Terminus (Fringe Worlds #1) (11 page)

“So it would seem,” Diviana said.

“Speaking of our mission,” Wayne said, leaning in conspiratorially, “isn’t anyone going to address the elephant in the room?”

His three companions looked at one another, exchanging silent glances, then back at him.

“Oh, come on!” Wayne cried. “Lieutenant Maker!
Madman
Maker!”

“What about him?” Fierce asked. “I’m genuinely in the dark, as I’ve never cared for military matters or kept abreast of them.”

“They say he killed his entire squad on his last mission,” Wayne said. “But not just that – the entire crew of the ship transporting him also died. They say he went crazy, did something during their last jump that basically wiped out every other living thing on their vessel. And that weird pet of his? Word throughout the Corps is that he smuggled it back illegally from a quarantined world a few years back. You can probably pick up something contagious just from being around that thing.”

Fierce chuckled at that, an almost frightening series of grunt-like noises. “I can almost assure you that isn’t the case. I’m a doctor and familiar enough with infectious disease protocols to know that the lieutenant’s ‘pet’ as you called it, wouldn’t be here, on a vital military installation, if it posed any kind of biological threat. And, if it were contagious in some way, I’m sure we’d know by now since – as you said – he brought it back years ago.”

“Be that as it may,” Wayne said, “aren’t you the least bit worried about serving under a commander whose last squad was completely wiped out?”

“Being a sole survivor,” Diviana said, “as I can attest, is not evidence that you did anything wrong or lack leadership qualities.”

“But still,” Wayne insisted, “you’ve got to be concerned on some level.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Loyola, apparently weary of the conversation, voiced her opinion.

“Let me enlighten you about something,” she said to Wayne. “That man you’re disparaging happens to be one of the most decorated Marines in the service. He’s led more men on more missions and had more successes than you’ve ever dreamed of. Even more, prior to his last mission, he had a stellar reputation and a well-documented habit of bringing back his men both alive and intact.

“In short, you’d do better to listen and learn all you can from Arrogant Maker, because what he has to impart may one day save your life. And, if nothing else, you’ll live out the rest of your days as a legend – one of the few Marines to have served under the infamous Madman Maker. As for me, I’m just thankful for the chance to be a real Marine again.”

Chapter 12

“Somebody has a fan,” Adames said with a smile, turning away from the holographic image of Loyola, who had just delivered an impassioned speech on behalf of Maker.

They were back in the offices they had occupied earlier, with Erlen dozing in a corner and Maker himself sitting once more behind a desk. He waved off Adames’ comment, and then muted the volume on the display, although he kept the image showcased.

“Well, what do you think?” Maker asked. Ordinarily, they wouldn’t have been spying – for lack of a better term – on their new recruits. Under normal circumstances, they would have tried to develop an understanding of their new unit organically, developing relationships with and an understanding of each individual in stages. However, they were pressed for time and needed to get an immediate idea of who these people were outside of what was in their files, as well as how they would get along.

Adames rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, let’s take a tally. We have a blind sharpshooter, a genetically engineered killing machine who refuses to fight, a mentally unstable psychic, and a dumpster-diving engineer who rigs booby-traps in his spare time. I’d say we hit the jackpot – and that’s before we even get to the fifth guy, who was a no-show.”

“Yes, you mentioned that,” Maker said, drumming his fingers on the desk. “He’s still in the barracks?”

“That’s what his new best buds say.”

“Well, we’ll deal with him shortly. As to these guys, let’s get them outfitted with gear. We’re off-planet in a few days.”

“Yeah, it’ll be like the Spaceship of Misfit Toys with this crew. And the Augman” – Adames pointed to the holographic image of the briefing room, where Fierce was now speaking – “is a mystery I’ll never be able to get my arms around. I mean, what’s he doing here?”

“I thought you were going to ask him.”

“I was, but I got distracted and then you showed up. But I promise you, it will be the first question I pose the next time I see him.”

Maker smiled. “So, you still haven’t figured it out yet.”

Adames looked confused. “Figured what out?”

“Well, Augmen in general aren’t just conscientious objectors. They rally for peace on all fronts.”

“Yeah, everybody knows that. They usually enter professions that promote universal harmony or some other crap like that – becoming doctors, goodwill ambassadors, tree huggers, etcetera.”

“Exactly. They typically become dedicated to a cause or a service – for example, medicine or the environment. But the object of their devotion doesn’t have to be an abstract concept. It can also be a person.”

“A person?” Adames repeated, somewhat surprised. Then it came to him. “Loyola?”

“Exactly. Our Augman was the doctor who treated her injuries. He was also instrumental in developing the technique and apparatus to let her see again. He left his practice and entered the military on condition that he be allowed to serve with her.”

“So he’s here because he’s committed to her.” Adames scratched his temple. “Do you think he’s in love with her?”

Maker shrugged. “Possibly. But would that be so strange? The law recognizes Augmen as human beings, despite their petri dish origins. They don’t typically marry non-Augmen, but it’s not unheard of. And at the moment, we have no idea of the depths of their relationship. We just know that where she goes, he goes.”

Adames shook his head in disbelief. “This entire setup gets weirder by the second. Tell me again why, in the name of all that’s holy, you would pick this particular crew when you could have a squad of decorated Marines under your command?”

Maker pondered the question for a moment before responding. “Because they’re like me – people that the military was ready to wash its hands of, but who still have something to contribute.”

