by Chris Fox
As she stood in the shared hostel room and pulled tight the wide belt she wore, she hoped that no one would ask her any awkward questions. She didn’t have a clue about smelting.
Atoi stepped into the room. “Come downstairs,” she said. Her voice was muffled by her mask, but the comm Carina was wearing conveyed the woman’s words. “Speidel’s back. We’re leaving soon.”
Carina caught her reflection in a mirror as she left. She so rarely looked at herself in a mirror, let alone saw herself in civvies, that she paused a moment to take in the sight. She was wearing narrow pants that went down to her calves, boots that fastened with interlacing straps and a plain, open-necked hemp blouse. Speidel had told them to stick to dark colors.
Her figure was athletic but not bulky, and she didn’t—yet—have that hard, intense expression that a life of killing had given so many of the others. Of all the squad members on the mission she thought she looked the least like a soldier. Perhaps she could find another way in life after rescuing the little boy.
Did she look anything like a smelting worker? She didn’t think so, but her outfit would have to do.
She followed Atoi downstairs to the hostel bar, where the others were hanging out. Speidel wasn’t there, and they were drinking the local brew. When Carina sat down at the table, someone pushed a beaker of frothy liquid in front of her. The smell of it told her the drink was some kind of alcohol. When she hesitated to try it, Jackson leaned over and said, “Speidel said it’s okay. Just one drink.”
For the benefit of eavesdroppers, they weren’t to use the word ‘captain’ in public, nor any other terms that might identify them.
Carina sipped the deep green liquid. It tasted like someone had fermented the local vegetation, which was probably the case. “I think I’ll pass,” she said, pushing the beaker away.
Smitz laughed. He grabbed her cup and drained it.
Speidel came into the bar carrying a bulging bag. He set it down on the table and handed out weapons. Though the bar was full of the hostel’s patrons, no one took any notice. It was as though on Orrana not carrying a weapon would be strange behavior.
Jackson held up his gun to examine it. “Where are these from? The last century?”
Smitz snickered and poured himself another drink from the pitcher.
“That’s what’s available at short notice on the street.” Speidel held out his hand to take the gun back. “Unless you’d rather go without?”
“No, no. Not complaining,” Jackson replied, pushing the weapon into the back of his pants under his shirt. “No way. Just asking.”
After quickly checking it over, Carina tucked hers into her belt.
Speidel said quietly, “I picked up some explosives too. C8 with delay fuses. They weren’t difficult to find and they’ll probably prove useful. They have thirty-second and two-minute delays. Okay, let’s pay a visit to a smelting plant. I’ve hired one of the local transports. Let’s go. We’ll talk more about the job on the way.”
He clearly didn’t want to risk their conversation being overheard at the bar. The eight mercs rose and left with the captain, making their way outside. As they went to where the transport was parked, Carina got her first close-up look at the settlement. She wasn’t impressed. The place reminded her of where she’d grown up.
Like Carina’s birth planet, Orrana was far from the center of the action and way off trade routes, and it showed. No one was planning to settle there, so no one had made any effort to create a proper infrastructure, like good roads or basic public services. From the flimsy pre-fabricated buildings to the dim street lights hung on makeshift poles, everything was temporary.
She pondered the advisability of building a smelting plant on a planet that was prone to earthquakes, but the financial savings of refining the ore planetside probably offset the costs of rebuilding after a shock. The risk to the workers was undoubtedly low on the list of priorities, as it always was in ass-end-of-the-galaxy places.
Carina climbed aboard the multi-person transport Speidel had rented. The heavy vibration when he started it up signaled that the vehicle ran on some kind of organic fuel. Orrana really was about the most backward place she’d ever been. She slid into a window seat and rubbed a clear patch in the grimy window with the edge of her sleeve. Speidel input the destination and the transport pulled into the road.
“The smelting plant where the Dirksens are holding the kid is at the edge of town,” Speidel said once they were on their way down the potholed street. “We’re going to pretend we’re looking for work. Gangs of immigrants looking for labor are common. The guards shouldn’t be too suspicious at first. Don’t forget that you’re supposed to be contract laborers. Low-skilled, boneheaded grunts.”
“Sounds about right,” Carver said, her scarred top lip rising in a gruesome grin.
“That way, no one’s going to expect us to answer any difficult questions,” Speidel continued. “All we need is enough of a cover story to get inside the plant. Here are the plans.”
He handed out thin, transparent sheets.
“The red dot is the kid.”
Carina studied the blueprint of the plant. It felt weird to not see the image on a visor overlay and not to be able to interact with it. The smelting plant was large and complex, and the Dirksens had secreted the boy on a basement level at its heart. As she saw the scale of the complex, the desperate nature of their attempt began to hit home.
The Dirksens had chosen the place to hold their hostage well. Not only was the boy in the least accessible part of the complex, the place was full of people working for Dirksens: tough men and women who had led hard lives. They wouldn’t be averse to using their fists or whatever weapon came to hand to do their boss’ bidding, and there had to be hundreds of them.
“You’ve gotta be joking, sir,” said Lee, staring at the blueprint. His nervous tic had started up. Normally quiet, the man’s outburst signaled the dismay the rest of the troop was no doubt also feeling.
