Cherry Drop (Abner Fortis, ISMC Book 1)

by P. A. Piatt

  Fortis nodded. “I agree with much of what you’ve said. I agree that he’s probably a miner. What else could he be? However, we don’t know that he’s alone. There could be an entire tribe of people out there just like Jungle Man.” There were nods around the table. “There’s one thing that’s bothering me. How was he able to cross the minefield? We watched him, and he came through it like he knew where the mines were at.”

  “He could have been watching when we dug them up and planted them again.”

  “That’s a possibility, but is that something a miner would do? Not only that, why would he take the risk to sneak into our camp?” Fortis rubbed his face with his hands. “I guess we’ll find out more when he wakes up.”

  * * *

  Fortis was up early the next morning. He met Gunny Hawkins as he was walking to the mess tent.

  “LT, I want to do a few things today to keep the lads busy and give any eyes in the jungle something to look at.”

  “Like what?”

  “I want to burn back the jungle around the firing range, for starters. I also want to take a patrol out and scout the ground between here and Number Two to see if we can cut a road to it.”

  “Why do you want to cut a road from here to Number Two?”

  Hawkins stopped him and leaned close to his ear. “Those mechs are from Bravo Company. The crews parked them there for a reason and it would be a good idea if we could figure out why. We have a better chance of doing that if we have boots on the ground up there. It’s only a half-klick and if the ground is suitable it will only take two days.” He paused and looked around. “It occurred to me last night that Jungle Man might be the person who’s been living in them. If he’s not alone, that’s where we’ll find the rest of his tribe.”

  After breakfast, Abner looked in on Jungle Man, who was still unconscious and lying in the same position as the night before. Kramer checked Jungle Man’s vital signs and shrugged when Fortis queried him about the fallen man’s status.

  “His pulse is strong, his respiration is steady, and his body temperature is within the acceptable range. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s asleep.”

  “All right, Doc. Let me know if anything changes.”

  Fortis climbed to the top of the command mech and sat overlooking the compound. The Marines were already busy burning back the jungle next to the firing range under the watchful eye of a squad of rifle-wielding lookouts. Fortis watched as Gunny Hawkins and an eight-man patrol formed up before disappearing into the jungle toward Mineshaft Number Two. Warrant Pell’s mechanics inspected their machines preparing to cut a road north.

  During his time at Basic Officer and Advanced Infantry Officer training, Fortis never imagined boredom would be a problem when he got into the field, but it was. Between Warrant Pell and Gunny Hawkins, everything just seemed to happen, but he knew it was because of their experience and leadership. The sergeants and corporals under them didn’t require much more than general directions and the occasional kick in the ass. Meanwhile, Fortis looked for things to occupy his time. If they were back with the company, no doubt Captain Reese would give him plenty of “important” administrative tasks to keep him busy.

  Maybe boredom wasn’t so bad.

  He looked up and to see Corporal Ystremski mounting the steps of the mech.

  “You mind if I join you, LT?”

  “Be my guest. What’s going on?”

  “Not much, sir. Gunny Hawkins left us a few projects to work on, make-work mostly. Better than sitting around, I guess.”

  Fortis nodded. “Tell me about it.”

  “Look, sir, me and the boys want to thank you for what you tried to do for Thorsen yesterday. He was a good Marine and a good friend.”

  Fortis nodded. “I wish I could have done more.” He figured Ystremski knew what happened and why Thorsen delayed so long before falling back from the swarm, and he was grateful the corporal didn’t mention it.

  “Anyway, sir, I just wanted to tell you that. I need to get back to work. I don’t want to make Mother Hawkins mad.”

  The two men laughed, and Ystremski climbed down off the command mech.

  After another hour watching the camp buzz with activity, Fortis knew what to do.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fifteen

  Paden Nesbitt stood on a rough wooden platform and looked out at the engineered soldiers arrayed in ranks across the GRC compound. One of Nesbitt’s mercenaries was leading them in a bayonet training drill. With every count, a thousand voices shouted in response as they moved in unison.

