of them now,” reported the face on the holo screen. “So far, they all tell the same story. Everyone was in a meeting in the supervisor’s office. A couple expected an insurgent hit, but the rest say they didn’t have a clue until it all went to hell. But it wasn’t the insurgents. They say the insurgents got ‘em out. The hit was somebody else.”

  “And the ones who knew about the insurgents are still in the wind,” grumbled Major Dylan. Her eyes flicked to the list on the side of the screen, both floating over her desk. Digital maps of Minos’s cities and other points of interest lined the walls with markers to update events in real time. The recovery op after the factory raid held the most prominent spot on the wall. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s the same story all around.”

  “You want us to lean harder on them? See if the story changes?”

  “Not when they’re all being this consistent,” she said. “These aren’t fighters. They’re factory workers. At this point I figure the insurgents told them to go ahead and give them up to protect the workers from any sort of interrogation or charges. They thought they were protecting the workers by getting them all in the office.”

  “They thought?” asked her lieutenant in the field.

  “Attacking a factory isn’t my idea of protecting anyone, even if they tried to herd the workers into a specific place,” said Dylan. “Okay. Wrap up any interviews and let them go unless you see cause for charges. If the rest see their co-workers go home without any fuss, they may come out of hiding. It’s this other group we have to worry about now.”

  “Understood. Still not getting a lot about that.”

  A call indicator blinked at her desk. Dylan sighed. The higher she went up in rank, the more of her day she lost to meetings and calls. “That’s why we need to talk to them all. Sooner or later we might find somebody who saw something. I’m
out. Carry on.”

  She killed the screen for his call to bring up the next. As soon as she saw Solanke’s face, Dylan felt a renewed tension across her shoulders. Brutal raids with probable alien tech had been exactly enough to make her forget about this. “Solanke. Right. What’s your status?” Her brow furrowed as she noted the street behind him. “Are you in the city?”

  “Yeah, I came in with a supply run,” answered Solanke. “Through a checkpoint. With a tank. What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Malone? Do you have anything to report with the dig?”

  “Malone’s three steps away buying tarp and rope to rig up some shade. I wouldn’t have come on this trip if he’d stayed in the camp. We’ve got one other student seeing a doctor right now. Everyone else is still at the site. Nothing else to tell.”

  Dylan already had another screen up to display the satellite video of the dig site. The cameras gave her live surveillance, though she could only see a couple of bodies moving in plain view. “What’s going on at the end of the canyon?”

  “They’re digging out an old landslide. The professor says they might find some old ruin carved into the canyon like some of the others. Garcia is watching. Call him if you want. It’s all dirt and rocks. Every once in a while they find some broken pottery. Mostly it’s boring as shit. What’s going on here?”

  “Put in your earpiece. I don’t want this going out over a speaker.” Her eyes flicked to her list of waiting messages while he complied. Some were about the attack. Others provided details on the earthquake. And then there were all the routine messages. At least an emergency gave her a chance to put those off.

  “Yeah. Okay,” said Solanke.

  “One of the memory chip plants got raided last night by an unknown group. Their tech was more advanced than anything the insurgents have shown. We can’t identify it.”

  “Damn. You think this is a corporate hit? Sabotage or espionage?”

  “No, it’s even weirder than that. Listen: you said they’ve found pottery, right? Anything else out there? You’re sure they haven’t found anything else at all?”

  “Not a damn thing. Garcia sent a message on the way here to say they found some old cloth. They’re excited about it. I guess nobody’s ever found any before? That’s as big as it gets.”

  Dylan frowned. She could see how that might be a big deal in academia, but it didn’t put her concerns to rest. “You haven’t missed anything else?”

  “Boss, what do you want to hear?” Solanke raised his hands helplessly. “It’s not like we’re out there getting piss-drunk in our shelter at night.”

  “Uh-huh.” Her frown turned to a scowl.

  “I’m serious!”

  “And Malone?”

  “Oh, he’s a cranky son of a bitch, but I’m starting to think that’s as far as it goes. If it wasn’t for that shit with the pirates, I’d think he’s all hype. The guy wants out of the game.”

  “Fine. Listen, that dig and Malone make up one more headache I don’t need. I’m of half a mind to close them down on general principle. Let them dig, but if you see anything out of the ordinary, I want to know immediately. If Malone acts weird or goes missing, I want to know. But I also want to know right away if they find some crazy alien shit you haven’t already seen on this planet. Tell Garcia the same. Got me?”

  “Sure. What do you think they’re gonna find?”

  She looked to the video display of recovery and clean-up ops at the processing plant. “I don’t know, and that’s what’s bothering me.”

  * * *

  Solanke stood back from the storefront windows, closer to the street than the doors. Pedestrians gave him plenty of space. A holo screen call on a busy street would generally catch grief from passersby, as it took up room on the sidewalk and created an obstruction, but nobody gave Solanke any trouble. Not with his uniform and his guns as a deterrent.

  “You’re sure you and Garcia have it covered?” Dylan asked. “Should I send in anyone else?”

  “What? Nah, it’s college kids on a field trip. Malone may be a punk, but he doesn’t want to get in any trouble.” Solanke waved off her concerns. “I’ve got this.”

