Angry Ghosts (22 page)

“I did everything I could,” the counselor explains. “They wouldn’t budge. Thompson, you and Argo will be considered, but…Maiella stays.”

The three disgraced Operators look at each other with chagrinned confusion, not knowing what to do or say. The possibility of being parted just never occurred to them.

Argo and Thompson slump on the edge of the counselor’s padded chairs, but
Maiella has gone rigid. The counselor picks up on her vacant stare immediately.

“Maiella?”

She offers no response.

“
Maiella
?” he repeats more forcefully.

Argo and Thompson lift their drooping heads to see why she does
not answer. The counselor turns to them both with a quizzical glance, but they shrug. He steps over to her, touching her arm gently.

“
Nooooooo
!
” she screams and leaps from her chair, bowling the counselor backward over a table.

Her shrieks become unintelligible, and she grabs anything not bolted down, hurling it into the walls.

The counselor, flat on his back, stares wide-eyed at the frenzied woman while Argo and Thompson wrestle her down to the floor. She is slippery in her rampage and incredibly strong, making the men work to subdue her. Shouting her name, they beg her to stop, but she does not hear. Argo lowers his grip, binding his thick arms around her knees. Thompson lays over her side, wrapping one of her arms around herself like a half straightjacket, and holds tight.

“Please, don’t leave me behind!”
she wails.

The counselor climbs to his feet, stepping
cautiously toward the human heap. Maiella is spent, eyes shut tight, chest gently heaving. Argo and Thompson lay their heads against her.

The counselor
kneels, taking her free hand. “You won’t be alone, Maiella. You’ll be with us, here, on the
Europa
.”

The woman’s damp eyes crack enough so she can look at her two benevolent captors. “We belong together…
how can they split us up
?”

The counselor frets, deciding hard truth is at hand. “Munro and Ralla made their decision based
solely
on what gives this mission its best chance. Argo and Thompson will need a Geek at full-operational ability if they are going to survive.” He hates reminding her of her damaged HDI, especially when he sees the torture of it in her face.

Argo and Thompson lift their heads, relaxing their grip on her. The counselor tugs on
her hand, urging her to sit up.

“Maiella, look at me.”

She pushes herself up from the floor, wiping her eyes, and crosses her legs. She sniffs hard, fixing a watery gaze on the counselor.

“Argo and Thompson are going to be using a new kind of vehicle. Most likely, General O’Kai is going to need the help of our engineers to build it. There will be many new systems installed, and your friends here are going to need someone to test all those systems out, make sure they’re safe.
There's only one person I'd trust to know both Cadre and colonist hardware.”

Maiella blin
ks. “You’re saying I should be…project auditor… and test pilot?”

“You’re familiar with
almost every system we have aboard the
Europa.
And the Cadre Techs may have made some improvements while you were away, but what I've seen doesn't look that different from what you're used to. That makes you most qualified to troubleshoot and examine every part of any new ship we build. More importantly, I can't think of anyone who would be more concerned about Argo and Thompson, or who would be as thorough proving their new gear.”

“I can assure you of
that
,” she says, wiping a hand under her nose.

“Good!” the counselor says while rising to his feet. “I’ll make the arrangements with Colonel Munro.”

The three operators lift each other from the floor. “How are you going to do that?” Argo asks.

The counselor smiles reassuringly. “Colonel Munro and I have an agreement. Maiella has been trans
ferred to my custody, and I set her schedule from now on.”

Maiella’s eyes open wide with amazement; then concern sets in her brow
as she considers the many implications. A single question comes to mind, and she freezes, almost too afraid to ask what she needs to know.

“Will I be…?”

“Reconstituted?” The counselor shakes his head resolutely. “No.”

Relief revitalizes her, bringing some color back
to her features. Maiella looks around the chamber, humbled by the destruction her frenzy caused. She leans over, picking up the pieces of what once was a cranberry-colored crystalline sculpture.