  “One!”

  The ranks surged forward and shouted. “Thrust!”

  “Two!”

  The ranks took a step to the rear. “Recover!”

  “Three!”

  As one, they twisted to the left. “Parry left!”

  “Four!”

  “Recover!”

  “Five!”

  “Parry right!”

  “Six!”

  “Recover!”

  On and on it went, with mind-numbing repetition. The test tubes, as Nesbitt and his mercs secretly referred to them, learned by rote memorization and aped what the mercs taught them.

  The tower shook as Nesbitt’s number two, a squat fireplug of a man named Brinks, climbed the ladder and vaulted the rail to join him.

  “How many times are we going to run this drill, boss?”

  Nesbitt shook his head. “Until Beck is satisfied, I guess.”

  “Great.”

  Beck was not popular among the mercenaries. His officious manner irritated the rough-and-tumble soldiers of fortune, and more than one had threatened the GRC executive. Under their breath, of course, because nobody wanted to miss out on the lucrative GRC contract.

  “You think they’ll ever get these fuckers right, Nesbitt?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been with this program for eight years, and I haven’t seen a lot of progress. Yeah, they can thrust and parry well enough, but there’s no imagination, no improvisation, you know?” Nesbitt stifled a laugh when he realized he could be describing his own men.

  Brinks, not known for his advanced mental capabilities, just nodded.

  Nesbitt continued, “We could take any two of these test tubes, give them rifles with real bayonets, face them off against each other, and they would thrust, parry, and recover until they died of exhaustion because they have no imagination. Neither one would throw a handful of dirt in his opponent’s eyes, or slash at the legs, or anything else that they haven’t been specifically taught. They are trapped in the context of what they’re doing. Does that make any sense?”

  Brinks opened his mouth to answer, but Nesbitt cut him off with the wave of a hand.

  “Never mind, Brinks. I’m just babbling. I’m going crazy with boredom.”

  Below, a merc had grabbed a rifle from one of the test tubes, who was frozen in mid-thrust. Something about his posture had angered the merc, who drew back and butt-stroked the trainee in the face. Blood sprayed as the test tube fell backward. The mercenary closed in, punching and kicking the helpless soldier. Two other mercenaries joined in, and it wasn’t long before they beat the test tube into a lifeless mass of bloody meat.

  “Some of our guys enjoy beating on them too much.” Brinks sounded sad, although Nesbitt had seen him mete out abuse on the test tubes several times.

  Throughout the beating, the other test tubes continued the bayonet drill without reacting.

  Nesbitt shrugged. “The guys are getting frustrated. The test tubes don’t fight back, so what the hell can I do except make them pay for what they destroy?”

  * * *

  “Hey, LT,” Trenas greeted Fortis as he stepped into the cool interior of the command mech. “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” he replied, blinking his eyes to adjust to the dimness. “All quiet in here?”

  “Yes, sir. No activity on any of the sensors. Gunny Hawkins and his patrol haven’t reported in yet.” She gestured to the troop compart
ment hatch. “Doc Kramer has been in a couple times to check on Jungle Man, but there’s no change.”

  Private Osterruck came to attention when Fortis stepped into the troop compartment.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “Stand at ease, Private. What’s your status?”

  “No change, sir. I’ve been sitting here three hours and the prisoner hasn’t made a sound, sir.”

  “He’s not a prisoner, Private.”

  “Then what is he, LT?”

  “He’s… uh… well, he’s a visitor. A guest, if you want to look at it that way.”

  “Huh. Funny way to treat a guest, restraining him like that.”

  “That’s for his protection and ours, Osterruck. There’s no way to know how he’ll react when he regains consciousness. He’s been in the jungle a long time.”

  Osterruck nodded his understanding.

  “Why don’t you take a break, Private? I’ll watch the pri—er, guest. Go get some coffee and take a leak.”

