Rebel World (The Eternal Frontier Book 4)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Tag’s role involved the most subterfuge. He was posing as a diplomat on Orthod to quell the dissatisfaction the colony had expressed with the SRE. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been enough time for Doran to brief him on the sociopolitical climate of Orthod, nor was she able to read him in on classified documents. He was playing his part nearly blind—and Tag could only hope that he wouldn’t be the one to blow their cover and get his crew killed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Weapons lock detected,” Alpha reported as they transitioned into normal space.

  “A fine way to welcome us,” Coren said.

  Sofia pulled back on the controls, leveling out over Orthod. On the holomap in the center of the bridge, dots indicated the current locations of the planet’s automated defensive satellites. Doran had told him that these satellites were unmanned but could be controlled manually by the marines planet-side. This system was supposed to make up for the fact that the planet didn’t have a regular warship patrolling it.

  “No need to worry yet,” Tag said. “Remember, they don’t know we’re coming. We’re here as uninvited guests.”

  “Shields, Captain?” Alpha asked.

  “Not yet. Patch me in to the general comms channel.”

  “Connected now.”

  “Orthod Marine platoon, this is Captain Tag Brewer of the SRES Argo. Requesting permission to land.”

  A voice called back in what sounded to Tag like a stilted Eastern European Earther’s accent. “This is Staff Sergeant Aletia Lorens of the Orthod Marine platoon. Permission to land requires encrypted credentials.”

  “Copy that, Sergeant,” Tag said. He took the data cube Doran had given him from his EVA suit’s pocket and placed it above his terminal’s data reader plate. With a quick tap, he transmitted the contents of the data cube to the staff sergeant.

  There were several long beats of silence, during which Tag wondered if the hastily constructed credentials would pass muster. He watched the planet floating in their viewscreen. Orthod shared the palette of greens, blues, browns, and grays of so many Earth-like planets. Here, the ratio of those colors seemed drastically skewed compared to Earth. Small swirls of brown and gray pockmarked with bits of green made up the few land masses. The oceans here were green, nearly the color of Lucky’s eyes, instead of the more familiar blue. Tag wished he’d had a chance to read more about Orthod’s geography, climate, and history. What kind of a place was he dragging his crew into this time?

  “Captain Brewer, you are cleared to land,” Sergeant Lorens finally replied.

  “Copy. We’re coming down.”

  “Weapons lock is gone,” Alpha reported. Coren visibly relaxed in his crash couch. Still, his hands remained near his terminal.

  Sofia initiated manual controls over the Argo and took them over a low, sweeping path to their destination. As the grav impellers churned on, they broke orbit and accelerated along the curve of the planet, heading to the dark side of the world where the Principality of Orthod was. Even without the aid of holomap, lidar, or radar, it would have been easy to spot the small town. Electric lights gleamed like fallen stars, guiding the Argo’s descent. Just south of Orthod City, a luminous red X shone.

  “There’s our sign,” Sofia said. She took the Argo over the X then reduced the power to the grav impellers.

  Huge clouds of dust kicked up around the ship as it approached the ground. Grass swayed and bent, hugging close to the ground, until Sofia powered the Argo down.

  “Well, boys and girls, we’ve made it,” she said.

  “Let’s go meet our hosts,” Tag said. “And here’s hoping they’re friendlier than our last.”

  “If I’ve learned anything while flying with you, Skipper, it’s to expect the worst,” Sofia replied.

  “Pessimism is an undesirable trait,” Alpha said. Coren shot her a dubious look. “Although I suppose it is wise to have realistic expectations so we shall be better prepared to deal with any imminent challenges.”

  “What’s that human saying you all seem to enjoy?” Coren asked. “Something like, ‘hope for the best, prepare for the worst?’”

  “That’s the one,” Tag said. “Come on, the show’s about to start. Break a leg, everyone.”

  As they marched down the Argo’s ramp into the dusty Orthod night, Tag heard Alpha earnestly asking Sofia whether he’d meant they should break their own legs or those of the natives. He smiled grimly.

