Outpost

  “The natives are restless,” Kalico noted as she reviewed her notes.

  Cap couldn’t ignore the shuffling, the nervous whispering, and downright hostile looks coming from the crowd. The feeling was like the heavy air that preceded a terrible storm.

  “It’s almost a surreal dream,” First Officer Chan observed. He was present as a third, and impartial, official for propriety’s sake, if nothing else. Between Cap and Kalico, they had the two votes they needed for conviction.

  Lieutenant Spiro entered and stopped at the head of the stairs. Her salute told Cap that everything was attended to outside.

  Into his com, he said, “Bring in the prisoners.”

  The door to Inga Lock’s back room opened and Shig Mosadek, Yvette Dushane, and Talina Perez were escorted out by two of Turalon’s deck lieutenants. The prisoners were seated on chairs before the bar, facing the tribunal.

  Kalico turned on her mic and rose from her seat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have called you here today for the purpose of a judicial inquest into the charges of mutiny, contract violation, seizure of Corporation property for personal gain, conspiracy, and finally, to address the charge of murder in the death of Supervisor Clemenceau.

  “Charged are Shig Mosadek, Yvette Dushane, and Talina Perez.”

  For a brief instant, the room was silent, shocked.

  Then a voice shouted, “That’s a crock of fucking chamois shit if I ever heard it!”

  At which point the room erupted into bellows and shouts, people rising from their chairs.

  “Order! I will have order!” Kalico bellowed over the rising chaos.

  Cap gave his signal, and each of his marines lifted his or her weapon, bringing them to ready, safeties off.

  Blood and guts! The damned fools weren’t going to rush the court, were they? Cap’s heart began to hammer as he read the rising anger: people shouting, shaking fists, wild-eyed rage behind their eyes.

  Along the wall, his marines shifted uneasily; panic had begun to glitter in their eyes. In a flash, he saw how it was going to unfold. Beemer Station all over. Dead eyes. Floating bodies. Globules of floating blood. Blasted intestines.

  His heart might have frozen in his chest.

  “Order! I will have Order!” Kalico was screaming, the com thundering in the room. Contrary to its intent, it seemed to have the same effect as beating the crowd with a whip.

  The moment they started forward, or if they so much as threatened a marine, it would take only a single panicked shot that would end in a fusillade. But the marines couldn’t get them all. Not in the beginning.

  Holy shit. We’re all about to die!

  He was up, waving his hands, fear like an elixir in his breast. “Wait! Please! For God’s sake!”

  As if that could be heard over the din.

  Major Creamer’s voice seemed to whisper in his ear.

  In that instant a terror—almost an electrical charge—unlike any he’d never known, paralyzed him.

  He saw it start. The triggering event. The big man. Step Allenovich. Pulled a pistol from the inside of his coat.

  A pistol? How had his people missed it?

  Step started forward, two others on his heels. He was raising the pistol, pointing it at the stunned Kalico.

  The entire crowd was following in a flood. A mass of enraged humanity, men, women, even the youths and children, their faces expressing the intent of murder.

  The subtle knowledge that Cap was about to die flooded through him. He could see it in the crowd, feel it. Stunned and overwhelmed by the certainty of it, he couldn’t even reach for his sidearm.

  They are going to tear us apart with their bare hands!

  And all he could do was accept it.

  In that instant Talina Perez shot to her feet. Despite her arms being bound behind her, she hooked her chair with a foot and kicked it into Step Allenovich’s path, entangling the man’s feet.

  And somehow, over the crowd, she bellowed, “You fucking morons! Stand down! That’s an order, God damn you!”

  The crowd paused, and into the sudden silence, Talina cried, “Do you want me to come out there? Kick some ass? This is an inquest, not a pus-fucking riot! Let’s hear what they have to say. Now sit your chapped asses back in those seats.”