“Please, don’t worry about it,” the counselor consoles. “I’ll clean this up.”

She stands with several shards and sheepishly places them in the counselor’s outstretched hand.

“I’m sorry,” she
says, her voice mousy and meek.

The counselor takes the shards and walks them over to a small table. “Emotions are not weakness,” he says to no one in particular, “and strength does not come from suppressing them.”

The three look queerly into his back, his words a direct contradiction of the dogma pounded into them since their inceptions. He turns to regard them all then focuses on Maiella.

“Look at how strong you became. It took both of your teammates to stop you. But it was unfocused. If you could
harness
that, if you could
channel
it...you'd know what
true
strength is.”

“Brick Argo and Gun Thompson,” blares the intercom, “report to Major Ralla’s office for assignment!”

Argo takes a last look at the counselor, grunting skeptically before walking out. Thompson turns to follow, but pauses to take in all of the damage around him. He looks at Maiella then looks at the counselor. Without another word, he strides out to catch up with Argo.

The hammer drill drops from Gregor’s hand and clatters on the metallic floor.
“What
did they just announce?” he yells over the din of fabrication.

Keller halts his noisy drilling when he sees Gregor st
aring intently at him. The aged captain lifts his safety glasses and pulls one of his earplugs.

“
What’s that?”

“
Sounded like they just announced Operator testing, or something
…
” Gregor leans over and taps the Cadre Tech beside him who obligingly stops grinding the frame on the conveyor in front of him.

As his grinder winds down, the Tech pulls
out his earplugs and asks over the assembly room's noise, “Yes? How may I help?”

“
Did you hear the announcement?” Gregor shouts. Keller leans close to listen in.

“
Oh, yes,” the Tech replies. “All Operators were ordered to the arena to judge a new candidate.”

Gregor’s
and Keller’s eyes meet excitedly, and they both run from the room like students late for an exam.

The
Tech shouts after them, “It’s okay, it doesn’t apply to us!” But the men disappear without another thought.

Sighing, he pulls out a communicator. “
Major Ralla…? You should be expecting Gregor and Keller to arrive shortly, and...”

The man
looks at the framing beside him where two hammer drills lie unused on the floor.

“
We'll need another two for the assembly line.” Replacing his earplugs, the Cadre Tech hunches his curved spine and resumes his grinding.

* * * * *

When Gregor and Keller arrive at the arena, they find themselves standing at the back of a very tall and stout group of men and women. All of them wear the dress charcoal grays of Cadre Operators, and their attention is riveted directly ahead.

The two colonists stand on their toes, teetering back and forth
, trying to peer past the broad shoulders of the Operators ahead of them. Totally eclipsed, they find chairs and climb onto them to view the small arena.

There, a young man stands relaxed, clothed only in a loose-fitting pair of nylon shorts. He is lean though deeply striated, and the silver contact terminals on his shaved head gleam. The colonists eas
ily recognize the outline of a Cadre Geek, but never have they seen one so free of scars.

Clanks to either side of them announce the presence of Sharon, Ortega, and the counselor as they likewise set down sturdy chairs and stand on them.

“Hullo, Skipper,” Sharon quips. “Couldn’t miss this, huh?”

Keller grins his
reply and turns to the lab-coated man beside him. “I’m glad you made it, Counselor. We could use your eyes here.”

The counselor smirks good-naturedly, “
I
was invited, Captain.”

Suddenly, the arena lighting flares. “
atten-
tion
,” bellows Major Chusan, and every sinew in the initiate’s frame draws taut. All Operators likewise stamp into a rigid stance, chests out as Chusan brusquely pushes his way to the arena floor. He peers with contempt at the half-naked man as if he were viewing the very embodiment of disappointment.

“What are you called,
trash
?”

“Sir! Specialist Beckert, sir!”

“And what got into that
misfiring pack of neurons
to think you belong here?” Chusan demands, his burn-scarred face contorting with disgust as he circles behind the young man.

