Raf gets an assignment |
approximately 2160 words Chapter Two Everyone sees what you seem to be, few know what you really are. --Nicolo Machiavelli Athos Base Cabotâs Landing Monday, 1100, 02.13.2462 Gunnery Sergeant Rafael Martinez glanced at the clock and brushed invisible lint from the crease in his fatigues. Sleet pinged against the metal roof of the MP headquarters, and frigid air leaked through the windows of his COâs anteroom. Heâd been posted to worse places than Athos Base. At his last assignment, on Rybnicia, the flying snail worms were a constant threat. At least the lifeforms here on Cabotâs Landing werenât dangerous. Except for the human ones, of course. As far as Raf was concerned, the human ones were always the problem. That's how it was for MPs. Sometimes it was a just a brawl between a couple of drunken Marines, but more often it was the brass that burned his butt. For exmaple, his CO, Crebbs, a junior lieutenant desk jockey who acted like a Chairborne Ranger. Crebbs didn't give a rat's ass about his troops or his command; all he cared about was his next promotion. Raf sighed. Nothing he could do about that except embrace the suck. The Lieutenantâs new staff assistant looked up from her computer and a perky smile lit up her features. Raf had chatted with her when she first showed up last week. She had an odd name, just on the tip of his tongue. When she spoke, he recognized Hopeulikit in her rustic accent. âAhâm sure the Lieutenant will be with ya any time now, Sah-gint.â As usual, wasting Rag's time was the last thing on Crebb's mind. The receptionistâs name came back with the drawl of her accent. Joan Taliaferro. Except sheâd pronounced it âTolliverâ instead of phonetically, like how it was spelled on her nametag. Probably some hick peculiarity from Hopulikit. Raf took in her rumpled and coffee-stained uniform, firmed his lips, and didnât reply. In just six short weeks, his current enlistment would be up. Maybe it was time to pack it in. But he couldnât imagine living in the chaos civilians tolerated, so he was probably stuck, even though it meant dealing with asswipes like Crebbs. The intercom on the aideâs desk buzzed, and a male voice rasped, âWeâre ready for Sergeant Martinez.â She glanced at Raf and grinned. âSee, I toldja.â He responded with a curt nod, stood, and marched into the adjoining office. He closed the door behind him, snapped to attention, and saluted. âSir. Gunnery Sergeant Rafael Martinez reporting as ordered. Sir.â Orson Crebbs, the commander of the base MPs, gave him a sloppy salute without bothering to stand. âAt ease, Raf. Have a seat.â Raf perched on an uncomfortable metal chair and glanced at the three other people in the office. He recognized Lieutenant Commander Lebedev, the Navy physician assigned to the base, but who was the female corpsman in the wrinkled surgical greens? And who the fouk was that fancy boy civilian slouching next to Lebedev? As if heâd read Rafâs mind, Crebbs said. âI think youâve met Katya Lebedev. Toshi Watanabe is one of the Navy Corpsman serving under her at the base infirmary." He nodded to the civilian in the frilly shirt. "Mr. Balthazar Prince is here representing the Governor-General." Raf gave him a curt nod. What a putito. And why the hell did the Governor-General of this rat-hole send a representative to Athos Base? Raf knew better than to ask. He just nodded in their direction but didnât otherwise respond. Crebbs leaned back and templed his fingers. âI think youâve probably heard things are kind of chaotic on the other side of the planet, what with the evacuation of civlian personnel.â Raf kept his face impassive. They were on a moon, not a planet. But Raf knew better than to correct an officer. âIâve heard sir. Not sure what that has to do with us.â âYou might not be fully aware of the background. I'll defer to Mr. Prince." The fancy man spoke with a faint lisp and the prim accent of an upper-class Brit. "Two years ago Cabot Industries started closing down the dysprosium mines and transferring their employees to more profitable locations. The recent political instability--"he paused to clear his throat---"back on Earth has given an added urgency to this project. The company's first priority now is to get everyone back to civilization as soon as possible. The Governor-General has appointed a Legate DĂ©mĂ©nagement to oversee the emergency evacuation of all civilians from the planet. The Grand Alliance has tasked the Fleet with supporting the Legate and has assigned troop transports to expedite the evacuation." Satellite, not planet. These dumbasses couldn't get anything right. And it was just like a