  Yvette, also standing, ordered, “You heard Talina. If it’s a fair trial, they’ve got nothing. There isn’t a single person in this room guilty of anything. None of us has committed a crime under the Corporate charter. Myself, Shig, Talina, and all of you, we’ve had to take irregular steps to ensure the survival of this colony during the interim between supply ships. Supervisor Kalico is required to follow these procedures and hold an inquest.”

  Cap, his heart still pounding, wondered why the woman was lying.

  “That is correct.” Shig Mosadek’s voice, somehow soothing, carried through the room. “Supervisor Aguila has ensured us that this will be a fair proceeding. A formality to ensure that the Supervisor has followed her proper procedures. As Yvette has assured you. None of us has broken any law. The Supervisor is aware of this, but she must ask the questions for the sake of the record. This is being done in case anyone back on Transluna has any concerns regarding the actions we’ve all taken to save our colony. The sooner she asks, the sooner Talina, Yvette, and I will be officially acquitted and released.”

  Cap spared a quick glance at Kalico, taking in the woman’s conflicting shock, anger, and mystification. Her face was red, her breathing labored, and the veins in her neck pulsing. But it was her eyes that set him back, glittering in crystalline disbelief. Looking like they might shatter along with the rest of her.

  So, now what, Supervisor?

  On the floor, Talina Perez added, “You heard Shig. It’s a formality. If we need to riot, I’ll damned well tell you when to riot. Now put your asses back in those seats, or I’ll come out there and put them there for you! Now!”

  Cap watched in amazement as the mob seemed to defuse, some grinning to their companions as they settled back into their seats. Allenovich and a surprising number of others were shoving pistols and wicked-looking knives back into hidden holsters and scabbards.

  For her part, Talina stepped over and used a toe to hook her chair where it lay on its side. Like a soccer player, she kicked it back to its former position, and with a flick of the foot, rocked it back onto its legs. More amazing, she did it despite the cast.

  Along the wall, the marines were breathing deeply, no doubt aware how close they’d come to unleashing a storm of blood, death, and blasted bodies they could never have forgiven themselves for. One by one, the rifles were lowered, safeties flicked on, and returned to rest.

  Yvette turned, staring Cap, Kalico, and Chan in the eyes. A challenging smile was on her lips, an arched eyebrow adding to the effect, as she said, “Supervisor, will you proceed please?”

  It was Talina who added, “We’d like to start with Supervisor Clemenceau’s death, if you would.”

  Kalico shot Cap a terrified glance, her normally ordered countenance in disarray. Only shattered fragments remained of her usual composure, and he’d bet she’d never faced the like of this in her structured Corporate universe back in Solar System.

  “Sure.” Cap gave Perez a reassuring nod.

  If First Officer Chan’s face was any indication, he looked as if he were on the verge of throwing up. His hands were shaking as they clasped his zero-g cup in a death grip.

  Kalico’s voice wavered as she began. “Very well, Security Officer Talina Perez is charged with murder in the death of Supervisor Clemenceau. By her own report, Perez relates that she and the Supervisor had traveled south to an equatorial region by aircar for the purpose of inspecting a potential gallium arsenide deposit. While in the process of taking readings and recording data, Officer Perez and the Supervisor had an argument, is that correct?”

  Talina st
ood, her cast leg thrust forward. “That is correct, Supervisor. We got into it over his method of enforcing policy. I told him flat-out I would not continue to act as his assassin.”

  Cap watched a ripple of unease roll over the room.

  “How would you categorize your relationship with the Supervisor?” Kalico asked.

  “Not a lick of love lost between us, Supervisor.” Talina nodded her head toward the papers on the bar. “If you’ve got his reports he probably refers to me as insubordinate, outspoken, rebellious, and of surly disposition. More than once he accused me of sabotaging his policies. To best state it for the record, you could say we despised each other.”

  The room exploded into cheers, applause, and catcalls.

  “Order!” Kalico snapped, slapping her trembling hand to the bar.

  She might have been pissing into the wind.

  Talina turned and shouted, “Shut up!”

  An almost instant quiet settled on the room.

