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Chapter Nine

Sergeant Bradley surveyed the ruins of the transmat bay from the supposed safety of his radiation suit. He was supervising the clean-up operation. He was in charge of maintenance on this space station; as such someone had just made damn sure that he was going to be busy for several weeks.

What an incredible mess! Tainted gold, shredded bodies, and twisted metal everywhere. Not to mention the outside hull breach, which was way beyond their ability to repair. Thirty people, mostly soldiers and medical personnel had been killed, dozens of others wounded before the automatic safety system had been able to patch the hull. Unfortunately someone had been caught up in it, their legs dangling from the patching substance. The corpse couldn't be removed without damaging the temporary seal so there the body would stay until permanent repairs had been made. He for one didn't feel comfortable with the only thing between him and the vacuum of space being a substance that was basically sprayed out of cans, no matter how big those cans were. But he couldn't in all good conscience send his crew into any place he wasn't willing to work himself. It was hard to know where to start when you had to tackle a mess like this. It was Bradley's job to make sure that as the debris was cleared away they find out just what had been broken and fix it.

They had spent most of the day reinforcing the temporary patch because they just weren't trustworthy, and trying to divide the debris into two piles – human and not human. A crew was on its way from Stashes with the materials and the specialists to put a proper patch on the hull. The patch itself could take days. He still couldn't be sure how badly damaged the actual transmat system was because it still wasn't clear of debris.

To make matters worse the ship that was supposed to show up to pick up the latest batch of natives had never arrived, and all attempts to contact it both from the space station and from Moon Base had failed. They didn't know whether the ship had undergone some breakdown that was making it very late, had been lost in hyperspace, or had been abducted by the Argy. The damned magnetic pulses made it hard to be sure of anything, and short of blowing up the planet they had done everything that they could do to decrease its influence. They should have sent out a distress beacon if they had been attacked, and that would have been picked up by somebody somewhere, but Moon Base said that the ship had trouble with communications just prior to take off, and it may have undergone a complete systems breakdown. Shoddy maintenance! It would be the end of them all.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned. "Yes, corporal?"

"The Captain wants to see you, sergeant," he said.

Sergeant Bradley smiled broadly and punched the corporal playfully on the shoulder. "Well, yes, of course he would. He couldn't possibly come down here with us grunts and check this crap out first hand. Ten will get you twenty he will ask me a bunch of stupid assed questions I don't have the answers to yet. Any word on the missing ship?

"No, I'm sorry, sergeant," Corporal Riley said.

"Well at least that isn't one of my problems. Just trying to see what kind of mood the old man is in. Be a good fellow and keep an eye on this cluster fuck for me." He started to leave, then turned back around. "I don't have a clear picture yet of what actually happened, but between you and me this is what we deserve for giving those natives radioactive gold. I have pulled some shit details before, but between you and me, this is tops."

The Corporal nodded his head in silent agreement.

The sergeant went into the temporary decontamination air lock they had set up. He unsuited, stepped into the showers then dried off and dressed quickly. What a pain in the ass this was! What a giant waste of his time. This was what com-links were for. There was no need for him to leave his post where he was needed and march up to the bridge so that he could tell some idiot Captain a bunch of crap he wouldn't understand anyway.

Briggs was a commissioned officer – an elite. He had never cranked the handle on a wrench. He didn't know one kind of power supply conduit from another. He knew space ships flew and space stations were stationary around a planet. He had no idea how they kept air in and space out. How they created gravity or even where his damn food came from. He appreciated the maintenance staff not at all. It never occurred to him that his safety and that of his entire crew was in the hands of the men and women who fixed all the things that they broke. The people who maintained the machines that made sure they didn't go crashing into a sun and that made their air and gravity.

He walked to the bridge and entered. Captain Briggs swiveled in his chair to face him. "What took you so long?"

Ever have to go through decontamination, you old prick? Sergeant Bradley thought, but bit his tongue and answered. "I had to go through decontamination. I was working in the contaminated area. In fact the entire damaged area has been contaminated by the radioactive gold we originally sent to the surface of the planet."

"Do I hear a hint of insubordination in your voice?" Captain Briggs screamed.

Only if you're listening. "No, Sir," he said quickly. Every day this job just got harder and harder. His last Captain had been a decent sort, a man who understood the importance of maintenance and went out of his way to make his maintenance staff happy. So of course their ship had sustained minor damage during a skirmish over Stashes, and Captain Johnson had been killed when he fell during the attack and his head struck a sharp corner on the arm of his command chair. It was a freak accident really, not the way you would expect a combat ready veteran to die in a hundred million years.

Now he was stuck with this bastard Briggs who had lived his entire life behind a desk. He didn't have any clue how important the maintenance staff was, and he didn't care to learn. To him they were nothing more or less than glorified toilet cleaners, and he treated them like such paying no heed at all to either their rank or their service record. Unless you lay around on your ass all day waiting for a chance to use your gun, he didn't consider you important at all.

"Do you know what happened to our transport bay yet?" Briggs asked impatiently.

"We found part of an incendiary device, could have been a timed charge. I can't be sure until we find all the pieces," Sergeant Bradley answered.

"You want to tell me where the primitives got explosives?" the Captain asked, seeming to calm down some.

