Someone had run straight into enemy fire, getting themselves “killed,” so Sergeant Wing had decided to grab F squad to march back for another load of holos.
“How many holo loads does that make?” Sick asked. Miranda shifted the pack from her left to her right shoulder. Everyone in the Platoon was carrying an extra holo at this point; some had two. Others were carrying extra ammo cans and other gear as instructed. She’d lost count of all the infractions. It had become a kind of game. How long they could march with the extra weight versus how many holos the base had.
“This will be the third. A Squad went last time alone. Now I guess it’s our turn.” No one mentioned that it was a Gunner from C Squad that had them in this predicament. He’s the one that fell asleep on duty.
‘Who could blame him?’ Miranda was about ready to fall out herself.
“What do you want this time?” A skinny man with a clipboard stood out front of a war shed. He looked Sergeant Wing up and down before sneering at him.
“I’m here for holos,” Wing said. He handed the man a small pack of paperwork. The ammunition soldier grimaced.
“You want how many?”
“One hundred units,” Wing supplied. He scratched his head with his clipboard.
“One hundred units?”
“That’s right.” The man did a half circle around Sergeant Wing, still scratching his head with the clipboard.
“Can’t. Sorry.” He handed Sergeant Wing back his paperwork.
“But I have the order form filled out.”
“Sorry.” He wasn’t budging. They all stood there waiting, the red sand hot underneath their feet.
“Listen. We can’t go back empty handed.” Sergeant Wing used his head to point at the recruits over his shoulder.
“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I can’t.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Because?”
“Because I don’t have a hundred to give.” His brown eyes showed the truth, but Miranda and everyone else there didn’t care. They just wanted this torture to end. A result that would only happen when they left. They wouldn’t be doing that without what they’d come for.
“Then add in extra kits, we’ll take it,” Wing said. He opened his arms wide, as if he was the one that would have to carry it all back to the Platoon.
“I don’t have it. None of it.”
“Nothing?”
“What you see is what you get.” He swung the door to the armory open, showing a small pile of holos on the floor in the corner. Miranda peeked forward around Farmer. Her eyes went wide. It was a large space. Empty shelves lined the walls where holos were normally stored.
“This is it?” Wing looked confused.
“Yep, even my backups are gone.”
“Okay,” Sergeant Wing said. He nodded his head. Farmer took this as a cue to start picking up the remaining holos.
“Stop! What about the other platoons?” the armorer protested. “What will I say to them when they come with their orders?” He shook his clipboard first at Farmer, then at Sergeant Wing.
“Tell them the truth,” Sergeant Wing said. “You’re wiped out.”
“Fine, take it all. I don’t care.” He waved for the recruits, and they came forward, each taking up two holos. They had a five mile hike through the sand and rocks back to the rest of the platoon, and then they could set them down.
“Why didn't the Sergeant send a truck to get these?” Sick Farmer asked Sneezy. Between the thirty or so recruits, they were carrying close to eighty holos, not including their issued ones.
“Because he’s an ors,” Sneezy said. He started to say something else, then stopped himself as he settled the fifty some units of added weight into his arms. “Don’t ask me, I don’t know.”
“Probably thought we needed the exercise.” A laugh escaped Miranda’s lips. Sergeant Wing was still negotiating with the armory tech, so he missed her small moment of insanity.
“No,” they heard him say, “we don’t have any more ammo packs either. In fact, you’ve completely wiped me out.”
Sergeant Wing said something, but Miranda was too far back to hear it. She did, however, have no problem hearing the reply.
“EVERYTHING means EVERYTHING,” he shouted. “In fact, I don’t want to see any of Platoon 8 again unless it’s to return my equipment.” Miranda heard the metal clang of a slamming door.
“Move out!” Sergeant Wing ordered. No one groaned. No one had to. Their joints did it for them as they marched back to camp. The red earth crunched underneath their feet with every step. Miranda’s stomach growled. She thought through her ration packs. She still had breakfast and most of her lunch pack. When they got back to camp she’d break out the candy bar from the lunch pack as a treat. Her arms deserved it.
Four more days they marched. Twice around the perimeter for good affect. On day five Miranda ran out of her last ration. It was half a muffin she’d saved. Farmer knocked it into the dirt, but the sand just added to how filling it was. She licked the crumbs off the wrapper on day six during her night watch between 0100 to 0500. She was glad there hadn’t been a trash can, otherwise she wouldn’t have had the food packaging to lick. Lucky for her they camped near the water towers. The drill sergeants made sure everyone's canteen was filled at each stop, so they were never without water.
On day seven, when they marched them to the parade field, Miranda couldn't feel her shoulders. The weight of her two holos and her extra ammo pack had left her numb.
They lined them all up, each platoon in its spot. One by one the platoons unloaded their extra gear for return to the armory.
Platoon 8 was last, as always. Miranda swayed on her feet.
“Woah there, don’t pass out on me yet,” Farmer said. He steadied her with his shoulder. He was as unable to raise his hand as she was.
