Colonyside

by Michael Mammay

  Dedication

  To the Readers of Planetside, who made this book possible.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Praise

  By Michael Mammay

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  I’m not dead yet.

  That probably goes without saying, but it was definitely touch and go for a while. Omicron, the company I tussled with a couple years back . . . they don’t like me much. Whatever. They can get in line with most of the rest of the galaxy. Assholes.

  I spent nearly nine months in stasis. Nobody really knew what to do with a guy who had fired weapons of mass destruction for a second time, so I guess the government felt it best to keep me under sedation while they figured it out. I think what saved me is that the authorities were angrier at VPC and Omicron than they were at me. They might have revived me just to piss off those corporations. I’ll take it. A win is a win, after all.

  And I did win. The Cappans survived, and though I don’t know their location now, I’m told that they’re doing well. Plus, I got a giant settlement from Omicron that I’m not allowed to talk about because it came with an equally giant nondisclosure agreement. Suffice it to say that I never have to worry about money again.

  So now I’m kind of into gardening. I’ve got almost half of a hectare planted, and I own ten, so I’ve got plenty of room to expand, once I clear it. Living where I do, on Ridia Two, everyone has room to expand. The nearest city is three hundred kilometers away, which is just fine by me. It’s quiet here, and quiet is good.

  I’m not exactly hiding. I tried for a couple of months, but it was useless. The galaxy is too well connected, and someone always talks. The thing is, on Ridia nobody really cares. My neighbors know who I am, but they don’t make a big deal about it. To them I’m just Carl. That works for me, because really, I don’t want to discuss it. Any of it. I’m done with wars and corporations and really anything beyond the boundaries of my property. I’m not good at gardening yet, but I’m working at it. I grew way too many tomatoes and too much squash. But on the bright side, I’ve developed a killer vegetarian chili recipe. Like I said, a win is a win.

  All I really wanted was for the galaxy to leave me alone.

  It didn’t.

  I was heading back out to the garden after lunch when something tripped my perimeter alarm. Sure, I lived in the middle of nowhere, but that didn’t mean I didn’t take precautions. If anything, it made me more careful. Better safe than sorry. I slipped back into my cabin and got my rifle. That’s another thing I liked about where I lived on Ridia: no laws against owning guns. I grabbed three magazines and hustled over to my security screen to check the cameras. Whoever it was, they had parked at the top of the dirt road that served as my driveway and were walking my way. It could have been one of my neighbors, but I doubted it. They didn’t visit. Whoever it was, if they posed a threat, they probably wouldn’t have been walking in the open when there were plenty of trees that could have masked their approach.

  I couldn’t get a good angle with the camera that far out—I’d need to fix that—so I took my rifle and went out to the front porch. The face still eluded me, since he was still a hundred meters out. Definitely a he, though. A big guy. I sighted through the scope of my rifle and upped the magnification.

  No way.

  Fucking Serata.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help myself. Of all the things I expected to see in my life, General Serata walking up my driveway in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one of them. I lowered my rifle and waited.

  When he got near enough, Serata gestured to my rifle. “Expecting company?”

  “Not really.” I held up the rifle to emphasize my point.

  He’d traveled halfway across the galaxy to see me, and I wondered why but figured he’d get to it soon enough. I doubted it would be good news—I can’t remember the last time Serata had given me good news—so I might as well put it off as long as possible.

  “How’d you find me?”

  “Come on, Carl. You think the powers that be would lose track of someone like you?”

  “No,” I said, “but the locals are pretty protective of me. They’ve run off reporters and corporate recruiters who wanted to find me on more than one occasion. Even law enforcement keeps an eye out.”

  “Yeah, well, as it turns out, you’re not the only famous veteran in the galaxy.”

  I laughed. I had to admit, even though I knew he wouldn’t have shown up without a reason—and that reason would almost certainly suck—it made me happy to see him. I’d been on the planet for around twenty months, and while I had local acquaintances, I didn’t have anyone that I’d call an actual friend. That had always been hard for me. I had books, of course, and a galaxy’s worth of video entertainment, but nothing compared to being around a friend.

  Even when that friend tended to put my life in danger.

  “Let’s go inside. I could use a drink,” he said.

  “I don’t keep liquor in the house.”

  “Really?” He looked at me like he didn’t believe me.

  “Yeah. Living alone, it seemed like a bad idea. I’ve actually given the stuff up.”

  He considered it, and I got the feeling he still didn’t know if I was serious or not. “Is there some place I can get a drink? It’s been a bitch of a trip.”

  “I bet. We can head up to Moop’s. It’s the only bar around.”

  “Can we talk there without being bothered?” He asked it casually, but there was clearly more behind it, lurking. I wasn’t quite intrigued, but I had to admit, I wanted to know what brought him all that way. Okay, I guess that’s a little intrigued.

