Rubicon surveyors found the Dunhills when planning the refinery complex and starports that would define the struggle for T4. The planet was ideally positioned in the system for transit in and out of the system, depending on where in the universe one was bound. Starports on either pole of the planet allowed the vast quantities of materials pulled from the sector, mostly T1 and T2, to be transported back into corporate space.
Initially, the managers of Tardis were willing to allow the red listers to remain, so long as they paid for the privilege. With the pirates driven away or wiped out by cor-sec troopers such as Rhett himself, the Dunhills just started giving Rubicon the protection money and shipments of barion.
Should have known that wouldn’t last, Rhett thought. The transport shook again as the yellow warning lights switched on. Yellow meant they were two minutes out.
Rhett flexed his fist once more, unable to stop himself.
The massive refinery that was fed by the entire system was on T4, and now that the second starport was finally complete, the pipeline that would connect the refinery and the starport ran right through the Dunhills settlement.
It was a hard universe, but no one had it as tough as the poor souls on the Red List. They might have their freedom, but it was a desperate kind. Without a corporation to call their own they had no rights or support. If Rubicon decided to change the terms of their agreement, or break whatever treaty they wished, it was the corporation’s prerogative and there was nothing the red listers could do about it.
Sadly, the Dunhills appeared to think that they had some say in the matter, hence the likes of Rhett and his unit being deployed today.
“One minute!” said Proctor Usef as the cor-sec unit commander stood up from his seat, holding himself steady by grasping one of the many handholds hanging from the low ceiling. “Riot units have isolated most of the protestors, but things have gotten ugly since we left the motor pool. The Dunhills leaders clearly haven’t gotten the message and are encouraging their people to resist. No shots fired yet, but it’s only a matter of time if we don’t stomp this out. We’re going to give them a show of force so profound they’ll have no choice but to submit. Everybody switch on!”
Rhett and the rest of the unit unfastened their chair straps and got to their feet. The trooper grasped a handhold with his left hand as he cradled the grip of the needle rifle in his hand. He still didn’t feel right about their lack of non-lethal equipment, though the Proctor’s words settled his nerves slightly. Perhaps the sight of a veteran unit of armored cor-sec troopers would rattle these people and convince them to lay down arms.
Plenty of the Dunhills protesters out on the line had seen the heinous fighting between cor-sec and the pirate brigands who used to rule T4. Rhett himself had seen into the cave homes of the Dunhills after he and a group of troopers had pursued a pirate insurgent down there. The Dunhills didn’t have much, he knew that, but they’d have even less once Rubicon drove them out of their settlement. They were about to be forced off world, either aboard their own ships with their freedom intact or on detainment vessels bound for labor camps across the Rubicon corporate empire.
It wasn’t much of a choice, Rhett realized that, but he had a job to do, and if he didn’t do it someone else would. Security was a common profession in Rubicon, throughout corporate civilization actually and he would rather be here quelling a riot than working in a factory or code house. Cor-sec pay was good, and other than brawling with unruly labor gangs or the occasional combat raid, it wasn’t like he was in a full military profession.
As the warning light changed to red, indicating thirty seconds till deployment, Rhett was silently thankful that he’d never married, much less started a family. If he had one, he might feel guiltier about displacing these people. He already had a bad case of the nerves as it was without it being compounded by seeing the faces of his own family reflected back at him in those of the Dunhills.
“Fangs out, gentlemen,” said Proctor Usef just before the transport lurched to a halt, making all of the troopers stagger for a moment as they held themselves upright.
The hatch of the transport opened and the Proctor disembarked first, rapidly followed by the rest of the troopers. In seconds, a full thirty-man unit of armored security staffers bounded from the transport. They were all veterans. Without a word, they formed a tight V-shaped wedge.
Rhett flexed his fist as he found himself at the apex of the formation, the tip of the spear. This time his hand was filled with the grip of the needle rifle. He swung it up to make it level with his chest, tucking the short stock into the crook of his shoulder.
Rhett swept the area in front of him and peered down the iron sights of his weapon to assess the vivid display before him. The situation in Dunhill had deteriorated significantly just in the hour since the mission briefing. Hundreds of people were massed just outside the cave network, providing the troopers a keen reminder that a population census of the Dunhill settlement had never been done, nor had a full schematic of their settlement been created or demanded. Tardis managers simply had not cared enough to bother with such details, and now it was coming back to trouble them.
Several columns of cor-sec troopers in riot kit stood behind portable barricades. It was all they could do to keep the multitude of protestors at bay.
Nobody was openly assaulting the officers, but the pushing, shoving, and shouting of the mass of angry people made it clear that a violent outbreak was soon likely. Rhett could sympathize with management’s decision to escalate the situation by a show of force, but had he been in charge he would not have handled it the same way.
What, exactly, he would have done, he had no idea, but as the trooper held his needle rifle before him and watched the shock of their presence began to register on the faces of the dissident squatters, he knew it would still not have been this.
Four units of troopers advanced upon different spots in the line of protestors. Above them, several VTOLs circled the settlement, the mounted weapons of the fliers tracking targets as they moved.
“Deploy verbals and maintain pace!” ordered Proctor Usef through the unit com channel. “Push them back!”
Rhett keyed his helmet’s microphone with his chin, as did the others in his unit, and began to speak.
“Trespassers Disperse!” bellowed Rhett through his helmet’s speaker system. His voice and those of his fellow troopers boomed out over the discordant shouts of the protestors. “Fall back and return to your homes! Deadly force is authorized! Trespassers Disperse!”
Rhett repeated himself as he and the other troopers advanced past the Rubicon lines. The cor-sec barricades were moved out of the way of the V formation, leaving nothing between the menacing troopers and the agitators.
The crowd fell back in shock as cor-sec marched through the line and into protestor territory. Dunhills began falling over each other in their haste to move away from the troopers. For a few moments, it looked to Rhett as if management’s plan would work. Already hundreds of people were turning their backs on the troopers and fleeing down into the settlement, away from the guns and the noise of the microphones.
It almost worked.
Then shots rang out.
Rhett didn’t know who pulled the trigger first, only that it wasn’t him. His finger was flat against the body of the rifle, just above the trigger, of that he was certain.
Rhett was a veteran cor-sec trooper. Despite his case of nerves, he maintained trigger discipline. He was so focused on the verbals and the forward march that he did not notice the firefight until he was in the middle of it.