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THE PENULTIMATE STAND OF PINA GRACCHI


Michael F. Haspil


There would be trouble, no two ways about it. After all, one didn’t hire an all-call posse if engines burned smooth. However, Danavan Wilner concerned himself with trouble of a different sort.

He sat at the edge of a grand reception area. Pina Gracchi, his partner by circumstance, fate, and eventually choice, walked back from the hygiene station and unwittingly became the target of two drunk roughs.

The holo-guide spouted a banal greeting for the hundredth time in a pleasant female voice.

“Governor Sidney Chassum and the Tangaroa Cooperative welcomes you to Churius 161. Or ‘Aguilar’ as we like to call it. We apologize for extended processing wait times due to an ongoing security situation.”

Danavan’s seat gave him a good vantage of all the roustabouts, ne’er-do-wells, desperados, and other troublemakers apt to answer the localized posse call-up. There were no volunteers among this bunch. They were all guns-for-hire including himself and Pina. It was a good thing they were all unarmed while they awaited processing.

There were mercenaries—professionals with skills in demand who provided a service for a fee—and then there were mercs—thugs and bullies who liked to hurt people and pretended it was for the money. He saw too many of the latter among this bunch for his comfort. Something about this job reeked.

Pina had insisted they take it, and he owed her.

Their end of the reception hall held an autobar that dispensed libations—some intoxicating, some not—chit free. Liquid courage for the two idiots following Pina.

“Though Aguilar is considered a settled colony, it is also an active water-harvesting facility. When exiting the reception zone, please watch your step and observe all signs. While gravity is stable throughout the hab zones, pockets exist where gravity boots are mandatory. Sections requiring the use of pressure suits are off-limits to visitors.”

Pina had nearly returned to the table when the first stalker made his move.

The dance was on.

“Hey, what unit is on that jacket?” The tone of his voice told Danavan the answer didn’t really matter.

Pina stopped and answered over her shoulder. She wore an old-style pleather flight jacket a century or so out of style. “The 58th. Why?” The brightly colored unit patch was a tad faded but still clearly visible.

“My grandda got killed by the 58th.”

Pina turned to square off with the man. Two more men crossed the room to flank Pina. Four on one. Now things were getting interesting.

Pina answered, “Don’t see how that’s my problem.”

“It’s your problem because you’re wearing that jacket, and it offends me.”

Pina made a show of seeing the two new players and backed toward Danavan. She put her hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay. How do we make this right?”

“I think you should give me that jacket.”

Pina unzipped the jacket and took it off. She wore a black tank top underneath, revealing tattoo sleeves on both her arms. She’d gotten them to help cover up the bioluminescent electoos put there by the Judiciary. Sometimes, if the light caught them just right, the original electoos shone through the coverup.

The first man snatched the jacket from her and tossed it to the ground without even looking at it. “I think you should say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry. Look, that fight was long ago, friend. It’s not between us,” Pina said.

Danavan placed one hand on the alcohol tumbler in front of him, ready to send the contents flying into a face if the situation warranted.

“I say it is. Apologize again. I don’t think you meant it the first time,” the stalker said.

That was when the stalker’s buddy saw the electoos. “Oh, hell.” He pawed at his friend. “Hey, Tyler, just let it go.”

“Get your damn hands off of me!” his friend shouted and pulled away. The other two men tried to sort out which side they should take.

Danavan cleared his throat theatrically and got their attention. “Gentlemen. Do they have a problem? Or do we have a problem?”

The other men decided their drinks needed a refill and headed for the autobar.

The second man pulled at Tyler. “Let’s get some free drinks.” He addressed Pina, “I’m sorry about this, ma’am. He’s just drunk.” He turned his attention back to Tyler and tried to pull him away. “She took the jacket off.”

“I want my apology. She needs to say it again.” Tyler tore away from his friend. “I’ll beat it out of her if I have to.”

Pina took an obvious defensive posture.

“Don’t hurt him too bad!” the second man yelled.

Tyler threw a wild haymaker that Pina easily blocked. Then she snaked her blocking arm through the crook of his elbow as he pulled his fist back and wrenched his shoulder out of its socket. As he fell backward, off-balance, Pina moved with him and knelt, smashing his back onto her upright knee. She chopped his throat with the other hand and, as he crashed down in what looked like agony, she stood, swept the jacket off the ground, and put it back on in one smooth motion.

She joined Danavan at the table, as the second man attended to his friend. It had all happened so quickly, all but the nearest tables didn’t even notice the commotion.

The holo-guide droned on. “Please enjoy shopping, gambling, and other entertainment along Fremont Street in First Settlement. There is no water ration on Aguilar. Visit the Tangaroa Water Emporium, its baths, and artificial hot springs. The Tangaroa Cooperative would like to remind you it is only through the harvesting of Aguilar’s ice layer and pockets of liquid ocean that we can settle throughout the system and conduct the terraforming operations to make this system a new home.”

Someone moved from Danavan’s four o’clock. Despite himself, his hand twitched toward a sidearm that wasn’t there.

Augustus Croyle sported long salt-and-pepper hair tied in a neat ponytail and had an impressive mustache and beard to match, though the latter tended more toward salt than pepper.