civilian, lecturing on what everyone already knew and thinking everything was an effing emergency. It still didn't say why this nob was here. Raf waited. They'd explain when they damned well pleased and not before. Prince continued. âThose transports carry an entire regiment, over three thousand troops each. Using them for the evacuation of civilians has turned into a logistical nightmare. That's why I'm here. I'm working with the Legate DĂ©mĂ©nagement." Raf's stomach chilled. So he must be here to ask for crowd control, and his idiot CO must have already agreed. Like all MPs, Raf had been through riot training. If he had a choice, heâd rather be deployed to a combat zone, say back on Rybnicia. But dogfaces like him didnât get choices. They just did their duty. His CO fingered a folder on his desk. âIt would appear thereâs been a murder in the village of Lansbury.â Raf raised an eyebrow. Maybe they werenât looking for crowd control after all. âA murder, sir? In Lansbury?â That was the holy roller colony on the northeast coast of Bountiful, an island the size of Ireland and the only landmass on Cabotâs Landing. Crebbs nodded. âA couple of kids found a headless corpse about two klicks outside the terra-formed boundaries of the settlement. The victim was wearing Grand Alliance Marine fatigues. The Governor General has requested our assistance." This sounded way better than crowd control. Not combat, but way better. Raf kept his face expressionless. âI see, sir.â âThatâs where you and Toshi come in. As Mr. Prince explained, the ongoing evacuation has overwhelmed civilian law enforcement, and they donât have any resources to devote to a case in a remote village. We do, and the two of you are it. Weâre going to asssign you to temporary duty at Lansbury, where youâll coordinate an investigation with the civil authorities. Youâll be in charge of that, even though Toshi will be the ranking member of the team. Sheâll do the autopsy and any forensics, and youâll do the rest. Is that clear? TDY. At least temporary duty meant heâd be out from under Crebbâs thumb. Still, the devil was in the details. âNo, sir.â Crebbs clenched his jaw and scowled. Lebedev rolled her eyes and snapped, âWhy not, Sergeant? It seems straight forward enough to me.â No murder investigation was ever straight forward. Raf kept his voice even. âWith all due respect, sirs and maâam, the chain of command is not clear. Thatâs critical, especially for TDY at a detached location. The Corpsman is the ranking member of the team. I can see that from the insignia on her collar. But Iâm to be in charge? Of a superior officer?â Crebbs glared at him and snapped, âShe outranks you, but sheâs not in the line of duty. She can and should give advice. You are to give due consideration to that advice, but youâre the ranking line officer, even though youâre just enlisted. It may be TDY, but that still puts you in charge. Is that clear enough?â From his tone, it would have to be. Besides, it gave Raf the authority he needed. âYes, sir. But if Iâm just coordinating with the civil authorities, how can I be in charge?â Prince simpered. âIf thatâs a problem, I can arrange for the Governor-General to issue a letter of authority that over-rides local jurisdiction. Will that satisfy you?â âYes, sir.â Raf paused for a moment, then didnât bother to thank him. âVery good. Iâll register the letter with the planetary AI. Shall we say Thetis for the codeword?â Raf shrugged. âWhatever.â Crebbs picked up a slim folder from his desk. âThis has everything we know at this point. Weâve arranged for flitter transport for the two of you from Athos Base to Lansbury, departing at thirteen hundred. Thatâs two hours from now. When you get to Lansbury, youâre to meet with the local civil authority.â He flipped the folder open and glanced inside. âThatâs Angus Wallace. Heâs the Rector of the village.â âRector, sir?â âYeah. Thatâs what the locals call their mayor. Itâs a religious settlement operating under a land grant from Cabot Industries.â He slipped the folder across the desk toward Raf. Raf eyed it without touching it. âAny connection to the new religious government in North America?â âSimilar sect, I think, but no, not that I know of. Not relevant in any case.â Everything was relevant, but a clueless junior lieutenant was too stupid to know that. He picked up the folder. âYes, sir. Anything else I should know, sir?" Prince squirmed in his chair and said, "The situation is delicate. The civil authorities in Lansbury are resisting the evacuation order. There's a remote chance this might be part of a conspiracy to remain on Cabot's Landing in defiance of the Governor-General's decree." "Is there any evidence of that, sir?" Prince nodded. âAxiopistiagraphic evidence." He must have caught Rafâs expression, for he added, âThatâs the scientific measure of social trust. Itâs eroding everywhere at an alarming rate, from Earth to the outer worlds, to here. I wrote about it my paper âPolymoeticism and Axiopistiagraphyâ in Annales de la Mesure Sociale.