Golly, Sir, I ain't supposed ta know nothin' like that. I'm jus' a darn toilet cleaner, don' ya 'member? I jus' fix things. "I have no idea, Sir. We'll have to run some tests first, see just exactly what sort of explosives we're talking about. I'm afraid it's going to take some time," Bradley answered.

"Time is what we don't have, soldier," the Captain snapped. "First we've got a missing ship, and now we have an attack on the station, and no doubt the ground troops have all been killed."

"We found pieces of some of them in the debris. They were sent back with the gold along with a primitive with radiation sickness," Sergeant Bradley said.

"Whatever happened was quick. We only got one distress signal, and it wasn't clear," Briggs said turning his chair away from Sergeant Bradley so that Bradley had to look at his back. Bradley stuck out his tongue and almost got caught when Briggs swung back around quickly. "How many casualties did we take here on the station?"

"Ah . . . We can't be completely sure till we finish doing a head count, but I estimate about thirty of our people," Sergeant Bradley reported. He saw the security officer working at her station smile at him and then stick out her tongue, and knew that she had seen what he did and obviously approved. He kept the smile off his face only with an effort.

"Thirty! Why so many?" Briggs exclaimed.

Why the hell are you asking me? Don't you know a damn thing about the way this operation runs? Don't you remember it's me – the guy you think is completely unimportant? I fix things; that's it; that's all. However he apparently knew more than Briggs did. "We were expecting a bunch of natives. Guards had been ordered into the area and so had medical personnel. In fact I would say our medical staff was hit the hardest."

"Oh, that's great, just beautiful! Do you know how much time and money the Reliance spends training medics? They aren't going to be happy."

It always comes down to cost effectiveness with these freaking Reliance goons, because they never have to peel someone's liver off a wall, or try to figure out whose arm that was. He was so engrossed in his own angry thoughts that he almost didn't hear what the idiot said next.

"I'm going to send an away team to the planet's surface. Till now I have been reluctant to keep a military presence on the surface, but it may become necessary in the near future. We need to learn more about the planet, and we need to know exactly what happened with the transport station. One thing is obvious for whatever reason this village decided it didn't want to trade people for gold."

"Maybe they realized that it was the gold that was making them sick," Sergeant Bradley said, unable to keep the disapproving tone from his voice.

"Of course they didn't, Sergeant Bradley. They are stupid primitives, savages really. They worship thermo generators for Pete's sake! How smart could they be?" Captain Briggs screamed.

With any luck smart enough to realize that you're the prick in charge and kill you instead of us.

"I suppose you're right, Sir." Sergeant Bradley said. Please tell me what dance you'd like me to do before I stupidly tell you what a pompous ass I think you are, and wind up spending the rest of my natural life in the brig.

"Security officer Lieutenant Stratton will lead the away team. I want you to go with her," Captain Briggs ordered.

"With all due respect, Sir, why me? I'm not a political; I'm not even combat. I'm the maintenance Sergeant. A huge hole has been ripped in our ship, and it's my job to see to the repairs . . ."

"I'm the Captain!" Briggs screamed glaring at him. "I'll tell you what your job is, and you will not question my orders. Do you understand?" Briggs levered himself out of his chair with an effort that looked like he might have been velcroed to the seat, and stood to his full height of five foot four.

Gee, let me see . . . Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're a stupid fucking prick, so I'd say I've got it covered.

"Yes, Sir . . ."

"You're a simple minded person, Sergeant. I need someone who's simple to deal with these primitives. Someone who thinks like a commoner. No disrespect intended, Sergeant, but someone stupid enough to think like they think. Anyone who can handle the morons who serve under you in maintenance knows how to talk to primitives." It was pretty clear by the tone of his voice that disrespect was intended.

Well, go. . .o. . .lly, Captain, I'm overwhelmed at your faith in me. I feel honored that you think all us guys in maintenance are such a bunch of total ignoramuses. Let's disconnect the main gravitational transfusion junction and see what stupid fucks you think we are then.

"You will leave by shuttle at 0800 hours. Until then go about your duties . . . Oh, and assign someone else to oversee the work in the transport bay. A monkey with a pair of pliers ought to be able to do your job here, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a replacement," Briggs ordered. "You are dismissed."

Sergeant Bradley saluted, quickly turned on his heels and left. Outside the bridge door he started to mumble under his breath all the things he would like to say to Briggs. There was a bunch of static from one of the monitors overhead. Usually this would have been of concern to him, because he would have been in charge of making sure it got fixed, but as of a minute ago anything to do with the maintenance of this station had been changed to the list of things that weren't his problem.

The monitors usually had a steady stream of station news including who was to be where when, just in case someone was confused about their assignment. On most ships or stations this sort of system was mostly a waste of technology, but when you had a prick like Briggs running the show and changing assignments and shifts at the last minute, it was a necessary evil..

Bradley looked up; the screen had gone blank. And not just that one but every screen he could see up and down the hall. He felt somehow vindicated but then felt guilty because he would be passing this and all the other huge problems off to one of his subordinates. Just his luck – exciting things finally start happening up here, and he gets shipped planet side.

