Escape from Paradise, page 25
It played out differently. It always does. Especially if something is so important. At about six in the afternoon, when we were just finishing our training session, a sound alert called us back to the barracks. The announcement was short: Anyone who remained in the open after the sirens went silent would be killed.
I’d herded the guys to our barrack and closed the door behind them long before the camp was enveloped in silence. We sat on our bunks, staring at each other in horror. We didn’t understand what was going on, but we had a hunch that it couldn’t be anything good.
Five minutes later Kozak raised his hand and asked, “Can you hear it?”
I didn’t hear anything, and neither did most of the guys, but Marianton was rolling his eyes and waving his finger as if picking up some distant sounds.
“What are you—” I began, but he put a finger to his lips, silencing me.
And then I heard it, or rather I felt it. Light, familiar vibration, immediately followed by rumbling noise. Nobody could miss that.
“A transporter!” Levaristo cried out.
Marianton nodded, grinning from ear to ear. His hearing was pretty good, I had to admit.
“Our troops?” somebody asked hopefully.
“Ours,” Shorza confirmed, and when the cheers faded at last, he added, “You’ll see them at roll call tonight.” He was right. An hour later, the alert was over with a loud clang announcing to all that the barrack door was unlocked again. The guys stayed put, though. Someone had to set an example. I even knew who …
I opened the door and looked outside warily. I saw a cloud of dust near the bunker. It was settling very slowly. To see the landing pad, I had to walk to Block 7. A few soldiers watched me through a crack in the door. I nodded at them, saying that it was safe, and went round the corner.
A troop carrier stood on the landing pad. Its hatch was open, a wide gangplank was resting on the ground. By the tribune, on which Greenlee was standing again, I saw a cluster of miniature silhouettes.
“A new delivery.”
I started. I hadn’t noticed Skalski creep behind my back. Focused on the horizon, I missed the moment when a large group of soldiers from Blocks 3 and 7 surrounded me.
“Not very impressive,” somebody else said.
There were far fewer of them than us. Between the conscripts and the soldiers, not even half of the barracks were occupied. Had they brought in two hundred newbies—and to think that I’d been here for just three days, and I already felt myself to be a vet!—it still wouldn’t be too crowded in the camp.
“They’re coming!” yelled one of the conscripts, judging by his voice.
Clouds of dust behind the graviplanes clearly showed that the welcome meeting was over.
“That was fast,” Skalski remarked.
“He didn’t dillydally with us either.” I shrugged my shoulders before I started walking toward the front row of the barracks. There, I sat on the bare ground to wait for the newbies. “Nobody shot at them,” the sergeant said.
“They must have been more civil …” I muttered, and laughed under my breath. The pun wasn’t intended.
They walked faster than us. And different somehow. In a column … After they’d covered two-thirds of the way, I could judge their numbers more accurately. Thirty soldiers. For they were seasoned soldiers, I had no doubt about that.
Bidley stepped out of his den when the head of the modest column halted in front of his barrack.
We met an hour later at Bidley’s, as usual. I, Deymoon—my recent promoter, whom I chose to replace Doherty—Skalski, Barron, and one newbie. A young guy with the rank of second lieutenant. His name was Estebandreas DeVerro.
The captain introduced us, then gave the floor to the newbie.
“It was our first mission right out of Academy,” DeVerro began hesitantly.
“Our platoon was part of the 3rd Engineering Brigade. We were to land in Kovo, the second largest city on Delta in the Triton system. According to the intel, the 17th Spaceborne Division captured it the day before and drove the unionists to the nearby mines. We had to secure the area and set up a transport base for heavy equipment.
“So, we left the orbit. A total of six Hectors. We were flying the first one. The moment we touched down, all hell broke loose. In three seconds, the shields were gone, the main rotors blown up. Hectors 2 and 3 also got hit pretty bad, but they were still in the air. They managed to retreat under cover of friendly fire.”
Skalski and Barron shook their heads unanimously.
“We fought back from inside the wreck for a while,” the newbie continued, “but we didn’t stand a chance against the active armors of the Rim Guard with just needle ammunition. They popped us out of the hold like peas of the pod.” The idiom he used suggested that he came from an agrarian planet.
“And that would be it …” Bidley said, also shaking his head. “What about the pilot?”
“He was wounded. The unionists killed him on the spot. And my six men too.”
“Lucky dogs,” Skalski murmured.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing.” The sergeant shrugged. “Welcome to the Forge.”
In the evening, when I was getting ready for bed, somebody tapped me on the shoulder.
“It’s just us,” Levaristo whispered, perching at the foot of my bunk. In the dim glow cast by the lights, I could barely see the outline of his silhouette. A few seconds later, Marianton joined him.
“What do you want?” I growled, angry that they disturb my sleep.
“We have to talk.”
I lifted my head and leaned on my elbows. “What about?”
“About all this …” Levaristo’s shadow stirred a little.
“We’ve been talking to the guys,” Marianton added quickly. “If we don’t figure it out, something bad will happen.”
“Bad things are happening already,” I said.
