Gabriel's Redemption (22 page)

“What’s this?” he asked Gilchrist, pointing at what appeared to be railroad tracks on the side of the main building.

Gilchrist looked down at it and frowned. “No idea,” he said. “But maybe Isaiah knows.”

“Isaiah?” he asked, looking at him curiously.
 

Gilchrist pointed at the scrawled name in the corner. “Yes, Isaiah. He’s one of the Poli leaders, very bright. Isaiah’s brother was the one killed outside by your sniper,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. Tapping the paper, he said, ”He drew this. He’s in the back room now with some of the other leaders, trying to keep their people calm.”

Takahashi was taken aback. “I don’t understand. You said they were semi-sentient, very limited language skills. Are you saying they can read and write?”

“Oh yes, absolutely. Isaiah’s probably on a third or fourth grade level, and we’ve only been working with some of them for a year or so,” he replied, pride replacing the momentary sadness.
 

“And here I thought by semi-sentient you meant they can crack a clam with a stick,” Takahashi said, shaking his head, the fog of his concussion slowly lifting. “In any case, I’m going to seal this door. Go find Isaiah, we need to talk to him.”

Chapter 25

Santander strode into the Operations Center, his team clanking in behind him, still brushing snow from their armor.
 

“Lamber, Sabra,” Santander said, his helmet already clipped to his belt by a lanyard. “Nice job. And you kept my operations center intact, I appreciate that. I guess we can even leave the nukes on the shuttle.” He looked down at Gabriel and his team. “Hello, Commander. Looks like your reputation may not be so deserved.”

Gabriel looked up at him with a dead stare. “Do I know you?”

Santander laughed. “Sort of, but we’ll get to that later. In the meantime, I believe my comrades here slipped up and forgot about someone?” He turned back to Lamber with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry again about that, won’t be an issue. Now that you’re here, I’ll go…”
 

Santander cut him off. “No, you’ll stay here and do nothing. I’ll send someone I trust. Understand?”

Lamber swallowed. “Right, of course.”

“Matter of fact,” Santander continued, taking off his armored gloves. “I’ve got something planned for you anyway. Ran,” he said, calling over his lieutenant. “Help Marco keep an eye on the prisoners, I don’t want him losing count again.”

He turned back to his team, who had spread through the operations center, inspecting the workstations and facilities. “Gregorio,” he called. “Take one other, head upstairs and bring the board of directors down here. I want everyone in one place when we finalize the, ah, changeover in management.”

“You got it,” Gregorio replied. He walked over to Sabra, who had been relieved of guard duty, and grabbed her by the arm. “You, with me,” he said.

Sabra pulled her shoulder away from Gregorio’s touch. “Watch it, boy. We’re on the same team…for now,” she said with a growl.

Gregorio raised his hands in mock surrender. “Yes ma’am,” he said with an edge of sarcasm.
 

“Pistols only, I want heavy weapons powered down,” warned Santander. “No sense in making a mess.”

The two headed for the door to the stairwell. Sabra glanced over her shoulder at Lamber, who was glaring at Gregorio. Santander caught the look and smiled.
 

“You two an item now?” he said, barking a laugh.

Sabra opened her mouth to retort, but Santander waved her away with a dismissive gesture.
 

 
“Nevermind. Just take care of the execs. Isham, Sheakely,” he continued. “Once the board is here, go to the lab and take care of the missing ones.”

Rheaves had walked over to where Brevik was seated on the floor, and stood over him.
 

“Hello, old friend,” Rheaves said.
 

Brevik looked up with tired eyes, shaking his head slowly. “Always knew you’d turn up sometime, somewhere.”

“Well, what have we here?” Santander said as he walked over to the prisoners sitting against the wall. He bumped Lamber out of the way. “Did I have the wrong two being an item?”

“Boss, meet Harris Brevik, my former academy roommate,” said Rheaves with a smirk.

Santander looked from one to the other with pursed lips. “How the hell did you two fit in one dorm room?”

“He didn’t last long,” said Brevik, spitting on the floor. “Couldn’t follow directions.”

Santander laughed heartily, throwing his head back. “Damn right he can’t,” he said. “Glad to see I’m not the only one who noticed.”

Rheaves smiled and nodded. “I’m good when the money’s right, boss. No worries.” He waved a handgun towards the seated Brevik. “If you don’t mind, I’d love the pleasure of reuniting later.”