“Lee’s right,” said Smitz. “They aren’t gonna let a bunch of strangers in even if they believe our story, and if we try to fight our way in, we’re dead. With our regular armor and weapons, we might stand a chance, but with these antiques, we’ll never make it. Stop the transport and let me out. I’m going back to the ship.”
“You’ll stay right where you are, soldier,” Speidel said.
Smitz spat a brown, greasy ball of spittle at Speidel’s feet and got up to leave. The captain rose and roughly pushed the man back down into his seat. The soldier scowled and was about to stand again when Carina said, “Wait. What if we try something different?”
Smitz hesitated then buckled under the captain’s glare.
“Like what, Corporal?” Speidel asked.
Carina outlined her plan. It would spread the mercs thin, and they would have to sacrifice force of arms to diversionary tactics and speed, but she couldn’t see how they could retrieve the boy otherwise.
Speidel listened, his face betraying neither approbation nor disapproval.
“I’ll go in to do the rescue,” Carina added. “The kid’s only six, and I think I’m the least scary of all of us. We don’t want to frighten him into trying to get away. I’ll need just one other person to come with me.”
Atoi said, “I’ll do it.”
“Okay,” said Speidel after a moment’s pause, “we’ll do it your way, Lin. It sounds like it might work.”
7
Speidel stopped the transport two klicks from their destination and spent some time studying the smelting plant from afar. One of his eyes was an implant that had around ten times the capabilities of its biological equivalent.
While the captain was studying the processes of the plant and the movements of its workers, Carina checked her weapon over again. It was fully powered, but that was about all it had going for it. Jackson’s earlier estimation that their guns were from the previous century seemed optimistic.
Her firearm was single pulse only, and the gauge on i
ts side indicated that it had to build power between each discharge. Great. She hoped it didn’t take long. What wouldn’t she give for her trusty Jensen 31. Consulting with Atoi, she was relieved to find that the woman had received a better model. Hers didn’t require time to recharge unless after rapid fire.
“Okay.” Speidel turned around in his seat to face them. “The heap of ore on the right side is fed by a conveyor belt into a press to crush the rocks. Another belt takes the crushed rock inside—I’m guessing to furnaces to smelt it. We need to get some explosives onto the belt that enters the plant. That should mess the place up pretty good. Our second target is a pile of smoking waste on the far side of the complex. Nothing like falling red-hot ashes to rain on someone’s parade.
“Another possible target is one of the chimneys. They’re wide and they aren’t that tall. Seems like concern for the environment is a concept that hasn’t arrived on Orrana just yet. Someone with a good aim might get lucky. Anyone want to try?”
“I’ll do it, sir,” said Jackson. Lee and Halliday slapped the man on the back. With his prosthetic arm, Jackson was the obvious candidate.
“Good,” Speidel said. “They’ve just turned on the lights, but their coverage isn’t good. Should be plenty of shadows for cover. Brown and Carver, you’re on target one. Halliday and Lee, you’re on target two. Smitz, you’re with us.”
Smitz gave Speidel a surly glance but said nothing.
It was nearing twilight as the transport drew close to the plant. The emissions of its chimneys were dark gray against the deepening sky, leading from a dim glow at their bases. The mercs were well beyond the edge of town, driving down an empty road.
At a dip where the transport was briefly out of sight of the complex, Speidel stopped the vehicle again, and the five mercs who were to provide the diversions got out. They immediately stooped to grab handfuls of dirt. After mixing the dirt with a little water from their canteens, they would rub the resulting mud on their faces and exposed skin, helping them to melt into the encroaching darkness.
Speidel held out his weapon to Carina. “Take this and give me yours.”
Carina pulled her pulse gun from her belt. “Why, sir?”
“Never mind why, Corporal, just do as you’re ordered.”
She took the captain’s gun and briefly studied it before slipping it into her belt. His weapon was a better model than hers. He was swapping with her relic so that she could protect herself better.
A few moments later, the transport was on its way again, leaving the five disembarked mercs behind and slowly heading toward the light that glared from the guards’ office at the main gate.
The figure of a tall woman could be seen sitting at a desk behind translucent, scratched plexiglas as they drew up. Carina glanced at the gates to the facility, which were large, heavy, and well-secured. There was no way they would be getting through them. Their only way inside was via the guards’ office. She could see a shadowy exit at the back, blurred by the degraded glass of the window.
The guard was alone in the small room, her head turned toward a bank of roving holos that showed the activity inside the plant. She looked over as Speidel leaned out and spoke into the intercom. “We’re here to see the manager about some jobs.”
The woman’s brow furrowed. “What’s your name? I don’t have any record of an appointment.”
“You wouldn’t,” Speidel said. “We’re only here to ask.”
“The manager’s busy,” the woman said. “Check the job updates in the town news or make an appointment.” She returned her attention to the holos.
“It would only take a minute to ask, ma’am,” said Speidel. “We’ve got plenty of experience between us. Been working—”
“Get out of here,” exclaimed the woman.