Squad A was the first to unload. They had a stack double the size of all of Platoon 6’s. By the time they started to unpack Squad B’s gear, it was clear that they had cleaned house. Squad C and D followed. Sergeant Wing's grin reached from ear to ear. Miranda had never seen a drill sergeant smile that wide before. It reached his eyes. The stack was overflowing by the time Miranda added her extra radio, ammo pack, and two mines. They made sure that the pile built out so that no one could confuse it with the other platoons.
Wide eyes met Miranda’s platoon’s tired faces. They were too exhausted to be happy. The feeling in her arm was coming back as she unloaded the second dummy holo.
She stepped back in line with her Squad.
“Platoon 8 report.”
“328 holos accounted for sir,” Drill Sergeant Wing called out. He stood right next to the pile, finishing the count. The unit commander's eyebrow rose.
“328 holos?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
The unit commander nodded his head once and moved on. All that work. All those days of drills and sleeping on the ground for no more than three hours at a stretch. All of it for a single head nod. Somewhere deep inside, Miranda hoped it was worth it.
Two Ironsides, one with a dented helmet, approached the platoon.
“Good work men,” Prince Adam said. He’d come out with Eric to lead them in their end of ceremonies. His eyes trekked across the parade field. “Take the weekend to rest, you deserve it. Next week is graduation!”
Miranda was too tired to sigh in relief.
“Platoon 6, clean that mess up. Platoon 8, dismissed.”
Miranda turned to leave. The men of Platoon 6 gave them dirty looks behind the Prince’s back, but no one had enough energy to care. They’d beat them by a parsec. That’s all that mattered.
She went to take a drink from her canteen and stopped. It was gone.
“I must have dropped it when I unloaded the holos,” she scolded herself on her carelessness.
“Farmer,” she called to her battle buddy. Farmer stopped. She made a motion that they should go back. Miranda made her way back to the pile of mines to pick it up. Adam w
as standing there as she slunk over to find her canteen.
“There it is,” she said, noticing the green-brown canister against the red dirt. She reached down to grab it.
She heard the tell tale click of a holo arming.
“Get down!” Miranda screamed. Then the world in front of her exploded.
Chapter 18
The ground beneath her feet expanded, then contracted. One minute she was standing, watching as the pile of holos lit up like a candle. The next she was staring at a wall of red sand as the floor disappeared from underneath her.
She hung there for a second, then fell into the waiting darkness below.
“Ouch,” Miranda woke with a splitting headache. She put her hand to her head, making sure nothing was bleeding. She had a cut over her eye that was already healing up. Her hands were no more or less bruised than they’d been before. She could see out of both eyes, so that was a plus. She used this fact to survey the damage from where she’d fallen.
The room was lit by a few rays of sun escaping from the hole in the ceiling. A hole that she realized she’d fallen through. The debris was piled on one side in a slide that didn’t quite reach the ceiling. Miranda guessed that she was at least fifty feet down. Into some ancient room. It had to be ancient. Everything was covered in dust. The walls had carvings that reached in an arching pattern to what used to be the top.
She stood up and brushed herself off, checking to make sure everything was as it should be. She didn’t want to bleed out from a wound she couldn’t feel.
“Anyone else here? Everyone okay?” Miranda called into the dark. She coughed. Dust swirled in the air around her. She’d breathed in some and coughed again. It was unpleasant, but not much worse than the sand above.
“Fine,” she heard Farmer say.
“Beep!” Oscar said. He rolled over to her, almost taking out her toes. Miranda stepped back just in time.
“I appear to be a bit stuck,” Adam said. He waved a hand at her. That was all Miranda could see.
She started digging with her hands, pulling pieces of debris away from the hand. More dirt fell in its place. Dirt stung her eyes, making it hard to see.
“Oscar, can you help?”
“Beep Boop.”
“Yes I know your laser might cut him in half,” Miranda said. “”And you don’t have arms, but you could shift sand.”
“Beep.”
“Fine,” Miranda said. She threw the large rock she was moving at the little droid. “Go explore the cave.”
The droid whistled indignantly at her.
“You’re right; Farmer does have arms and can help,” she said. “Don’t just stand there, help me,” she called over her shoulder at Farmer. He laid against the pile, his eyes shut.
He glared at her but didn’t move.
“Farmer, get over here!” Adam ordered. Farmer started pushing rocks to the other side. Within an hour they’d uncovered Adam’s torso by moving the big pieces and shifting the sand with their feet.
“If you each take a hand I think you can pull me free.” His Ironside helmet had held up. The only reason he could breathe through all that dust and sand. Not for the first time, Miranda wished she had one of her own.
They each grabbed one hand and pulled. Finally, on the third try, the Ironside slid free. His armor was scratched and dented, but had done its job; Adam was unhurt.
“Thanks,” he said. He directed it towards Miranda. Heat rose to her cheeks. She was thankful for the dim light.
“I S One to I S Two,” Adam said, tapping his helmet. “I S One to I S Two, do you copy?” He gave the helmet a couple of hard smacks.
“Everything okay?” Miranda asked.
“Coms are out. Just trying a little percussive maintenance.” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t work.”
He looked at their surroundings, noting the high carved columns.
“Wow,” he breathed. They curved towards the top. He turned on his body suit lamps, illuminating the entire room. For the first time since waking up Miranda saw how grand the place was.