The screens all lit back up again, then went black again, and then there was . . . What the hell was it? Some small alien filled up the screen.

"People of the Reliance. Specifically personnel aboard the satellite, Pam Station, which is in orbit around the planet Beta 4. I am Mickey, President of New Freedom. Reports by the Alliance are false; there is no hunger or sickness here, and we are keeping a close eye on Reliance activities. For instance, we are aware that currently the Council of Twelve has you enslaving the peoples of Beta 4 and shipping them to Earth to be used as shock troops to fight us. We ask each one of you to look deep within your own conscience. Do you think it's right to use radioactive gold to buy these humanoids and to poison their leaders? To send them to fight us – the New Alliance – the same force that the Reliance couldn't overcome? To pit primitives against lasers and plasma blasters? What happiness has the Reliance brought you? We have sent one message to you already as proof of our intentions. Stop the inhuman acts against this world and against the peoples of my country, or we shall retaliate again – this time with severe prejudice."

The transmission halted, and the screens returned to their normal duty.

Bradley had to stop himself from laughing out loud when he heard Briggs screaming and slamming things around like an angry child.

The New Alliance must have one hell of a communications system, and one hell of a spy network. Not long after he heard Briggs start screaming, MP's started running down the halls, no doubt looking for the spy amongst them.

Bradley smiled, so there was a spy on board leaking information about their top-secret mission to the New Alliance? It wasn't him, and he didn't know who it was, so it also went on that growing list of things that just weren't his problem. He hoped they didn't get the spy and that this caused them to dissolve the operation altogether. But that little bit of hopeful conjecture was between him and his brain, and so far – try as they might – the Reliance hadn't managed to do away with free thought.

Except of course in the GSH's. No doubt if they didn't cost so much to reproduce and there wasn't this hidden fear that they would somehow break their conditioning and take over, the Reliance would completely phase humans out of the military – hell, maybe they'd do away with humans altogether.

By the time O800 hours rolled around there were already rumors flying about who had been arrested. He was on his way to his meeting with Lieutenant Stratton in the hanger when Corporal Riley ran up to him.

"Sergeant! They've just arrested Harker."

"What!" Bradley couldn't believe his ears. "What in hell's name for?"

"They think he's one of the spies, maybe even the spy," Riley informed him.

"That's insane. I've known Harker most of my life." Bradley looked at his watch. He didn't have time to go to the brig to check on Harker and meet Lieutenant Stratton in time. "Damn it all! Riley, run tell Lieutenant Stratton I'll meet her in a few minutes. I can't leave without checking on Harker."

"Why should I tell her you're running late?" He asked.

He only thought a second about making something up. "Tell her my best friend just got thrown into the Brig. I just want to check on him it won't take me long."

* * *

Harker paced behind the bars like a caged animal. When he saw Bradley he ran up to the bars grabbing them in his hands.

"Damn, Bradley, am I glad to see you," he said.

"What the hell did you do?" Bradley asked wanting to sound supportive. It was hard because he was agitated. Whatever Harker had done had put Bradley in the position of doing something that if found out might make him a suspect.

"You know we're constantly monitored?" Harker said.

Of course he knew, but sometimes he forgot. He thought about what he'd said to Riley earlier that afternoon and what he'd done when he'd been talking to Captain Briggs and cringed. When the Reliance was on this sort of witch-hunt you didn't have to do or say much to be hauled in.

"Yeah, so?" Bradley said. "You've never done or said anything that could possibly make them think you're a spy."

"They have a record of me talking to Barry when we were working down in the engine room. I was pitching a bitch, and I said something to the tune of how if I didn't get off shit detail I was going to hook up with the New Alliance and help them bring the Reliance down."

"Damn it, man!" Bradley exclaimed. "You can't say shit like that."

"I know that, man. I didn't mean it. I was just tired and hot and pissed off. Hell, I didn't even remember saying it till they showed me the recording. Can you help me?" Harker asked. There was fear in his eyes and in his voice. Bradley had never known his old friend to be afraid of anyone or anything, but he wasn't stupid, and he knew damn good and well that after the events of the afternoon they needed someone to blame. If Harker became that someone, they'd space him – no doubt.

"I . . . I don't have much clout, Harker. You know that. Besides which I have to go with the away team down to the surface." He thought for a minute. "I'll talk to Lieutenant Stratton. She seems like she's all right. She might be able to help, after all she is a security officer. Don't look so worried, man. You didn't do anything, and without proof they can't do anything to you. I have to go; I'm late as it is. You keep cool, and I'll see what I can do."

He reached through the bars and they clasped hands. Harker caught his eyes and held them. "Good bye, Bradley."

Bradley laughed nervously as he withdrew his hand. "Cheer up, buddy, they can't convict you of something you didn't do."

"Bradley . . . you forget. This is the Reliance we're talking about."

Bradley unconsciously turned to look at the camera, and then he turned back to his friend and whispered, "Damn it, Harker! Watch your mouth. You're going to cause yourself even more trouble. I'll see you when I get back." He turned to leave.

"Thanks, Bradley," Harker said.

"No problem," Bradley said over his shoulder without turning. He took off at a run looking at his watch. If he ran all the way he'd only be a few minutes late.

