As she waited for the air to cycle, Keira’s mind wandered. The UPG did not take chances with some of their most valuable assets, hence the call with Sandy and her reviewing the security camera footage of the outside. Had something been wrong, truly wrong, the base’s guards would have sounded the alarm.
All FOBs had long since been transformed into fortresses, complete with walls. This process she was going through with Sandy was just an administrative procedure that was no longer necessary, especially with all of the added security, but for some unknown reason could not be canceled. Whether it made sense or not, the procedure was entrenched and here to stay. At times, it made her feel like a prisoner.
To add to the absurdity, they were also in what was called the Secure Zone, where the UPG kept several of their most important facilities in the region. These included various bases, launchpads, along with important factories and distribution centers. The zone was locked up tight and saw regular patrols and security sweeps.
“Speaking of Lee,” Sandy said, “is that boy still single?”
“As far as I know,” Keira said. Sandy had always had a crush on Lee, ever since the three of them had been children. But Keira’s friend had never gotten the courage to ask him out on a date. She talked bold, but got tongue-tied in his presence.
Years ago, while out on a repair job, her father had found Lee orphaned and begging for food. He’d been only six at that time and her father had taken him in. Over the years, Lee had become the brother she’d never had.
“There’s really not anyone down here for him to hook up with,” Keira continued, “unless you count the locals, and we don’t see much of them. The UPG does their best to keep us apart.”
“I can understand that, but if I was down there with that hot little biscuit and our positions were reversed, I’d be bedding him every night.”
“You’re just a naughty girl,” Keira laughed, for she knew it was all talk, bluff at best. “You know I’m recording this, right?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Sandy sounded outraged.
“I’m going to share it with Lee,” Keira said, “finally reveal your true feelings to him.”
“Not likely,” Sandy said with a laugh. “If you did, I’d never speak to you again. And that is a promise you can take to the credit vault.”
“Can’t have that, then,” Keira said as the door to her front finally began rolling open. Dust and dirt particles blew inward from a sudden gust of wind. She could hear the larger particles impacting her suit. For a moment she couldn’t see, then it cleared as the gust died off.
The wind was a good indicator another storm was on the air, something Lee had already confirmed. With every passing year, the dust, sand, and ash storms were becoming worse, more violent and frequent. The winds alone were terribly damaging. People caught out in the open, without sufficient protection, had been killed by the blowing sand and flying debris. Only the hardy lived and worked on the surface these days.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” Sandy said. “I’ve got to take a call.”
The airlock opened directly onto the vehicle park. It had once had a metal roof for protection, but a storm had come through and torn that off months ago. All that remained now were the metal supports and struts, a testament to what had been.
Two tracked armored military transports sat in the center of the park, as did several heavy-duty trucks and a vertical takeoff transport vehicle that belonged to Crecee’s platoon. On its side was the UPG’s symbol, an eight-pointed star with a line under it. A mouth with wicked-looking teeth had been painted onto the nose of the vehicle, right below the pilot’s canopy.
Her gaze moved back to the tracked vehicles. One of the APCs was the Beast and the other was their backup, the Nag. She stepped out of the airlock. The ground beneath her boots was a mix of gray sand and ash that shifted with each step. Under it, several centimeters down, there was pavement.
Keeping the base clear of sand was a constant battle that those stationed here never seemed to win. Even Keira and Lee had been required to chip in and do their part to keep the sand from burying the base, particularly after bad storms.
The airlock to the main hab rolled closed behind her. There were three structures inside the FOB. One was dedicated to the engineers and techs for housing, the second a barracks for the militia, and the third a reinforced storage bunker that had been partially buried underground.
If the locals ever assaulted the base in force and overwhelmed the outer walls, the bunker was intended as a last refuge, a holdout. Theoretically, the bunker would buy time until help could arrive, like Crecee and his company or the garrison that was maintained in the Secure Zone. Typically, only militia were stationed at the base. It was a rarity for regulators to be onsite.
The outer walls of the FOB were prefabricated reinforced concrete. They rose to a height of seven meters and surrounded the base. At the top, along a steel walkway, complete with an armored barricade, a half dozen armed militia patrolled, occasionally gazing outward with binoculars, searching for any hint of trouble or movement amongst the dunes.
An attack against Sterris was unlikely, as it was one of the most isolated bases in the region. There were no nearby settlements. Those had long since been abandoned or forcibly moved to establish the security zone. For the nearest locals, it would be one hell of a hike under horrendous conditions to reach the base. Still, the UPG was not taking a chance, hence the armed militia.
Nothing was pretty about the FOB. It was functional at best, downright ugly at the worst. The sight of it had always left her feeling slightly depressed, as did the outside world. The sky overhead did nothing to inspire her mood either, which had sagged once Sandy had placed her on hold. Overhead was a thick brownish-gray overcast that seemed quite impenetrable.
The back of the Beast’s ramp was down. Chris stood just outside the armored personnel carrier, looking over several bags. He wore his powered armor, from the days when there had been an Imperial Marine Corps. The armor looked intimidating, hulking even. Keira would not have wanted to face someone wearing such a suit, for it spoke of barely restrained power and violence.
