SAGCON

by Craig Martelle

  Bob rose from his chair and walked into the hallway, where the corporal was waiting toward the end. “Tell the first sergeant we’re packing up and heading east to relocate.”

  “Ten kilometers to the east,” Thad clarified. He poked the lieutenant colonel in the chest. “And don’t screw it up. I’ll be back in a few days to make sure no one will be able to tell that you were ever here. There are natives to the west of here and you will in no way interfere with them, do you understand me, Bob?”

  “Yes, sir,” the lieutenant colonel replied automatically.

  “And you!” Thad pointed at the corporal. “Get a flyer to take me back to my ship.”

  The corporal fumbled around before saluting and racing from the building. He’d never seen a lieutenant colonel call a captain ‘sir’ before. It shocked his consciousness. He hoped the captain didn’t hold grudges.

  Or remember names.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Maximus was waiting inside the cave’s entrance when the military flyer dropped Thad off. The sheriff waved to the pilot before running into the blowing dust. The pilot took off quickly, and the craft disappeared.

  “Mast Jotham?”

  Maximus looked at the sheriff with bright eyes and his tongue hanging out, but made no attempt to move. The deputy was nowhere to be found.

  “Where were you? I could have used some backup, just in case,” he explained to the pig-dog. Maximus shook his head, sending slobber flying in a ring around him. The sheriff jumped back.

  He pulled a notebook from the pocket of his service coveralls, wrote a note to Mast, and secured it between two rocks inside the entrance.

  “I’ll be back in three days. I hope to see you then,” he told the darkness. “Come on, Maximus. Let’s go home.”

  ***

  General Quincy looked at the flashing light on his monitor, unsure he wanted to take the call. They were close to Darklanding, and the shipboard training had been intense. They’d conducted drill after drill, and it was late. Even the general had gotten in some zero-gee time.

  He punched the button on his monitor and the defense minister’s face appeared. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Adam?” the man fumed.

  “You’ll have to give me a little more than that, Minister. It’s late here on the ship.” The general blinked slowly as he tried to rally his wits.

  “The training area that you were given on Darklanding. Your boy Bob set up well outside of that and then tried to give a hard time to the planet’s authority. That doesn’t work. Low profile operations only make sense if they remain low profile. You’re screwing this up and you’re screwing me!”

  The general took deep breaths before answering. “I’ll take care of it, Minister.”

  The defense minister punched his screen to sign off. The general clenched his jaw before tapping numbers on the comm panel.

  “General,” Lieutenant Colonel Bob McMaster answered tentatively.

  “You’re fired.” The general tapped the screen to cut the feed.

  “Why did you have to be yourself, Bob?” General Quincy told his empty stateroom. “When no one is looking, what do you do? It appears that you make an ass of yourself, eh, Bob? Oh well. Easy come, easy go.”

  ***

  Bob looked at the screen in shock. He was military. He could be removed from a position, but not fired. He had a budding career. He was going places. Bob had even headed the temporary gig on Darklanding to set up the training area. “I’ll only be gone for three months,” he told his wife.

  He’d expected to return to accolades with the successful completion of training for the bulk of TerroCom’s new force.

  Maybe he’d go home early, in disgrace, but with his rank. He could make it to retirement as a lieutenant colonel. He didn’t need any more promotions.

  It never occurred to Bob that he didn’t have what it took.

  “When the general sees this place, he’ll reconsider, and I’ll be back, bigger and better than ever!” Bob declared in his small office. He stood and took a deep breath, expanding his chest and flexing his biceps as he assumed a Mister Universe pose.

  Bob strolled into the hallway and stood amid the hustle and bustle of the camp’s breakdown.

  He stepped out of the way and returned to his office to pack.

  ***

  Tye chipped onto the first green. The defense minister continued to wail away at his ball in the sand trap.

  The ball finally flopped out and balanced precariously on the edge of the grass, threatening to roll back into the sand. The minister quickly scraped the sand back into place. He grumped something unintelligible before standing cockeyed and hammering his ball halfway across the green.

  “On in three?” Tye asked with a laugh.

  “I may take liberties on occasion, but not with this. I have to admit that I’m on in six. No, seven, but it’s still better than that first week.”

  “It is, Westy. Maybe next week, we’ll bring the pro out to help us with our sand games. You see that I will hit into the rough on the opposite side of the fairway to take the sand out of play.”

  The defense minister stopped and the smile disappeared from his face. “A euphemism for life, Tye? Remove the risk, even if there is a cost. High risk, high gain, but slow and steady wins the race.”

  Tiberius Plastes tipped his head back as he leaned on his putter and studied the defense minister.

  “Golf is a reflection of how we live our lives, Minister. I am very pleased that you didn’t fudge your score. That’s too easy to do. We take our shot and then it is in the books for all time, since we can’t change the past. The only thing we can do is everything possible to make sure it is the best shot we can make at the time with the tools at our command.”

  Westy started walking toward his ball, looking at the subtle break in his putt while he glanced at his playing partner.

  He lined up, then stepped back, changed his aim, and took his stance. With a smooth stroke, he sent the ball rolling toward the high side of the hole. It broke gently and dropped in.