“So,” Adames said, “this is about second chances.”

“Not just that. I didn’t simply want another group of skilled, qualified soldiers. I wanted a unit that felt the need to be more than just competent, that had a reason to go above and beyond. I wanted people with a grudge, people with a chip on their shoulders. People with a burning desire to succeed at whatever they were tasked with. People who had something to prove.”

“I see,” Adames said, nodding. “Does that include me?”

Maker laughed. “Ask me again after we finish this mission.”

Maker got up and headed towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Adames asked.

“We’re still short a man,” Maker said. “I’m going to find out what’s going on with our missing Marine.”

Chapter 13

Maker didn’t have any trouble finding his wayward Marine. The man was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the barracks when Maker entered, eyes closed, apparently meditating.

He was dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts. He had close-cropped blond hair and average, although not homely, features.

“Cano Snick,” Maker almost shouted, saying the man’s name as he closed the distance between them.

Snick’s eyes, so blue as to be almost violet, snapped open at the mention of his name. He came to his feet almost immediately, his body seeming to gracefully unfold rather than rise as he stood up. Maker noted that he was slightly shorter than average, but well-muscled without being bulky.

“You were AWOL this morning, Marine,” Maker continued, stopping a few feet from the man. “Care to explain why?”

Snick inclined his head slightly towards Maker before answering. “You are, I presume, the new commander?”

“
Your
new commanding officer, yes. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“I assumed it would be better for us to interact here, rather than in front of the others.”

“The others? You mean the other members of our unit?”

“Yes. They might have found it necessary to interfere with our interchange.”

“Interchange?” Maker was confused.

“In my previous unit, the other soldiers saw fit to interfere with the interchange between me and the captain in charge.”

“You mean they pulled you off your commanding officer after you jumped him.”

Snick shook his head in a disapproving manner. “That is a far from accurate description. I challenged him, and the outcome was favorable to me.”

“According to your file, you tried to kill him.”

“Again, that is a mischaracterization.”

“Regardless, it’s what got you sidelined from any other duty until I came along and put you on my team. I’m trying to give you a fresh start, and your first official act is to be insubordinate.”

“That was not my intent. However, I have reached the point where I can no longer take orders from questionable leadership.”

Maker shook his head. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

“Then I shall endeavor to explain,” Snick said. “On my homeworld, we pride ourselves on our martial skills. Mastering hand-to-hand combat is considered an essential element of manhood. In fact, the most capable among us in the martial arts are those who become our leaders – first in our families, then our communities, and then our cities and so on.”

Maker nodded in understanding. Humanity was a greatly fractured society and contained a lot of fringe elements. Compared to some other things Maker had experienced, electing leaders based on their martial arts skills seemed rather tame.

“In many instances, advancing requires that you challenge someone for their position,” Snick continued.

“You mean fight them,” Maker intuited.

“Yes. It is how we prove our worth.”

“So what happens to the poor slob who’s terrible at martial arts and never wins a fight?”

“It seldom happens that anyone goes a lifetime without at least one victory, but it has been known to happen. Such an individual would ordinarily live a life of great shame. The expectation is that they would go off-world, to some place where their stigma would be more bearable.”

“Is that what happened to you? You joined the military to escape the alleged disgrace of some loss?”

A look of incredible fury passed across Snick’s face, and his fist curled into tight balls so forcefully that Maker almost expected to see them bleed. But a second later the feeling obviously passed, as Snick’s features returned to normal.

“That is not an unwarranted assumption, but it is incorrect,” Snick said. “My father was a local leader – what you might call a mayor – with responsibility for a small city. Although young, I had risen up through the ranks, but to go any higher, I would have had to challenge him.”

“What, fight your own father?!” Maker asked incredulously. “That’s crazy!”

“Not on my planet. In fact, it’s rather common, although fathers will often abdicate rather than fight their own children. Still, I didn’t want to do it – especially since, in my family, no one ever steps down willingly. But if I didn’t even issue the challenge…”

Snick let the sentence linger, but Maker picked up on his meaning. “If you didn’t at least try, you’d be ashamed and disgraced.”

Snick nodded. “So I joined the Marines. Enlisting kept me from having to fight my father, while at the same time allowing me to sidestep any humiliation in that I was becoming a soldier to improve my martial skills. That was something the people on my planet could understand.”

“So how does that lead to you fighting your commanding officer?”

“I did not have a full understanding of how men become officers and leaders in the military. It is based less on skill and experience and centered more on training – having attended the proper classes and such. It amazes me that one can be appointed an officer with no practical background in terms of combat or battle.”

“It does sound a little counterintuitive when you put it that way.”

“On my world, only those whose mettle has been tested are deemed fit to lead. Those who are suspect are challenged. The end result is that you typically are only subordinate to someone who is a better combatant than you.”

“I think I’ve got a fair understanding now of what led to the ‘interchange’ between you and your last commander.”

“Then you also understand why I was not present earlier today when my new unit was ordered to assemble.”

“Yes. You’ll only follow a commander who can best you in combat. Someone who’s proved himself your superior.”

Snick smiled and inclined his head towards Maker. “So you really do understand.” He reached down towards his waist, crossing his arms. He gripped the t-shirt, then pulled it up over his head.

“If that’s the way it has to be,” Maker said with a sigh. A moment later, he had stripped down to the waist as well. He slid into a fighting stance, facing Snick.

“Let’s dance,” Maker said.