Trial by Ice (15 page)

"Yes, yes!"

Vito talked slowly. "It is a nanite virus carrier. You drop those when you need to control a population, doesn't kill them, just makes them sick, like a flu."

"Oh shit."

"We're inoculated, but they can explode if handled before finding a host," Eduardo said as he kicked it.

"Kerry, too?"

"He'll shit, he'll shit a river of dead nanites, but he'll be fine."

"We've got a problem," Sebastien said, dropping another hollow injector.

"Where did you find it?" Eduardo asked.

"On a civilian."

"Oh..." Vito replied as he laid a fresh bandage down.

"Three days, Vito?"

"Maybe four."

"’Til what?" William asked.

"’Til the entire civilian population is so sick, they'd turn in their own grandmothers."

William turned and stomped on the empty canister. "Is he going to live?"

"I think so," Vito said.

"Toss him in the truck, we better go," Crow said. His arms cradled more of the slender weapons.

* * *

The stamp mill sat like a beacon of rust and slag. The entire purpose of the machine was to rise up and slam down on whatever was beneath. Each smash would drive the ore into tinier and tinier bits. Those bits would be stamped again, and again, until a neighboring refinery could siphon out the useful minerals.

The once proud pillar now lay idle, caked with grit. Only the slides that the piston rode on still shone, polished by millions of relentless cycles. It was into this pit that they laid the captive.

The light played over his skin in that dim orange sky. Light reflected off of the microscopic cuts from that Chilean filament grenade. His teeth were locked and his shoulders drawn up to his neck. The fear was like an animal stink.

William squatted down next to him. "What's your name?"

The eyes opened slightly wider. White reflected orange.

"Name?" Crow asked.

"Dzavi," he replied with his tongue thick in his mouth.

Crow nodded. "Dzavi. Where are you from?"

"Samoa."

"Fuck," a voice said from the darkness.

"Shut up," Crow said. "What is a fine boy from Samoa doing here?"

Dzavi looked to William, then back to Crow. “Working.”

“You better find a few more syllables, Dzavi." William shuffled sideways as he squatted on his haunches, looking down at the captive’s face.

"What kind of work?" Crow asked.

"We watch the refinery, keep the ore coming in, keep things from getting out of hand." He looked up at William and shifted slightly. "Who are you?"

"Who gets the elements?" Crow asked.

"Who are you?" Dzavi asked again.

William looked up to Crow and shrugged. "My name is William."

"Where did you come from?"

William looked back to Crow with a questioning glance. The captive’s question said more than any answer could.

"Only one place to come from," Crow said.

"Are you going to shoot me?" Dzavi asked, without any fear in his voice.

"No. When we're done, the locals will get you. You'll follow the legal process that they have."

"And they'll shoot me?"

"Did you do anything to deserve getting shot?" Crow asked.

Dzavi kept quiet and stared into the darkness above.

"I'll be back," William said as he walked away from the captive.

He found Vito over by Kerry. Sebastien held the slender penlight. A fresh bandage covered the hole from the nanite drone. Dark lines scratched along his back tracing the veins.

"How do you feel?"

"I've got to shit again."

"He'll be fine, in a day or two," Vito said as he wrapped the bandage tighter.

"Samoans I hear," Sebastien said.

"Samoans."

"Shit," Kerry said through clenched teeth.

"Why the Samoan thing?" William asked. The fear seemed irrational to him.

"Did they keep you under a rock?" Vito asked. He tied the bandage tightly and slapped Kerry on the bottom. "Now go, shit somewhere else."

"Well, no," William said.

Vito sighed. "So the Chinese couldn't ship just anyone into space, they needed a group that was willing to go, otherwise no one would let them colonize. So they go and poke all those little islands that are eroding away and send them out first. The first colonists are the Samoans, so they have this mystique as being special because of it."

"And the Hun use them as shock troops now, they had no home before, and the Hun helped them out," Sebastien said.

"Quit using that term, they're not Hun," Vito said with a shiver. "As it stands, they offer themselves out as private contractors. Like any merc, they like easily won wars that are morally ambiguous."

"Are these mercs then, or is this sponsored?" William asked.

"I doubt he'll know, and anyway, if the Hun or Sa'Ami hired them, this guy would never know."

William nodded and looked back down the dark hallway where the captive lie.

"I fought Hun once," Sebastien said, looking at Vito, "these guys are professionals, we're going to need these civilians to get this job done."

"Coming around, are we?" William asked.