  “And that is how you do it, Minister.” Tye walked up to the man and shook his hand.

  “I think playing golf with you has been the single best thing I’ve done since becoming defense minister. None of those others will give me two minutes of their time. They publicly say the right things while secretly wishing for everyone else to fail. They all want their opportunity to save the planet, save the inner system planets, but they don’t care about any of that. They only care about their own power. I thought that about you, Mister Chairman, but I have to admit that you play both sides like a virtuoso. You get the power, but you don’t look like you’re seeking it. You help me when there is little in it for you. You help your daughter when that is high risk. Many a leader has been taken down by the exploits of their children.”

  “Shaunte is different. She’s the leader I can never be,” Tye replied, more open than he intended.

  “What do you think about a visit to Darklanding? I will personally stop by and see this new unit. I gave you my guarantee that we wouldn’t run afoul of SagCon and yet, five minutes into it, we’ve already crossed the line.”

  We? Tye thought. Dangerous to own TerroCom like that. Plausible deniability, Minister.

  But Tye didn’t reply.

  “I’ll make sure that we get back on track. Let me know if you want to join me. I’ll be leaving in two days on my tour of forward-deployed units. A side trip to Darklanding will get lost in the paperwork.”

  “I would like to come. Let me check with the boss first.”

  “Your wife?”

  “My executive assistant, but yes, my wife, too. Can she come?”

  “Of course.”

  ***

  The morning did not greet Sheriff Fry kindly. He woke up, still in the pilot’s seat of the flyer. Maximus had fumigated the cockpit.

  Thad didn’t remember arriving at Darklanding. He checked the autopilot. It was off. The flyer was parked in it
s usual spot. The sheriff gagged once and popped the hatch, holding his breath as he staggered into the cool of the morning dawn. Maximus stopped two meters outside the flyer to relieve himself.

  The sheriff headed for the controller’s shack to do the same thing.

  The man on duty offered him a cup of joe, which he took to the bathroom with him. It wasn’t coffee at all, but something synthetic, far cheaper, and nasty to the nth degree. He took a long drink, smiling to himself. “I like it when it’s this bad.”

  When Thad returned to the main office, he thanked the man profusely for the coffee, returned the empty cup, shook his hand, and headed outside for the long walk back to the Mother Lode.

  Maximus joined him.

  “Mast deserves his shot at happiness or abject misery. I’m not sure I’m the best one to advise which one he’ll get, although the latter always rears its ugly head.”

  It seemed apropos while looking at Maximus.

  “You have to be the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.” Thad smiled and ducked down to scratch behind the pig-dog thing’s ears. He rummaged in his pockets and found the last bit of dried food that he’d taken for the long journey to the other side of Ungwilook. “Here you go, boy. I’ll be eating some fine bacon and eggs in just a few, although it won’t really be bacon and it definitely won’t be eggs, but it’ll be better than this.”

  Maximus nipped the sheriff’s fingers as he inhaled the offering, before running off once again. The sheriff quickened his pace, the thought of breakfast encouraging him.

  When he burst through the front doors, the few patrons stopped what they were doing to look at him. He waved. Shaunte was walking from the restaurant with a glass of faux orange juice and piece of fruit. She crooked a finger at him. Follow me.

  “Hungry,” he pleaded. She stopped and gave him The Look. He was shocked to reality. He instantly saw the faces of his ex-wives, one by one glaring at him, reveling in his anguish. He shook his head to clear it. “I’ll be up as soon as I grab something to eat.”

  He looked away as he headed for the restaurant side of the Mother Lode’s main floor. Shaunte pursed her lips and watched the man weave between the tables, purposely not looking her way.

  The patrons returned to their own affairs after watching the exchange between the Company Man and the sheriff. Shaunte Plastes didn’t know how to score this one, but she thought that she had somehow lost.

  “See you in a bit, Thad,” she said softly.

  He stumbled over a chair and almost fell through the restaurant door.

  There we go, she thought.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Shaunte finished another in an infinite queue of reports before she heard the knock on her door.

  “Come in,” she purred as she leaned forward with her elbows on her desk and fingers steepled. The door opened, and Phango Kutter walked through. “What do you want?”

  “Is that how you greet your assayer?”

  “Apparently, yes.”

  “I have some recommendations for the refining process, but need your approval to get Elliott Goldman to adopt them.”

  “No. Now, get out.” Shaunte pointed at the door.

  “You are losing product, which means that you are losing money. That will figure prominently in my report to the Assayer’s Union.”

  “Fine. What genetic malformity makes you want to control other people’s work? I wish I had enough time on my hands to get into everyone else’s business.”

  “I don’t have the time for this. The loss demands my attention!” He tried to make his small frame look larger by putting his fists on his hips and spreading his feet beyond shoulder width apart.

  A gentle tapping on the door frame interrupted his posturing.

  “Are you busy?”

  “Thaddeus! Come in. Mister Kutter was just leaving.”

  “I was not.” He resumed his pose.

  Shaunte pointed to him and then swished her finger toward the door. “Sheriff? Could you please help Mister Kutter out the door?”