“Gus. Been a few orbits, huh? Thought you were playing Guerra?” Danavan asked.

“My dice turned to shit, and I had a bad hand, so I got outflanked. Figured it had to be you in that godawful red jacket and silly top hat. What’d I miss?”

“Normally, I’d let you get away with a crack like that.” Danavan took false offense and took on an affectation to match. “But if you are besmirching the uniform of the most vaunted and ancient order of the Black Royal Colonial Marines, then, sir, I shall have to ask you to step outside.”

“There’s naught but vacuum outside.”

“The offer stands. If, on the other hand, you admit it was only your lack of fashion sense and manners made you utter that statement, I’d rather you sit,” Danavan said.

“I am an uncouth boor.” He stayed standing for the time being. “You have to admit, though, it’s a hell of a getup and more than a little dated.”

Danavan sighed. “It’s all part of the branding. Fella’s gotta do something to stand out.” Croyle prided himself on being something of a dandy, but Danavan recognized the style of Croyle’s suit, which was a rare and bad sign. Croyle always wore clothes on the cutting edge. The suit looked more gray than silver in parts. His friend’s finances weren’t doing well.

“No doubt. Work’s been dry for our sort,” Croyle said.

“Time passes. Speaking of which, you got old.”

“Relative. I settled for a bit.”

“And?”

“Didn’t work out. Now, aren’t you going to introduce me?” Croyle asked.

Danavan started introductions, “Gus Croyle—”

“Augustus, please. No one calls me Gus unless we’re in a fight.”

“Fair enough, if we’re going to be formal. Augustus Croyle meet Agrapina Gracchi,” Danavan said.

Croyle laughed incredulously. “Yeah. Sure.”

Pina held out her hand.

Croyle took it and grew very serious. “You’re Pina Gracchi.” He said it like he needed to reassure himself.

“Of the New Anatolia Gracchis,” Pina said.

“Any relation to CEO Peter Gracchi of New Aveline Gracchi Holdings?”

“Yeah. I’m his great-aunt,” Pina said.

“So, that’s a real Stetson?” Croyle asked, unable to hold awe, and a little greed, out of his voice.

“Wanna touch it?” Pina said.

“That’s all right.” Croyle finally sat down. “I’d heard some stories a couple decades back about a Justiciar resigning over an Adjudicator getting wrongly drummed out of the Service. Then there were stories of you cracking heads beyond the Perimeter.”

“That’s true,” Pina said.

Croyle turned to look at Danavan. “And the wronged Adjudicator?”

Danavan smiled ruefully. “Ecce homo.

“Now, that is interesting.” Croyle turned back to Pina. “Meaning no offense, just thought you might be older, is all.”

Danavan laughed. “Come on, she doesn’t look a day over thirty-nine. Relative. At least that’s what she’s told me for the last three years.”

Pina scowled at Danavan. “Faster-than-light travel and relativity are truly marvels of the modern age.”

The PA suddenly came on, interrupting the holo-guide’s announcements. Three men and two women entered and stood on the small stage in the center of the room.

A tall man with a prodigious bushy beard broke apart from the others and stood with his arms locked behind him. He wore blue composite military-style armor and a pearlized energy pistol at his side.

“Thank you all for answering the call on such short notice,” he said. “As you may have heard, the harvesters here have something of an uprising going. The situation is a bit more serious than we’ve let on and this insurrection has put the water supply across the system at risk. I’m afraid as long as this crisis continues, water rationing is in full effect, contrary to the holo-guide’s promise.”

Groans rose from the crowd.

The man nodded in acknowledgment and continued. “What few forces the governor has at his disposal are now providing security for hydroponics, the Tokamak reactor, and other essentials. So, it falls to us to undertake the solemn duty of returning law and order to this rabble and getting things running smoothly again. Your contracts have all been ratified, and you will be compensated in currency of your choosing.”

Some light applause. This was all expected.

“In a minute, we will begin processing into Aguilar. As of this moment, consider yourselves all agents of NJK Security. And for those of you who don’t know me, I’m Commodore Elias Grant, and I will be your commander.”

As Grant said his name, Danavan glared at Pina. “At least now I know why you wanted this job.”

Croyle spoke in a low tone, “What’s with NJK?”

“Well,” Danavan answered, “remember the story you heard about me losing my Adjudicator status, and Pina having to resign?” He turned his attention back to the people on the stage. “Though they might not know it, them there are the sons of bitches behind it.”

* * *

Danavan tore his eyes away from the sky so he didn’t trip. Gravity sat at around eighty-five percent of standard. Just enough to put him off his gait.

The Tangaroa Cooperative built First Settlement in a naturally occurring cavern. He’d been unprepared for the size of it. They’d polished the ceiling and ran one of the best sky simulations Danavan had ever seen. If he didn’t know exactly where to look, the holo-projectors were just about invisible. The feel of dirt under his boots instead of flooring helped the illusion of being outdoors. First Settlement’s shops and habs lay ahead. The main street curved to the right and made it seem the town stretched onward. This was set up like an R&R resort. A lot of illusion to keep people from going bugnuts in limited spaces.