  “Okay. Let me know if anything comes up. I’ve got to get back to work. Carry on.” The major’s face disappeared from view.

  Solanke fished out his earpiece, putting it back into his pocket. He wondered how much the boss wasn’t telling him. Normally she was more forthcoming with details. It didn’t matter that she was the major and he only a corporal; that was for pay grades and other stuff. If she wanted to keep it off a holocom channel, that made some sense for security reasons, but it only made him more concerned. He was one of her trusted confidants and right-hand guys. She trusted him with the big jobs. It was why she had him out on this detail.

  Only then did he realize he couldn’t see Malone through the storefront window anymore. Solanke shoved his way through the door, looking from left to right to scan his way through aisles of tools and accessories.

  Not one familiar face looked back at him.

  * * *

  “Hi there. Can I help you with anything?”

  The portly, salt-and-pepper-haired man had approached Tanner so casually he seemed more like a fellow customer than a store clerk. Tanner was crouched in front of the shelves, his eyes darting between the displayed wares and the store’s inventory listings as projected on his holocom. He didn’t expect live service in a store like this.

  “I think I’ve got it, thanks. It’s nice to see stuff up front on the shelves to check it out, but I’ll put in the bulk order as soon as I’ve taken a look.”

  “You’re, uh, here to buy a lot of something?”

  “I need a few hundred meters of your Cat-10 cord and a whole lot of sealing wrap. And power cells. Lots of power cells.”

  “There’s more display stuff over by the counter,” said the clerk. “You could, uh, check out the cells there. Out of the box and all. Test ‘em out.”

  The inventory program listed every item in the store on Tanner’s holocom as soon as he’d walked in. Specs for each item were only the touch of a finger away, both at his holocom and on the shelf placards. Clothing stores usually had attendants for the sake of human consultation. Groceries and restaurants typically had people on hand for the same reason. Alleged “artificial intelligences” never really got good enough at reading human tastes to replace a human opinion—not once the fad died away and people saw the failures. But Tanner didn’t expect personal attendance in a store for prepackaged hardware.

  The clerk bit his lip, glancing meaningfully toward the counter and the back rooms beyond. Tanner grimaced as he considered explanations. He couldn’t approach every customer with such nerves. The guy had to have recognized Tanner. He didn’t seem the least bit dangerous or ambitious, so those possibilities were out.

  “It’s right over there,” the man said haltingly. He cast his gaze over the opposite shelves, too, as if trying to keep track of something—or someone.

  Solanke. Right, thought Tanner. The guy didn’t look like he was trying to set Tanner up. He looked like he needed help. “Sure,” he said killing the inventory screen. “Show me what you’ve got.” He gestured for the clerk to lead the way.

  At least seven other people were in the store between the customers and staff. Tanner didn’t expect any trouble. He still looked for a crowbar along the way. None appeared on the shelves. He settled for a hammer, scooping it up without breaking his stride and holding it low.

  The counter folded back on itself at one end, allowing the clerk easy access. He didn’t fold it back down, however, leaving a gap in his wake. At the open end stood the corner of a small passage into the storage room. Tanner looked in before the clerk turned around again.

  He recognized the man waiting in the shelter of the passage, standing aligned with stacks of boxed-up hardware and inventory bins. Chen tilted his head back, inviting him over for a private talk. Tanner sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “U
h. Is s-something wrong?” the clerk asked.

  “It’s fine. I’ve got it,” Tanner muttered. At a more casual, conversational volume, he said, “Yeah, it’s best if I look at your loose screws on my own. Right back there? Thanks.”

  Chen stepped back farther into the racks of inventory, only to halt when he got a better look at the approaching young man—and the weapon in his hand. “A hammer? Really?”

  Tanner checked around the corners, mindfully looking up and down before he shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time. If you’re here to ambush me, I assume you’ve got a gun, which means I’ll have a gun in a minute.”

  “This isn’t an ambush. I’m here to talk.”

  “You’re a guy who blows shit up and I don’t know you.”

  Chen’s eyes flared. “I’m fighting for a better future for my people,” he hissed.

  “That’s what most people say when they’re blowing shit up.”

  “Did you?”

  “I mostly signed up for the college money. Once the explosions started I was fixated on getting out alive.”

  “You left behind an awful lot of wreckage and dead bodies for someone who was only trying to survive,” Chen noted.

  “Yeah, you’ve got me there. My therapist says I have a tendency to escalate my way through my problems. Hey, on that note, you wanna tell me why I’m having a hushed conversation with a fugitive in the back of a hardware store? Because this is usually how my life starts going sideways.”

  “I need your help. It’s not the insurgency. I think you’ll agree this is something much bigger. There’s a box here. Can I show you?” He held his hands up in deference to Tanner’s suspicion. At a nod from the younger man, Chen stepped back to pull a large plastic inventory crate off the floor beside him. He placed it on a nearby table to open it up.

  The contents looked like the head of some sort of stone statue Tanner couldn’t name. The red tau-shaped indentation on the face wasn’t familiar, either, but he recognized the faint, tiny matrix along its surface. He recognized the pock marks along the face as the proper size and depth for bullet ricochets, too. He also recognized the sinking sensation in his stomach and the way it made his shoulders and neck tense up and his eyes narrow.