Michi watched Tamara go into a bar with the man, waited another 15 minutes, and then got up and slowly made her way out of the Gut. She was still pretty jazzed, and as she walked home, she was already planning her next strike.
Chapter 11
“Saint Chuck’s ass,” Tamara said as they watched the news feed. “Is that because of us?”
The feed showed riot-geared jacks rounding up people in the Gut. As indentureds didn’t have the credits to play there, other than a few moonlighting on the service side of the equation, most of the people getting rounded up were free citizens.
“Do you know who I am?” screamed one florid-faced middle-aged man in the background behind the reporter. “I’ll have your job,” he said before being dragged off in zipties, anything else he had to say lost to the feed.
Their jumping of the jack the night before had gone unreported on any news feed, but this was a new development. Jacks tended to keep their hands off free citizens. They had full enforcement rights over anyone on the planet, theoretically even to the company execs, but this type of round-up just wasn’t done.
“It has to be,” Michi answered. “They’re telling us, you and me, I guess, that they are going to play rough.”
“I don’t think people are going to stand for it. Don’t they need probable cause to arrest people like that?”
“I think so. I’d have to take a look at the charter, though,” Michi said. As a First Family, Michi had never much considered how the law was upheld on Kakurega.
“So maybe we need to lay low? No more missions for awhile?” Tamara asked.
“Lay low? How about lay off. We hit them, but I think we’re done. Let’s take this as a victory and leave it at that, OK?” Michi said as she watched the jacks haul off person after person.
“Quit? Completely? Some Highland Samurai you are?” Tamara grumbled, but without conviction.
Jumping a jack had seemed to be an adventure, a way to strike back. But they should have known the security forces wouldn’t just meekly stand by while their own were targeted. One could have been a freak occurrence. Two, and two where Jamison’s were taken, were a pattern, one that the jacks had to address. They had to know that they were arresting people who had nothing to do with the attack on the jack. Oh, maybe they thought they could get lucky and find the culprit during interrogation, but this was a message, pure and simple.
You don’t mess with Propitious Interstellar’s security forces.
Chapter 12
Michi’s feet hurt as she made her way down Hallison Street. She had spent two hours at the studio, the first time she’d danced since Franz was killed, and her feet had paid the price for her absence. It was a good hurt, though, a familiar one. And familiarity was what she sought.
She’d had enough of hanging out at Tamara’s condo and wanted to get a taste of her old life. She’d stopped by her family’s house first, ostensibly to pick up some personal belongings, but in reality, it was just to see the place. Her parents weren’t home, but as she sat in the kitchen munching on some of Talla’s raspberry-mint tarts, the family maid let her know that her parents talked about her, and that they would welcome her back.
She was tempted to just stay until her parents came home. She wanted to turn back the clock, to go back three weeks when she had a fiancé, a life she loved, and no worries. But Franz was gone, and nothing was going to bring him back. She chatted with Talla, eating a few more tarts than she should have just to prolong the visit. Finally, though, she left and went to the studio.
A few of the others welcomed her back, and Melinda expressed her condolences on Franz’ death, but most of the dancers there left her alone. Most probably just didn’t know what to say, she knew, but still, Michi felt ignored. Michi lost herself in her positions, dancing until her feet cried for relief. She stopped and sat up against one of the mirrors, listening to the thuds and squeaks of the feet of the other dancers on the studio floor, smelling the familiar odor of human exertion. The smell, more than anything else, resonated with her, reminding her of the life she wanted back.
She tended to her feet, put her cozy over her dance clothes, and left the studio to make her way back to Tamara’s. She wished she still had her Sullivan. A cold wind was picking up, and it would be a 45-minute walk on aching feet until she got there.
She tightened up the cozy hood around her face and neck, put her head down, and walked into the wind, lost in her thoughts. It would be so much easier to just go home and apologize. Unfortunately, she had a stubborn streak that wouldn’t let her forgive and forget that easily. She had lost her love, and her family didn’t seem to care.
With her hood up and her mind wandering, she didn’t notice the growing crowd noise until she came around the corner and into Prosperity Square. Surprised, she stopped to see what was happening. There had been several protests about the wholesale arrests over the last few days, but this had a much more organized feel to it. There had to be 400 people in the square, all protesting Propitious Interstellar. Quite a few people had placards decrying security force heavy-handedness, and more than a few held aloft placards with Franz’ photo on it and the date of his death.
That hit Michi hard. She felt his loss every day, but she had never come out in public forcing people to remember him. Yet here, at least 20 people were carrying his image, not letting the jacks forget what had happened.
“Excuse me,” she said, approaching an elderly man who was carrying Franz’ photo. “Where did you get that?”
“Up there,” he responded pointing to the right of the crowd and down 8th Street, one of the streets that radiated out from the square. “It was a shame about the young man, so I chose this one.”
Michi looked to where he was pointing, but she couldn’t see anything. She thanked the man, and then walked in that direction, leaving the square itself before spotting a van, the back doors open. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but it was Cheri at the van, handing out ready-made placards. Michi made her way through the crowd and approached Cheri.