“I mean something much more serious.” Shorza lowered his voice even more and leaned toward me. “Many guys are at the end of their rope. We have to act, otherwise they will fall apart any moment now. I know of at least three guys who are thinking of crossing the yellow line …”
Suicide?! But—My surprise wore off quickly. Doherty had a point. It was better to die quickly than to suffer for hours. Faced with such a choice, I’d probably go for an easy death.
“That’s nothing.” Kozak raised the stakes. “Kamal and four friends of his came up with another idea.”
“They refuse to eat breakfast because they want to be in fine fettle when their names are read out. What they’re going to do is to take control of the graviplane and crash it with the unionists and themselves on board.”
“Morons!” I hissed. “Captain Bidley said clearly: if any of the guards gets hurt, Greenlee will have the micro-explosive devices activated in the bodies of each guy from the block of the perpetrator.”
“I tried to reason with them, but they just gave me a strange look and—”
“And what?” I asked.
“And said that both you and we are the unionists’ minions.”
That left me pretty much speechless. Kamal was one of the major instigators of the whole appeal thing. It was mainly thanks to him that we got our act together and created the template of an appeal letter. On the other hand, he was a real hothead. Never went with the flow. He must have hurt like hell when he saw what this war was really like.
“Go to sleep,” I said to them. “I’m going to sort it out tomorrow. One way or another.”
The new arrivals saved our asses. At least for the time being. Admittedly, Greenlee brought “Sergeant Tyrrus” in for questioning, but the interrogation took only a couple of hours and led to minor injuries. Three nails, five teeth and some bruises. A piece of cake, when compared with what happened to Doherty and MacMarsky. By the way, the latter still hadn’t come to …
On the fourth day, nobody’s name was read out at roll call. No interrogation, no hunt either. Our friends’ performance in the field must have been really poor. Not surprisingly, since most of us had never left the colony. New Brisbane wasn’t a friendly place. Its atmosphere was too thin, the temperatures too low. All lives revolved around the mines.
When the roll call ended, and the captain saluted and headed for his block, Skalski looked at me triumphantly. Lucky dog. He weaseled out at the last minute.
I went to the training ground, following in the wake of the team I’d been assigned to. Lieutenant Navin was waiting for us at the command post, where the obstacle course began. I told the guys to fall in, did the headcount and approached the lieutenant to make a report. For the first time since I’d found myself in this place, I felt good. The tension in my neck was gone, my mood improved. I even allowed myself a hint of a smile and a certain nonchalance when I saluted.
“Private Doni begs to report Team 2 ready for practice! All present and accounted for!” I recited the formula I’d learned by heart and stood beside Navin.
“At ease.”
The lieutenant sat down on a table with six helmets, a few sets of dip harnesses and some dummy weapons. “Deymoon, Payt, and Kosma. Once you’ve warmed up, you’ll do a timed run to the bunker and back.” He pointed to the largest pile of sacks at the end of the yard.
The distance was almost a thousand feet, with at least a dozen obstacles of various sizes along the way.
“Kamal, Shorza, Doni,” the lieutenant read out our names. “You’ll be next.”
Levaristo winced; he hadn’t been into running, even though he could be very good at it. Slim, broad-shouldered, long-legged. A natural-born long-distance runner, or maybe a sprinter. But he preferred holo games to physical activity. Nobody in our colony was better at fragging than Shorza.
Kamal was the total opposite. Two heads shorter than Levaristo, potbellied, and slightly stooped. Only a madman could see an athlete in him. And yet, I didn’t know a better wrestler. Stubborn as a mule, covered in sweat, he slithered like a snake and always found a way to defeat his opponent. It must have been the reason why he thought he would be able to disarm the guards and take control over the graviplane.
I looked at him. He moved his jaw rhythmically, chewing on a breakfast griddle cake. Levaristo had it right; the guy was getting ready for action. He’d made something resembling a case from foil, and that was where he hid the grub. Then, he nibbled on it on the way to the training ground.
I knew it would be very difficult, maybe even impossible, to persuade him not to attack the guards, but I had to give it a try anyway. Bidley didn’t lie; any move against the unionists was going to end with a massacre.
“Ready … set … go!” Navin waved his hand in which he held a stopwatch, and the first trio started running.
When they cover a hundred feet of flat terrain, they’ll reach a low wall, then there’ll be a rope, a balance beam, and a dozen other, equally idiotic obstacles resembling the jungle gyms of our childhood.
“Hi, Miken.” I walked over to Kamal, who was watching the runners while cleaning his teeth with his tongue.
“Hi,” he said succinctly and aggressively.
“You know that—”
“I do!” He interrupted me without taking his eyes off the track.
“You didn’t even let me finish the sentence, so—”
“I know what you’re going to ask me, Doni,” he cut me off again. “And my answer is no!”
“If anybody dies, it’s on your head.”
“No,” he replied. “Nothing’s on my head. I’ll just save them a lot of suffering, in the bunker or in the field.”
“We’re talking thirty guys here. Our friends.”
Finally, Kamal looked at me.
“Do you really believe that we’ll get out of here?”
I nodded, slightly and without conviction. He just sneered in reply. He didn’t have to say anything.