“Sir,” barks Beckert, head high and chest out, “I desire entrance to the Operator Corps, sir!”

Chusan stamps in front of Beckert, enraged. “Well, I can tell you straight, you have
wasted our time
, and there is nothing I hate more than a
waste of time
!
There is
no way
a skinny
bonebag
like you could ever belong in my Corps! You should be
on your knees, begging
me not to
stomp your face in
for even
suggesting
you are of their quality
!”

Keller, Ortega, Sharon, and Gregor look at each other uncomfortably, having nev
er seen rage like this from an Operator, much less their major.

Chusan’s face is
patches of deep red between scars as he paces in front of Beckert, furiously piling abuse upon this candidate. With each of the major’s insults, Beckert’s jaw sets tighter and tighter; yet his head remains high, his posture perfect.

Colonel Shao-Lo steps from the group of
Operators and places a hand on Chusan’s shoulder, ending the scathing diatribe. The major stands straight and takes a step back while the colonel crosses her thick arms and stares into the specialist’s face. She studies deeply, intently, for long seconds, the arena silent around her.

“Chusan,” she says at last, “get him out of here and fit him for something soft.”

“Yes,
sir
!” Chusan answers, striding toward the young man and taking him by the arm.

“Colonel!” Beckert shouts to everyone’s surprise.

Shao-Lo whirls on her heel, her eyebrows drawing together with impatience, but indicating Chusan to wait. “What is it, Specialist?”

“Request permission to change your mind, sir!”

Shao-Lo steps toward Beckert and squints down at him. “I’ve seen all I need. There's an intensity, a need to serve, that all Operators possess. You don’t have it.”

Beckert’s face burns from the stinging rejection, but he will not lower his head. Shao-Lo is about to turn again when the young man announces, “I disagree,
sir
!”

Chusan releases his grip and swings himself between the two, stopping millimeters away from Beckert’s face. “What did you say, Specialist? I know it wasn’t what I
thought
I heard because we don’t breed anything
dumb enough
to question a superior officer!”

Beckert appears slightly off guard, but stands without fear under the major’s onslaught. “I said,
I disagree
,
sir
!”

Chusan nods and backs away, becoming eerily sedate. In a blur, he brutally smashes his elbow into Beckert’s face. The young man stumbles from the ferocity of the impact, and when he gets back to his feet, a cut under his left eye is already seeping blood. Undaunted, he straightens his posture and steps back to his prior position, resuming his
at-attention stance directly in front of the major.

Shao-Lo arches an eyebrow with interest.

The colonists gasp in disbelief.

Chusan looks down at the arena floor
, wiggling a finger in his ear.

“I’m gonna have to go see a MedTech because I’m
sure
I didn’t hear that, Specialist.” He raises his head, stabbing a hard gray glare into Beckert’s eyes. “What...did...you...say?”

Without hesitation, Beckert announces, “I said,
I disagree
,
sir
!”

Chusan steals a glance at Shao-Lo and whirls, winding up a devastating kick. With a fearsome yell, Chusan’s leg flies toward Beckert’s gut and halts just before contact.

The young man does not flinch. He does not even blink.

Chusan retracts his leg slowly, jutting his lower lip. He steps back, eyeing Beckert suspiciously.

“Specialist,” Shao-Lo begins, “if you’re going to change my mind, you have some work to do. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Beckert takes a fight ready stance. “
moop
!” he shouts and flips backward, landing in stance.

Swift high kicks whir by in rapid succession, followed by sweeps, grips, takedowns, evasions, counterstrikes, and joint locks. He moves with Shaolin grace and agility, supremely balanced and completely focused.

The display is diverse, highlighting his skill, flexibility, and comfort in numerous combat situations. When finished, he flips forward into his fight-ready stance and holds.

Shao-Lo gives a nod to Chusan and strides to the edge of the arena.

“Deepak! Keiko!” Chusan shouts, also moving to the arena’s edge.

