by Ivan Turner
She left him moaning on the pavement, his pants soaked with his own blood, and drove his car back into the suburbs and back to her home. What she didn’t realize at the time was that she had changed as well. It was almost as if she had been preprogrammed and all it took was that one event to trigger the programming. Suddenly she was no longer interested in dressing nicely or looking good. She began studying military strategy and combat tactics. Her one small taste of violence had awakened an obsession. Her hair got in the way so she cut it short. At sixteen years old, she left herself behind. She dropped out of high school and joined the military service. She signed up for infantry because being a soldier would teach her everything she ever wanted to know. And she excelled. She was dangerous, unstoppable. She made sergeant before her twenty third birthday. She was the youngest sergeant in the history of the Space Force.
And the oldest.
Rodrigo was now fifty eight years old. She was as tough as ever. The beautiful girl had long since disappeared. Her features had grown hard. She kept her hair short. What had once been a thin and shapely body had been reshaped through diet and exercise. She packed close to one hundred and seventy pounds onto her small frame, all of it muscle. She had never been tall, but now she looked stocky. Still and all, she was as agile as a cat and as strong as an ox. She was trained in over twenty firearms and more hand to hand weapons than she could count. She could take stock of a situation in an instant and direct a squad of soldiers as if they were pawns in a game. In short, she was the best sergeant anyone had ever seen.
But now, in the twilight of her career, she could see the end. Keeping herself fit and strong grew harder and harder as the years piled on. Fighting in the dirt and blood was a game for young people. It was time she was granted the leadership status she deserved. Everyone looked up to her. Everyone. She had trained her captain when he had been a cadet. She had trained cadets for almost forty years. And they had all passed her by.
It was because of the machines. Those fucking machines. She just didn’t have a head for it. Anabelle Rodrigo wasn’t about writing programs for the ship’s computers. She was about blowing people away or telling others how to do it. But that didn’t matter to the Admiralty. That fossilized group of ball busters would never give her a promotion because she couldn’t sit at a station in the control room. They made it seem as if they tolerated her presence because of her venerable status. The truth was that she was the best soldier anyone was ever going to see. The trouble was that that just wasn’t good enough.
One of the children Rodrigo had mothered over the past few years sat at the table with her. While she sipped her beer, Jason Cummings drank nothing. Cummings was getting up in years without ever having seen a promotion. He’d hitched his wagon to Rodrigo early on and it was holding him back. Of course, Cummings himself was partly to blame for it. He had a goofy personality that peers found endearing and superiors disdained. They said he had no discipline yet there had never been struck a black mark on his record. He could turn you on or turn you off. His relationships were hit or miss.
He drank a silent nothing while the others drank silent beers. They had just over an hour before they were required to report for duty. The sky outside was a deep cloudy grey. Even when they’d built the spaceport, Seattle hadn’t brightened. Cummings had grown up in Seattle and hated it all his life. Rodrigo knew his story well. He’d run to space to get away from ugly grey skies never knowing that he’d have to come home every mission just so that he could get away.
Also at the table with them, sipping the same kind of beer as Rodrigo, was Fred MacDonald. Aboard the Valor, MacDonald ranked just beneath the sergeant. One day soon, he would make sergeant himself and then rise higher. He was a good soldier, hand picked for the infantry because of his steadfast approach to all situations. He was afraid of nothing and loathed people who showed their own fear. He had served aboard the Valor for three years, his career taking a noticeable turn for the better during his tenure there. Under Captain Beckett, he had excelled. Though he and Beckett shared no love of each other, there was a mutual respect. Beckett had pushed him up the chart and recommended him for promotion once about six months before. MacDonald had turned down the promotion because he knew it would mean a transfer and he wasn’t ready for it. Not yet. Had the position of sergeant been available on board the Valor he might have considered it, but that wasn't the case. No one got to be sergeant on the Valor. The Valor had a permanent sergeant.
“Um,” Cummings said, trying to start a conversation in the sullen atmosphere.
“Shut up, Jason,” Rodrigo said.
He scowled at her.
Of the three of them, only MacDonald wasn’t showing signs of stress. Of course, he was grouchy by nature. His motto was I’ll get the job done if you just stay the fuck out of my way. Rodrigo always thought he should have been a mercenary instead of a UE soldier. Though his loyalty seemed unshakable, he had almost no conscience. There had been an incident several years back that had shown her just what kind of man he was. They had been assigned to the Titan then, the lot of them. Most of that group was now on the Valor, though they'd spent years apart. The Titan was not a police ship. It was not a warship. But they had found themselves in combat with pirates. The space battle had been furious and both ships had been heavily damaged. More furious than the battle was the captain. When the pirates had broken and fled, he’d ordered pursuit. The Titan had chased that ship down onto a frozen world and Rodrigo and her team had suited up and set out to get every last one of them. Ted Beckett, a soldier himself, had been part of the squad then and slotted into the team as second to Rodrigo…
Rodrigo – A Long Time Before
The wind howled around them. Snow and ice had accumulated across the terrain but the sky was momentarily clear. The atmospheric readings, though, indicated that a storm was fast approaching. They had twenty minutes to track the pirates and bring them back. Rodrigo ordered a double-time march and the others fell in behind her. Beckett, MacDonald, Cummings, Alraune, Knudson, Icknor, and Bell. A bunch of children, the lot of them.