Keira started across the compound toward their ride as Chris picked up two large bags and walked up the ramp, disappearing inside the tracked vehicle.
A deep rumbling off to her right drew her attention and brought her to a halt. A few kilometers away, a chemically driven rocket was lifting off. It was an uncrewed cargo mission, likely carrying raw materials, equipment, and spare parts up to the orbital stations. The fiery tail of the rocket flared brilliantly as it climbed, struggling to break free of the planet’s gravity well.
Such cargo missions were a regular occurrence. It was yet another sign of how far humanity on Asherho had fallen. Twenty years ago, gravity drives would have been employed to attain orbit.
“Oh,” Sandy said, returning to the call. There was a touch of excitement in her voice. Keira started walking again. “I almost forgot. A ship arrived in-system today. They transited the jump gate about four hours ago.”
Keira stopped, thoroughly surprised. It was the last thing she would have expected. She glanced up at the polluted sky, almost as if she were hoping to see the starship hanging above in orbit. Then she felt stupid, for it would take the ship hours to work its way deeper into the system and gravity well of the planet.
Still, she continued to stare upward. Asherho had long since lost the sky. For as long as she could remember, there had been an ever-present haze surrounding the planet, into which the cargo rocket had slipped.
With the orbital bombardments and the breaking of the planet’s crust, the atmosphere had been filled with a layer of ugly dust and ash. These days, the stars remained hidden behind an impenetrable veil and firmly out of sight. All that could be seen of Asherho’s primary star was a bright orange glow and halo through the thick, soupy haze. It barely provided enough light and heat for life to exist on the surface, and no one knew how long that would last either.
“About two months,” Sandy said, excitement tinging her voice. “That was a family transport, looking to trade. This one’s different though.”
“Different how?” Keira asked and started walking again.
“It’s a warship,” Sandy said, “a destroyer.”
Keira again came to a halt. “Is there anything to worry about?”
“No,” Sandy said. “They’re from the Protectorate and talked to the governor once they arrived in-system. Apparently, it’s an older ship. They were passing by and something or other broke. They want to put in and see if it can be repaired using one of the station’s fabricators. Can you imagine? People from the outside universe visiting our little old system? I can’t wait to see them.”
The Protectorate was Asherho’s nearest neighbor and a nominal ally. Though they still had access to star travel, they were reputedly barely better off than the UPG could hope to be. Keira was about to respond when Sandy spoke again.
“Gotta go. A crew on Jakarta Base needs me. They’ve got some issue that sounds fairly complicated and is guaranteed to give my supervisor some heartburn. Be safe out there, girl. Talk to you later.”
The comm channel beeped and went dead. That was typical of Sandy, as she was one of a handful of dispatchers assigned to handle the engineering, repair, and tech teams. There was always someone wanting her attention. She would likely call back later when she had time to jaw. Though they frequently talked, they rarely saw each other these days. There was just too much to be done and, it seemed, fewer skilled people each year to do it.
Chris stepped back down the ramp of the armored personnel carrier and spotted her. His armored boots made heavy clunking sounds on the metal of the ramp. He shot her a wink through his armored faceplate.
The armor had a used appearance to it, or really a lived-in and battered look. Over the years, the dark green paint had been scratched off in places and there were numerous dents across the front and side that looked suspiciously like bolt strikes. The rank insignia of a gunnery sergeant had been painted onto the arms. McCandless was stenciled on the right side of the chest, as was an EGA just under it. An American flag adorned his right shoulder, signifying that his ancestors, like Keira’s, hailed from North America and what had once been the United States. He was quite proud of that. So too was she.
“About time you got here,” Chris said. By his tone, he was just teasing her.
“Oh, you know me,” Keira said, “I have to do my hair and put on my makeup before we go anywhere.”
“Did you grab your heels, too?”
“I wish I owned heels,” Keira admitted and meant it. That was one luxury she could not afford. It was something else that set her aside from those living on the orbital stations.
Chris paused and then gestured toward her leg, next to which she held the pot. “I take it that’s not meatball sauce?”
Keira glanced down and saw blood on her thigh. She suddenly felt on guard with him, for it wasn’t hers.
“No,” she admitted.
Chris looked back toward the base’s main hab, and through the visor on his helmet, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “I assume it did not go well for the other side?”
“No,” she said again. “He will be chewing very gingerly for some time—and walking funny too.”
“Good.” Chris gave a nod and abruptly turned away. He bent down and picked up two more heavy black bags with ease, courtesy of his powered armor. “Wanna help out an old man and get that last bag?”
With that, he turned and went back up the ramp and into the APC, his boots clunking heavily on the metal.
Keira watched him for a moment, then blew out an unhappy breath. She knew it was not over. He would have more to say on the matter.
She glanced up the ramp. Besides what was already in the APC, Lee would have added equipment from the bunker, specialized for the repair at Hakagi. There would be additional tools and a small parts printer for the repair job.