He turned his eyes ahead and onto the flow of other mercenaries stumbling along and caught sight of Bryn Horton and Richie Carr watching from under a shop awning—two notorious NJK operatives with reputations for responding with disproportionate and excessive force. He’d seen Carr on the stage with the commodore, but hadn’t guessed Horton would be here too. The only reason they weren’t war criminals was that there wasn’t currently a war on.

NJK as an organization had a scary reputation for strike busting and enforcing what passed for a sort of order. They didn’t recruit the honorable, but their people got their job done by letter of contract, no matter who or how many died in their wake. And they’d gotten rich doing it.

Danavan got into a staring contest with Horton, and he’d be damned if he looked away before she did. The woman smirked, nodded in his direction, and muttered something to Carr, who laughed. In another time and another place, he’d burn both down without hesitation. He felt naked without his weapons and looked back to confirm his gear followed him. The carbon-fiber trunk trundled along on its tracks, staying close like a loyal pet.

Pina interrupted his thoughts. “How long you planning on staying sore?”

“A while longer. NJK? Really. After the Grigio Massacre? After Foamfall? And now we’re working for them. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have come,” Danavan said.

Pina grinned at him. “You hate them as much as I do. You’d have raced me to the transport.”

“She’s got you there,” Croyle said. The scent of roasting meat permeated the air. It was divine. “Ooh. Do you smell that?”

“You know this far out, that’s probably not lab-grown,” Danavan said. His mouth watered despite himself. Some animal had given up its life for them to eat it. The thought made him lose his appetite a bit. But only a bit.

Croyle broke away from their group. “I’ll be right back.”

Almost immediately, a holo-guide appeared and herded him back into the flow of mercenaries.

“Please proceed to the accommodations on Fremont Street. Dinner will be available in the main mess between thirteen hundred and fourteen hundred. A light supper will be provided at the same location at eighteen hundred.”

“Well…shoot,” Croyle said. “Guess they’re running a tight ship.”

At the intersection, the crowd turned left. On the corner stood the governor’s main office and residence. Governor Sidney Chassum stood on his balcony flanked by two NJK guards as if in review. Flouting convention, he openly smoked a cigar. From the looks of it, it was real, not a sim-vape.

“Look at this prick,” Croyle said while smiling and waving enthusiastically at the governor.

“Careful now, that’s our boss,” Danavan said. “We’re bought and paid for.” He tipped his top hat courteously.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Something seem strange to you?” Pina asked.

“Lots,” Danavan said. “What’re you getting at?”

“Where is everybody?”

“Maybe they cleared people out just to get us settled,” Croyle said. He sounded unconvinced.

“So how many folk are here?” Pina asked.

Danavan consulted an info pamphlet he’d swiped when they left the holding zone. “Says here between eight and nine thousand. Wait, that doesn’t make sense…”

Pina said, “So, the governor probably has what, maybe a hundred troops and guards—max—to be augmented by militia in an emergency. Far as law goes, maybe one or two Proctors. Maybe an Invigilator and some deputies if they’re particularly troubled.”

“If the harvesters were gonna throw an insurrection, it’d be over before even NJK could get here,” Danavan said.

“Exactly.”

“Mayhap they have some canny intelligence?” Croyle suggested.

A chorus of groans and grumbling arose from ahead. A tent city had been set up on three vacant lots at the edge of the street.

“Well, that’s not what they promised at all,” Croyle said.

A holo-guide directed traffic ahead to the tents. “For those of you with room and board included in your contracts, please cite your contract number for verification, and you will be directed to the appropriate accommodations. If you do not have room and board stipulated in your agreement, lodging can be rented for Co-op scrip. Co-op scrip can be acquired at a number of establishments in First Settlement at reasonable and competitive exchange rates.”

“Sixteen tons,” Pina said.

“Sixteen tons of what?” Croyle asked.

“Coal,” Pina said. “Back on Terra Primus, afore every corner was bought, sold, and settled, companies had workers mine coal. They built whole towns to bring work forces into forsaken spaces to feed the growing industry. Workers would arrive from everywhere seeking opportunity in exchange for hard labor. They’d come without equipment, often with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. The company would sell them the equipment they needed, and everything else. Not for money. For company scrip. Which was only good in company stores. And the workers were paid in scrip so they couldn’t leave. The only way to earn scrip was to meet your quota. Sixteen tons. Of course, the men who ran the scales worked for the company too.”

“I’m not agreeing with it, but that sounds like a hell of a good scam,” Croyle said.

“If you’re not a miner,” Danavan said.

“Or a water harvester in this case,” Pina said. “If they’ve resurrected this scheme, that’s reason enough for an uprising.”

Danavan nodded. “I’m liking this job less and less.”

It was their turn at the holo-guide. Danavan referenced his notes. “Wilner Five. Five. Seven. Oh. Four. Two. Eight.”

The holo-guide gave him what was supposed to be a genial smile, but made him want to punch it in his rapidly souring mood. It displayed a map of where their tent was on the grid. Their luggage recognized an accompanying code and rambled off to await them at the location.

Danavan started walking in the tent’s direction, then stopped to wait for Croyle. Augustus Croyle sidestepped the holo-guide and gave Danavan a sheepish grin. “Guess I have to get myself some scrip.”