Santander made another dismissive motion with his hand. “Whatever, not my concern. My concern is,” he paused and looked towards the center of the room. “My concern is that we have an orderly, only moderately-hostile takeover.” He walked towards the two men standing at the table. “Vanheel, is this the chairman?”

Vanheel gulped, gripping his pistol tighter. “Yes, Mister Santander. This is the chairman, Zachary Gabriel.”

Santander stopped in his tracks. “Wait…” he asked, turning back to face the prisoners.

“Yes sir, it’s Commander Gabriel’s brother,” Vanheel said behind him.

Santander stared at the seated Gabriel. After a few seconds he said, “Son of a bitch. Small world, eh Commander?” With that he turned back to the center and made his way to the platform.

“Mister Zachary Gabriel, brother of the infamous Evan Gabriel,” Santander said, extending one hand. “A real pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Zack stared at the mercenary, his nostrils flaring. “Go to hell,” he said in a low voice.

Santander dropped his hand. “I’ve been on Mars for two years, it’s a little late for that,” he said. “Marco!” he called over his shoulder.

Lamber trotted up to the three men. “Sir?”

Santander never took his eyes off Zack. “I need you to understand we mean business, and that your control of this facility is over,” he said. “Effective immediately, we are taking over this operation. You and your board will be relieved of operational command, and you personally will be signing over the colony charter to me. We will be keeping your workers and techs in place and continuing the work you’re doing here. Our bosses back home will be sending replacements within the month. At that point, if all goes well, you and your board will be shipped back to Earth.”
 

He paused, looking at Vanheel, who was quivering. “If all doesn’t go well,” he said. “Again, we need you to understand the situation here.” He took two steps back. “Kill him,” he said to Lamber, pointing to Vanheel.

“With pleasure,” Lamber said, bringing his assault rifle up.

“No, wait!” yelled Zack, stepping forward.

Lamber’s rifle spat twice with no more noise than a muffled cough, the supersonic 6 mm caseless rounds impacting Vanheel squarely in the chest. Vanheel staggered backwards, eyes wide, and the pistol fell from his hand. Blood spurted from the two wounds and he grabbed his chest, choking up blood and spittle before collapsing to the floor.

Zack quickly stepped over to his friend, who lay on his side, wheezing. “Pim!”
 

Vanheel’s breath was ragged, and blood pooled beneath him on the floor. “Zack,” he gasped. “My daughter…” his voice trailed off.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine,” Zack said, grasping Vanheel’s shoulder. “Hang on.”

Vanheel’s eyes lost focus and he rolled backwards to lie facing the ceiling. Zack stood up and wheeled to face Santander, taking one menacing step before Lamber’s rifle stopped him.

“You’ll pay for this,” Zack said in a low voice.
 

Santander chuckled. “No, someone is paying me for this.” He stepped forward, easing Lamber’s rifle out of the way. Coming to within a few inches of Zack’s face, he said, “We mean business.” Santander’s fist slammed into Zack’s stomach, knocking him back a couple of feet, and his other hand smacked into his jaw, spinning him to the decking, unconscious.

From the other side of the room, Gabriel roared. “Bastard!”
 

He started to rise, and Ran bashed the side of his head with the butt of his rifle, staggering Gabriel back against the wall. Blood leaked from a cut just under his hairline.

“You’re mine, whoever the hell you are,” Gabriel gasped, glaring at Santander.

“Whoever the hell I am?” Santander replied with a laugh. “I’m the new chief here, didn’t you get the memo?” He turned back to Lamber. “Stick the body in the corner, then get back on prisoner duty. I want the board to see we’re not screwing around, but I don’t need a mess lying around all day.”

Lamber dragged the body away, leaving a smear of blood behind.

Chapter 26

“You sure this is the right way?” Takahashi yelled over the gale.

The two men trudged through the waist-deep snow drifts surrounding the lab facility, accompanied by four of the Polis. Gilchrist had bundled up in a broken environment suit he had found lying around the lab, while Takahashi was fully suited in armor and combat helmet. The armor’s lockup had all but ceased, so he found it much easier to move than it had been several minutes before, even though his wiry frame still had difficulty moving the unpowered suit.
 