  “Are you sure, LT? I mean, I won’t get in trouble, will I?”

  Fortis smiled. “I think you’ll be okay, Private. Here, give me your rifle.”

  Osterruck hesitated before handing Fortis his rifle. “Thanks, LT. I could use some coffee.”

  The private closed the hatch behind him while Fortis sat down with the rifle across his knees. He watched Jungle Man for almost five minutes before he spoke.

  “I know you’re awake.”

  There was no reaction.

  “You can’t lay there forever.”

  Again, nothing.

  “Last night, you entered our camp, and we took you into custody. You’re on an International Space Marine Corps mech and you’re safe.”

  One eyelid flickered, then cracked open. An eyeball peeked out and fixed on Fortis.

  “DINLI, dickhead.” Jungle Man’s voice was raspy and weak.

  Fortis leaned forward. “What did you say? Say that again.”

  Jungle Man made a choking sound as he cleared his throat. “DINLI, dickhead,” he repeated.

  “What do you know about DINLI?” demanded Fortis.

  He opened both eyes and stared at Fortis.

  “I’m hungry. You got any pig squares?”

  * * *

  Fortis pulled Jungle Man to a seated position and gave him a hydration pack while he waited for Kramer. Private Osterruck gaped when he returned from the mess tent, then grabbed his rifle and resumed his position as sentry.

  Jungle Man recoiled when Kramer tried to examine him.

  “Sir, can we take off the wrist restraints? It will be difficult to examine him with his hands tied together.”

  Fortis thought for a second, then leaned close to Jungle Man and looked him in the eye.

  “Doc wants to cut your hands loose so he can examine you. It’s for your own good. Are you going to make trouble?”

  Jungle Man’s eyes flicked from Fortis to Kramer to Osterruck then back to Fortis. He shook his head.

  “Okay, Doc. Go ahead.”

  Jungle Man sat quietly as Kramer checked his injuries and listened to his heart and lungs.

  “His chest sounds clear, his heart is steady, and most of his cuts and scrapes are responding to topical antibiotics,” Kramer told Fortis. He tapped Jungle Man on the knee. “Are you allergic to anything?” Kramer spoke loudly and deliberately, enunciating every syllable.

  “I speak English and my hearing is fine.”

  Fortis stifled a laugh as Kramer’s face reddened.

  “All right, let me try again. Are you in pain? Do you have any drug allergies?”

  “My fucking head is killing me, and no, I don’t have any allergies.”

  Kramer nodded. “I’ll start an antibiotic drip to help your body with these infections. I can’t do much for your headache except give you a mild pain killer.”

  Suddenly, Corporal Ystremski burst into the compartment. “What’s going on here?”

  “He woke up a while ago. Doc Kramer is giving him the once over,” replied Fortis.

  Ystremski nodded toward the hatch. “Can I talk to you for a second, LT?”

  Fortis looked at Osterruck and Kramer, and the corpsman nodded.

  “Sure. Let’s step outside.”

  Once outside, Ystremski held up a Space Marine combat knife. The handle was cracked and the blade was worn down to a nub, but the cutting edge gleamed.

  “The boys found this on the ground where they tackled Jungle Man last night,” he said. “Nobody found any weapons on him when they captured him.”

  Fortis hefted the battered knife. Despite the heavy wear, it was still a wicked weapon.

  “Good thing nobody got poked by that thing.” Fortis handed the knife back to Ystremski. “Stash that for safekeeping, we might need it later.”

  Fortis stepped back into the command mech, and Trenas got his attention; she pointed to the main display. “Hawkins checked in and reported his return. The sensors just picked him up.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  He went back outside and met Hawkins and his patrol at the edge of the minefield.

  “Hey, Gunny, how did it go? Can we cut a road?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem, LT. It’s mostly flat and the mechs should be able to push through after the sappers blow the trees out of the way.”

  “Big news here, Gunny. Jungle Man woke up.”

  “What?”

  “Jungle Man woke up. Doc Kramer is with him right now.”