  This was going to be interesting.

  They joined the marines outside. Bull was sulking because Tag had only allowed them to be armed with pulse rifles and pistols. Though the colony had been rumbling with the threat of rebellion, no violent conflicts had happened yet. It would look suspicious if their escort was armed with rocket launchers, mini-Gauss rifles, and flamethrowers. Tag had allowed himself only a sheathed plasma-blade, which rested hidden in his boot. Coren and Sofia did the same. Alpha didn’t need a weapon; she was one.

  As they waited beside the ship for someone official to meet them, Tag studied their surroundings. There was a slight stench to the dry air, like sulfur. Vents in the ground nearby let out steam from underground hot springs. He could practically feel the scalding water bubbling just beneath the surface of the planet. Strange, curling plants with leaves like a Forinth’s tentacle waved in the slight breeze. Pods hung off the underside of the leaves. At first, Tag thought they must be seeds until he saw they were moving. On closer inspection, they appeared to be creatures stuck somewhere on this planet’s strange evolutionary scale between snails and rodents.

  And though the bubbling of the vents and the alien-looking plants had unsettled him slightly, the planet was no more unusual than Meck’ara or Eta-Five or—if he thought about it— Earth. So the sinking feeling in his gut, the voice in his head saying he had just stepped into something neither he nor his crew were ready to handle, didn’t come from anything native to Orthod.

  No, Tag thought, peering around at the masses assembled outside his ship, the people yelling and jeering. The sensation of dread filling him like molten metal came from the citizens of Orthod themselves.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “SRE scum, get off our planet!”

  “Live free or die!”

  “Trespassers will be shot!”

  “Death to colonialism!”

  Bull wasted no time in playing their security detail—although for him it wasn’t so much playing a role as it was following instinct ingrained by years of training.

  “Stay back, Captain,” he said, wielding his rifle before him. He didn’t aim it at the crowd yet, but it was clear from the way he handled the weapon that he knew how to use it. Sumo and Lonestar strode in front of Coren and Sofia, with Gorenado blocking Alpha. The four of them watched the crowd, their eyes narrowed and jaws gritted.

  “It’s moments like this I’m glad they’re on our side,” Sofia said. “For all the jokes and drinks, they don’t mess around.”

  “Captain,” Alpha said, “I don’t see any particularly dangerous weapons among the colonists.”

  “No firearms at all?” he asked.

  “None,” she said. “Three individuals have sheathed knives, although they are rudimentary tools by my estimation. Nothing quite so effective as a plasma-blade.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Plasma-blades? None.”

  “No, people,” Tag said, struggling to be heard over the raucous crowd.

  “There are fifty-five people in this crowd. Although I see additional people running toward us now.” Then a beat of silence from Alpha as the protesters continued decrying the SRE’s interference with their little colony. “Captain, these new arrivals are carrying rifles!”

  “Marines, form up,” Bull yelled. The marines formed a tighter ring around Tag and the others, backing them up into the cargo bay hatch.

  Tag’s heart hammered in his chest. The last thing he wanted to do was start a riot. He had faced scorpions and Drone-Mechs, nanite-based robots and a Collector, not to menti
on the insidious Dreg, but facing off against fellow humans was something else entirely.

  “So is this how it begins and ends?” Coren asked. “If I’ve learned anything during my brief and exciting career as an amateur anthropologist, it’s that humans are a fierce and noisy lot.”

  “We should go back inside,” Bull said, trying to usher them into the cargo hold.

  Tag shook his head. “We need to hold our ground. Show these people that we aren’t afraid, nor are we a threat to them.”

  Tag held up his hands to get their attention. The mob paid him no heed; their chants continued just as loudly as before.

  “Please!” Tag said. “Hear us out!”

  On they chanted, wishing death to the SRE and telling the outsiders to leave. The armed colonists were almost there. As they neared, though, Tag saw they weren’t dressed in the utilitarian unisuits or casual clothes of the civilians but in standard-issue SRE combat uniforms.