"Just logic."

"I'm going to check with Crow, you guys want to ask him any questions?" William asked.

Vito shook his head. Sebastien tapped his nose and nodded. "Ask him if he fought on New Mecca."

William walked through the silent complex and found Crow standing outside the room. His chin was resting on his chest.

"Sergeant?" William asked.

"Yes, Mr. Grace?"

"I just, well, you seemed to be asleep," William said.

Crow raised his head. "He's a grunt, claims to be a mercenary, born on Samoa—the planet, not the island. He's a bit cagey, says they have a brigade, armor, drones, air support."

"What do you think of that?"

"He's full of shit. They've got some crowd control drones, we know that, and a rusty old VTOL."

William debated mentioning that a rusty VTOL still shot real bullets but decided to keep his mouth shut.

"What do we do with him?" Crow asked.

"Leave him with the locals."

Crow nodded as William walked back into the room.

Dzavi raised his head and followed William with his eyes.

"Dzavi, were you on New Mecca?"

Dzavi shone his teeth back like an animal. "No."

William nodded with a slight smile. "I hear you have a brigade, armor, the whole nine yards. Our orbital surveillance didn't show any of that." He didn't have orbital surveillance but he knew Dzavi didn't know that.

The man looked up at the ceiling in silence.

"New Mecca wasn't quite as easy as this eh?"

Gravel crunched as Dzavi sat slightly upwards. "You get fucked."

William stepped closer and squatted down next to him. "What do you really have here?"

"If you need to know you didn't bring enough to worry us, you're bluffing, you don't have shit, so get fucked, they'll come down once these people are shitting themselves and skullfuck you," Dzavi said with an orange gleam in his eye.

"Ahh, well, have you ever met striders before?"

Dzavi looked back in silence. His eyes smoldered.

"Rend a man’s flesh in the darkness, never even hear them..." William stood and walked out of the room and into the darkness. Nothing drew fear from a man like a phantom in the shadows.

Sebastien looked in. "He was there yes?"

"I think so, but what does that tell us?" William asked.

"They'll do anything if cornered. Only reason they made it off New Mecca is they cut the elevator. They had real nano weapons then, though—was nasty."

"You were there?" William asked, surprised. He knew better than to ask what it was like.

"From the start, watched the Hun hit our cruisers, saw them burn up in the atmosphere for two days. Then a month later watched the Hun fleet burn up too." Sebastien pointed into the room. "If we don't succeed here these people are in for a world of hurt."

"Well, let’s not fail then, eh?" William said, with a slight smile.

Sebastien snorted and walked into the darkness.

William watched the captive and wondered how tough the legendary Samoans really were.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Shift

The crackling roar of the arc furnaces burnt an artificial dawn in the misty morning. The rhythmic stomping of the mills broke loose dust that rained upon the survivors. The men creaked up and into the dim light, watching for whatever the sunrise would reveal.

Sergeant Crow squatted over the captured weapons. They were slender in form, yet still an assault rifle. The ammo slabs were formed into a half moon cylinder. Each of these were slapped onto the bottom of the rifle.

He ran his fingers over the growing mustache and nodded to William. The mustache was beginning to look like a proper Turkish mustache. William kicked his toe against one of the weapons. It thudded with a dull plastic sound.

"Can we use them?"

"Hmm, if they're not coded."

"I don't know what that is," William said. He had learned long before that it was always better to admit ignorance than have it discovered.

"If the weapons were coded to a user, then no one can use them."

"Oh." William looked closer at the rifle. "What if you try?"

"Well, some just won't cycle, others destroy the internals, and some blow up."

"Which is why we haven't used them, yes?"

Crow nodded. "We could ask our friend down the hall, but I doubt I'd trust his answer."

"So what do we do?"

"Ahh well, in a case like this, you just try it. First with no ammo, then you just got to give it a shot."

William stooped over and grabbed onto the slender weapon. It was heavier than it looked. The nanite core had been removed. This weapon, as with all well designed weapons, required no instruction. He slid the firing assembly back and a crumbled mass popped out. Empty now.

"Wait..." Crow began to say.

Click.

"Hmph."

William smiled back and slid the nanite core into place. A nearby stamp mill pounded every twelve seconds. The jarring rattle boomed every fifth stamp as fresh ore was added. He pointed the weapon towards a pile of stamped sand and waited. The stamps pounded down until the giant sound came again.