“Can I have one of those?” she asked.
“Sure, which one?” Cheri asked before looking up and seeing who was asking. “Michi! It’s good to see you again. How are you holding up?”
Michi neglected to mention that they hadn’t seen each other at Cheri’s request, not hers.
“I’m fine,” she said instead. “I’m surprised to see this going on, and I’m even more surprised to see Franz’ face being carried by so many people. You could have told me.”
“Oh, Michi, dear. We didn’t want to bother you. Franz’ loss was shocking, and it hit so many of us. And now, with the jacks abrogating the charter and arresting people without probable cause, well, more and more people are getting involved. We need to show Propitious Interstellar that they can’t run roughshod over us.”
“No, it’s OK. I just wish I’d known,” Michi said. “Well, can I have one of those?”
“Oh, of course, dear. Let me get you one.”
Cheri reached into the back of the van and brought one out, handing it to her. Michi stared at it for a moment before recognizing the photo. It was one she had taken herself at a picnic. Franz was smiling at her, looking younger than his years. Michi choked back any reaction as she took it, wondering where they had gotten the photo.
“Come on back when we break up, OK? We can catch up on things,” Cheri said.
Michi took the sign and held it up, walking back to join the crowd. She edged into the back, only then noticing the line of jacks arrayed in front of them. This looked eerily like how they were positioned before Franz was killed, and she momentarily took a step back.
Hell! They don’t scare me, she reminded herself. I’ve taken a few of them down.
She pushed back up, picking up the “No Jack Authority!” chant being voiced by the crowd.
There was no stage this time, no set speakers. But someone out of Michi’s sight obviously had a bullhorn, and he was changing the chants every few minutes. Michi sp
ent the next 30 minutes chanting herself hoarse, yelling with every fiber of her body. She shook Franz’ picture as she chanted, using it as an exclamation mark. Despite the chill, her energy and the close proximity of the crowd kept her warm.
She knew that the jacks’ crowd surveillance would have already identified her as a participant, and this was not what she should be doing if she wanted to go back home, but she didn’t care.
When the blast exploded, she felt the rush of heat go over her head. It didn’t register for a moment, but the screams that started up did. Ahead of her, a number of jacks were down hard while others struggled back to their feet. Within moments, some of them opened fire on the protesters. Michi saw a dozen or more protesters in the front ranks fall as they were hit.
People started to turn and run, a stampede to get away from the carnage. The human current took Michi with it. Not everyone ran, though. A figure in a ski mask and dressed in black stepped forward against the crowd, people parting alongside of him as he raised some sort of weapon and fired back in the direction of the jacks.
Michi was almost pushed into his line of fire, but she was able to squirm back and to his side. He pumped out three more shots, then pushed his way forward and out of sight.
Michi stumbled over a prone body. She bent down to help the man up and was almost knocked down herself. Another man stopped, and with both of them taking an arm, they picked the fallen man up and dragged him out of the way.
Shots continued to ring out, some close by, some from the jacks. Michi risked a glance back as she helped drag the man to one of the side streets. Twenty or thirty bodies littered the square, most looking like protesters. The man in black, the one who was firing, continued to advance, now that he was not blocked by the mass of people. He kept firing, but then he stumbled and went down.
Michi turned her attention to getting away and out of the line of fire. She lost sight of the square as she helped pull the man out and onto one of the side streets. People were rushing by when the man struggled to his feet, wheezing, but assuring them he was OK. The other man that was helping looked at Michi and snapped his head indicating that they should get out of there. Michi could hear the stomping of feet, feet moving in formation from the square. She looked at the man she’d helped.
“I’m fine, thanks to you. Get out of here,” he told her.
Michi took the hint. She started sprinting, only then realizing she was still carrying Franz’ picture. She knew she should drop it, but she couldn’t. Holding it in her right hand, she took off, ignoring the pain that still radiated from her feet. Behind her, she could hear the firing die off while a voice coming out of a speaker in the sky ordered everyone to stop and lie on the ground.
Hell with that!
She quickly passed others who were also fleeing and didn’t slow down until she reached Tamara’s building. She ran up the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator, and made it inside the condo.
It was then that the trembling started, and didn’t stop until Tamara got home from work, unaware yet of what had just happened.
Chapter 13
With martial law declared, sporadic fighting broke out. “Fighting” might not be the best description of it. There was occasional sniping against company targets, and several mini-drone bombs were unleashed. Surprisingly, for a company as large and rich as Propitious Interstellar, they didn’t have any defense for the mini-drones. The jacks had to resort to firing their Jamisons or the few energy weapons they possessed to knock the drones down. Even jamming the frequencies had little effect as whoever was flying them skipped frequencies all the way into the target.
The payloads on the 500 gram drones were not very powerful, so other than causing some minor damage, there was not much in the way of tangible effects. Psychologically, though, PI knew that the people, at least some of the people, had finally had enough to warrant action against the company.