Already mostly stocked, the APC was loaded with equipment for camping, first aid supplies, a water ration, along with a small filtration system should they have need, an expected allotment of food for the duration of the repair, and spare ammunition. Chris always made sure to bring plenty of ammunition, and judging by what she saw inside the APC strapped down or slid under the seats, he had brought extra cases for their firearm practice.
She picked up the bag he had indicated. Her gumby suit was not powered, like his armor. The bag was heavy, but not overly so. It was one of his personal bags, as it was labeled with his name. Following after him, she walked up the ramp of the APC.
Lee was already in the driver’s seat. She could feel the vibration of the APC’s power plant through her boots. It rumbled with barely contained power around her. He was undoubtedly going through a routine systems check to make certain everything was in operating order before they set out.
Two rows of hard metal seats ran along the sides of the carrier. To the back of the seats were rows of padded locker doors. Before the collapse, back when the empire had ruled over this world, the vehicle had once belonged to the Planetary Guard’s engineering contingent. Now, it was one of a handful of APCs that had survived the apocalypse. It was capable of going where most wheeled vehicles could not.
With Chris’s help, they had salvaged the machine, which they had found buried in the sand. It had been nonfunctional and had required significant work to get it into operating order. Since then, they had kept it running by scavenging parts from other broken-down vehicles and, it almost seemed, through sheer determination alone.
The Beast had replaced the Nag, which itself was barely functional during the best of times. The entire engine needed a rebuild and that was just a start. They did not have the time for that or the resources needed to fabricate new parts. The Nag’s battery packs alone were on their last legs and there were no spares available. Even if they had the materials to manufacture them, the specifications on how to do it no longer existed. It was just one more piece of technology to add to the list of what they had lost with the Fall.
In truth, the Nag’s days were over. She knew they would soon be scavenging her for parts to keep the Beast running. When that happened, it would be a sad day.
Keira set the pot down on a metal seat. She pushed Chris’s bag under a seat, stowing it, then pulled the straps down to lock it into place. Removing her own bag from her shoulders, she tossed it onto another seat, next to the pot. Along the overhead storage bins, Chris had secured six rifles of varying types, including one with a grenade launcher.
“You always bring enough firepower for a full-blown battle,” Keira said. “What army are you equipping this time?”
“Never can be too prepared,” Chris said as he stowed another bag under a seat and strapped it down. He picked up a box of ammo and opened a locker, placing it securely inside, before closing the door again. “I don’t bring it, there will come a day when I wish I had.”
“There is being prepared and then there is being over-prepared,” Keira teased as her eyes went to a large metal crate on a gravity lift that had been secured to the wall of the APC with thick heavy-duty straps. It had a magnetic lock only Chris could open. On its side was painted the EGA logo and the words Imperial Marines. She nodded toward it. “I see you’ve once again lugged the ‘surprise’ along.”
“I never leave home without him,” Chris said, glancing idly toward the metal crate. He moved over to it and patted the crate fondly. “He’s my buddy, and when it comes to protecting those I care about”—he looked over the rifles—“I prefer to be over-prepared.”
“You’ve been dragging that idiotic crate around for years,” Keira said. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s inside?”
“Nope.” Chris patted the metal of the crate again. “It’s my little surprise and there’s not another like it on this planet. Y
ou can take my word on that.”
“Your surprise?” Keira was skeptical. “Like a tactical nuke? Now that would be a surprise. You know, I don’t think the UPG would like that.”
“As impressive as a tactical nuke is, what’s inside is not that impressive.” Chris moved over and slid another bag under the row of seats on the left side. He looked up at her as he strapped it down. “Before your father passed and I adopted you, I promised your old man I would look after you if something ever happened to him.” He stood up. There was a deep sadness in his gaze that almost cut her to the bone. “I took that promise seriously, and that’s just what I intend to do. That’s what family does, and you are my family, Keira.”
She felt a lump in her throat as she gazed on the old marine who had become a second father to her. She gave a nod. “It’s what family does.”
“That’s right,” Chris said. “We stick together, no matter how bad it gets.”
Chris turned away, as if looking for something.
Keira glanced out the back of the APC and frowned. “The generator we brought back last night …”
“What about it?” Chris had opened a locker and was looking inside. He closed it and turned back to face her.
“It’s gone,” Keira said. They had found the small R-36 power conduit generator pump while on their last job. It was in a nonfunctional state but could be repaired or broken down for parts. Chris always carried a list with him for specific items to hunt for. If they came across one of the items, they would take it or come back for it later when there was sufficient time. None of what they lugged back ever got reported to the UPG. “You got rid of it that quick?”
“Yep,” he said, as if suddenly bored by the conversation. “The customer who asked for it wanted it badly. They came straight away and picked it up last night.”
“Hope you got a good price for it,” Keira said.
“I always get a good price,” Chris said. “We should be getting a reconditioned air filter for the Beast in return, along with extra rations.”
Fallen Empire: A Military Science Fiction Epic Adventure (Born of Ash Book 1) Page 7