The Stars Came Back (36 page)

Nerona: And you are?

Kaminski: Kaminski.
Corporal
Kaminski.

Kaminski sticks out his hand, and Nerona
takes it automatically. Kaminski gives him a brief but very firm handshake, making Nerona wince. He loses his composure for a moment, then gets it back.

Nerona: I know all the police around here, and I think you are rather out of your jurisdiction,
Corporal
. What jurisdiction are you from?

Nerona flips out a badge from a pocket and clips
it on his belt, standing taller as he talks, all but strutting as he stands there.

Kaminski:
666th Retribution Battalion… Plataean Space Marines. Blood redistribution specialist.

Kaminski
gives another cheery smile.

Kaminski:
(Regarding Allonia) Yeah, last time was a mess. Even impressed the First Sergeant, here.

Nerona: (
Cautiously) First Sergeant?

Harbin: (
Flatly) I said “good group.”

Kaminski: Oh, right
. It was the
Colonel
who said “impressive.”

Nerona: (
Nervously) Colonel?

Lag: (
Matter of factly) Killing a man that efficiently with his own weapons
was
impressive. Good knife work, too. I’m sure she was sharing tips with the Alvarez ladies.

Mrs
. Alvarez gives Allonia a look of impressed surprise. Allonia shrugs acknowledgment.

Nerona
glances back and forth between them, not sure if he should be scared, impressed, is being put on, or should just be leaving.

Helton: The Alvarez family are friends of ours. Thought we’d drop in, make sure everything was OK. Maybe spend a few days, take in some bar-b-que, see the sights, swap recipes for lentil cookies. The usual.

Stenson: The captain there was most generous to stop by as he did.

Nerona: (
Skeptical) Captain?

Helton: It was the least I could do for the Chief and his team.

Nerona: (More nervous) Chief? And
team
?

Alvarez: So, weren’t you just about to leave?

Nerona: Uh, well, if, uh, Maria isn’t here, then, um, yeah, I guess I should be going.

Mr
. Alvarez: Next time, call first. It’s polite.

Nerona
, flustered and embarrassed, turns and beats a hasty retreat down the path toward the barn. They watch him leave. After a moment Lag speaks, then closes his eyes to wait.

Lag: There are times for a peaceful tone, negotiation, and discretion, when dealing with people. Then again, there are times you need to get all shooty with ‘em. Now, can
he take a hint, or is he incorrigible?

In the distance down the hill they
watch him talk into his com unit. All their personal com units sound off quietly relaying his voice, as if they are all using walkie-talkies on the same open frequency.

Nerona: (OC, through coms) This is Nerona. We got some strange doings. Definitely something that needs to be checked out. Smuggling, gunrunning, sedition,
something
. I’m
sure
we can find an excuse to take them down with, or at least lock ‘em up for a while. Talk to you tomorrow after I check out a few things. Out here.

Lag sighs, and
each has a pained, resigned, or worried look.

Lag:
Victor, we should call it an evening, knowing you need to plow a field bright and early tomorrow. Corporal, I trust you saw the backhoe? Chief, see what you can do about helping the inspector set the autopilot on his flier, perhaps north toward the sea? Helton, if you can determine how much of that message got out. How it came through our coms would be good to know, too. Allonia, if you could help Helton, I’d be happy to help Bipasha and the ladies with dishes and cleanup here for a little while.

Lag nods to Kaminski, who nods back and takes off running at an angle down the hill. Mr
. and Mrs. Alvarez have expressions of mixed uncertainty, fear, and pleasure at the situation.

Lag: Sad. But people like that very rarely change. They want power and control without responsibility or restraint. Pleasure, without work. I believe we can honestly say that we saw him walk away from the house in fine shape, heading for his flier talking about needing to check something out, and that we then saw his flier leave, heading north?

Mr. Alvarez leans back, looking more relaxed.

Mr.
Alvarez: Jorge, I think you’ve been hired by good people… It’s been a while since we’ve had a good formal bar-b-que; not a lot to celebrate. But I think it might be a good time. (Turning to Lag and Helton) I think you may just find a number of people quite willing to do business with you next week, if you can stay that long.

FADE TO BLACK

BBQ

FADE IN

EXT - DAY - Above large BBQ gathering

Aerial flyby shot of
hundreds of people gathering near a large ranch house spread. A number of buildings scattered around, lush greenery in the background, many personal and utility fliers, to one side corrals with horses and cattle, lots of BBQ pits, smokers, and equipment, including an open pit with a whole pig on a spit, and a lot of rising smoke. On another side is a long cleared range with tables and targets set up on it. Adults and kids and dogs and dining tables and smartly dressed groups everywhere. A spot has been cleared for a dance floor, and a square dance with live music is moving briskly along.
Tajemnica’s
dirty, angular hull is by far the largest ship there.

CUT TO

INT - D
AY - Cargo bay

A view looking out the slowly lowering loading ramp. A line of silhouetted figures stand dark against the bright sunlight streaming in. A mix of clothing styles are seen, but no armor, and all are wearing pistol belts with sidearms.