  To Phango’s credit, he stood his ground.

  Until the sheriff grabbed him by the collar and dragged him backwards to the door. “It’s her office, and she told you to leave, Phango. Don’t make me throw you out.”

  “But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” the small man cried into Thad’s face. The sheriff flicked his eyes over the rail.

  “How far do you want to be thrown, or do you want to walk like a man?”

  The assayer surrendered, holding his hands up before pushing away from the sheriff. “This conversation is not over, Miss Plastes,” Phango declared.

  “It is,” she replied, waving him away. The sheriff closed it in the assayer’s face. They listened as he stomped away.

  “What was that about?”

  “Some fantasy about product loss into which he has invested his entire soul.”

  “Sounds like he’s accusing someone of theft. Want me to look into it, keep him out of your hair?”

  “I would love not seeing him in my office ever again.” She smiled and assumed her earlier pose with her elbows on her desk and hands before her.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Thad said, turning and grabbing the door handle.

  “Not now!” Shaunte half-stood in her hurried response.

  The sheriff turned back, walked to the desk, pulled her head toward his, and kissed her.

  Only briefly.

  He withdrew a few centimeters and looked into her eyes. She pushed him away.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Sheriff Fry?” she asked, her face a complex mix of emotions, none of which the sheriff understood.

  “I’m sorry. I thought…” he stammered. “I’m sorry. Mast left again.”

  Thaddeus Fry sat in the chair, hanging his head in shame. How could he have misread the situation so badly? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Company Man lick her lips slowly, with just the tip of her tongue.

  “I’m sorry, Thad,” she replied as she watched the man before her. “Where has your deputy gone?”

  “He is on a new quest, this time to find a mate. He has a very short girlfriend from the Kuskokwell group. They are on the other side of the planet.”

  “Mast has a girlfriend?”

  “It took five seconds after we arrived. I think he fell for her the first time we were there. He was being weird on the flight, and then he was gone into the darkness of their tunnels.”

  “I’d like to think that humans are more complex,” Shaunte offered.

  “Or less pragmatic?” the sheriff countered.

  “Maybe.” Shaunte sat in her chair and leaned sideways. The sheriff did the same, both with their arms on the desk. She held her hand out and he took it. They sat without speaking, holding hands and looking out the window.

  The sheriff broke the silence. “Why does your old man think you’re bringing me home?”

  “He thinks we’re an item.”

  The sheriff looked at their hands, so comfortable, the one in the other. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know, right?” Shaunte replied. They returned to peacefully looking out the window.

  ***

  “What do you mean wait for our turn to enter orbit and descend to the planet?” the general raged.

  “The defense minister was very clear about turning off our jammers so we were visible to planetary systems,” the ship’s captain replied.

  “Regulations give the ship’s captain the latitude to do as he sees fit. There is no reason for the private sector to see us or know of our presence, but it is your ship, Captain.” The general tried to loom over the captain while on the bridge.

  “Which is what I’m doing--as I see fit. I’m not going against the minister’s order.”

  The general worked on a retort, but the bridge crew was watching. He glanced past them to the view of the brown planet beyond. “Exactly right, Captain. Looks like a dead planet. I’ll get my people ready to land.”

  “We’ll be in a st
ationary orbit shortly, I expect,” the captain replied. “I’ll let you know the second you can deploy your shuttles. You said you’ll need three waves?”

  “Three waves to get them ashore and a fourth with supplies.”

  “We will support you in entirety,” the captain said pleasantly. The general’s lips twitched as he tried to assume a casual pose before strolling from the bridge.

  The captain breathed a sigh of relief. This was no time to get in a fight on the bridge. He preferred to be a part of a space and air traffic control system to eliminate the risk of hitting another ship. Bullying one’s way onto a planet wasn’t always the best.

  These were friends, weren’t they?

  “Assume entry azimuth following the freighter Collins,” Control advised. The warship’s pilot replied and tickled the controls. “On the second pass, assume a geostationary position over your target landing area. Conduct a spiral descent with your shuttles. We will keep the airspace clear for the duration.”

  “Sounds great, Control. Thank you.” The captain gave the thumbs up to his bridge crew. They made the adjustments and headed the ship toward its designated entry point.

  ***

  Bob looked at the new compound, pleased with the setup. They’d chosen a spot beyond a small rise that blocked some of the incessant wind. The windmills had added risers to put the blades above the barrier and into the harsher airflow.

  The landing pad had expanded to accommodate ten shuttles at a time.

  “The first group is inbound,” Corporal Allen reported with a sharp salute.

  “As you were,” the lieutenant colonel replied after his salute. “What do you think, Allen? Are we ready for the next phase of this operation?”

  “Absotively, sir. I look forward to sending some rounds downrange, if TerroCom will let us support weenies play a little.”

  “We’re all TerroCom, son,” Bob replied proudly.

  They could barely see beyond the edge of the next building, but it was clear when the shuttles were inbound because of the sound. As one, ten of them approached and set down in formation.

  First off was the general, who strode briskly toward the waiting contingent. The lieutenant colonel stood at the front. He called the group to attention and saluted on their behalf.