“You need a better agent,” Pina said.

“Apparently. I shall have words upon my return to civilized climes,” Croyle said.

“For the time being, shack up with us. We can sure use an extra set of eyes,” Danavan said.

“Much obliged,” Croyle said.

“Let’s get heeled.” Pina headed to the tent.

* * *

Danavan double-checked the pistol magazines on his belt, the bandolier across his chest, and made sure the mags with different warheads were where he wanted them. He maglocked his helmet on his belt.

Pina emerged from the tent in worn and weathered, but nearly identical, matte-black Judiciary-grade armor. The armor clung to her form and showed a composite material pattern. It sported reactive-camouflage—deactivated for the moment—SA sensors, standard strength and speed augment servos and, with helmets incorporated, offered class three pressure seals. Even decades out of date, it was still worth a small fortune.

She jammed her pistol into an ident-locked cross-draw holster on her left hip and slung the satchel so it maglocked in the middle of her back. The satchel contained an Armat C8 Carbine. The components folded down into a concise package Pina could deploy in seconds. Armat developed the C8 as a capable backup to battle rifles. Only it had been so effective that many users, like Pina, dispensed with their primary weapon systems entirely.

Croyle emerged in his civilian-grade armor. Though newer, it paled in comparison to Danavan’s. He carried a standard-pattern Shepherd autogun. Danavan didn’t recognize the make and model, so it had to be new. Aside from some engraved filigree, it looked stock. Croyle had definitely fallen on hard times; he didn’t even carry a pistol for backup.

“There’s an extra energy pistol in my trunk if you need it,” Danavan said. He summoned his trunk, and it crawled over to him.

“I might, if things get hairy. If you don’t mind, I’m feeling right peckish and thought I’d fetch some dinner. You want me to bring some back?”

Pina laughed. “You’ve really been out a spell, huh? You can’t eat the food here.”

“Why not?” Croyle said.

Danavan crouched and rooted around in the trunk. “Say you’re running an uprising, and the enemy gets up some reinforcements. You’re out-resourced except for sympathizers. Where would you put those people where they might be the most effective?”

“Yeah, okay. I see your point. But they can’t poison us. Health and safety sensors would pick that stuff out in seconds,” Croyle said.

Danavan held up two protein bricks. “Does this look like the kind of joint running H and S sensors?”

Croyle pursed his lips in resignation.

“Look,” Danavan continued, “I’m not saying the food isn’t safe. I’m sure it is. Why chance it? Now, I’ve got Spiced Pork Dish and Turkey Dinner.”

Pina walked over to Danavan and snatched the pork brick. “Fair warning. The turkey dinner is the whole turkey dinner. Turkey and all the fixings in one go. This pork dish may sound generic, but I quite like it.” She sat down cross-legged in front of the tent.

Croyle took the remaining brick. “Fine. So help me if you’re wrong, though.”

Danavan nodded, reached into the trunk, and produced the promised energy pistol. “And here you go. Decent enough backup piece.”

Pina said, “Eyes up.” She tossed the protein brick onto the trunk and stood.

The four men who had approached Pina in the reception area were headed their way.

Armed this time.

Danavan and Croyle stood. They instinctively spread out to maximize the angle between them.

The leader—Tyler, if Danavan remembered—addressed Pina. “You’re Pina Gracchi. A lot of folk don’t like you. You’re lucky the autodoc was able to fix me up easy enough. Two slipped discs and a dislocated shoulder costs. Way I see it, you owe me some chits.”

Danavan looked for an out. This didn’t have to turn to gunplay. He recognized the man who had tried to hold Tyler back before. “Now, friends—”

“Shut your damn mouth, it doesn’t concern you,” Tyler said.

“I beg to differ. It appears we have a problem,” Danavan said.

Pina cleared her throat, and the men turned their attention to her.

Danavan drew his pistols. “Don’t look at her. Look at me. I’m the one who’s got the drop on you.”

The men turned toward him, their faces shades paler than moments before.

“Now, I know your type. First big job. Heads full of hydrazine and oxidizer and hearts full of glory-seeking. Someone might have told you to take on someone with a big enough rep, and you might be able to trade on that for a spell. That kind of thinking gets folk killed. Besides, you’ve chosen the wrong mark, and you’re being used for pawns. Though I don’t know if you’ve sussed that out yet or not. You’re lucky we’re currently of a generous mood.”

Danavan gestured with a pistol to the man who’d pulled Tyler back. “You seem to have some sense. What’s your name?”

“Ernan,” the man answered.

“Well, Ernan, I like you,” Danavan changed his tone to an avuncular one. Step one to de-escalation. “Might I guess from your dress and disposition that you may be firearms enthusiasts like myself?”

Ernan nodded.

“And might I guess that you’re from in-system, so you’ve never taken any FTL hops and are therefore uneducated in some of the more exotic and perhaps out-of-fashion weaponry?”

Danavan continued. “Well, you are in luck. For while my partner is sporting a run-of-the-mill Mosely ‘Volcanic,’ I myself am holding a pair of Heim Model 2242 Gyrojet pistols.”

Danavan stepped backward several paces. “Do you know what a gyrojet is?”