* * *

Bradley threw on his flight suit and ran onto the flight deck of the skiff. He looked at Lieutenant Stratton who was waiting patiently at the controls. She indicated the seat next to her, and he sat down although he wondered why one of the Marines hadn't taken the co-pilot's position.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I had to . . ."

"It's all right, Bradley, don't sweat it." Stratton closed the hatches and started to power up the skiff. "Be a lot easier if we had a transporter planet side, but someone took care of that for us."

Bradley looked back at the others. There were only five of them going; that just didn't seem right. Five people alone with minimal armaments going to the surface of a planet full of obviously angry natives. A planet where there would be no other Reliance personnel, with natives who had not only gotten their hands on explosives but learned how to use them, and where communications were iffy at best

Stratton must have read his mind.

"Captain Briggs seemed to think that if we showed up in force the natives might become restless," she explained.

"Restless! Try armed and dangerous and just flat pissed off," Bradley said in shock. "What the hell does he expect us to do down there anyway?"

"Die," Stratton said in a whisper. "From what I understood talking to the others we've all said rather derogatory things of a personal nature about good ole Captain Briggs. Now while he can't court-martial us unless we say it to his face, try to incite a mutiny, or bad talk the Reliance, he can mark us highly expendable and send us on a near suicide mission."

"Great . . . and I thought Harker was in some trouble because he had been arrested," Bradley mumbled. "You'd think the bastard would have more to do with his time than sit around viewing surveillance tapes."

"Harker?" Stratton said in surprise.

"You know him?" Bradley asked.

"Heard of him is all," she said quickly. "I know his name is familiar. I'm the security chief, and he certainly wasn't on any of my lists of possible suspects. Makes me wonder who Briggs is talking to concerning security."

"Could you put in a good word for him with the Captain? I know you said you're on his shit list, too, but . . ."

"My saying something might actually hurt his case," she said. "Sorry . . . Cheer up. I don't think even Briggs is going to do something as stupid as starting to space people over a suspicion, and our mission isn't nearly as dangerous as he thinks it is. All we're supposed to do is talk with the King, find out if he knows what might have happened, and then get his permission to investigate. Look and see if there is a suitable place for a grounded base on the surface.

"There are no telecommunications on the planet. All news is spread by runners, so it can take days for news to get to and from the most remote villages. There is a good chance that the King has no idea what has happened. In fact, there is a good chance that we will be walking into nothing but a very confused monarch who has no idea what we are even talking about when we explain to him that his people have attacked our transporter and our space station, etc," Stratton said. "The King and his priests speak our language, but they won't understand what we're talking about unless we keep things simple . . ."

"And that would be where I come in, because I, of course, am a moron," Bradley said shaking his head.

Stratton laughed. "Actually I think it takes a pretty intelligent person to know how to convey a message to someone who has no concept of the words and machines that we take for granted. How do you explain a transporter sabotage to someone who worships a thermo electric plant?"

"How do you explain to a pompous ass like Briggs that if you poison these people's gods and they find out, they are going to be pissed?" Bradley asked with a shrug.

* * *

"RJ." Levits called out as he walked up behind her – you definitely didn't want to take the chance of sneaking up on her. You just might get yourself killed. He wrapped his arms around her. She placed her hands over his and leaned her head back onto his shoulder. "So . . . Are you going to try to get some sleep, or are you just going to stand out here and look at the moons?"

She laughed a little. "While I'd love to tell you that I was just looking at the moons, I was actually watching the sky. I really expected the Reliance to try a little harder than this."

"They would if they knew it was you," he said. "If they knew you were the cause of their problems they would have sent every shuttle on the station. They just think they have a primitive uprising, nothing to get too worked up about."

"Blowing up a big hunk of their station should have gotten their attention. Mickey should have made his transmission by now. That should have given them some clue," RJ said.

"Their minds don't work like yours. They're a little slow on the up take sometimes. Do you have to be so disappointed that we're not under siege already?" He moved her hair and gently kissed the side of her neck. "Can't you think about something besides fighting for a few moments?"

"I was thinking that the blue color of the smaller moon is most probably caused by gases enveloping it," RJ said.

"Oh! How very romantic," Levits groaned. "I had something else in mind."

RJ laughed and turned in his arms to face him. "Yes, but if it's only going to take a few moments, it hardly seems worth the effort."

Levits shrugged. "What can I say? I'm only a mere mortal, and there is that added twenty-five pounds of gravitational pull. I just can't promise anything."

She moved away from him then took hold of his hand and started pulling him towards the solar blanket he had laid out under the shuttle. "Tell you what. You just lay there, and I'll do all the work."

* * *

Taleed looked across Haldeed to where the one they called Poley was leaned against the frame of the open ship door. He was pretty sure that he was asleep. He shook Haldeed until he woke up. Haldeed glared at him, obviously upset about being awakened.

"I think you were right, Haldeed, we should not stay with these strangers. We should sneak out while they are asleep and otherwise occupied." A few minutes earlier strange sounds had started to echo from under the ship, and Taleed didn't have to wonder what the alien woman and her mate were up to. They were obviously too busy to notice them slipping away.

"Poley never sleeps," Topaz said in a whisper making both boys jump. "And no matter how busy his sister is, she's not likely to miss you two clumsy boys trying to sneak away."