Boom. The rifle fired a strange harmonic with the stamp. Crow nodded in satisfaction as he inspected the rifle. "That's what I like to hear."

Leduc walked briskly into the room with rough leather bags under his arms. A moist grainy smell followed behind. "Ding
ding!
Breakfast!"

"Where did you find food?" Crow asked suspiciously, though not so suspicious that he didn't walk closer.

"Stand in line long enough and who knows what you find, eh?" Leduc replied with a mischievous eye. "Rye I think..."

"Can't say I'd argue, Corporal, though next time try for an omelet." Crow scooped out a handful with a battered plastic bowl.

"I won't ask," William said, scooping some. "But don't get caught."

"No worries, I was only caught once, yes?" Leduc replied as he strolled off.

"Once is enough. Oh, Corporal, tell everyone to come here once they're done eating."

"Yes, sir. Oh, David left with me, he's off to find his son."

William, hungry as he was, found the stiff rye porridge to be mostly unappetizing. It didn't help that the only flavoring seemed to come from a tallowy substance. His teeth felt waxed and he couldn't help running his tongue over them.

The men walked in and sat around the pile of weapons. William watched a few of the men licking their teeth. "Corporal, thank you for the breakfast, though next time hold the wax, please."

Smiles and chuckles went up around the room.

"This is where we're at. The hostiles know someone is here, but they don't seem to know who, yet. We've got three days until the locals are incapacitated from the nanite flu, and the razor drones could come out at any moment. We need the elevator, but can't hold it unless we take out the mercs and the razor drones." William paused and let it sink in. "Now, since I'm a Naval officer and not a combat specialist, I'm going to sit back and listen to you fine troops hash this out." William sat on a rough ball of ore and held his hands out to the group.

William sat in silence with the other Naval crew and watched as the Marines debated points with the Army. The sticking point was how to assault the refinery with mostly unarmed civilians. The elevator was the goal, but useless unless the Samoans were out of the picture.

The only thing they didn't worry about was the VTOL. It wouldn't be of much use to anyone in the thick urban environment. The razor drones, though... knocking out the drone comms was goal number one. Without it the little balls of razor and steel would end any hope.

"We move in two groups. One heads to the refinery, and a second group to the elevator. If David’s son can get us a good number of locals, we have a chance of a diversion. If not, we hit the elevator first, then disappear. Once they send out troops to reinforce it, we hit the refinery," Sebastien said, pointing to small rocks laid out before them.

"We need to scout them out," Selim said, nudging the rocks with his feet.

Sebastien nodded. "Tonight, once the sun drops, we recon both targets. Hopefully we've found our militia by then, too."

"Clean your weapons, get some rest, and stay inside," Crow said, nodding at Leduc.

William felt as good about the odds as he felt about the rye.

* * *

He found Vito watching the prisoner. The old stamping chamber was damp and cool. The metal surrounding it held onto the night’s chill.

"Morning Vito, what did you think of the rye?" William asked.

Vito wrinkled his nose. "The texture was a bit toothsome, but it sure makes your teeth feel shiny."

William nodded and smiled. "Anything out of our friend?"

Vito shook his head. "No, I asked him about records or the Covenant, he just looked at me like I was crazy."

"I doubt he holds much stock in the Covenant."

"No, but both the Sa'Ami and the Harmony Worlds have agreed to it, just haven't signed it."

William smirked at the thought. "You mean Hun, hard to run a slave empire with a Covenant."

"Ahh, indeed," Vito said quietly. He leaned his back against the rough concrete. "Though I'm more curious about Mr. Redmond."

"What about him?"

"Well, David said he left, this was supposed to be it, his destination, the man who launched all those colonies, so where'd he go?"

William shrugged. "We can debate it once we're up in orbit. If you can track down some records, be my guest."

"I'll do that," Vito said, staring off into space.

"We're doing a bit of recon this evening, you stick here with the other Naval ratings, shoot our friend if he does anything unfriendly."

Vito looked at William and nodded.

* * *

The crew huddled in the morning shadows until the sun finally broke the stilted mist. A fine gray haze wept away the brightest colors. All around them raw industry continued. Dust plumes rose from stamp mills. Thermal pillars twinkled above the smelters. Trucks ambled by with cargo of ore or the finest powder.

David returned in the afternoon, escorted by a younger man draped in grit-coated clothing. His face was covered in a thick grit that was clean only in the wrinkles of his brow. His eyes were like David’s, but sharp and angry.

"Midshipman Grace, this is my son, Peter, Saul's father."