CUT TO

View from outside looking into the cargo bay, showing the line of them from foot level. General style is a cross between dieselpunk, practical, and conservative functional Victorian. Helton wears boots, jeans, print shirt, dark vest, wide-brimmed hat, his utilitarian sidearm in a well-used holster. Next to him, Allonia wears boots, calf-length skirt, corset, collar and choker necklace with medallion. Hair up, sunhat, long sleeves, decorated but very serviceable-looking belt with fancy holster, with a long slide, round butt, double stack, stainless 1911 style pistol with decorative handles and partially gilt engraving on the visible metal; a right proper BBQ gun. Kaminski is in more traditional western style in solid colors, Bipasha more traditional flamboyant Indian style. The rest of the crew are dressed in a similar range of fashion, many colors and themes on the ladies, conservative colors and styles for the men. They look around, taking in the sights and smells around them.

Kaminski:
(Enthusiastically) Now THIS… is a BAR-B-QUE!

The rest nod in agreement, and they all start down the ramp.

DISSOLVE TO

EXT – DAY – Somewhere amid the BBQ crowd

A long table
crowded with attentive and ethnically diverse young men, very fit and clean cut, are listening intently to the
Tajemnica
crew on the other side, where Harbin, Helton, Kaushik, Bipasha, and Alvarez sit. There is a vast spread of BBQ on the table, and people are dressed sharp and clean, having a good time.

Helton:
So there we were, with an unknown ship looking to board us. We had a pair of marginal drives, a company of crippled veterans missing a platoon of body parts, minimal weapons and hardly any ammo, a couple squads of recruits so green you could plant ‘em under a light if you were short of oxygen, some civilians, and only three trained and able-bodied soldiers.

Kaushik: It was bad enough I had a flashback to one of the First Sergeant’s famously ego-killing officer-candidate field exercises.

Harbin: You don’t think I just make those up, do you? That will make a good one in the future.

Alvarez: (
Joking) You are a
cruel
man!

Harbin: The hotter the fire, the deeper the temper.

The men across the table nod sagely in agreement, liking what they hear, eating it up; real war stories from guys who were there, and flying the old ship to prove it.

Kaushik: So then the First Sergeant says very seriously “we have axes,” and we all look at him
like he’s
finally
cracked!

Everyone laughs
.

CUT TO

A corral fence, with a wide-eyed Quinn and a couple of other kids watching cattle and cowboys riding horses separating them out for later events.
Real cows,
real
cowboys.

CUT TO

Cooper walks along a line of
BBQs, a comely young woman on each arm, looking dashing and having a GRAND time.

CUT TO

Stenson and a couple of his crew sit with some of the Alvarez family and friends at a table, talking and savoring the
BBQ. In the background, a group of folks are tossing bean bags at a board with holes cut in it, playing cornhole.

Stenson: You have
no idea how good it feels to sit down for a little while and not worry about some new brand of strange cropping up and having to be dealt with RIGHT NOW! No one trying to board us, run into us, shake us down, or open us up like tin can. And this is
really
good! (waves a rib to emphasize his point) I mean, I’ve seen more action in the last two flights as a
civilian
than I did in my last five deployments in uniform. Crazy, but fun! Pass the cornbread, please.

DISSOLVE TO

An informal but well made and
often-used shooting range

Two tables with five bowling pins on each are about ten yards from the two shooters (a man in his 30s, and a woman in her early 20s) standing at low ready, and behind them a crowd of onlookers, including Allonia and Kaminski.
A Range Officer is running the match, standing between and slightly behind the two shooters.

R
ange Officer: Shooters ready?!

They both nod.

RO: GO!

The two shooters bring their guns up and start shooting. Both shoot
as fast as they can. Wood chips are flying, pins are being nicked and rolling around on the tables. Both have to reload before the man finally clears the table, just barely faster than the woman. Scattered laughter and polite applause.

CUT TO

Close
-up of Kaminski and Allonia, watching the match

Kaminski: Trying to shoot too fast. Remember, you can’t
miss
fast enough to win. As fast as you can get a good sight picture. Aim centered on the lower bulge. Hitting high will tip them but not knock them off the table. You’ll do fine. Just like shooting bulls-eyes. No pressure, only a few dozen people watching. There is likely to be more than a hundred to watch the final shoot-off. Be safe, hit the pins, let what happens happen.

Camera angle pulls back as Allonia
looks askance at him skeptical. As the tables get cleared of debris and a new set of pins get set up, she steps up to the shooting line. Her opponent is a well dressed middle aged man, who eyes her carefully.

Opponent1: (
Politely) Ever shot pins before?

Allonia shakes her head. Opponent1 looks at Kaminski questioningly while Allonia gets herself comfortable on the line, holding her arms out
, taking a good shooting stance, eyeing down her index finger, going one pin to the next, rehearsing the targets.

Kaminski: New shooter, but she’s got the basics down pretty well. Bring your best game.

Opponent1 nods understanding. The range is cleared, they draw their guns, check magazines, chambers, eye protection, and safeties. Her gun is extensively engraved, brightly polished, with some gold inlay in traditional leafy scrollwork patterns spelling out
res ipsa loquitor
. Suddenly, Allonia pauses, seeing her opponent’s suppressed pistol.

Al
lonia: Oh, drat! Forgot the can.

There is a rustle, and from the crowd about a dozen arms get extended holding out various kinds o
f suppressors for her to borrow. She looks around at them kind of sheepishly, and holsters her gun.

Allonia: Ten millimeter?

Two thirds of them get withdrawn and there is a murmur of appreciation from the crowd; it’s not a normal lady’s caliber. She nods thanks to one elderly gent offering his, turns around to the line, draws, screws it on, keeping it carefully pointed away from the crowd. Then she sights down it towards the pins again, rehearsing the targets again with the can on the barrel. She takes a low ready position, and nods. The RO looks at both shooters to see that they look ready.