The men shook their heads. Good. He had them focusing on information instead of the fight. He hoped he’d engaged enough of their curiosity and intellect for the severity of their situation to hit home in a moment.

“A gyrojet is a little rocket. Launches right out of the ceramic-coated barrel like a bullet from a normal pistol. Now over the last couple of decades, advances in propellant have allowed me to load less weight-wise. Lets me make that up in payload. There’s a drawback to gyrojets. Want to know what that is? They need a bit of room to get up to speed. About ten meters or so. Which is right about where I’m standing now, give or take. Afore you decide to undertake in any foolishness, consider with modern propellant and the additional payload in these rounds, that armor you’re sporting is like as not to be as good as your birthday suit. Same goes if Pina uses her Volcanic, as well. Nod if you understand.”

He waited for the men to nod. “Okay. Ernan. Here’s what we’re going to do instead of doing a live-fire gyrojet demo. You’re going to collect your friends’ guns and get on to more profitable business. Get moving.”

Ernan got to the business of filling his arms with the others’ weapons, and they began to walk off.

Tyler turned to Pina as he walked by. “We’ll see you around.”

Pina answered with steel in her voice. “Not if I see you first. Normally, folk don’t get warnings. You’ve had two. There won’t be a third.”

Tyler sneered at her but moved on. They watched the men walk toward the mess hall.

Croyle exhaled loudly. “That’s the most I’ve probably ever heard you say.”

“Well, them being dumb is no reason to kill those fellas.”

A loud horn sounded followed by an announcement along the town’s PA: “All agents to the ready line. All agents to the ready line. Condition One.”

Danavan and Pina headed out.

“Aren’t you going to bring your hotshot rifle?” Croyle called after them as he trotted to catch up.

“Didn’t have time to charge it,” Danavan said.

Holo-guides activated along the street and pointed to the muster location.

The mercenaries poured out along Fremont Street and back onto Main. They followed the street where it curved off to the right and stopped in front of two massive pressure doors. These guarded the primary route out of First Settlement and into the rest of the complex.

A terrified guard in a threadbare uniform ran back at the group. “They’re hacking the doors. They’ll have them open any time now.” If his demeanor didn’t give it away, the uniform did. This man wasn’t an NJK agent. He belonged to the governor’s forces.

The doors slid open a crack and hissed as the pressure equalized. The line of mercenaries purred and rattled with the sound of charging energy rifles and mechanical bolts slamming closed on loaded rounds.

Danavan threw on his helmet. Pina already wore hers.

The doors crept open slowly and revealed a crowd of harvesters on the other side. His armor counted roughly three hundred. About a third of them held rifles and other weapons. The rest held signs.

Pina’s voice cut in on his comms. “This looks more like a picket line than an uprising. Just like NJK to say otherwise.”

About a dozen harvesters broke away from the mass. Some of them held an enormous banner that read THERE IS LIFE IN THE WATER. The leader, an Asian man, yelled something, but he was too far. Danavan blinked the command for his armor to augment the sound.

“…been lied to. They don’t want you to know—” A deafening horn blast interrupted the man, and Danavan’s armor immediately tempered the decibels.

Someone had activated the First Settlement PA. “Drop your weapons. Place your hands over your head and lay on the ground.”

Danavan scanned again. None in the small group were armed. He activated his armor’s PA and shouted a warning. “Hold your fire. They aren’t armed.”

NJK’s Bryn Horton, Richie Carr, and two others knelt and fired, starting a chain reaction as mercenaries opened up all down the line. The harvesters turned and tried to make it back to the pressure doors but were cut down.

“Damn it. Hold your fire!” Danavan yelled. The armor’s PA amplified his voice, but it was useless.

Now, sporadic fire came from the harvesters at the pressure door. The mercenaries returned a murderous stream until a figure ran out in front of them.

Pina.

Oblivious of the danger to herself, she planted herself in front of the mercenaries, arms outstretched. Her voice crackled on all channels and the settlement PA. “This is Justiciar Gracchi. Cease fire under penalty of law.”

The fire from the mercenaries abated. The harvesters took the opportunity to retreat behind the closing pressure doors.

The commodore broke away toward Pina as the mercenaries reloaded. Pina and he had words for a moment over a closed circuit; Danavan couldn’t hear what was said. Then Pina walked back.

“We’re going to have trouble.” She spoke across the squad comms. “I’ve stalled with some bluster and threats, but he’s got the governor. Legal arguments aren’t going to hold.”

Danavan’s eye swept across the line of mercenaries. None seemed eager to do anything rash. Except…

Croyle saw them too. Tyler’s bunch.

“Pina!” Croyle yelled.

Pina drew, spun, and dove, firing as she rolled back onto her feet. The Mosely barked four times.

Four men fell.

The NJK All-Stars—Bryn Horton, Richie Carr, Nash Lawson, and Rzia Pacheco—broke from the crowd of mercenaries.

“Gracchi. Should have known,” Horton said.

“Turn over your weapons. There’s going to be an investigation,” Carr added.

“Like hell,” Pina said. “You people started the shooting out there, and you probably set those four onto me.”

“So you say,” Horton said.

“So do I,” Danavan said. His armored fingers caressed the Heim pistols’ polished handles.