Poley had brought Topaz back to camp about thirty minutes before, and he had just walked in, lain down, and Taleed thought, gone to sleep.

"Why can't we go if we want to go?" Taleed asked in an angry whisper.

"Because RJ said you can't." Topaz rolled from his side onto his back. "Do yourself a favor, boy, and don't cross RJ. She's a very good friend, but she's an even better enemy, and unless I'm mistaken – and I hardly ever am – you could use a friend, and you already have enough enemies."

Taleed nodded silently, lay down and tried to get comfortable. It wasn't easy, all of their gear was still damp and the strangers hadn't had anything extra. He looked over once more at the man who guarded the door. This time he looked at Taleed, and even in the darkness Taleed could see his smile.

He mocks me. I do not know what to feel. Haldeed, he already sleeps again. He is too tired to worry. He's more tired than I am because he has to do everything for the both of us because the priests have made me a cripple. He forced his eyes to close. These people are so strange – so different. They know so much more than we do. Their technology is so superior to ours. I don't know whether to trust them or distrust them. I don't know whether I like them or despise them. I know that I don't like being told that I can't leave. That my decisions are not mine to make. If this is to be my new life, then it is no different from the life that I fled. I thought I didn't want to know what my life would be. I thought I wanted adventure and an unknown destiny, and now I cower like a child behind their parent and wish I knew what tomorrow was going to bring. I must stop sniveling, this is my chance, perhaps my only chance to break the palace bonds and make my own way in the world. I must not be afraid. My one true friend, Haldeed, is with me. I am not alone in this. I must be brave.

But he didn't feel like being brave. He felt wet and cold, and the floor of the ship was hard. His thoughts strayed to the palace and his life there, and he began to wonder what he had hated so badly.

* * *

As they neared the planet's capital the dwellings came into view and Bradley took a double take. Obviously the city had once been a huge cave the size of a small sea. Some geographical catastrophe had sent the ceiling crushing in. The debris of the roof had been carried away, probably over many centuries leaving what he assumed were huge brownish green streaked stalagmites. The population had carved these stalagmites into dwellings, and they looked like . . .

"Looks like huge piles of shit, doesn't it?" Stratton said.

"Yeah," Bradley said with a laugh. Then suddenly the Palace came into view, and as they got closer and he was sure of what he saw, his mouth flopped open in amazement. "Shee . . .it!" He exclaimed.

It was an old colony ship, like the ones he'd seen in history books. Huge. Easily twice as big as similar ships today, and he knew why. The older ships had been almost completely filled with engine. From this angle it didn't even look damaged, but from the way it was sitting, with a huge stand of stalagmites behind it and a clearing several square miles long in front of it, he imagined that the entire side that wasn't visible as well as the belly of the ship had been destroyed. Few, if any, would have survived such a crash.

Stratton looked neither surprised nor shocked by what they were looking at, and he realized that she must have known what the "Palace" was.

"We are responsible for their religious beliefs, and now we are using them against them," Bradley said more to himself than anyone else.

"Yeah," Stratton said plainly. "A space ship filled with high-tech equipment crashes onto a primitive planet just starting to use rock tools, and the next thing you know, there is a whole new god in town . . .. Apparently there was at least one survivor."

Bradley nodded silently as their craft landed in the clearing just in front of the "Palace," sending clouds of dust into the air.

"Suits completely off," Stratton ordered. "Apparently the natives worship the suits, and we don't want to appear as their gods, just as people doing business with them. When we step outside the ship stand still and wait. Apparently they will send an escort."

"Is . . . is it safe?" Bradley asked.

"The most dangerous thing on this planet is the radioactive gold we gave them," Stratton said with a hint of anger in her voice.

They removed their suits, opened the seals and walked out into the early morning sunlight. Bradley noticed that he felt heavy and remembered that the gravitational pull was heavier than Earth's. While he'd never actually been on Earth, he'd spent his life on space stations that were designed to simulate Earth's gravity.

He'd seldom been sent planet side, and it was a rare treat to step on dirt, smell "real" air, to see the sky above, trees and plants – he wondered why humans had ever left their home planet and journeyed to the stars. What had been their motivation? If you had everything you needed, why go anywhere else?

"Ran out of resources," Stratton said, seeming to read his mind for the second time that day. But it turned out she was just explaining the existence of the old Earth ship on this planet. "Too many people, not enough stuff, so they started sending out ships like this in search of new planets. Planets with resources that we needed. This ship must have gone off course. Beta 4 has nothing the Reliance wants. Nothing we need. Dirt and simple rock, that's about all that's here. No plutonium, no uranium, no suitable materials with which to make metal. It rains too much or not at all, and the soil is nitrite poor so that the things these people call forests would be considered wasteland anywhere else. Then there are all the damned magnetic pulses that emanate from deep within the planets' surface, making communications and even some equipment run erratically. In short, it's not a suitable habitat for humans. It was more expedient for the Reliance to trade with the natives for items the planet actually did produce and that they found desirable than it was to try to colonize it."

"The natives seem to be doing fine," Bradley said watching as the natives ran towards them.