While Speidel dragged out the conversation with the guard, Atoi, Carina, and Smitz slowly opened the door on the side of the transport facing away from the guards’ office and slipped out. Bent low, they crept around the vehicle and took up positions on either side of the window, just below its sill. All three had their gazes fixed on Speidel, waiting for his signal.
The captain raised his pulse gun, and they stood as one and fired at the plexiglass, cracking and melting the panes. Smitz drove his booted foot through the remains of the window on his side and Atoi elbowed out the rest. Carina followed them as they leapt into the room. The tall woman backed into a corner, her face pasty. The weapon she held was shaking. Clearly, she was just an ordinary guard and not one of the Dirksens’ hired goons.
Speidel had also jumped inside. He took pity on her and fired a stunning shot. The guard slid to the floor as more appeared through the doorway at the back of the room. These men and women were professionals. They came out firing aggressively, but they weren’t suited up. Carina, Smitz, and Atoi picked them off with accuracy, showing none of Speidel’s mercy.
The mercs’ position was dangerous. They had to avoid being pinned down in the outer office, trading shots with the Dirksen thugs while the local security force made its way over. They had to force their way inside, but stepping through the door wearing no armor would be suicide.
Still, they probably only had to wait a few more moments…
A boom split the air and the floor shook. Klaxons sounded. Someone had succeeded in placing a diversionary explosive.
Smitz and Atoi ran into the rear room, spraying pulses as they went. Carina and Speidel were hard on their heels. Two Dirksen hands were on their backs in the further office, their chests smoking. Speidel hit the arm of another who reached out from behind a cabinet to take a shot and Smitz finished her off. A fourth ran down the corridor leading from the room. Atoi shot him in the back.
They sped out and into the interior of the complex. The klaxons were still blaring, the sound penetrating Carina’s skull. Another boom shook the plant. The general employees would be well-occupied at least.
Speidel took the lead as they ran deeper into the building. They fired at anyone who approached. Most of them ran away. The mission seemed to be progressing well, but Carina began to feel a nagging doubt about what was happening.
The captain took them down a set of stairs, along a corridor, and then downstairs once more. The sound of the klaxons grew quieter as they moved away from the busier sections of the complex.
“Okay,” said Speidel, drawing to a stop at the top of a third set of stairs and panting. “We’re here. Lin, Atoi, don’t take too long. We can’t hold off a sustained attack.”
Carina and Atoi were to retrieve the Sherrerr child while Speidel and Smitz protected their rear. The two women ran quietly down the stairs. Though the klaxons were fainter there, Carina guessed the noise was sufficient to cover the sound of their footsteps. They were heading for a small room—not much bigger than a closet—in the corner of a large basement at the bottom of the stairs.
What they might expect to find, she didn’t know. She hoped that the child didn’t have a large, round-the-clock guard, but it seemed unlikely that the Dirksens would station lots of thugs right outside the kid’s door.
At the top of the final flight of stairs, Carina and Atoi stopped. They checked their weapons, looked each other in the eye, nodded once, and bounded down the final steps, firing into the basement as they went.
The wide, low room was full of old, dusty, broken bits and pieces of equipment, lit up by the pulse flashes from the women’s weapons. Carina couldn’t detect any returning fire. The two split up and ran for cover behind separate hulking pieces of machinery.
Carina sat with her back to a machine and waited, listening. The room was dark, but she could see Atoi’s position from the glowing dial of her pulse gun. The faint light shining from the stairs to the next level was the only other source of illumination.
No movement nor sound of any guards could be heard. Carina reached out and took a wild shot. No response.
“Atoi,” she whispered into her comm. “I think the place may be empty.”
“I was thinkin
g that too,” came the woman’s response.
“Let’s head round to the room where they have the kid,” Carina said.
“You got it.”
Carina crawled cautiously around the edge of the dark room, making her way to the door in the corner. Atoi approached it from the other direction. Carina arrived first. She reached upward, feeling for the door handle. She found it and pulled it down.
The door was unlocked. It swung open easily. Something was very, very wrong.
The smaller room was also dark. Carina stood and brushed the wall next to the door until she found the light switch. As it activated, Atoi arrived.
“What the hell?” the woman said as she saw the room. Aside from a few pieces of furniture, it was empty.
“What is it?” Speidel said over her comm. “Report, Lin.”
“The kid isn’t here, sir,” Carina replied. “I think we’re in the wrong room.”
“If you’re in the small room off the basement,” said Speidel, “that’s definitely where the child should be. I’m receiving the signal from the transmitter. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
“Yes, sir,” Carina said. “But the whole basement is empty. Not even any guards.”
Atoi had moved into the room. A couple of overturned chairs and a small, low table were its only furnishings. “I guess it’s possible the kid was here but they moved him when we burst into the plant.”
“The captain’s receiving the signal from here,” said Carina. “The kid has to be around somewhere. But where?”
Atoi was crouching down, looking at something she’d spotted on a stained part of the floor. “Aw, fuck.” She stood and backed away, the color draining from her face.
“What?” Carina asked.
Atoi raised a hand to her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t answer.
Carina went over to see for herself. She picked up the object for a closer look. Her stomach lurched and her legs turned weak.