Wandering Star

by Steven Anderson

  “Listen, she’s complaining about the restraints.” We listened for a moment. “Perfect OP accent it sounds like to me.” Marcus looked at me, eyebrow raised. “You better be right about this, Mr. RuComm.”

  “I need to record this.” I fumbled in my pack, pulled out the display pad and set it up to record while Marcus tapped on his watch to remind me of the time passing by. “Just one minute.”

  Marcus pointed at a row of desks along the far wall. “There’s your microscope. It’s small, thank God. I’ll distract her, you go shove it in your pack with everything else.”

  “OK, that will have to do.” I shut down the pad and stuffed it back into my pack.

  Marcus opened the door to the infirmary and walked to the foot of her bed while I circled around to the far side of the room.

  “How much do you remember, Fiona?” Marcus asked, sitting on the end of the bed. The sympathy in his voice sounded very genuine. When she didn’t respond right away I knew his gambit had failed.

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” she answered weakly. “I had only just arrived on the Island and was out for a walk when, when… I don’t know. Was I attacked?”

  I could see Marcus smile as I tried to close my pack over the top of the microscope and box of lenses and filters.

  He patted her leg tenderly. “You just try to get well. I wouldn’t want you feeling poorly for your execution.”

  “You have to help me. Tell this machine to let go of me. Please.”

  “That won’t be happening. And in your condition you would die without what it’s doing for you.” He tipped his head and leaned closer to her. “Of course you’re going to die soon anyway. Maybe there’s something else you’d like to tell us that could change that?”

  She was silent.

  “No? Well, Lieutenant Jeffers will be around should you change your mind.”

  I came over next to Marcus. “I think we should leave.”

  As we walked toward the door Fiona Monroe said to me, “You’re the one who hit me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Then my death is on your hands.”

  “Yes, it is,” I answered.

  The door closed behind us while I still struggled to close the pack. “It’s too full,” I whispered.

  “Just put it on. We are way out of time.”

  I slipped it over my shoulders and could feel the end cap of the explosives tube digging into my back. Jeffers’ door was still closed.

  “The man has greater stamina than I gave him credit for,” Marcus remarked. “One last thing.” While I stood with my hand on the front door imagining I could hear footsteps coming up the stairs outside, Marcus calmly walked over to Jeffers’ desk where Lieutenant Recano’s uniform jacket lay crumpled on the floor. He pulled out his pocket knife and carefully cut a piece out of the back of it. He smiled, dropping the jacket back onto the floor. “Got to have something to compare.”

  “Can we go now?” I whispered. We exited quietly other than the pounding of my heart.

  “We should go around behind the buildings,” I suggested, “less visible.”

  “No, it would look like we were up to something. Slow and steady, straight up the middle of the street.” He glanced over at me. “And stop looking guilty. Smile. Laugh. Talk to me about the geology of the Margo Islands or something.”

  “OK.” I thought a moment. “I don’t know anything about the geology of the Margo Islands. I was supposed to take the data you collected and set up simulations and geomodels. Why don’t you tell me what the survey team found? I never did get that briefing.”

  Marcus shook his head. “It was all pretty routine and quiet until you got here, a little bit of work during the day, and a cold beer and warm company in the evening.” He looked up at the mountain and out toward the seemingly endless ocean off to our right. The seaplane that had brought me had just taken off and was circling the camp, getting out ahead of the storm. “It is beautiful here,” he sighed as though he was seeing it for the first time or maybe for the last. “What we found was one of the last places on Dulcinea that isn’t covered over by Earth biology; Earth plants, Earth animals, Earth everything. This is a place, Mr. RuComm, which should be preserved as it is, not developed, not reclaimed, not corrupted.”

  “So why the rush to develop it? It must have something valuable to risk going to war.”

  “Not so much. The gravel we’re walking on is the most valuable thing on the island. Great for making concrete runways. I suppose there might be some strategic value in the Margo’s location but I think it’s mostly a case of ‘we want it so you can’t have it’.”

  “So people die for that?”

  “It won’t be the first time. We went through all this twenty years ago when over four thousand died.”

  “How did you manage to avoid total war that time?”

  “The OP had sent a small assault team to blow up two transport ships in Palma Sola harbor, which the OP later denied. There was a young Marine Major on board a destroyer next to the ships that saw the assault team trying to escape. He managed to intercept them and kill them all. Quite the hero. With over four-thousand dead and the OP denying everything, the statesmen on both sides were able to reach an agreement to avoid any more bloodshed, despite the urging of the heroic Major to launch a full attack on the OP.”

  “Must have made his career,” I commented.

  “Oh, it did. He went on to… to.” Marcus stopped dead in the street and smiled. “He went on to become General Barrows. He was only a Major then.”

  “You think he’s still looking for revenge?”

  “That would be the charitable opinion.”

  “You think he was part of a plot that killed four thousand of his own soldiers?”

  Marcus was silent as we continued past the burned out remains of the cabins.

  “I don’t like our odds,” Marcus said as we climbed up his front steps.

  “Of proving that this wasn’t an OP attack?”