  A few of the civilians must have seen the incoming marines. They turned and started levying insults and jeers at them instead. Then a marine raised his rifle into the air and fired. A bolt of orange pulsefire streamed toward the sky, dissipating in the atmosphere. The shot echoed over the relatively flat landscape, and the crowd at once went silent. To Tag’s surprise, they also didn’t scatter and run. They simply shared looks of disapproval and trenchant whispers. It was as if they had become inured to the sound of gunfire.

  Yes, things were definitely tenser here than he had anticipated.

  The marines pushed into the colonists. Most moved out of the way, and the few that didn’t were shoved aside with an exchange of curses. A single marine wearing power armor strode ahead of the rest, clearly the alpha of the pack. Chevrons on his shoulder indicated he was a second lieutenant. The man’s visor retracted as he strode toward the Argo. He extended a hand to Tag.

  “Lieutenant Ji-hu Cho,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Ambassador Brewer.” His eyes roved over the others assembled on the Argo’s ramp. “Kind of a ragtag group the admiral sent us. I was expecting some real reinforcements.”

  “We’re not here to reinforce anything, sir,” Bull said. “We’re purely on security detail.”

  Cho’s eyes swept over Bull, sizing him up. Bull had always been on the short side for a soldier, especially since he had chosen to augment his strength naturally, preferring weight-training over any mild genetic enhancements. With Cho in full combat power armor, Bull was almost half the lieutenant’s height. Still, Bull stared at the man as if he were the one who held rank.

  Cho shrugged. “We’ll see how you feel about that after a few days down here. The civvies’ bark is worse than their bite. They talk a big game, but they’re too damn scared to pull anything on us. It helps that we’re the ones with the guns.” He looked at Bull then Sumo, as if they were expected to laugh. When they didn’t, he continued, speaking as though the colonists couldn’t hear him. “I told them the SRE had sent a ship here, and these idiots got all riled up. So while I got ‘em quiet, maybe you can explain why you’re here before they start their bitching again.”

  Tag inhaled then coughed, clearing his throat. He’d almost blown it by calling himself Captain. “I’m Ambassador Tag Brewer. I’ve been working in colonial relations for a while now. Admiral Doran of the SRES Montenegro strike group sent me. It’s been noted that people here haven’t been completely satisfied with the SRE governance, so we’ve come to see if we can help.”

  “You can help by getting off this planet and taking those fools with you!” a muscular man near the front yelled. Others cheered behind him.

  Tag lifted a hand in the air. This time, with the marines and their weapons bristling around them, the civilians fell silent.

  “I am not here to tell you what to do or take away your rights,” Tag said. At this, Cho raised a brow, looking slightly bemused. “I’ve been sent as a mediator. Just because I work for the SRE doesn’t mean I only represent their interests. I’m here to learn what we can do for you.”

  “I already told you,” the man at the front of the crowd yelled. “Get off our planet!”

  At this, Cho nodded to one of his men. The marine clocked the colonist square in the nose. Clutching his face, the wounded man glared furiously at the SRE marines. Cho fired into the air again. The pulsefire reflected orange off his suit and face, giving him the appearance of a demon from the three hells, even if only for a second.

  Once again the crowd quieted.

  “Lieutenant Cho, please. There’s no need for violence,” Tag said.

  “You’ll find there is a need for violence,” Cho said. “Or haven’t you read the reports I’ve been sending?”

  Tag was worried his ruse was falling apart. He opened his mouth to respond, thinking he would come up with something as he talked. Before he could try to recover from his gaffe, a woman strode forward. Although she was dressed in civilian clothes like the other colonists, there was a way about her as she walked, as if she possessed some kind of regal lineage. She may as well have been wearing a crown at the deference provided as the civilians parted.

  “Of course he hasn’t read the reports, Cho,” the woman said.

  “Lieutenant Cho to you, ma’am,” he spat back.