William extended a hand and was greeted by a tense grip. "We owe your father much, thank you for coming."

"He told me what happened," Peter said in a raspy voice. He looked at the men around the room. "Is this it?"

William nodded slowly. "Yes, this is it."

Peter didn't look happy. "What do you hope to accomplish?"

"Capture the elevator, the refinery, and get your government to sign the Covenant," William stated clearly.

"That's it? Well, be my guest." Peter shook his head and stared at the floor. "I've two options, either I help you or I turn you in. Either one could put me into the same position, or even worse off."

William nodded. "Yes, you could turn us in, hope for the remedy, but what then?"

Vito walked in slowly. "And what about next week, or next month? What do you think they'll do when the ore is played out?"

Peter looked at Vito with hard eyes.

"This isn't something that is going to end, this will be the future of your planet. Toil, slavery, bondage," Vito said as he pointed to the rusted machinery around them.

Peter stood in silence in the shadow cast by the tilted stamp mill. He looked to his father for a moment and returned his stare to the floor. "If, and it's a big if, we help, we need to get my people out fast."

William nodded. "We just need you to stir it up a bit. Can you manage that?"

"I was a councilman before this all came to be, I know how to work a crowd. Now let's talk about what happens after this..."

Vito took the discussion from that point. William briefed the men. The scouting operation would go out at nightfall with one recon team heading to the elevator, while William would go out with the other to scout the refinery center. The remainder would lay low in the stamp mill.

William slept in the damp slag and dreamed once more of playing with his father in the caverns. The giant machines around him reminded him of the things in that cavern long ago. He awoke as if he had just closed his eyes and prepared himself.

The sun was barely set when the gray darkness came about. The night mist hadn't settled. The darkness was deeper than it would be three hours later. Each team was sent with a guide. Peter and David had provided well.

William was guided by a man named Jebediah. Short of stature with closely cropped yellow hair. His eyes ran with tears every time he spoke. Stamp sand, he insisted. For work he plunged a carbon rod in a refinery, regulating the arc to coalesce the stamp sand. To William he looked like a recovering drunk.

The streets emptied quickly until they were the only ones padding through. The stillness of the air was broken by a mechanical hiss coming from the refineries. Whatever was inside never slept.

They came upon the boundary road that encircled the complex. Heaps of slag sat just away from a three meter fence. The road was a thing of dust and ruts. Every load of stamped ore followed that path to the main gate.

William poked his head over the slag rise and took in the sight. Sebastien lay next to him mumbling numbers to himself. Jebediah slinked away to scout the return route.

The perimeter of the building was wreathed in orange sodium lights while the upper reaches were dark. The building was an industrial featureless gray. William knew the razor pods were above in the darkness and feared to see them released again. The guilt rose inside of him.

The main gate led to a receiving area. This was flanked on either side by storage yards, heaped with containers of overburden. Beyond was the entry doors, unfortunately closed. No patrol was seen in that orange glare.

William crunched back down the slag rise. "What do you think?"

Sebastien shrugged. "It's a prefab, it'll be mostly hollow inside. The problem will be keeping them from turtling up and just launching the drones."

"Suggestions?"

"Fire always works," Sebastien replied with a smile.

"But what would burn?" William asked as he pictured a steel building filled with refined ore.

"Grenades."

"Grenades?"

Sebastien nodded with a wide smile. "Grenades."

"We get the civilians to rush the fence and move in using those containers for cover. Once they can clear that gate, we can move in on the flank."

"They get some grenades?" William asked. He pictured a rabid mob being mowed down at the gates.

"And we give them a few of our weapons, too."

William turned to the Marine with a curious look. "Why some of ours?"

"We’ve got a few weapons that are almost out of ammo, and also to confuse the enemy. They'll have no idea where they got them from. They know someone is here, but not who."

William nodded. He understood the logic but didn't relish the bloodshed that would befall the civilians.

Footsteps crept in through the dark along the slag heap. William and Sebastien laid low in the shadows. It was a thirty meter sprint to reach more cover. Jebediah had gone a different direction.

"Shh, just wait," Sebastien whispered.

William slowed his breathing and turned his head slightly ‘til it rested on the cool slag. It tickled his bearded cheek as he waited for the walker. His eyes adjusted to the orange glow and a man stepped into view.

A single orange pinprick flared for a second before dimming again. The hint of tobacco smoke wafted over William. As the person approached, William saw a stubby assault rifle slung over his shoulder.