Everything grew very quiet.

Seconds passed like hours.

Croyle spoke and tried to make light of it. “Hasn’t there been enough killing for one day? We don’t want to exceed our quota, do we?”

A few mercenaries laughed nervously.

Commodore Grant stepped out of the crowd. “Stand down.” His people backed off.

His voice crackled across the comms. “We need to talk. You’ve placed this entire operation in jeopardy.”

Pina answered. “You’ve done that yourself. NJK is fantastic when it comes to shooting people in the back and cutting down civilians. Your people are reckless, and I suspect are following orders to deliberately let this get out of hand. Maybe this is just a scheme to inflate Tangaroa’s stock prices. I don’t know. I will get to the bottom of it, I promise you that. This entire operation is under my jurisdiction until my investigation is complete.”

“That’s up for discussion. You can’t just suspend—” Grant said.

“I didn’t stutter.” Pina turned and walked back to the tent city.

* * *

As the sky simulated evening growing to night, the three sat close together on a small ledge partway up the cavern side wall. They had some slight concealment, no real cover, but good sight lines down onto First Settlement. Pina and Danavan had set their luggage so the overlapping sensor proximity alarms would give them a bit of warning.

Pina stared down into the tent city. “‘There is Life in the Water.’ What do you suppose that meant?”

“No idea,” Danavan said. “You know they’re going to come after us for this.”

“NJK? The other mercs? Who exactly?” Croyle asked.

“All of them and the Judiciary,” Danavan answered. “Word’s bound to get back on this one. How long do you figure we have before Grant checks up on us and gets a response?”

Pina grunted. “Oh, this whole affair will be long over by then, I suspect.”

“I’m a bit confused. Did I hear wrong? I thought Pina and you were done with the law. Down there, she mustered the authority to shut everything down,” Croyle said.

Danavan answered. “I’ll come clean. We’re on our own here. Just right and wrong. And oaths some still take too seriously.” He looked at Pina.

She put her hand on Danavan’s shoulder and bent her head. He returned the gesture, so their foreheads touched.

“Authority don’t come from a badge. Badge don’t make the law,” Pina said so quietly Danavan was sure Croyle hadn’t heard.

But he had. “That’s a hell of thing. An ex-Adjudicator and an ex-Justiciar lying about still being on the job.”

Danavan looked at his friend. “This is our trouble now, Augustus.”

“Glad you understand. Yours is just the kind of trouble I don’t need. I want to help, but I’m too old to get mixed up in any more misadventures. I gotta get paid.” Croyle stood and started walking back down.

“Hey, if you change your mind, or if you don’t, you know…we could use some help. So, if you suss out anyone with sentiments like ours…” Danavan said.

“I’ll send them your way.”

Pina called after him, “And passage off this rock to anyone with their own transport. I can pay well. And for you. You know I’m good for it. Interest doesn’t stop building up just ’cause you’re in FTL.”

“Then why the hell are you out here?” Croyle asked.

Pina just shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll keep it in mind. Just in case you see me on the other side…well, I’ll try not to hit you.” Croyle continued down.

“Likewise,” Danavan shouted after him.

Soon, Croyle was out of sight.

The proximity alarm on Danavan’s luggage activated. At first, he thought it was Croyle coming back up. He gave Pina a sign, and they both spread out and readied their weapons.

It was a young girl, barely twelve or thirteen. “You’re the law?” she asked.

Pina nodded.

“Daiyu sent me to come get you. She wants to talk to you.”

“Who is Daiyu?” Danavan asked, even as he and Pina stood ready to follow the girl.

“She’s in charge now.”

“Lead the way.”

* * *

The girl led them through narrow access tunnels built during First Settlement’s construction, now only used by workers to come and go unobtrusively. The tunnels were so narrow only one person could move through at a time. The workers had carved cubbies every fifty meters or so, allowing folks to squeeze by one another whenever they encountered traffic coming the other way.

“Do people know about these tunnels?” Danavan asked.

“Everyone does,” the girl answered. “Just we use them.”

“How many people—” Danavan began.

The girl interrupted him, “I don’t know nothing. Ask Daiyu. Your people killed my friends. They told me to get you. I’m getting. Doesn’t mean we have to talk.”

“Fair enough.”

Finally, the seemingly interminable tunnels opened into a hab section for the harvesters. Repurposed cargo containers stacked together formed living areas. It wasn’t the first time Danavan had seen such an arrangement, yet this was the most squalid. Here, the cavern tunnels still bore the marks of excavators. Tangaroa Cooperative had done little to make them more than just barely habitable.

Conversations stopped and harvesters stood and gave them hard stares as they walked between them.

Danavan expected nothing less.

They moved to a set of pressure doors labeled DISTILLERS: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

A guard with an antiquated rifle punched a code into a keypad as they approached. He barred the doorway while the pressure doors opened.

“Your weapons stay here,” the man said.

“Not happening,” Danavan answered.

“It’s not negotiable,” the man said and puffed himself up to look bigger.

“We’ll just go back the way we came, then,” Pina said. “You want to talk to us. Not the other way around.”