  “Of surviving at all. You, me, and Alice, we should all have been on that plane that just left.”

  We watched as a patrol passed by, rifles slung and helmets on. Marcus raised his hand in greeting and called out, “You all are looking a bit warm with all that kit.”

  A couple of them waved back. “Just keep the beer cold for us, Marcus.”

  “I’ll do that,” he called back, then turning to me, “Well, they don’t seem intent on hunting us down just yet, but it’s still early.”

  Looking up and down the street I could see other groups patrolling. A pair of wheeled vehicles sat in front of the barracks buildings with heavier weapons mounted on their backs. I shifted my pack uncomfortably. “Can we dump this stuff inside? That tube of high explosives we stole is digging a hole in my spine.”

  “Sure.” We went inside and emptied the contents of my pack on the kitchen table.

  “I want to make sure the microscope survived the trip,” I said, inserting the analyzer and polarizer and turning on the light source. “We’ll need a bunch of small re-sealable bags and something to dig with for doing the soil samples. Do you have anything?”

  “Bags I’ve got, but I’ll need to print a couple of trowels. They should be ready in ten minutes or so.”

  “Fine. That should give me time to make sure this thing is working.” I pulled my display pad out and noticed two missed calls from Angela and three from Jake. Ignoring them for the moment I synced the pad with the microscope and placed one of the uniform samples on the stage. The image looked good.

  “Which sample is that?” Marcus asked over my shoulder.

  “Um, that’s Lieutenant Recano’s,” I answered, checking the tag

  “That’s a textile, not printed.”

  “You’re right, it is. Is that true for all OP uniforms?”

  Marcus pull
ed the sample off the stage and replaced it with one from Monroe’s uniform.

  “Printed.” Marcus said, pointing at the synthetic matrix on the screen. “You can see it even through the dirt.”

  “One good data point. We still need to collect those soil samples before the storm hits, as much as I’d like to pursue this right now.”

  I disconnected, looked at my missed messages and requested a secure connection to Wandering Star.

  “Mr. Holloman,” Star answered, “Angela Dawkins is very eager to speak with you.”

  “Before connecting her I have a couple of questions for you. I need to do some field work. Can you tell me how much time I have before the weather becomes too bad?”

  “You should have about three and half hours. After that I would recommend that you be indoors and on high ground.”

  “Thanks. Also, can you find out if all military uniforms used by the Oceanus Protectorate are fabric based or if they’re printed?”

  There was a barely perceptible pause. “The McLaren & Birch Textile Company has an exclusive contract to provide uniforms to the OP. They use a blend of wool and synthetic fibers and claim superior all weather performance and durability over printed garments.”

  “Thanks. I guess I’m ready for Angela.”

  “She is already on.” Star replied.

  Angela’s image appeared on the screen. “It sounds like you’ve been busy, Theodore.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We have samples of both Monroe’s uniform and a standard issue OP uniform, and soil samples from her boots and pants. Best of all we have access to a polarizing microscope to do some basic analysis. All I need is some local soil samples and we should be able to cast some doubt on this being an OP attack.”

  “Should I ask how you were able to get all of that?”

  “Um, no, probably not. It’s probably best not to mention it outside the team either.”

  “Evidence without province isn’t worth much,” she said frowning. “Theodore, is that a tube of survey explosives on the table next to you?”

  “Neither Marcus or I wanted to open it to take a sample so we took the whole thing,” I explained. Angela had her eyes closed and was rubbing her temple with one hand.

  I asked her, “Have you found anyone willing to listen to us about what we find?”

  She nodded. “I have a couple of members of the legislature and one reporter who are willing to listen. Things are moving quickly here so you better be fast.”

  “Angela, I’d like to keep a link open to Star and as many members of the team as can stay on with us for the next couple of days. That way you can see the results as we get them. That way you’ll know as much as possible in case we get interrupted.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Interrupted. How safe are you there?”

  I thought a moment before answering. “I don’t know, Angela. I think we’re safe but I really don’t know.”

  “If there’s someplace else you can go that is safe, do it. Forget the damn samples, Ted, and get out.”

  “Is that what you would do?”

  She sighed. “We’ll keep the line open. Go get your samples.”

  “Thanks. I haven’t had time to contact Jake and he’s been leaving a lot of messages. Can you please let him know everything is fine, just busy?” She nodded. “Also, I have a recording of Monroe’s voice that I just sent to Star. Can you have Hannah listen to it?”

  “I will. Go do your digging and I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” She moved out of view but the link remained active.

  “Marcus, do you have a map of the camp area? We need to plot out where we’ll be taking samples.”

  “Sure.” He moved to a large screen on the wall and tapped a few keys. The screen turned blue with the word ‘RESTRICTED’ in the center. “Well, I used to.” He cleared the screen and detached a pen from the side of it. “This is the cove and dock area,” he sketched black lines on the white background, “and the road up to the Patrol HQ and then past my cabin to the barracks. On the other side is the quarry and the trail over to the OP camp. Don’t hold me accountable for this being to scale.” He continued drawing in buildings and a north arrow.

