Chapter 12
Remy climbed slowly over the embankment guarding the first trench. He eyed the drone guns nervously as he slid by the first pair, wondering why they didn’t fire at him, though grateful they didn’t. He wished to get by quickly in case they changed their mechanical minds.
Climbing from the trench and moving on across the next plain, he spied the same telltale reflections from the next ridgeline. Had the ground not been so solid, he would fear the presence of mines beneath the surface. He had no idea what would set these gun placements off. It was possible the miners themselves controlled their actions, but he couldn’t hope for such fortune. Anything but extreme caution was dangerous.
The next trench was surmounted as easily as the first. Remy gazed across the next patch of rock and spied yet another ridge with yet more reflections. “So far, so good” he thought to himself until he noticed a suit of armor rise from behind the barrier. He raised his rifle, muzzle skyward as he pushed on, hoping between that and the UN markings whoever waited ahead would understand his friendly intentions.
As he approached, the individual hidden inside aimed his rifle and waved Remy forward, but slowly. The Inspector approached the ridge and handed over his rifle. Pushed onward toward the complex, Remy was a bit relieved they were willing to take him in, even if they didn’t entirely trust him. He knew trust had to be built and he was prepared to do so. He also knew Fortune’s men were on the other side. It was only a matter of time before they would break through and swarm the complex.
Remy was taken aback by how large the facility was. The actual habitable area looked like a typical factory, but the storage buildings went on and upward, dwarfing the employee area as a daisy in a forest of redwoods. It was doubtful anyone traversed these structures without some sort of vehicle.
The exteriors were pockmarked, likely the result of strong dust storms kicked up at some point after the surface was stripped off, but before the atmosphere was lost. Rust was everywhere, a byproduct of a wetter time.
Remy’s guide pushed him through a door and into an airlock. When pressure and atmosphere were established, the other man removed his helmet prompting Remy to follow suit.
“My name’s Dr. Remy Duval,” he was finally able to offer his host, but the man remained silent, opening the inner door and pushing him inside and through a corridor. There were pipes going to and from everywhere: steam pipes, water pipes, even electrical conduits and ductwork. The rust inside was more pronounced as the moisture from the pipes moistened the air and hasten oxidation. Judging from the buildup in some spots, Remy had to guess repairs were frequent.
The lighting was rather dim. Even as he would later get to explore the rest of the facility, he would notice the place was kept dark. Whether they were conserving power, or didn’t have it to spare, he would never find out.
The mystery man led Remy into the mess hall and sat him at a table. It was a standard cafeteria style set up with rows of tables across the room. The scramblers for the food lined a countertop along the far wall. But he was not offered food or drink. The man just stood at the door, his arms folded waiting for someone.
As Remy explored the surroundings, he was caught by the flickering light overhead. It reminded him of some old movies and fascinated him that after a century or more, out here in a high-tech space facility, the problem of flickering lights had yet to be solved.
His attention returned to the doorway as three other men entered and joined him at his table.
“I’m Dirk Cooley,” the leader announced. He introduced the man to his right as Ares Booker, and the man to his left as Magnus Frost. All three were worn and tired. Though doubtful how much physical work they did with the equipment at their disposal, their faces were painted with a mixture of grease and dirt.
“Dr. Remy Duval. I’m a UN inspector.”
Dirk gave obvious attention to the notation on his helmet. “What’s the UN doing out here in space?”
“Your government invited me to observe this mission.”
All three plus the man guarding the door returned a hearty laugh, though Remy certainly didn’t find it funny.
“You came to watch the slaughter?”
“I came here to stop it.”
The men laughed once more at his words. Remy was growing used to it.
“Either you take us for fools, or you yourself are the fool.” Remy’s confused looked told Dirk which it was. “The Republic Space Force is fighting its way through our defenses right this minute. When they break through our doors, they will kill all of us, and there is nothing you can do to stop that.”
“You’re wrong,” Remy protested. “Their mission is to remove you from this doomed planet and take you to your next job. I understand they can kill you and rematerialize your life patterns when they get to the new world, but it doesn’t have to go down that way. Tell me what you really want and I can try to strike a deal before those men burst in here.”
The laughter was stronger, and frankly more spiteful than before. This wouldn’t be the first time he wasn’t taken seriously as a representative of the UN, but he believed in his mission. He was confident if he could only get the two sides to talk, this could be resolved without continuing this farce toward nature.
Magnus stepped forward to break his silence. “You don’t understand shit, Dr. UN. Yes, they can restore us with saved patterns. In fact, they have done it before. And every time they do, we lose more than a day’s worth of memories. They can do what they want with those blenders and there is not a damn thing you or the UN can do about.”
“You should have never left Earth and gotten involved in this mess,” Ares jumped in. “You were as screwed as we are the moment you left that world.”
“I don’t understand,” Remy complained. “Tell me what the problem is. I promise I can help you.”
“You can’t promise anything,” Dirk explained. “You will wait here, and we will hold off that army as long as we can. When they overrun this complex, they can deal with you however they like.”
Dirk took his sidekicks back to wherever they had come from, leaving only the guard to watch over Remy. He tried to ply the man for answers, but that guard kept his mouth shut and his attention focused on nothing but keeping his prisoner inside the mess.
Remy went to the scrambler to order up something to eat. It had been a while since his last meal, and that jog across the landscape took more out of him then he wanted to admit. He looked through the menu, surprised at how varied the menu was over that in his quarters. Though he didn’t expect to find poutine on order, he was a tad disappointed not to find it. The turkey sandwich he settled on was probably much healthier anyway, even if it didn’t look any more appetizing than the one he ordered back on the ship.
He sat down and took a bite, looking up to the guard. The man was caught stealing increasingly frequent glances at his prisoner, and when the two caught each other’s eyes, Remy tried once again to break his silence.
“I know you want to talk. If you can’t talk about what’s going on here, how about telling me your name.”
“Eddie.”
“Salut, I’m Remy. I’m from Candia.” He saw from his new friend’s face his nationality meant something. On Earth, his country had a reputation for pragmatism and neutrality. His people tended to make up a large chuck of peacekeeping forces because of their reputation for finding the validity in all sides of a conflict. They didn’t have to agree with a warlord massacring everyone who disagreed with him, but a Candian would understand and listen to the rationale. It didn’t mean they couldn’t lose their cool as Remy had done throughout this mission, but their reputation for listening to all sides earned them some trust throughout the world.
Having captured this man’s interest, Remy decided to press forward and keep his small victory. “So how did you end up working on a mining colony in space?”
“Same as anyone, I was lured by the money. Wi
th the living expenses covered for the duration of my contract, I was supposed to have quite a bankroll waiting for me back home.”
“Is there anything else waiting for you back home? A wife, kids?”
Eddie hung his head sullenly. “We divorced a year before I took this job. The judge wouldn’t let me see my kids, but she made sure I pay child support.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I suppose now they’re not my kids anymore. She’s not my ex-wife now. That drama isn’t my problem anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?” Remy noticed the tightening of Eddie’s lips and realized he wasn’t getting another word from the man. He finished his sandwich and returned the plate to the scrambler, amazed these men were willing to fight for whatever they wanted, yet they had already lost all hope.
Remy needed more information. He needed to get a look at what was going on around this complex to have the miners so riled up. His helmet rest on the table beside him, looking up with the answer to his dilemma. It was hard enough and heavy enough to put Eddie out so he could move free. But Eddie wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a revolutionary that Remy knew of. He was just a guy that wanted to see his kids, and didn’t deserve to become a casualty of Remy’s curiosity. Whatever it would be, there was another way to penetrate this complex.