A voice called from inside the next room. “Liam, let them through. If you knew who they were, you’d understand they could kill everyone in here without their weapons.”

Liam stood aside, but his sour expression stated that he wasn’t pleased about it.

Danavan and Pina stepped into the next room and faced an Asian woman in her mid-thirties. She had a hard-lined face that made her look old, and it was clear she’d been crying.

“I’m Liang Daiyu. I know that doesn’t mean much. But it was my father your people killed today, and now, somehow, I’m in charge.”

“Wasn’t our people,” Danavan said.

“Does it matter?” Daiyu said.

“No. I suppose it doesn’t,” Danavan said.

“My father wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. He believed if you knew what was at stake you’d understand. Instead, you…they…killed him for it. Well, in the aftermath, we heard about the other shooting, and that there was a Justiciar taking control. Gives us a chance.”

Pina cut to business. “What’s at stake other than work and living conditions? I know now this is a strike and a contract dispute, not an uprising.”

Daiyu ignored her comments about the strike and moved to the distiller line. “Look, a lot of my people think we’re stirring the tanks here for no reason. We have so many of our own problems, why promote new ones? But there’s a small group of us who think this is wrong. How trained are you in science?”

“Normal schooling, why?” Danavan asked.

Daiyu filled a tumbler of water from the inlet pipe into one of the distiller units. “This water is coming from one of the recently discovered underground freshwater oceans Aguilar is famous for. It’s supposed to be pure and sterile except for potential mineral contamination.”

She moved to another piece of equipment. “This is an electron microscope. We use it to verify the number of contaminants on the output side of the distiller remains negligible. Everything was fine on input and output until we tapped a new ocean. Then this happened.”

Daiyu poured the water from the tumbler into the microscope’s sampler. The screen lit up. Thousands of tiny creatures scampered and crawled across the sample area.

“What the hell?” Danavan said.

“There is Life in the Water,” Pina said.

“New life. Undiscovered and unknown alien life. This has never happened. Across more than three hundred worlds, there has never been life that didn’t come from Terra,” Daiyu said.

“And you’re sure this isn’t somehow Terran life-forms that have contaminated your equipment and therefore the water?” Danavan asked.

“Pretty sure.”

“Does the governor know?” Pina asked.

“That’s when the trouble started,” Daiyu answered.

“This is going to affect the entire system. Tangaroa will never let this get out.” Danavan shook his head and marveled at the creatures on the screen. “They’re not going to stop settling and terraforming over a few microbes.”

Daiyu smiled ruefully. “And if you dipped a spoon in old Terra’s oceans, would you know about whales or fish or anything else in those depths? We don’t even know what we’re killing here.”

Pina exhaled loudly, and Danavan didn’t like the look on her face, even if it was the right thing to do.

“You put together evidence for me.” Pina looked at Danavan. “We’ll get it out.”

* * *

The start of Aguilar’s artificial diurnal cycle found Danavan and Pina halfway up the cavern side wall, arming for the morning’s activities. Each knew what they had to do. The future held an unpleasant promise of frustration, the judicious application of violence, and loss of life. Hopefully, not their own.

Daiyu made them a data chit containing enough evidence to warrant an investigation. They just had to broadcast it. Instead of using the settlement’s common transmitter, Pina figured they could make two maneuvers with one burn since the governor had a private transmitter, and he needed to be arrested anyway.

They headed down the path. Danavan hoped his helmet visor revealed nothing of the tension and consternation his face wore beneath.

Danavan’s proximity alarm sounded internally. He and Pina paused.

Augustus Croyle came into view, hands raised.

“Figured you’d be coming down this way. I have bad news and funny news,” Croyle said.

“Bad news first, always,” Danavan said.

“You’ve got plenty of folks who aren’t liking this job. They didn’t sign up for union busting. But they won’t come over. Most of the guns down there are hard up and need this score. Myself included.”

Danavan nodded. “And the funny? Could use a laugh.”

“You were right about the food. About half of the force has been rendered invalid on account of something in the food. They’re crapping their guts out. The commodore’s fixing to have a fit. Wants workers whipped and such, but no one can find any.”

“Yeah. We might have had a thing or two to do with that. Came into some critical intelligence. We’ve had a busy night,” Danavan said. He told Croyle about the discovery of alien life on Aguilar and how the harvesters’ living conditions weren’t the only cause for the strike. Then he told him about the morning’s plans.

“So,” Danavan concluded, “if you could go spread the word down there among whoever’s still going to be doing some fighting, we’d owe you.”

“You really think I would let you take down the governor without help? I may be broke and a near-coward in my old age, but I’m not spent yet. You know this is beyond crazy, right?”

“Hang around Pina long enough, one ceases to notice,” Danavan said.

Pina laughed. “How else is one to become a legend in her own time?”

“In her own mind, maybe,” Danavan said.

A shrieking alarm pierced the otherwise quiet morning.

“That’ll be the mess hall on fire. That means we have about ten minutes until the pressure doors open and set off another alarm. We’d better get a move on.”

They jogged down the path and passed the tent city at a quick trot. People ran to and fro and didn’t offer a second glance. Then they were in front of the governor’s quarters. Two of the governor’s guards blocked the ground floor entrance.