I looked over to the obstacle course; Deymoon was already running back, Payt and Kosma were pumping their legs and arms, emerging from around the bunker. In two, three minutes it’ll be our turn.
We approached the starting line, adjusting the harnesses and helmet straps. Everything had to be just so; there was no room for imperfection. Deymoon ran past us, breathing heavily. The other two guys still had four obstacles to best.
Thirty seconds. I took a few deep breaths, relaxed my neck and shoulder muscles. Ten seconds. I looked left to Kamal.
“Think it over,” I said.
“Fuck you,” he spat, and broke into a run as Kosma slumped to the ground right behind the finish line.
He ran half bent, with a pulsator dummy in both hands, dodging and ducking along the way. He outran me in a heartbeat. Levaristo stayed behind. Withadditional ninety pounds on him, he was already starting to poop out. Here, it was about the whole body, not just deft fingers.
The first obstacle. A wall. Kamal slips on the first attempt. He’s too short to reach the top of the wall with his foot. I go past him. A perfect jump and I’m already on the other side. Although I lose my balance landing on the uneven ground, I don’t lose the advantage I’ve gained over Kamal. He has to step back to best this obstacle.
Okay, now the rope. Eighteen feet to climb. He’s gonna get me now. That wiry clone-of-a-bitch is as strong as a robot. I bounce, grab the rope over the knot, and hang on to it with a moan. The harness seems to weigh a ton. Feet, I tell myself, you have to use your feet. So, I grope for the first knot with my toes; good, it works. I’m halfway through when Kamal swooshes past me. He doesn’t care about his feet, he just plows the air as if it were water, and he a swimmer. Horizontal, vertical; it makes no difference to him. A swing, a hoist, another swing, and another hoist, and he’s already three feet up the rope. I swear under my breath. This time, he’s gonna beat me to it.
Before I run onto the balance beam, he starts to climb the net, two obstacles ahead. I turn over my shoulder and see that Levaristo is almost at the top of the rope. I have to hurry …
I reach the bunker wall a dozen paces behind Miken. His potbelly caused him a bit of trouble crawling under the low barbed wire, so I almost caught up with him there. On the way back, we beeline for the finish line. One-thousand-foot track and no obstacles. There is a good chance that I’ll get the clone-of-a-bitch.
I brace myself to give it my best, though my heart is already beating like a drum and my breath gets shorter every second. Halfway, I’m five, maybe six paces closer to Kamal, but he doesn’t slow down …
They took him out when he was passing the rope. Slightly leaned forward, with his weapon in both hands. He was right in front of me. Three, maybe four paces ahead. And then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t there anymore. At first, I thought that he’d stumbled and fallen to the ground, but a moment later, through the pounding in my ears, I heard a loud shot. I didn’t lose momentum until I ran a few more paces. Finally, I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around, and looked at the twisted, motionless body. Blood trickled from under the helmet. The soil, as dry as a bone, didn’t want to drink it, so the maroon puddle grew bigger at an alarming rate.
Before I could gather my thoughts, I saw Levaristo’s terrified face. He dropped his weapon and ran straight at me, shouting something I couldn’t hear. I stood there, completely stunned, barely breathing, and thinking … thinking that if I didn’t move, Kamal’s blood would reach my boots—
A strong jerk brought me back to reality. Shorza’s reflexes were impressive … Just seconds ago, he was behind us both, so he could see what had happened better than I. He instantly realized that we’d been shot at from the bunker. That’s why he lunged at me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me behind the wooden wall. Little protection, but better than none. We were lying there, panting and groaning, just three steps away from our friend, bleeding to death.
There was no way around it. We had to continue with the training. Lieutenant Navin had been informed that the unionists would eliminate the entire group if anyone refused to participate in the next race. Three others died in the jungle gym that day. Pointlessly, without the key as to why them … Almost like somebody wanted to play God. The bunker sniper was silent for four hours, then shot two guys in one race and another one just before we returned to our block when we fell in to do the headcount.
We ran in fear of our lives, looking over our shoulders toward the barely visible dome. At noon, it was so hot that the juddering air made it impossible for us to see any details of this structure. Maybe that was the reason why the sniper had given up temporarily. Maybe that was the reason why he caught up on shooting later, when the temperature got bearable again.
I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want to be. This monster’s motives were beyond me. Brutal interrogations were one thing, although they also belonged to the category of inhuman behavior, but killing defenseless people was something altogether different.
However, what else could we expect from men who enjoyed hunting for prisoners?
The camp was reeling. After we’d come back, carrying four bodies, and gathered in the roll call yard, we were joined by the vets. It must have been something new for them.
Skalski pushed his way through the crowd and walked over to me.
“Is this true that they shot at you when you were training?” he asked as if he couldn’t see the fatalities.
I nodded and went past him indifferently. I’d had enough; if only I could kill a unionist, I’d do it with my bare hands, right then and there, regardless of the consequences.
Miken was right. Nobody would ever get out of here. If not them, it would be our own fear that did us in. Soon, half the guys would cross the yellow line. It was better than hours spent in the open with the knowledge that at any moment, someone aiming at your head would pull the trigger—just like that, on a whim.