  “We can do about anything we want here without being bothered. That’s what makes Ridia great,” I said. “Plus, it’s one in the afternoon. It will be empty.”

  He grunted. “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Let’s go.”

  I stowed my rifle inside, locked up, and fell in beside Serata. “It’s a couple of kilometers. You driving?”

  “They gave me a driver with the car.”

  “Fancy.”

  Serata and I made small talk for the short drive, avoiding the thing he’d obviously come to discuss until we reached Moop’s. We entered the sturdy log building through a heavy wooden door, and I greeted the only person inside. “How’s it going, Martha? Where’s Moop?” Moop was Martha’s husband, and they ran the establishment together. I have no idea why people called him Moop. On Ridia you didn’t ask.

  “He’s out to get a part for one of the ovens that’s been acting up. I reckon he’ll be back in a bit. What’ll you have?”

  “Any good local
whiskeys?” Serata asked.

  Martha grabbed a bottle from the top shelf behind the bar. “This is the best we’ve got. Not much call for imports around here.”

  “That’ll do.” He looked at me. “You having anything?”

  “Coffee. Thanks,” I said.

  We grabbed a table in the corner farthest from the bar and settled onto wooden benches across from each other.

  “This is pretty good,” said Serata, after taking a sip.

  I didn’t respond. I’d started running through possibilities in my mind. There were too many to account for, but my thoughts gravitated toward some sort of threat against me. After a minute or so it started to get awkward.

  “So, I’ll get to it,” he said, after another sip.

  “You mean you didn’t spend three weeks in cryo just to come have a drink with me?” I asked.

  “Two weeks,” he said. “Fast ship.”

  “Must be important.” A ship that fast wasn’t cheap and probably wasn’t civilian. He wouldn’t have needed cryo for that length of time but would have needed it to survive the acceleration required. “I thought you were retired.”

  “Are any of us ever really retired?”

  “I’m retired,” I said.

  “Are you?”

  I let that sit. I didn’t want to go down that path. If he wanted something, I was going to make him ask for it.

  After a few seconds, he shrugged. “They called, I answered.”

  “Who? The military?”

  “Among others,” he said. “I’ll get to that. Let me give you the bottom line up front. Some very important people want you to do a job.”

  I blew out the breath I’d been holding. He hadn’t wasted much time. “Martha . . . can I get another whiskey over here? Better make it a double.”

  “I thought you gave it up,” said Serata.

  “The beauty of quitting is now I can have one, because I quit.”

  “So you hadn’t really given it up.”

  “I had. I guess that’s over now.” That was a bit passive-aggressive of me but whatever.

  “Sorry about that.” He sounded like he meant it, but it wouldn’t change anything about what he said next.

  “Like you said, you’ve got a job to do.” He had a job to do. But that didn’t mean I did. He was going to give me a hard sell—I knew that—but I didn’t have to buy. I didn’t owe them anything.

  “It’s not bad. Have you heard of the colony Eccasis?”

  “Can’t say that I have,” I said.

  “It’s new. Seven or eight years old. There hasn’t been a lot of development because—”

  “Because of the new laws limiting colonization. What do they call that law again? Oh yeah. The Butler Law.”

  “That’s not important here.”

  “They call it the fucking Butler Law!”

  Serata sat there, humoring me, waiting for my outburst to subside. “You good?”

  “Why don’t you start with who’s behind the job? I think that’s probably a lot more important than the location.”

  “Officially? The request is from General Taki.”

  I nodded. Taki. Chief of all galactic forces. The highest-ranking soldier alive. “Unofficially?”

  “The president. Though my guess is that she wasn’t that involved. More like she was doing a favor for the person really behind it. A man named Zentas. Heard of him?”

  “Rich guy? Yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

  “Reportedly the eighth richest man in the galaxy,” said Serata.

  “That’s pretty fucking rich. What’s he want with me?” What I really wanted to know was what it had to do with Serata. He didn’t owe them anything. At least I didn’t think he did.

  “His daughter is missing.”

  “Sorry to hear that. But what’s it got to do with me? I’m sure he can hire a fleet of detectives.”

  “Hear me out, okay?” His tone took on an edge, probably reacting to my somewhat flippant dismissal. “I wouldn’t be here if it was that simple.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would.” And definitely not on a military ship.

  “Zentas is a bit of an odd bird. His daughter went missing on Eccasis, which, as I said, is a relatively new colony. It’s just one major outpost at this point, and it has a long way to go before it’s more than that.”

  “Any life on the planet?” I asked.

  “A lot of it. Not intelligent, but complex, large, and dangerous. We’ve got a small military presence there.”

  I still wasn’t sure what that had to do with me, but with the military there, I was starting to get an idea. “And that’s where I come in?”