â Jibber jabber. Apparently no real evidence, though. Raf kept his voice even. "We'll certainly keep that in mind, sir.â He turned to Crebbs and asked, "The victim wore Marine fatigues. Are any marines missing from the base?â âNone that we know of. We don't have an ID on the victim. Other than wearing a uniform, he could have been anyone--a marine assigned to the Governor General, or even one of the troop transports. I'm having Taliaferro check and we'll let you know." He pronounced her name the way it was spelled. "Could be the victim just liked uniforms. So far, as I said, what little we know is in the file. You can review it on the flight to Lansbury. Once there, youâll have phone contact back here if you need anything. I donât expect that you will. Youâre on your own. This should be a quick in-and-out operation.â âYes, sir.â Quick in-and-out with a headless corpse. Right. What a doofus. Crebbs spoke with an air of finality. âVery well, then. You two should have time to pack before the flitter departs. Dismissed.â Raf stood, saluted, nodded to the Corpsman, and turned on his heel. Two hours to pack. Like any marine didnât have his kit ready to go on a momentâs notice. He paused in the reception area to don his regulation winter parka when he noticed the Corpsman had followed him out of the COâs office. Her face lit up with a sunny smile and she said, âIâm looking forward to working with you, Sergeant. Iâve heard a lot about you.â He tipped an eyebrow at her. âThank you, maâam. Have you worked a murder case before?â She dimpled. âRight to the point. I like that. Nope, this is my first one. And call me Toshi, please.â He grunted. âIâm Raf to my friends.â Not that he had any. Or wanted any, for that matter. âHow about you, Raf? Murder must be pretty rare on Marine bases.â âI worked a few cases when I was stationed at Camp Bresnik on Aquarius. In all of them, the spouse or significant other did it.â âIâve heard thatâs always the way it turns out.â âThatâs always the first premise.â He hesitated. âBest not to prejudge the case in the absence of evidence, though.â She held up a file folder that matched the one in his hand. âAccording to this and from what the Lieutenant said, they haven't taken the basic steps to ID the victim. They didn't even take fingerprints, let alone samples for genetic testing.â He frowned. When did she have time to read the case file? âYou seem to be ahead of me.â âDoctor Lebedev gave me the file earlier today. On the positive side, if the victim is a marine then DNA tracking should give us an ID a few hours after I submit samples." Right. Assuming the databases were complete. And accurate. âFigures they didn't do any of the basic investigation steps. About what I'd expect from the likes of that putito Prince. Typical civilian screw-up.â Especially here, at the ass-end of nowhere, light-years from civilization. âI guess no one was around who knew how. According to the file, they just dumped the body in cold storage in the local infirmary. What they found of it, at least.â Yeah. The head was missing. âI wonder if they even searched the murder scene for the missing parts. Or evidence.â âThe file doesnât say, but somehow I doubt it.â He firmed his lips. âWell, at least now thereâs a professional on the case.â He paused, then remembered to add âTwo professionals.â That got him another set of dimples. âThank you for that.â He had to admit she was cute, in her own perky way. Annoying, too. He glanced at his watch. âWeâve got less than two hours to secure our travel kits and board the flitter. Donât be late, maâam.â He caught her expression and added, âSorry. Toshi.â She slipped on a pink, decidedly non-regulation parka, and said in an even voice, âMy kitâs ready twenty-four/seven. You never know when or where a combat medic might be needed.â So she was a combat medic, not just a hospital jockey. That was something, at least. âGood to know youâve got combat training, not that weâre likely to need it on this mission.â She narrowed her eyes. âAs I said, Raf, you never know. A medicâs motto is to be always prepared.â He nodded and headed to the door. âSee you in the shuttle, then.â She was right about one thing. You never knew what might turn up on a mission, especially where murder was involved. |