"Only because they periodically hold wars to cut down their population. Otherwise there would be mass starvation," Stratton explained.

Bradley looked at her, his eyes growing large with realization.

"Why do you think the Reliance is taking them to fight their war?" Stratton asked. "Generations of selective breeding."

More natives seemed to appear by the minute, all talking and pointing. Bradley didn't touch his side arm; they weren't acting in an aggressive manner, just a curious one. One of the men with them must have felt a lot more intimidated, though, because he raised his weapon and threw off the safety.

"Put that damn thing away, Jackson," Stratton said heavily. "The last thing we want to do is make them think that we mean them any harm. They are a race of warriors, treat them with the same respect you would have for an Elite. Their weapons may be primitive, but they are stronger than we are and well trained in the arts of war. There are thousands of them and only five of us. Better weapons won't save us against those kinds of odds. Use your head."

"This is plain bullshit!" Jackson grated out lowering his weapon.

"I'm inclined to agree," Bradley turned suddenly to face the three bodyguards the Captain had sent with them. He knew them by sight, but didn't know them personally. It was a big station, they were combat branch and he was maintenance, still he felt safe enough to ask. "Any of you feel good about what we're doing to these people, or about all the finger pointing that's going on back at the station right now?"

"I don't think any of us would be here right now if we agreed with everything the Reliance and that pompous ass Briggs is doing," Stratton said. "What's your point?"

"My point is that all I want is to be left alone to do my job and live what little life I have. I don't agree with what we are doing to these people, and I don't appreciate being given what that prick considers to be a very dangerous assignment just because I said something he didn't like. But here we are. Let's just do it, try to get it right, and get back to the station without pissing off the natives. I don't know about the rest of you, but after years in space and in the heart of war zones, I don't want to die on a third class planet on the end of some primitive's spear."

"Agreed," Jackson said.

"I don't want to be part of giving radiation sickness to anyone," one of the men said.

"They'll do it with or without us, Decker," Stratton said sadly. "We screw this up and if the natives don't kill us it's a sure bet that the Captain will have us spaced when we get back to the ship. Then he'll just get someone else to do it."

"But at least it wouldn't be us," Decker said.

"Because we'd be dead, you stupid little dork," the third marine said. "Me being dead to save a bunch of bug-eating natives isn't an option. Let's just do whatever it is we're supposed to do and get back into space where we belong."

Bradley remembered him now from the mess hall. His name was Hank, and he was a smart assed punk who was constantly mouthing off to someone. The kind of guy who was always aching for a fight, verbal or otherwise. Hank and Harker had come to blows once, and Harker wasn't the sort of guy who ran around spoiling for a fight, he just wasn't one to walk away from one that was shoved in his face. No doubt Hank had been put on this detail not because he had any principles, but because he had mouthed off to the wrong person.

"Let's just do it and get it over with," Jackson agreed.

The crowd in front of them parted and four priests covered in gold chains and the signs of radiation sickness in full bloom walked through the crowd to greet them.

"Damn," Jackson muttered from behind him.

"This is just wrong," Decker whispered.

Bradley looked at Stratton, and she frowned. "There has to be something we can do," she whispered.

Bradley nodded. "Give me a second." He ducked quickly back into the ship. He came back out a few moments later carrying the pocket medic.

Stratton nodded her head in agreement.

But Decker whispered, "You can't just slap a bandaid on it."

"We can slow it down," Bradley whispered. "Maybe the Reliance will change policy."

"Yeah, and maybe dogs will fly!" Hank laughed out.

"Fuck you, Hank," Jackson muttered under his breath.

"All of you calm down," Stratton ordered.

The priests bowed before them.

"Rise," Stratton said. "We have brought medicine for your illness."

"I knew the gods would save us," one of the priests said. Bradley assumed he was a big shot because he was wearing more of the gold and more actual clothing – long purple cotton robes with full sleeves tied with a wide red sash.

"In return we wish to speak to your King," Stratton said.

All the priests looked at her in disbelief.

"Is there a problem?" Stratton asked.

"No female may enter the holy places. So you may not enter either the Temple or the Palace. However if you wish to have the honor of sleeping with our God . . ."

"No . . . That's all right," Stratton said quickly. She turned to Bradley. "Briggs left out this little detail. Can you handle it?"

"I'll try," Bradley said.

"All right then, I'll just stay here and have dinner waiting for you boys when you get back."

Bradley smiled at the look on her face. She looked at him and shrugged as if to say that this had just gone onto the list of things that were no longer her problem, and started for the ship taking Decker with her. Probably more to keep him from saying or doing something to sabotage their mission than because she felt like she needed protection.

Bradley, Jackson and Hank followed the priests into the Palace. Red warning lights flashed as they walked down what had once been the main corridor of the ship, and warning sirens blared. The throne room turned out to be the ship's bridge. The huge observation window, which had a crack running through the full length of it, looked out over the city. The King sat in what had once been the Captain's chair. It was now strewn with small furs, lizard skins and bright colored fabrics. The room was decorated with strangely shaped sticks and dried plants hung in bundles from the ceiling.