  “Lieutenant Cho, the SRE is ignoring our reports. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Tag gave a silent nod to Alpha. She seemed to understand his intention and immediately delved into her wrist terminal. He hoped she was searching for whatever reports these people were referring to in the data packets Doran had given them.

  The woman continued, “I’m Maxine Burton, governor of the Principality of Orthod. The reports he is referring to are the courier drones we’ve sent to the SRE. We haven’t received a response for months. In fact, this is the first time we’ve had contact with anyone from the SRE besides these assholes.”

  “If anyone’s an asshole—” Cho began, but Burton cut him off.

  “Tensions are high,” she said. “There have been incidents—which I detailed in my reports—that require the SRE’s attention.”

  “Look,” Cho said, “here’s the deal. Four of my marines disappeared last week.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Privates Manuel Porter, Maureen Dellaporta, Ting Guo, and Sergeant Leo Beckham. Good men and women, and these ungrateful pieces of shit abducted them.”

  Four missing marines? Tag thought. So many strange happenings connected with Orthod.

  “You have no evidence of that,” Burton said. She looked toward Tag. “If you’re truly here as a mediator, please understand that all my people want is to be treated fairly and justly. Not like the authoritarian police state Cho runs.”

  Cho snarled. “I treat you like criminals because you are criminals.”

  “We didn’t abduct your people,” Burton said.

  “Bullshit,” Cho said. “And even if I gave you the benefit of the doubt, you are here illegally. The principality isn’t yours to command. By right, it’s an SRE planet.”

  “Which the SRE only claimed after we established a colony here and terraformed it independently. It was our money, our time, and our lives we risked,” Burton said.

  “You can’t even claim this planet as your own,” Cho said. “If anybody owns it, it’s the Imoogi.”

  Tag looked at his crew. All of them looked as bewildered as he felt. “Excuse me,” Tag said, “but what is an Imoogi?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Gods’ sake, they really haven’t told you anything about this planet, have they?” Cho asked. “Don’t you know anything?”

  “The SRE knows. They just don’t care,” Burton said.

  The tendrils of a headache began to swirl around Tag’s mind. He wasn’t sure how much more of this bickering he could stand. “Okay, it sounds like we have a lot of work to do and a lot of catching up.” He motioned to the twin slivers of Orthod’s moons floating overhead. “And it appears we’ve arrived in the middle of your night. I suggest we set a meeting time for tomorrow at a
neutral location. Lieutenant Cho, Governor Burton, do you have any such place?”

  Burton sighed. “Yes, we have a hall for mediation. Not that it gets used very often.”

  “Very well,” Tag said. “In the meantime, why don’t we all get a good night’s sleep? Cho, Burton, please ask your people to go home.”

  Cho cast a sideways glance at Maxine before nodding at Tag. “Anything you say, sir. I trust SRE to make the best decision here.” He turned and strode away with his half-dozen marines in tow. He ignored the civilian with the bloodied nose as the man stared daggers at him.

  “I’m happy to see the SRE try some real diplomacy here,” Burton said. She let out a slightly derisive laugh. “I just hope it hasn’t come too late.”

  While Cho had assumed Tag’s SRE ties meant he was more or less on their side, trying to win Burton’s trust would be a much harder battle. The colonists had also been on Orthod longer than any SRE platoon, so if there had been recruitment activities by the collaborators or suspicious dealings by Starinski Labs, they might have noticed. That meant somehow winning over the governor. “Governor Burton,” Tag said, striding past the protective circle of his own marines. Though the colonists were mostly unarmed, he still felt a tingle of electricity in the air as their eyes followed him. “I want to introduce my team to you. I meant what I said earlier—we’re here to help.”

  Some of the tension lifted as the colonists realized Tag was offering more than just some symbolic mediation by the SRE. They were also fascinated by Alpha and Coren. The people here had never heard of, much less seen, a Mechanic, and Alpha transcended all their expectations of what a droid should be.