The Polis were dressed in various garments, most created from natural underground roots, as the doctor had explained, and some given to them by the colonists. They moved in a single file line, the Poli known as Isaiah leading the way, with Takahashi behind him, then Gilchrist, then the other three Polis.

Isaiah turned back to Takahashi, baring his teeth. “Hurry, now,” he yelled back, the native’s high-pitched voice carrying over the wind.

Takahashi had been stunned to find how intelligent, friendly, and trusting the native species were. Reaching the back area of the lab where Gilchrist had hidden them, he had met (albeit briefly) over two dozen of them, each of them greeting him with a very human-like handshake, with several of them attempting to pronounce his name. He smiled when he heard the first one try it, knowing that even some friends still considered his name a mouthful.
 

They stood just over four feet tall, bipedal, reminding Takahashi of a light-furred gorilla, but thinner, almost emaciated. He chalked that up to the lack of natural resources and food on the frozen planet. It was a wonder anything used to temperate climates could have survived as long as they had. Then again, he thought, millions of them hadn’t.

Upon meeting Isaiah, he was taken aback by how dignified the Poli carried himself. He was obviously a senior leader of the ones present, as all the others seemed to defer to him. He had walked up to Takahashi, shaken his hand, and given a small bow of respect. “Enseen Takahashi, nice meet you,” he said in a high voice, and looked up at him squarely in the eyes.

Human eyes, Takahashi had noticed. Very human, powerful, full of emotion. His eyes immediately told him that Isaiah was one to be trusted.
 

“My brother die, yes?” he had asked Takahashi.

“Yes, I am sorry about that Isaiah,” he had replied. “One of my team, who we know now is not our friend, killed him.”

Isaiah had nodded in understanding. “What name not friend?”

“Uh, Sabra,” Takahashi had answered, puzzled why he was interested; perhaps some type of cultural or religious closure?

Isaiah had simply nodded again. “Sah…brah,” he had repeated, and turned back to his group.

The group turned a corner around a large structure, and the wind increased in velocity, staggering the six of them. Isaiah pushed on, yelling again for the others to keep up. “Not far, hurry!” came the high voice.

Takahashi leaned into the wind, and Gilchrist grabbed onto one of the empty weapon mounts on his armor’s waist. Snow and ice blew almost horizontally; Gilchrist’s mask was nearly frozen over. Takahashi struggled, using his armor’s mass to push through the deep drifts, literally dragging Gilchrist behind him. He gave thanks again for the Otero battle armor; his combat helmet kept his visor clear with embedded heating elements, which fortunately still operated.

The Polis behind the two men fared a bit better, Takahashi noticed. After a couple hundred years adapting to their new environment, he assumed they had no choice. Their bodies were coated in snow, what fur that was exposed having iced over, providing them a bit of added protection from the elements. Their short, powerful legs drove their small bodies forward against the wind, and they nimbly avoided the deeper areas. Apparently they possessed some type of sixth sense as to the depth and density of the drifts, he guessed.

The group approached the exterior of the operations building. Windowless walls rose high above the snow. Out of habit, Takahashi tried to pull up the schematic of the complex in his neuretics, and cursed as he received the same dead feedback tone he’d gotten for the past half hour. He reached into a waist pouch and withdrew Isaiah’s drawing, the paper flapping in the high winds. According to the crude line sketch, there was what appeared to be a ladder of some sort around the north corner of the building, just a few dozen yards away. Isaiah was headed in that direction, so Takahashi replaced the paper back in his pouch and sealed it.
 

Turning back to Gilchrist, who was laboring and nearly bent in half at the waist, he grabbed his arm and tugged. “We’re here!” he yelled into the other man’s iced face mask.

The doctor looked up at Takahashi. “Thank god!” he yelled back in a muffled voice, pausing to collect himself.

Takahashi looked over Gilchrist’s shoulder at the other three Polis, who were making out much better than Gilchrist was. They all had come to a halt behind the two men, waiting patiently for instructions. Takahashi was surprised again how intelligent they actually were; he had expected from the initial briefings to encounter a dog or monkey level of sentience. These natives were smart, determined, and according to Gilchrist, they learned very quickly. He also noticed how willing they were to help, an almost child-like quality in them. But very unchild-like, each of them carried wicked-looking knives in their waist pouches, carved from the living rock. Four feet tall or not, Takahashi wouldn’t want to run into one of them in a dark alley. Or in a snowstorm.