The King/God, who had no hands, wore a loin-cloth made of reptile skin, a red shirt with a huge collar and equally huge puffy sleeves. The King was draped in even more of the tainted gold than the priests, so he was in far worse physical condition. This became even more evident when a dry racking cough echoed from his lungs. He covered his mouth with one of his stumps until the coughing spell ended.

Even a few years ago such exposure would have meant certain death, but with the new medications extracted from that hole Stasis, it wasn't too late to save even this man who had lost most of his hair and whose skin was covered in oozing sores. Of course all the medication would do was slow down the inevitable if they didn't remove the source of the radiation – namely the gold that all of these men were wearing in such abundance.

Bradley was glad when the sirens and warning lights were turned off. It was the sort of noise and light that put your teeth on edge when you had grown up in space because such things meant imminent disaster. Here they no doubt thought it was a way of greeting important guests.

The priest relayed the message Bradley had given him to the King, and the King looked with eager eyes at Bradley. Bradley walked forward and bowed before the King, then he stood up and held the pocket medic out before him. "My Captain sends medicine to help you with your illness." The King nodded and held out his arm, apparently not completely ignorant of the technology, and Bradley administered the drug to him.

"It will take time to work," Bradley said. He turned and handed the med kit to Jackson. "Inject the priests."

Jackson nodded and started injecting the priests who had lined up as instructed by the high priest. He hadn't finished injecting the forth one when twenty more came running in the room and lined up behind him.

"Why have you returned evil for good?" Bradley asked the King slowly.

"I do not understand," the King said.

"We have traded with you in good faith. Now you have blown up one of our transmat units and have severely damaged our space station," Bradley informed him.

"I have not heard of this. Nor was this action ordered by me." He coughed again then continued speaking. "I do not believe we have weapons that could harm you . . . Perhaps your own people have done this terrible thing. Or perhaps the machine has malfunctioned, as machines are prone to do. Perhaps you should have your priests look into the matter. Perhaps they should consult with your god."

Bradley did not believe the man was lying. He really didn't have any idea what Bradley was talking about, which since the incident had taken place roughly two hundred miles from here, and the planet had no form of telecommunications, was perfectly believable.

Bradley added that to the fact that The New Alliance had taken credit for the attack and came to the natural conclusion. Someone on the station really was a traitor to the Reliance. Someone – or more than one someone – was working with the New Alliance to try to stop the Reliance. Right now Bradley wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"We would like your permission to investigate this matter," Bradley said.

"Yes, of course," the King agreed graciously. "We must keep good relations between our two peoples so that both may prosper. We have done nothing wrong and have nothing to hide. If you find that one or more of my people is guilty of any criminal act against you, then you may punish them in whatever way is your custom."

We are the ones committing the crime, and I'm very sorry. Bradley waited for Jackson to finish inoculating the last of the priests.

He bowed to the King, and the King dipped his head to him, and then they left the throne room and headed back for the ship. His insides felt like they were on fire. How could he live with what he had just done? These people trusted the Reliance, and the Reliance was using and killing them on a grand scale. How could he walk away and never mention that it was the gold that was killing them? How could he leave them to die?

There was only one real answer – there was nothing he could do to stop it. The Reliance did what it wanted to do; it had no conscience. It didn't see the individual. It was too big, and too many lives were at stake. Isn't that what they had drilled into him at school? The Reliance sometimes did things that seemed wrong because the individual was incapable of understanding the mysterious ways in which the Reliance worked. The Reliance always worked for what was best for the masses, and so if you thought they were doing something evil, you must be wrong.

The Reliance had supposedly gotten rid of religion, but all it had done was make itself into a god. A god they followed as blindly as these people worshiped thermo generators. They didn't understand where the power came from, or how it worked, so instead of trying to find out they just said it was unexplainable and worshiped it. To go against the Reliance was to go against god. So just like these poor saps were wearing tainted gold to honor their gods, they were carrying out orders that they knew were wrong to honor theirs.

He almost doubled back more than once, but he had no right to make decisions for the others. Especially when Stratton was in charge, and he was acting in her stead.

"He says he had nothing to do with it and I believe him," Bradley said sitting beside Stratton as the others got in and the hatch closed. "He gave us the go ahead to investigate told us to punish the guilty party according to our customs."

"Those stupid fuckers," Hank laughed. "They're all eaten up with radiation sickness, and it never once dawns on them to take the damn gold off."

"Because they trust us," Decker said hotly. "They don't think we're trying to kill them. They aren't stupid; they're naive."

"Well, we'll fix that," Bradley said heavily.

"Don't think I'm not going to tell command how you wasted medical supplies on those savages," Hank said. "After all I need all the points I can rake up so that prick Briggs doesn't keep putting me on shit patrol."

"You're a stupid dick head," Decker spat at him.

"Let's just do this and get it over with," Stratton said taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before she finished talking. "It's going to take a long time for me to get the taste of this mission out of my mouth."

The craft took off and they headed for the village where the transport had been sabotaged.

"Who do you suppose did it?" Stratton asked Bradley.

"I don't know," Bradley said. "Could have been one of our people, working with the New Alliance. Let's not forget that they took credit for it, and that they know what's going on here. They certainly have a reason to try to stop our little mission. I still didn't have an accurate body count when we left the station. One or more of our people who came down here might have stayed on the planet and rigged up the whole thing. You got nothing but arms and legs and body slime, it's hard to tell who's there and who's not. It's awful easy to throw your ID into a pile. Someone working with the natives could have very easily over powered the patrol, especially if he had help from the New Alliance."