Gun Deepak and Gun Keiko step from the group, already peeling off their charcoal
-uniform coats. Fixing a hard stare at Beckert, they pass the jackets to their fellows and strip off their tight-fitting undershirts. Bare chested, they step menacingly into the ring, flexing their arms and cracking their knuckles.

The colonists look on with anxiety, taking in the numerous scars crossing the two Guns. They look at Beckert, fresh and even without any of those marks, and they wonder how many of those scars come from initiation.

Sharon taps the shoulder of a Brick in front of her and asks, “What are they going to do?”

Careful not to disturb the proceedings, the Brick turns his head slightly and whispers, “Beckert must defend himself against Keiko and Deepak.”

“How?” Gregor asks, nearly shouting. “Two Guns on one Geek? It isn’t a fair fight!”

The Brick turns toward Gregor with a look of grim experience. “It never is.”

Gregor looks into the Brick’s battered face, the network of healed injuries bearing their powerful testimony.

The big man turns back toward the arena, adding in a muted voice, “The goal for Beckert is not necessarily victory, but to survive as long as he can. He will be judged based on his actions and character against vastly superior opponents.”

The colonists watch nervously while Keiko and Deepak take their places at the center of the arena, flanking Beckert. Chusan raises his arm high.

“
Attention
!”

Beckert, Keiko, and Deepak come rigidly to attention.

“
Bow
!” the major orders.

The three flex at the waist respectfully.

“
Combat
,
ready
!”

The three raise their hands near their face, planting one foot slightly ahead of the other, leaning forward.

“
And
...”

Before Chusan drops his arm, Beckert launches to his left, sinking his heel in Deepak’s gut.
Deepak hunches from the blow, and Beckert cradles the back of his head, driving it into his knee.

Sensing Keiko just behind him, he keeps grip on Deepak and sidesteps, slinging Deepak between them. The two Guns collide, Deepak absorbing the brunt of Keiko’s kick.

While the two are off balance, Beckert rushes to climb up Keiko’s back. Wrapping an arm around her throat, he tries to set a naked choke, but Keiko drops her chin in time to block. She only sways a moment under Beckert’s weight before she regains her stance and flips Beckert from her back like a sack.

Beckert sails across the arena floor, tucking and tumbling deftly to his feet. When he stands, he sees Deepak straightening his bleeding, broken nose.

The Guns’ eyes are predatory, and without hurry, they stride toward him. Beckert readies himself, bringing his arms up while the Guns circle to either side. He slides to keep his opponents in view, allowing them to get closer.

The colonists want to turn away, believing it to be Beckert’s end but cannot, and their hearts sink when they see the initiate turn to run. The Guns chase; and just when they are sure to tackle him, Beckert fakes and springs back toward them with solid kicks. Deepak evades, taking a glancing shot.

Keiko snags the young man’s leg. She pulls him in, lifts him at the waist, and slams him fiercely into the metal floor with a clang that echoes throughout the chamber.

Beckert struggles admirably against Keiko’s grip, escaping several joint locks and choke holds, fending off many of the rapid fire jabs and elbows Keiko drives into him. Even the colonists can tell, however, that she has the dominant position yet does not seem to be pressing her advantage. As Deepak strolls around the squirming Beckert, he waves her up with his hand. It becomes all too clear they are toying with him.

Keiko drags her victim into her lap. The young man throws every elbow and knee strike he can, some of them landing; but the brawny woman shrugs them off. She slides one foot beneath her, then the other, lifting Beckert into the air. With a single turn, she tosses Beckert at her partner.

Beckert tucks into a ball, hoping he can line up a good kick, and takes his best shot. Deepak easily dodges and unleashes a devastating wheel kick into Beckert’s back. The young man crumples into the floor several meters away, bouncing with a resounding thud.

Screaming with pain, he tries to stand, but one of his legs will barely respond. He scuttles away from his attackers, dragging the unusable leg under him. With his good leg, he rises, eyes watering, his back hunched.