“Wow is right,” she said. She couldn’t take it all in. There was so much.
Along one wall was a mural carved from the top of the cavern, all the way to the floor. It spanned at least three body lengths in every direction. A circle of artful dashes and lines.
“Beep bop boop!” Oscar exclaimed. He’d come back from his little adventure and was excitedly rolling at the base of the carving.
“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” Farmer asked. He stood next to her, gazing at the mural.
“Oscar says it’s a map,” Miranda translated. She scrunched up her face as Oscar beeped his disapproval.
“Not a map, directions,” she said.
“Directions to what?” Adam asked, coming to stand on her other side. All three of them stared at the drawing, curiosity getting the better of them.
“I’d have to read it,” Miranda confessed.
“Can you?” Adam asked.
“Can she read it,” Oscar scoffed in Droid.
“Apparently Oscar thinks I can,” Miranda confirmed.
“Who’s Oscar?” Farmer asked. He shook his head like, the wall had him mesmerized. Miranda felt the same way. It was overwhelming and beautiful. A deadly combination.
“Her droid,” Adam said at the same time Miranda said, “My droid.” They both looked at each other and laughed.
Miranda stared at the mural, trying to see what her droid saw. Then it clicked.
“It’s Droid,” she confirmed. “Not a dialect I’m familiar with, but I think I can make some of it out.”
She ran her hand over the pictures, replacing in her mind the long dashes with boop and the short dots with beeps.
“This planet wasn’t always bare like this. It wasn’t a failed terraform.” The carved images showed a thriving metropolis with large sprawling cities, multiple gleaming towers larger than the imperial towers, and fields rich in wheat and cattle.
“But something shifted.” The lines spoke of the suns getting hotter, the planet unbalancing. Plagues and death only after a generation of colonization. And gravity.
“The world was making them short,” she said.
“Short, like how?” Farmer asked.
“Like, S sector I guess; they were being squished slowly, generation by generation, until...” She paused, trying to make out the words.
“It has something to do with the two stars, and this.” There was a hole carved in a circular pattern.”
“So what?” Farmer scoffed.
“How did it come to be only a few ruins?” Adam asked, ignoring him.
“I’m getting to that part. Here. It says...” Miranda stopped and read the passage again.
“I don’t believe it.”
“You don’t believe what?” Adam asked?
“This is bad.” She put her hand down and stared at what she’d just discovered, not knowing if she should share.
“Spill,” Adam ordered.
“This is everything the Resistance has ever wanted.” Miranda couldn’t hide the awe in her voice.
“I don’t understand,” Farmer said. His fingers came to rest on the box at the center of the mural.
“It’s a fail safe.” Miranda continued to read, her fingers skimming over the dots and dashes as if the droids of old were whispering into her ear.
“It was meant to reverse terraforming on a planet if it created an imbalance, after...” She stopped for a moment, letting her hand glide over the word again.
“After what? What imbalance?” Adam asked, coming to stand beside her.
“Not an imbalance,” she corrected herself, “the imbalance.” She followed the line of text with her eyes, seeing the way it curved and bent in the stone.
“It’s a black hole,” she said, dawning comprehension. “To reverse terraforming in the case of a black hole! But how?”
The question hung in the air for a few moments before a soft voice spoke.
&
nbsp; “The old Lander terraforming algorithm had a flaw,” Adam said, recalling a history Miranda had never been taught. A history from princes and emperor sons. “With the flaw, and the amount of time terraforming took...” He shook his head. “Let’s just say, if something went wrong the worst case scenario was...” He paused, unable to get the words out. “It could—”
“Collapse a star,” Farmer finished for him. His eyes were focused on the darkened image under Miranda’s fingers. Adam nodded his head.
“Creating a black hole.” Miranda’s shock must have leaked through her dust and camo painted face because Adam gave her a look of pity.
“The rumor is that the Koilos system was a warning to us all,” Adam said. Farmer nodded. It was like he was hearing something for the umpteenth time, but that it was powerful information. The kind of story you didn’t mind hearing over and over again.
“The Koilos system?” Miranda asked. She’d never heard any of this before. Not in BASIC training. Not in her holo lessons. Not even in the legends past down by her parents at firesides on cold winter nights.
“It’s the rebel calling card, if you will,” Farmer said.
“How do you know that?” Adam turned to Farmer.
“On my home planet, before my mom died. Rebels came promoting their propaganda with speeches and protests the mine my father worked for. They told us what we were doing was wrong. That we were going to destroy the system. That we’d be the next Koilos system if we didn’t stop.”
Adam nodded.
“The Empire has scaled back a lot of it’s mining operations because of the destabilization threat to systems. Though I think the bigger threat to your mine was the rebels.” They were going down a rabbit trail, but Miranda was interested in following it. She didn’t understand the rebels. Their motivations. She was hungry to know more.
“Didn’t really seem like it when the mine collapsed,” Farmer spat.
“Rebels have been responsible for more mining deaths and unsafe conditions than the Empire.”
“I was just a kid, what did I know?” Farmer said.
Imperial Hilt (Imperial War Saga Book 2) Page 11