  “It would take a week or more to sample the whole area. What route would you use if you were trying to sneak in unobserved, pick up some explosives and come down along the road?”

  Marcus tapped the pen to change colors and added a green line. “Here, along the coast south of the quarry where the runways are being built, along the quarry access road to the main road by the Patrol HQ, then to the armory and back down along the road past the chow hall,” he looked up at me, “to your cabin.”

  “It would be more efficient collecting samples for you to start at one end and me at the other, but…”

  “Feeling spooked?”

  “Yeah, a bit.”

  “Fine. We’ll start at the point where you planted Fiona’s face in the mud and work backwards from there.”

  Did he have to say it that way? “I want a sample about every ten meters. Nothing fancy, just a scoop of soil off the top, dump it into a bag and I’ll seal and number it. Try to wipe off the trowel as much as possible between samples.” We grabbed water bottles, towels and hats and stepped back outside.

  “Your people will be watching and listening the whole time?” Marcus asked, looking at all of our equipment set up on the table. “I’m not sure I like the idea of being monitored like that.”

  “Really? I guess on Earth we’re just used to it. There’s always an AI watching and listening. We just ignore it.” We stepped out onto the porch.

  “Another beautiful forty degree day in the Margo Islands,” Marcus commented.

  “Pray that it holds,” I said looking at wispy clouds streaming around the peak.

  It didn’t take long for us to attract the attention of passing patrols as we knelt digging in the middle of the road. “Marcus! They finally found a job you’re good at.” “Marcus! Are you keeping the streets clean for us now?” “Marcus! You missed a spot.”

  As we turned up the road to the armory Marcus put his trowel down and said, “You owe me for this Mr. RuComm. Your turn to dig while I bag.”

  “I promise to buy you a beer if we live through this,” I joked.

  He squinted up at me from under his hat, not smiling. “You know, that would be a lot funnier if I expected to be alive tomorrow.”

  I took the trowel from him and wiped it on the towel. “Don’t worry so much, these guys all seem to like you.”

  “Yeah, well, they liked the folks on the other side of the hill yesterday too.”

  We took turns digging and bagging, up past the armory, down behind the chow hall to the Patrol HQ, and down the access road past the idled machinery at the quarry. The clouds became thicker and darker as we went. By the time we stood on the jetty looking at the incomplete runway being built along the south shore the waves were banging hard against the rip-rap barrier protecting it.

  “They’re really serious about this, aren’t they?”

  “Yes they are,” Marcus replied. “There used to be a nice beach here, the water all full of little fish. This storm will be the first test for that wall,” he said pointing at the huge boulders. “My money is on the hurricane.”

  “Speaking of which, we need to be headed back. I think my backpack is a good forty kilos heavier than when we started.”

  “What was the final count?”

  “Um, one hundred sixty-two.”

  The rain caught us as we passed the chow hall, a fine mist driven hard enough by the wind to sting where it hit bare skin. We increased our speed to a trot, mud splashing our legs and the samples feeling heaver with each step. We ran up onto Marcus’ porch and Alice was there waiting for us, curled into a ball trying to stay out of the rain.

  “Why didn’t you go inside?” Marcus shouted.


  She held up her ID badge. “Doesn’t work on your door.”

  Marcus pushed the door open and we tumbled in, the rain and wind following us until he was able to slam it shut again. “I’ll grab some more towels.”

  “And a blanket,” Alice added, still shaking.

  “Do you own anything other than the clothes on your back?” I asked her.

  “No.”

  I pointed toward the room I was borrowing. “There’s some clean clothes scattered on the bed in there. At least put on a dry shirt.”

  Marcus returned and tossed a towel to me. “All our stuff is still here.” He sounded surprised.

  “You expected otherwise?”

  “Yeah, I thought about trying to hide it before we left but what would have been the use?”

  Alice came back with her hair towel dried and wearing an oversized sweatshirt. She took the blanket from Marcus, wrapped it around herself and sat in one of the kitchen chairs.

  “You’re still shaking. Do you want something hot to drink?” Marcus offered.

  “No, thank you. It’s not the cold, it’s that I’m scared. I get scared easily and it takes me a while to get over it. I’ve always been this way.”

  Marcus looked at me and rolled his eyes. The lights in the cabin flicked once and came back on steady. Alice closed her eyes as a larger shiver passed through her.

  I sat down in a chair next to her. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Oh, nothing new, nothing specific. It’s just the three of us here now, all together, the three they tried to kill last night and missed. My mind,” she paused, pushing damp blonde hair back behind her ears, “it keeps creating scenarios of what might happen and I can see them so clearly and they keep replaying again and again.” She smiled weakly. “I think, maybe they’ll try a second time, and I imagine I can hear the footsteps coming up on the porch and the sound of a heavy bag landing against the door and the flash and heat of the explosion. Or maybe they’ll just smash the door down and shoot us all. But mostly I think I’m running, trying to get away and someone, someone like McKellar, catches me and pushes my face down into the mud and I can’t breathe and I can feel the pressure on my back, my ribs starting to break and blood running from my mouth.”