They reached the enemy vessel in less than five minutes, their goggles frosting over every ten feet. The ship was deeply scarred on both sides and one of the gun turrets had been blasted into space. There were fissures lining the hull, mostly from landing. The battle with the Titan had damaged it enough that reentry had been too much for it. The ship wouldn’t fly again. In the background, there were huge dunes made of snow up against a backdrop of ice covered mountains.
“What the fuck are we doing?” Knudson shouted over the wind. “Let’s just leave the bastards here.”
Rodrigo turned on him and even though her mouth was covered and her eyes were barely visible behind the goggles, they could tell by the angle of her head and the depth of her goggles on her nose that she did not approve of either Knudson’s opinion or that he had chosen to voice it. Under his own gear, the color drained from Knudson’s face and he shut his mouth.
“Over here,” MacDonald called. He had found tracks.
“How many?” she asked.
“It’s hard to tell. Maybe four. No more than six.”
She signaled the captain on the Titan. “They’ll be dug in by the time we reach them, sir. They didn’t land here by mistake.”
“They tore a hole through the back of my ship and killed two of my crew,” he replied. “Go get the bastards.”
“You’re the boss,” she said and took point.
Over the next rise they found that the mountains were closer than they had appeared. Another couple of hundred yards and they were at the base of a cliff. The tracks skirted the base and kept close to a giant wall of rock and ice. Rodrigo called a halt. She pointed up to several outcroppings that lined the cliff side in the direction in which they were heading. They were perfect for gun encampments or snipers.
The sky was turning dark and fierce.
Under her protection, Rodrigo made a face. Unless these pirates were bad shots, she was going
to lose someone. It would take them long minutes to check every possible encampment and longer to skirt around them out of range. Their best bet was to wait for the storm, which was still several minutes off.
“Backs to the wall,” she ordered. Everyone fell into line, Rodrigo still in the lead and Beckett next to her. There was no rank insignia on his suit. There were no markings to indicate that he was anything more than another soldier. But he was. He was fast rising through the ranks. He would make captain, a rare honor for a soldier. They would probably offer him a promotion upon the Titan’s return. It would be a waste if he got sniped out there on that frozen wasteland. She wished he hadn’t come.
So she waited. She ordered silence down the line.
The minutes went by and the wind blew up colder and more fierce. Large flakes began to fall from the sky, sparse at first, and then thicker. Before long they were joined by tiny clumps of ice. It was darker than the darkest night on Earth. Down the line, they went to night vision. Rodrigo scanned the cliffs for any sign of movement and saw none. She checked and rechecked every possible point and was still unsure that they were safe. Still, she began to move them forward into the storm, counting on its protection. The pirates’ tracks were being covered over, but that didn’t really matter. She was certain that the cliffs would lead them to their hideaway. It was probably a small cave into which they had drilled out a tiny complex. It would either be inside of a fissure or somewhere above them. Either way, the points of entry would be unmistakable. No matter how good they were at playing pirate, they would not be good enough to fool Rodrigo.
There was a fissure. They almost missed it in the storm, but MacDonald was capable despite his age. They were almost on top of it before he picked it out, plucking on Beckett’s sleeve to call a halt. Beckett plucked on Rodrigo’s and she looked back. Beckett pointed back at MacDonald. Pressing his body up against Beckett and then Rodrigo, he shifted his place in line so that he was now in front. He signaled for them to hold position and then began to inch forward. After half a dozen long and slow steps, he disappeared into what looked like the side of the mountain. He reappeared almost instantly.
Rodrigo flashed a thumbs up and continued her advance. At the mouth of the fissure, she halted again and waited for further information. Through a series of hand gestures, MacDonald informed her that there was a small opening dug out into the base of the cliff. It would be a steep descent but he was reasonably sure it was the hideout for which they were looking. She nodded determinedly and called Bell forward. Bell unshouldered her pack and pulled out a small black disc. The others kept their guns and eyes trained on the rocks above. On Rodrigo’s order, she dropped the disc into the opening. Rodrigo ticked off three seconds and then jumped into the hole after it. There was a bright flash, a series of shots, and then another series of shots.
Down below, Rodrigo looked around. One dead pirate lay at her feet. He was typical New Earth scum, skin bronzed, hair long and tousled. They had no sense of decency. It wasn’t fair to say that they were all pirates, but they all did have the hearts of pirates.