  Hawkins broke into a trot. Fortis followed him more slowly. Corporal Ystremski and Warrant Pell watched them from outside the mess tent.

  “Everything okay, Gunny?”

  “I don’t know. Follow me.”

  They burst into the command mech and found the console unmanned. Fortis threw open the hatch to the troop compartment and froze. Kramer, Trenas, and Osterruck were sitting along one bulkhead, their hands raised over their heads. Jungle Man was sitting on the other side of the space with Osterruck’s rifle across his knees, pointed at his hostages.

  “Whoa, shit!” Fortis drew his sidearm. Hawkins pushed past him with his rifle raised.

  “You have three seconds to put that rifle down,” snarled Hawkins.

  Jungle Man looked at Hawkins and then at his prisoners. He shrugged and put the rifle down.

  “It’s not loaded, anyway.”

  Hawkins strode forward and raised his rifle to butt stroke Jungle Man, but Fortis grabbed his arm.

  “Hang on, Gunny. He’s right. That rifle’s unloaded.” He pointed to the magazine on the deck by the hatch.

  Gunny Hawkins shoved his rifle into Fortis’ hands and jerked Jungle Man to his feet.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  “My name is Lily. Marcus Lily.” The emaciated man spoke between bites of a pig square Doc Kramer had given him.

  “Where did you come from?” Fortis took charge of asking questions while Hawkins loomed behind him.

  “Terra Earth, just like you.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “Personnel transport.”

  Fortis fought down his rising frustration at Lily’s evasiveness. He took several deep breaths and refocused.

  “Tell me the story of how you came to be on Pada-Pada.”

  Lily crunched through the last bite of his pig square and washed it down with a noisy slurp from a hydration pack.

  “I’m a Space Marine, just like you. Staff Sergeant Marcus Lily, Bravo Company, First of the Fourth.”

  Stunned silence filled the room. Fortis looked to Hawkins, whose eyes narrowed but never left Lily. Kramer shifted his feet. Ystremski exhaled loudly.

  “Bravo Company, First of the Fourth?”

  Lily nodded. “That’s what I said. Fleet sent me here to reinforce some corporate experiment. Well, they sent Bravo Company.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Lily fingered the scraggly hair that sprouted from
his chin. “I wasn’t supposed to make the drop. I was in the brig. Busted out and stowed aboard one of the dropships.”

  “Some plan. Break out of the brig and desert to an uninhabitable jungle planet. Genius.”

  “I planned on joining the miners until I found out what’s going on in the colony.”

  “What’s going on in the colony?”

  Fortis stood and raised both hands, like a cop on Terra Earth trying to stop traffic.

  “Hang on a second. Let’s rewind and start from the beginning.” He sat back down and gestured to Lily. “You were in Bravo Company until you deserted from the brig. Why were you in the brig?”

  Lily thought for a second. “A couple of my guys were arrested on Eros 24 for trafficking China Mike. The charge was bullshit, so I busted them out. An Erosian constable died during the escape.”

  “What’s ‘China Mike’?”

  Kramer answered, “It’s a stimulant. Produces a sense of euphoria. Very addictive and very illegal. Popular among salvage crews.”

  “Yeah, what he said. Anyway, the Erosians turned us over to the Fleet. I was court martialed for manslaughter and sentenced to be flogged around the Fleet. That’s when I escaped from the brig, stowed away on a dropship, and ended up here. I should have taken the flogging.”

  “So you were here when Bravo Company was wiped out?”

  “Fucking test tubes killed them all.” Lily sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Fortis traded incredulous looks with Hawkins and Ystremski. “What?”

  “Yeah. The fucking test tubes killed them all. I watched it from the jungle, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

  “GRC reported a bug swarm wiped out Bravo Company and killed a thousand test tubes along with them.”

  “GRC really told you that?” Lily scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

  Fortis nodded.

  “Fucking mercenaries. Their little monsters went crazy.”

  “How did it happen?”