“It is a solid plan, Tillman, and I wish you the absolute best with it, but I can’t help you. I want to, I really do,” Samuel said as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat while also catching sight of Boss Marsters as the veteran platoon leader entered the cantina. “I was happy to wear the rig once, and I hope you can salvage some good out of Spencer’s passing, and all the rest of the footage, but I’m giving it back, and don’t ask me to wear it again.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and spoke without looking at her. “My family is waiting for me on Pier 16, and I’m no good to them locked up in the brig and stripped of my earnings. Thanks to the trade war declaration, I can’t even leave until either Helion or Grotto backs down, otherwise I’ll be categorized as a deserter and bond agents will drag me to a penal colony. I’m choosing to put my family before the corporation.”
“But your family is the corporation, it’s all part of the same interconnected socio-economic system,” Virginia fired back, not wanting to lose the momentum with Samuel that she seemed to think she’d gained. “With a synergy of union ideas and marine strength we can-”
Samuel cut her off. “I don’t want synergy. I want simple. I want the work of my hands and the rewards of the day. I want my family and to live my life without any person or institution telling me how it’s all going to be.” There was a growing edge to his voice, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Virginia. “I will finish this war, and then I am taking my family as far from corporate space as I can get.”
Virginia sat back with a defeated sigh, looking away from Samuel for a moment, taking in the sight of more marines trying to pack themselves into the cantina.
Samuel finished his drink, took a deep breath and placed a hand gently on Virginia’s shoulder.
“You have my word that nothing we’ve said will leave this table. I wish you all the luck in the verse; I just can’t take the risk with you.”
Boss Marsters caught sight of the pair and began making his way through the crowd towards them, with Lucinda Ulanti only a few steps behind him.
“You always did have a pretty black and white attitude, Prybar,” Virginia said with a grim smile as she shook off the disappointment and prepared for the arrival of the two squad leaders.
“Marines,” said Boss Marsters as he and Boss Ulanti joined Virginia and Samuel at the small table.
By the time the two leaders settled into their seats fresh drinks had arrived for Marsters, Ulanti, and Hyst.
With that many ranked marines at the table many onlookers had started to pay attention, and Samuel did have to begrudgingly admit that Virginia had a point about Tango Platoon’s reputation. They were the only unit to engage hostile elements, or suffer casualties during the day’s salvage mission, which no doubt only furthered the unit’s reputation. The crowd in the cantina was a testament to the mutual respect and outright curiosity that the other marines held for the Reapers of Tango Platoon. Everyone on board the tug knew that a founding veteran and a new, but distinguished marine had died out there today.
The sheer number of individuals present made Samuel wonder just how right Virginia might be, though he pushed the thought from his mind. He had been willing to use the vid rig for her once, and though he knew it was union related and had stupidly taken the risk based on their years of service together, he just couldn’t bring himself to take that risk again. He would do much for his comrades in arms, more for those who had been at his side since the founding, even though that was a steadily dwindling number of people.
The cliché did seem true, that retired Reapers only had ghosts for friends. As if the Boss had been reading his mind, Wynn caught Samuel’s eyes and nodded. Samuel nodded back, squared his shoulders and prepared himself for what was came next.
In the years that Samuel had served for Wynn Marsters the platoon leader had never once performed the early retirement ritual. Generally, that was something he pushed off on Boss Ulanti, or Boss Taggart in her time, even Boss Aiden. Samuel had always wondered about that peculiarity in the man, who was an otherwise staunch example of everything a pitiless and battle-hardened Reaper should be.
Samuel stood.
The hustle and bustle of the crowd came to a gradual halt and within a few moments everyone in the room was paying rapt attention to the standing squad leader.
“I speak for Tango Platoon,” Samuel said, raising his glass high. “Tonight, we drink to the early retirement of Claudius Jaeger and Spencer Green. They stood by our sides and paid the price so we didn’t have to.”
“This is the job,” resounded the voices of every marine in the room.
“One for the Stalker in the Dark,” whispered Boss Ulanti as she tipped a second glass over her shoulder.
4. SWAMP BASE
The rivers and lakes of algae soup that covered the surface guaranteed that the atmosphere was humid and sticky on this world.
Samuel sat astride one of the eighteen hastily constructed flat-bottom boats that skidded across the shallow waters, propelled by large electric fan blades mounted on the stern. Ninety marines seemed to Samuel like a large force to deploy for the purpose of taking a remote factory complex, considering what Tango Platoon had done on its own since his time in the Reaper corps. However, he knew that it was likely Reaper Command wanted to wrap this salvage up as quickly as possible so that the Baen tug could return to the main battle fleet.
In Samuel’s opinion, one shared by most of the other marines, Reaper Command had grown too fond of open war and perhaps had begun forgetting their place. The Reaper Corps was a salvage army, consisting of hardened manual labor specialists who also had military training. They were neither trained nor equipped for the kind of full-scale military operations being executed by the battle fleet. Reaper Command increasingly seemed to chafe against that reality, and pushed the marines closer and closer to the front lines.
Everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before the events of Tetra Prime were played out all over again, and the marines would be sent into the thick of real war alongside Grotto storm troopers and the elite warriors of the Merchants Militant. Even in Reaper Command there were those individuals who sought glory and riches outside their station, and would willingly sacrifice the lives of the marines in order to climb another rung in the corporate ladder.
There was little doubt in Samuel’s mind that Command wanted this operation wrapped up as soon as possible so they could get back into what they considered the real war. For his part, Samuel was actually looking forward to slinging his rifle and sparking a cutting torch, as he was making hazard wages either way and scrap metal typically didn’t shoot back.
The small planetary body, designated UK2060 was little more than a moon that moved in a high orbit around one of the dying suns that populated Ellisian space. While the main Grotto battle force engaged Helion armies in massive void and ground campaigns over control of the two beta class planets, the Baen Reaper tug had been sent to this distant body.
According to the shift manager’s briefing, long-range sensors had picked up what appeared to be mining activity on the surface. It had been noticed by both Helion and Grotto that only the tomb-worlds were plagued with the heavy atmospheric conditions that prevented remote scans of the surface, a fact which had heavily affected how the front line had structured itself. The overall stratagem of each corporation was to quarantine the tomb-worlds while active conquest of the other planets and satellites could continue.