The chamber in which she stood was small and narrow. The sentry’s job had been to pick them off one by one as they had come down, but the flash bomb had done its work. Blinded, he had been helpless. She probably could have disarmed him and saved his life, but it was too risky. As it turned out, he was the only one. A narrow corridor led straight away into the rock. The layer of ice was thinner down here and dripping. She could feel warm air emanating from the passage. Behind her, the slope was impossible.
“It’s a trap,” she called up to her squad.
Then she heard shots. She ducked for cover behind the body of the pirate, aiming squarely into the passage, but the shots were not coming from there. They came from above. The squad was under attack. Beckett shouted an order. Alraune cursed and fired. Something large and heavy came tumbling down the slope.
Rodrigo sidestepped it just in time. It was Bell. Her head gear was torn and there was blood covering what remained. Stripping away her goggles, Rodrigo could see that there was no hope. She wasn’t dead yet, but the wound was bad. Edema would set in quickly and out here on the frozen tundra there was little they could do for her. Turning her over, Rodrigo pulled off her pack and started rummaging through it for explosives. Above, they were trapped. The pirates had waited until they could surround and ambush the squad. There was only one way to go and that would be down. They were being herded.
“Where’s Bell?” MacDonald shouted.
“Bell’s down!” came Beckett’s reply. “Knudson’s down!”
Damn it!
“Get down here!” Rodrigo shouted to whoever might hear her.
Bell’s stock of explosives was impressive. She could carry a load and she did. Taking another flash bomb from the pack, Rodrigo tripped the fuse and then hauled it with everything she had down the corridor. By the sound of it, it went at least twenty yards before clattering against a wall and exploding. Bright light flooded back down the tunnel and dazzled her eyes. Stupid. Caught in her own blast. But the grenades were already in her gloved hands, two of them. She pulled the pins with her teeth and tossed them after the flash bombs, one with her right arm and one with her left. The UESF thought she was right handed but a very young Anabelle Rodrigo had trained herself to use both arms equally. It made her much more effective in every form of combat.
The grenades exploded with a bang followed by metallic, almost electronic sounding pings and zaps as shrapnel exploded off of the walls and, hopefully, pirates. With a battle cry, she charged after the grenades. There were two ambush points, small alcoves each populated by a man. Even after she had killed their companion, they had lain in wait, knowing that there was nowhere else for her to go. They popped out of hiding as soon as she passed, hoping to take her unawares. But she had seen them, both of them, and was already spinning and firing. As the last of them fell, one of her squad dropped down the hole and into the antechamber.
“Behind you!” Cummings shouted.
Rodrigo dropped to the ground and let him shoot over her head. She heard return fire from behind, rolled, and added her fire to his.
“Are you hit?” she called.
“No, but I think they hit Bell.”
Makes no difference, she thought as she gained her feet. “Toss me her pack.”
Cummings hauled it down the corridor. It didn’t reach and Rodrigo had to go back for it. As she turned away again, she saw Icknor hit the ground and turn to receive a body. It was Knudson. There was a nasty wound that could have been on his chest or his shoulder and another on his leg. He was conscious but unstable.
“Cummings, you’d better haul ass out of there as soon as everyone’s down.”
He nodded his understanding.
A few yards ahead, the pathway turned. There would be more ambush points. Rodrigo slipped out another flash bomb. Inching her way forward, she readied for a throw.
One.
Two.
Three!
She sent it around the corner with a flick of her wrist and a bank off the far wall. From this angle, the flash wasn’t so blinding. When it was over, she slipped around the bend and identified two more ambush alcoves. The men inside were frozen, knowing better than to react when blinded. She dispatched them easily, without delay. Again, she could have disarmed them but with two of her squad down, she couldn't afford the hands and eyes to guard them.
The new passage ran longer than the last one and there was a faint orange glow at the end of it. There would be more enemies down there. Far more than the four or six they had been tracking. Maybe there had been more survivors than originally anticipated and those survivors had gone in the front door instead of the rat trap into which they’d been led. Maybe there were just guards posted at the hideout. It didn’t matter. They were going to clean the place out.
MacDonald came up behind her. “What the fuck happened to Bell?”
“Came down the chute. Got caught in a crossfire.”
“Where are you going?” Rodrigo challenged, getting in his way.
He looked at her. “Payback. We’re gonna take it out of their asses, right?”
She nodded. “You know it. On my order, though. Not like a wild fucking animal.”
For just a moment, he looked as if he was about to defy her. That would have been bad. They were in a tight spot as it was and she didn’t need a fight with one of her own. He stood down, though. Maybe he knew better. Maybe he was just well trained.
“Is everyone down?” she asked.
“Everyone but Beckett,” he said. “He’s holding out while we clear to a safe distance.”
“Why him?” she said a little too sharply.
“Why not him?” MacDonald shot back.
Because he’s worth more than all of us put together, she wanted to say, but didn’t.
“You got something you want to say about it?” MacDonald asked. “Beckett more important than Bell?”
And there it was. She had put her opinion of Beckett up against MacDonald’s feelings for Bell. In all fairness, though, who could have known that MacDonald could have feelings for anyone?