  “Pretty much,” said Serata. “Zentas’s daughter disappeared on a mission that got violent. The military investigated it, but he’s not satisfied with their work.”

  I started to respond but held it back. I didn’t know what to say, and for some reason repeating “What the fuck does that have to do with me?” seemed like a bad idea. Serata wasn’t my boss anymore, but he was still a lot bigger than me and he might not be above kicking my ass. “I’m confused,” I said, finally.

  Serata laughed. “I can understand that. For whatever reason, Zentas has it in his head that the military is covering something up. He knows who you are and thinks that you’re the person who can cut through that and find the truth.”

  Martha brought my whiskey, and I took a sip while I waited for her to head back to the bar and out of earshot. The liquor burned just the right amount on the way down. “Okay.”

  “You’re in?”

  “No. Just agreeing with you that this isn’t bad,” I said, holding the whiskey up to the light.

  “It’s good,” said Serata. “It’s not Ferra Three, but it will definitely do.”

  “What is this guy thinking?” I asked. “What can I do that they haven’t already done?”

  “I don’t know. Probably nothing. But guys like this, they’re used to getting their way. He’s probably got in his head that you’ll stand up to the military and get the real truth. Nobody wants to tell him it won’t help.”

  “I’ll tell him,” I said. “You have his number?”

  Serata laughed again. “Or you could just go out there and look around. See what you find.”

  “You’re serious? They really want me to do this?”

  “Consider it a vacation.”

  “I’m on vacation. Permanently.”

  “Did I mention the part where the president herself is involved?”

  “You did.” Shit. “Who’s the military commander on the ground?”

  “A brigadier named Oxendine. I don’t know her personally, but she’s got a good reputation. A by-the-book type.”

  I shook my head and half laughed. “I’m sure she’d be really glad to see me.”

  “Look, Carl. The guy lost a daughter. Sure, his idea for you to look into it doesn’t make much sense, but it’s understandable, right?”

  I took a sip of my drink and swirled it in my mouth. “Yeah. That part I get.” It was a cheap tactic, of course. I’d lost my daughter in a military action on Cappa several years back, and Serata knew that I had a soft spot. Zentas probably knew it too. I’d forgive the president. She’d only know if someone briefed her. “You know this is a shitty thing to do, right?”

  Serata had the decency to look embarrassed. He took a pull of his drink to cover it, and wisely kept quiet.

  “How’d they get to you?”

  “What do you mean?” He said it casually, but I detected a hint of something behind it. He knew exactly what I meant.

  But I could play his game and voice it. “Why are you carrying their water?”

  He took a drink and considered it. For show, mostly. He’d have thought this answer through before he got here. He’d have had to anticipate that I’d ask. “I almost didn’t.”

  I didn’t respond, giving him space to continue.

  “I almost told them to get bent. But . . . I owe them. Taki, specificall
y. They gave me a soft landing on my way out of the military. You know that. Well . . . maybe not soft, but they could have made it a lot worse.”

  I didn’t have all the details on why he left, but I assumed it had to do with Cappa. It might have even been in consideration for their treatment of me after that fiasco, which had also been relatively soft. Notably, he didn’t extend the “owe them” to me. If he had, I’d have probably told him to leave. But of course he didn’t. He knew me better than that.

  “What would my status be? You want me to put on a uniform again?”

  “No uniform. You’d be a civilian aide to the president.”

  “That sounds like a made-up title.”

  “It probably is. There’s no real definition of where it puts you, but it will open every door you need.”

  “Weapons?” I asked.

  “Not necessary. It’s a bio-dome, and the military has things under control.”

  I doubted that. If they did, they wouldn’t need me. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Really?”

  No. Not really. I didn’t want to do it, but I probably would. But fuck them. They didn’t get to show up and expect me to jump at a moment’s notice. They could wait for my answer. “Really.”

  “I can give you a couple of days,” he said. “After that, we’ve got to look at other options.”

  “What’s plan B?”

  “There isn’t one.”

  I didn’t care, but—fuck, I did. Once Serata said daughter, he had me.

  Manipulative bastard.

  “A couple of days. Got it. Then what?”

  “I brought your team with me,” he said.

  “I have a team?”

  “You do. You’ve got a liaison at headquarters to report to and a team that will travel with you. Your contact at HQ is a colonel named Jack Timmons.”

  “No shit? They made Flak Jacket Timmons a colonel?”

  “You know him?”

  “A long time ago,” I said. “He was a lieutenant in my unit when I was a major. Now he’s a colonel. Damn, that makes me feel old.”

  “You are old. Why do they call him Flak Jacket?”

  “No idea. I think someone just called him that one day and it stuck. I didn’t really pay that much attention to the lieutenants. You know how it is.”