"And there's that missing ship," Jackson reminded them. "It might have been hijacked by the new Alliance and landed on the planet during a pulse. We'd be none the wiser. That ship could be here right now."

"He's right. Certainly those are all sound theories," Stratton said, the tone and dismissive quality of her voice led him to believe that she had a theory of her own and was basically dismissing theirs.

They were talking about the mechanics of the mission because most of them didn't really want to think about what they were really doing. Someone had defended these people, and now they were trying to find out who and get rid of them so that the Reliance could go right on raping them.

Stratton started trying to patch into command on the station to update the Captain on their progress. Instead of getting a channel out, Stratton wound up getting one in and the communicator started giving them the news of the day from the station. "Damned magnetic pulses," Stratton said trying to readjust.

"No wait, I want to hear the news," Bradley said appealingly and the others mumbled their agreement. News broadcasts however boring and repetitive were high entertainment on the station. Right now Bradley mostly wanted to know what was going on with the investigations.

It was the same old crap, except for detailed information on the repairs and when they expected to be up and fully functional again. They were saying it would take less than a week.

"Two at the very least," Bradley said.

The radio announcement droned on, till it came to the end. "And finally today twenty-three people were arrested and charged with conspiracy in connection with the recent sabotage of the transport bay and station. At the head of the conspiracy was corporal Harker number ZX5568723, who after one hour of questioning confessed to the crime and has been spaced for his part in it . . .."

"No!" Bradley yelled. He was at a complete loss, momentarily unable to even pull one clear thought out of his mind. Then he felt the pain of loss and an anger that was almost tangible and was building by the second. He didn't even notice that the ship had lurched violently to one side.

Hank said something, but he didn't really hear it, and then Stratton screamed something at Hank, which he also didn't comprehend. Then she was talking to him, but he was in a tunnel – a cone in which nothing and no one else existed. He could see Harker floating lifeless in space, could feel his pain, and suddenly he was hollering something without even being aware of doing so. He must have been unintelligible, because the next thing he heard was Stratton's voice asking gently.

"What, Sergeant?"

He knew then what he had said and he looked at her. "I said turn the ship around; we're going back," he ordered.

"Why?" Hank asked.

"Because we're going to tell those poor stupid fucks that the gold is killing them, that's why." It was Stratton who said it. Bradley stared at her dumbfounded for a minute and then nodded his head in agreement.

"Man, you can't do that shit," Hank said. He looked at Stratton. "Who's in charge here, lieutenant? You or this toilet cleaner?"

"I'm in charge," Stratton said and turned the ship around.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hank half screamed half laughed. "Have you all lost your tiny little minds? This is mutiny. The punishment for mutiny is death."

"Apparently the punishment for saying anything they don't like is death, and we've all done that," Stratton said. Bradley was surprised to see that she seemed almost as mad as he was.

"You . . . I won't let you two soft spots do this. You're endangering all of our lives. You have no right to do this."

There was a familiar popping noise accompanied by a strange whiff of ozone, and then the sound of something large hitting the floor of the ship with enough force to make it lurch.

Bradley turned quickly to see Hank laying on the floor with a nice little burned mark right between his eyes. Bradley looked up at Decker who was standing with his laser rifle in hand. The green light on the butt of it was glowing showing that it had just been fired and was now powering back up.

"He . . . He was starting to pull his weapon," Decker said by way of an explanation.

"He's the least of our problems," Stratton said. She turned to look at Bradley. "A dead crew man we can explain away easily, but if we actually go against the Reliance . . . Well, they'll kill us all. We go to the Capital and tell that primitive King that it's the gold that is killing them, if we warn them about what the Reliance is really doing here, there won't be any going back. Right now we can kick what's left of Hank out the hatch, let him splat on the ground for the local varmints to eat, and tell command he went AWOL. But if we go back to the Capital and talk to the natives, there won't be any going back to the Reliance. We'll be as good as dead."

"And if we go back we may be as good as dead anyway," Jackson said. "They picked up twenty-three people on that ship and accused them of conspiracy with the New Alliance. I don't think any of them are spies . . ."

"I know Harker wasn't," Bradley said. "He died because Briggs needed someone to blame, and dead men don't have any chance of proving you're wrong about them. This man was my friend, my best friend. I knew him. He was no traitor. He was a good man – a hard worker." He sniffed and dried the tears off his face quickly. "Briggs sent us down here in the hopes that we'd find out what he needs to know and get killed doing it. Between you and me, I think that if we do exactly what we're supposed to do here and go back up there and report to him, there's a good chance that he'll treat us just like he treated Harker."

"I'd rather die planet side than be spaced," Decker said. "And I sure as hell don't want to be party to what's going on here. I said that from the get go"

The three men looked at Stratton. She suddenly seemed interested only in the view out her windshield.

"Well, it's up to you," Bradley prompted when he got tired of waiting for her answer.

She turned to face him and said. "I'm flying towards the Capital, aren't I?"
 

 

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