“Justiciar Gracchi here on Judiciary business. Stand aside.”

“We have orders not to—”

“Adjudicator,” Pina ordered, “get idents on both these men. If they don’t move in the next second, take them into custody.”

The guards nearly fell over themselves standing aside.

Pina barged through the double doors. Twin stairways flanked the lobby heading to the second story. She ran up the left, and Danavan bounded up the right. He snatched a glance over his shoulder. Croyle barricaded the doors they’d just come through.

He reached the top of the stairs an instant after Pina. Two armored NJK guards stood in front of the governor’s desk about five meters away. Pina had their attention.

Danavan didn’t give them a moment to react. With the speed of thought, his Heims were in his hands and roaring. He peppered each guard with a half dozen gyrojet rounds.

He turned to the governor. “Hands. Now.”

The man sat utterly dumbfounded, a terrified look on his face as the remains of a half-bitten muffin dropped from his mouth. “You killed them.”

“Naw, they’ll be fine. I was too close. I’m betting they might wish they were dead, though, when they wake up. That couldn’t have felt good.”

Croyle topped the stairs, his autogun at the ready. He relaxed after taking stock of the situation.

Pina crossed the room. “Sidney Chassum, I hereby serve you formally with a Writ of Quo Warranto. You are hereby charged with Murder by Proxy, Murder for Hire, Improper Governance, and Trafficking in Indentured Peoples. Other charges will follow. How do you plead?”

Chassum just sat there, too flummoxed to say anything. No way he was the brains. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.” He found a measure of his authority and stood behind the desk. “Besides, good luck proving anything.”

“‘Sin was in the world before the law came, but no record of sin was kept, because there was no law.’ Law is here now, and we have records aplenty.” Danavan said. He pulled out a vest made from composite mesh. “This is a custody garment. For your safety and ours, I’m going to put it on you. It gets tighter if you struggle. Looser if you don’t. Once knew a gal who could relax enough to get out of it.” That last part wasn’t true, but it tricked perps into keeping calm.

Danavan forced Chassum into it and pushed him into a corner.

Pina sat behind the desk and brushed the remains of Chassum’s breakfast onto the floor. “Now, let’s just hope they didn’t change the backdoor, or we may be humped.”

Danavan held his breath and Pina’s fingers flew over the interface. In a moment, the holo-screens appeared, and Pina began getting the transmitter ready.

Croyle called from a window looking out on the balcony and the street below, “We’ve got some trouble. They may have detected our escapades.”

Commodore Grant’s voice came over the PA. “Pina Gracchi, we have the building surrounded. You are grossly outnumbered and outgunned. You’ve overstepped your authority and are engaged in illegal activity. We will not allow you to take the governor hostage.”

Danavan crossed to another window to get a view for himself. “Shit. That was faster’n I would have guessed.” He looked out on the NJK All-Stars and about two dozen mercenaries. Their weapons trained on his position.

“Pina! We may have to shoot our way out.” Danavan loaded fresh magazines into his pistols.

“You’re joking, right?” Croyle laughed nervously. “Even at the top of our game, that’s about ten for each of us.”

Danavan nodded in agreement. “Good at math, are ya? This is the path to becoming legends, right?”

“Ha. I’m having second thoughts along that score. No need to be a verse in a ballad about the last stand of Pina Gracchi,” Croyle said.

Pina chimed in. “The penultimate stand. You never know when it’s your last stand. Besides, I can’t vouch for you two, but I’m fixing to walk out of here. Chassum has to stand trial.”

“Well then, get up here,” Danavan said.

The PA came on again. “We’re going to give you ten seconds to come out unarmed.”

“Well, at least I’m going out for a good cause and in good company,” Croyle said.

“Ten.” Grant began his countdown.

“If it was just the NJK crew, I bet we could take them,” Danavan said.

“Nine.”

“So, surrender is out,” Croyle said.

“Eight.”

“Never was an option. Pina?” Danavan wondered what took her so long.

“Seven.”

“I’m busy trying to prevent our life-abort,” Pina said.

“Six.”

“The hell are you doing back there?”

“Five.”

Danavan watched the mercenaries lower their weapons and walk away. The commodore shouted at them to stand at their posts, but they ignored him. Only the commodore and his five NJK All-Stars stayed. Grant’s face was fiery red.

“Commodore looks pissed. What did you do?”

Pina answered as she took position next to Danavan. “Well, first, I sent a command to the Exchange to dump all my Tangaroa stock. It’s about to turn to shit. Then I sent out Daiyu’s evidence on wide. Every receiver in-system should get a copy. Lastly, I remembered Croyle saying how hard up everyone was for chits. And I thought, what use is currency if you don’t spend it? So, I offered them all contracts via PDA paying twice what NJK promised. All they had to do was leave us alone and go have a beverage of their choice. And I promised not to pay in company scrip.”

Danavan’s jaw hung open in surprise.

“Now, did I hear you say you think we could take just the NJK idiots? I think you’re right. Shall we?”

Croyle spoke up. “Hold up a sec. I’m too old to go jumping off balconies. I’ll head out the front.” He went down the stairs.

Pina looked at Danavan. “On three?”

He nodded.

“One…Two…”


The End



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