  “Security Officer Perez, at what point in your argument did you stop recording survey data and start back to the aircar?”

  “When he told me I was relieved of my position and would be placed under arrest upon return to Port Authority.”

  Hisses broke out from the audience.

  Kalico had recovered enough that acid laced her tone: “Is that when you claim the Supervisor had his nightmare and you shot him?”

  “I don’t think I’d use the term had his nightmare. Rather, the nightmare had him. And, for the record, I warned him beforehand.”

  “You warned him?”

  “I did.” Talina paused. “But I think he was more intent on being first back to the aircar where—”

  “So, let me get this straight. Supervisor Clemenceau, in the middle of the day, is in the throes of a nightmare, and you shot him.” She raised the pages. “In your words, ‘as an act of mercy.’”

  “I imagine anyone in this room would have done the same, Supervisor. Including yourself.”

  “Why didn’t you recover his body?”

  “Excuse me?” Perez seemed confused.

  “Bring. His. Body. Back. Can I make it any simpler?”

  “I couldn’t retrieve the body. No one, not even your armored marines, could have—”

  “Do you have anything else to add?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  Cap tried to gauge the room’s response. No one seemed even slightly unsettled by the testimony.

  “You may take your seat. The Corporation calls Turalon’s ship’s physician, Willa Tyler. Please approach and be sworn.”

  Lieutenant Spiro opened the door to admit Tyler, an older woman in her sixties. The long walk down the central aisle had originally been designed to add dignity and authority to the proceedings. Now Cap wasn’t sure that it wasn’t more of a death march.

  As per plan Willa Tyler stopped before the prisoners, raised her hand, and swore the Corporate oath to relate the facts as she knew them and not to perjure herself.

  Kalico asked, “For the record, you are a Corporate-certified physician of nearly forty years of service with all of the approved implants, is that correct?”

  “Yes, Supervisor.”

  “You have heard the testimony, read the report, is that correct?”

  “Yes, Supervisor.”

  “In your professional opinion, is it possible for someone to die from a nightmare?”

  “Supervisor, a person might be having a nightmare at the same time they experience a stroke, an embolism, or perhaps a heart attack, but a nightmare during REM sleep, though terrifying, cannot kill you.”

  At this the crowd burst into incredulous laughter, some guffawing so hard that they slapped themselves on the legs.

  “Order!” Kalico snapped. “Restrain yourselves. This is an inquest, not a comedy.”

  “Could have fooled me!” someone shouted from the rear, which incited yet more laughter.

  Talina Perez called, “Hey! Shut your yaps!”

  And again the room quieted, though people were choking on their attempts to stifle guffaws.

  Cap had to remind himself to keep from gaping like an idiot. What kind of lunatics were these? They reminded him of half-wild animals, and the notion hit him that if they executed the ringleaders, what chance did he and Kalico have to actually control this lot? Was it even possible? Or would they have to have the marines shoot them all?

  “Doctor, proceed.” Kalico’s voice carried a note of uncertainty.

  “Well, a nightmare is nothing more than the brain cells responding during the REM cycle of sleep. It functions as a means of expression for the personality that—”

  “Excuse me,” Yvette interrupted.

  “Out of order!” Kalico snapped pointing at the woman.

  “Supervisor,” Yvette’s voice rolled out over the squirming, snickering crowd. “We know that you’ve just arrived on Donovan. And rather than see you become a laughingstock and figure of ridicule, we’d like to bring this line of questioning to a quick and less painful resolution.”

  In a voice like deadly ice, Kalico said, “Please do.”

  Yvette’s lips twitched as she studied Ship’s Physician Tyler. “A ‘nightmare’ on Donovan isn’t just a disturbing dream during REM sleep—though, believe me, we have those as well. Perhaps more so than ordinary people.”

  She turned, fixing her green eyes on Kalico. “We didn’t know what else to call it. And you can bet your ass, Supervisor, it’s your worst nightmare. Of all the ways to die on Donovan, nothing else compares with the horror. You’d rather be gutted alive. Slowly. It’s a lot the same, you see.”