The news feeds, which were all controlled by PI, were the only sources of information that were available on the holos, and they didn’t show much. The key clip seemed to be one where an indentured maintenance worker at Plant 5 had been burnt by a mini-drone strike. The man was obviously in pain, and the holo camera lingered over him as he cried out in anguish while the reporter castigated the “terrorist” act that had caused the injuries.
The indentureds had been confined to their factories, and even the Class I employees were threatened with termination if they didn’t show up for work. There was a curfew in effect from 8:00 PM until 6:00 AM for anyone not on company business. This was not just for PI employees; it pertained to everyone on the planet. Michi was out of the loop, but she knew the First Families would be up in arms. They treasured their independence, and their rights were specified in the charter—a charter that Propitious Interstellar seemed to be ignoring.
Company jacks held several raids. A news crew had been with them for one such raid on an indentured dormitory. All it showed was the jacks man-handling the Class 4s while turning up no weapons. The PR honchos must have stepped in after that as there was no more coverage of raids. However, Michi was able to watch several vids of additional raids by going through her proxy and accessing off-world sites. One of the most downloaded vids was one of a young boy, probably around 10 years old, sitting dazed in a dormitory ladderwell, his face bloody.
Without showing the vid, Propitious Interstellar denied that it was even taken on Kakurega, claiming it was a fake meant to discredit the company’s security forces. Michi wouldn’t put it past someone like Tamberlain, or even Hokkam, to put out some faked footage, but some of the other vids and holos showed jacks in the company uniforms meting out some severe treatment to unresisting people.
All of this galvanized the population. PI was making a big mistake, though, in Michi’s opinion, that is, if they really believed their news releases. According to the company, the “unrest” was a result of off-world agitators rallying the indentureds using misinformation (not that they used the term “indentureds—with them, it was always “Class 4 employees”). Michi didn’t think the company really thought it was off-worlders, but if they thought this was an indentured issue, Michi was sure they had misinterpreted the situation. From the zips[9] she was getting from friends, this “unrest” was far broader than that.
A low explosion sounded outside the window, and Michi got up off the couch where she had been watching holos and looked out. A plume of black smoke was rising up several blocks to the west. Tamara would be coming back home about now, and her route would be close to the smoke. Michi contemplated going out to see if she could find her roommate, but decided it was better to stay in the condo and let Tamara come to her.
Still, it was a tense 45 minutes as she waited, changing her mind back and forth on leaving, until Tamara came in the door in an agitated state.
“Did they show any of it in the news feeds?” she asked breathlessly, looking over to where Michi had been watching them.
“Show what?”
“The fight! The jacks were pulling another raid on the indentureds, but they should have shown up with more. They were dragging three out of the dorm when at least 50 indentureds jumped them. I saw it all from the walkway,” she said, referring to the elevated walkway on which employees who worked in Buildings Four, Five, and Six left the campus and which ran between some of the Class Four dormitories.
“They were beating the crap out of them. I captured some of it on my phone, but I could see the cavalry arriving, so I got the heck out of there. And then, right on the corner of Orville and Mendoza, the friggin’ building blew up, the one with the noodle shop. I was only a block away!”
Michi took Tamara by the hand and sat her down on the couch.
“It blew up?”
“Yeah, kaboom! It’s a fucking war out there, Michi. A war!”
Chapter 14
Two days later, two days in which clashes had become more frequent, and as Michi and Tamara were sipping tea on their small balcony during a lull in the fightin
g, several dark shapes flew overhead towards the company campus. Painted on the fuselage, Michi could clearly see the UFMC flash.
The Marines had landed.
Chapter 15
Michi and Tamara walked into a WRP office bustling with activity. The arrival of the Marines had thrown the planet into a tizzy, as could be expected. Not much of substance was being passed over the newsfeeds, only that the Marines were there to restore order and provide security for the “good citizens” of Kakurega. Estranged from her family, Michi did not have any other information sources available to her, so she and Tamara decided to see what the WRP knew about what was going on.
Michi hadn’t even seen a Marine in person yet. There were too few of them around to make much of a physical impact, but the psychological impact was something entirely different. Michi could feel a sense of impending doom in the air, as if father was now home and ready to punish the offending children.
The fact that that Captain Ryck Lysander, the posterboy of the Marines, was one of the commanders of the battalion that landed only heightened the tension. The newsfeeds almost crowed about his presence, going into detail about his history and his “hero” status.
“Look, there’s Cheri,” Tamara pointed out. “Let’s go see what she knows.”
Cheri looked up from a conversation she was having with a young man as the two came up. “Tamara, Michi, how are you?” she asked, leaning forward to kiss each one on the cheek.
“We’re holding out,” Tamara said. “But we’re pretty much in the dark. Anything you can tell us?”
“I, well, um . . . Danny, can you give me a moment here?” she asked the young man who nodded and walked off.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Michi, but you know, with all of this, it’s been a little hard.”
“About what?”
Rebel (The United Federation Marine Corps) Page 6