  Yvette indicated Perez with a tilt of her head. “Did Talina and Supervisor Clemenceau have their differences? They did. We all did. The man didn’t have the qualities of leadership to make Donovan a success. He didn’t understand the necessary compromise that was required as supplies began to run out. Or that innovation was required to salvage Port Authority from a meltdown.”

  Cap ground his teeth, nervous gaze going to the crowd, who were just as good at getting the message as he was.

  “If a nightmare had me,” Yvette declared, “I’d want a bullet. So would you, Supervisor Aguila. You see, nightmares hide in mundo trees. They blend in. When a person walks beneath, they drop netlike tentacles that once affixed can’t be unstuck. They immediately hoist you up into the branches. They start digesting you slowly, painfully, as their barbed tentacles wind ever deeper into your flesh and guts.”

  She turned to Doctor Tyler. “Ma’am, here on Donovan a nightmare is the local name for an organism, as well as a bad dream. Supervisor Clemenceau was already dead, and he knew it. Talina’s bullet just saved him the excruciating agony of being digested for days.”

  Cap swallowed hard. It’s a fucking creature?

  They looked like idiots. And if they voted for conviction . . . ?

  “Supervisor.” He couldn’t bear to look out at the crowd of colonists, didn’t want to see the ridicule in their eyes. “Might we reconvene to discuss this?”

  Kalico had gone white, her jaw muscles knotted, lips pinched. Something in her shattered expression told Cap that Kalico had never, ever faced anything so far beyond her control. For his part, Chan still looked confused and ill. Doctor Tyler had crossed her arms, an eyebrow cocked as she studied Yvette.

  Somehow, Kalico managed to rise. Drawing herself to attention, she said, “I think we have all the facts here. The Corporation will no doubt find that all is in order. Captain Taggart, will you please have the bonds removed from the . . . um, respondents.”

  The crowd seemed to be teetering on a precipice, this could still go either way. It all depended on what Perez, Mosadek, and Dushane did next.

  And if they step out and find their guns missing?

  In this throat com, Cap ordered, “Spiro. Change of plan
s. You had best have that rack of weapons back here faster than spit hits the deck.”

  “Aye, Cap.”

  But some people were already started for the door. If they stepped out and those guns weren’t there? They’d know they’d been duped, disarmed by a lie.

  You better think of something damned fast!

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” Cap called as he rose. “We’re sorry to have interrupted your morning just so that the Supervisor could meet her responsibilities to The Corporation. As a token of her appreciation, if you will all help us collect these chairs and set out the tables again, the Supervisor would like to stand you all to a drink!”

  Step Allenovich, not bothering to fool with the knots, was using a wicked-looking knife to sever Shig’s bonds. Cap didn’t take the time to wonder just where the blade had come from. Talina was already free, grinning to well-wishers as she rubbed her wrists.

  Kalico was giving Cap the kind of stunned look she’d give a madman—or a Donovanian. Leaning close she thumbed off her com asking, “Buy them a drink?”

  “Do you know how short the hair is on a neutron?”

  “Pretty damn short.”

  “We’re that close to a disaster. We’re saving our asses, Supervisor. Look at them.” He indicated where the colonists were helping his marines carry chairs. They were laughing, slapping each other on the back. More than the colonists, the marines seemed relieved; no doubt their hearts were still hammering in their chests, and fear sweat had made their underwear clammy.

  “What would have happened had Perez not stopped them?”

  Cap closed his eyes and exhaled wearily. “Every man, woman, and child would have been shot down in their own blood, Supervisor. Maybe some of the marines would have survived to live with the memory of what they’d done. But not you, me, and the first officer. We’d have gone down in the first wave. We would be bloody corpses right now.”

  “I just don’t get it. I don’t . . .” She blinked, bewildered. “How could this have gone so . . . ?”

  “Yeah. So let’s buy them their drink and make like we didn’t just have our undershorts jerked all the way up over our faces, shall we?”