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“Under no circumstances, Major.”
“May I ask why, Chief Administrator?”
Movane’s face, never the most cheerful sight at any time, was even more pinched than the day before. His question only deepened the frown and tightened the lips. She remained silent for a few moments, expressionless eyes studying the Marine.
“I think my reasons should be obvious. Your people have absolutely no training underground, let alone in an airless environment. Ore extraction, under such circumstances, presents enough dangers without a bunch of untrained idlers getting underfoot. And it would cut into productivity.”
Captain Engstrom, in whose office they were, had remained silent from the start, preferring to let Movane do all the talking. Now, he spoke up in a regretful voice that sounded just a tad insincere to Delgado’s ears.
“I’m sorry, Major, but I must agree with Chief Administrator Movane. She’s right about the safety considerations, and I can’t imagine how the mine galleries would even figure in your defensive planning. Please consider the matter closed. Was there anything else?”
Delgado, who’d expected a refusal, shook his head. “No, sir.”
“In that case, you may return to your duties.”
The Marine stood, saluted, and turned on his heels. Fortunately, he had another course of action open to him before the sole remaining option meant ruffling a lot of feathers. He hoped that his first impression of the man had been right.
On his way back to the Marine barracks, Delgado left a message in the small Miner’s Union cubicle near the Reach. Limix was a team boss on the alpha shift and wouldn’t be off until sixteen hundred hours. Meanwhile, Delgado had work waiting for him in the command post.
**
Delgado and Hak entered a busy cafeteria for the midday meal and stood in line with the civilian workers as they picked up trays and served themselves at the food dispensers. Afterward, they found an empty corner table from which they could watch the room and sat.
Anything like normal conversation seemed impossible against the background noise of a hundred separate discussions, and they didn’t even try. At least the food was good, if plain. It wasn’t up to Fort Arnhem’s standards, of course, but the hydroponics farm provided fresh greens for everyone.
As before, the station’s civilian complement ignored the Marines, deeming them part of the background scenery, automatons who crisscrossed every module, walked up and down every staircase, and took every lift while others toiled. Only once in a while did they do more, and those incidents were over almost instantaneously. The hardship bonuses paid by Assenari were too generous for drunken shenanigans which might land someone on the blacklist and removed from Tyrell forever.
A kilometer beneath them, on Level Fourteen, the members of Team Four, alpha shift, were also enjoying their midday meal. Each Gallery had a portable, pressurized control module from where the operators oversaw the excavation droids and conveyor belts and fixed any mechanical issues that didn’t need intervention from the mine’s engineering team.
But they spent their shifts in pressure suits anyhow — with the helmet visor up for a modicum of comfort and so they could eat and drink. That way, if the control node lost integrity, they could button up in seconds and return to the station with their integral air reserves and rebreathers. But eight hours in a pressurized suit was a long time, and it was a relatively small, uncomfortable space for three adult humans wearing bulky gear.
The team leader finished his sandwich, downed half a thermos of coffee, and burped, then he leaned back against the bulkhead and looked at Harry after making sure the node’s automated voice recorder was off. Technically, he shouldn’t be capable of disabling it. Still, it was understood that sometimes people wanted a few minutes of privacy, and the operations center turned a blind eye to brief and infrequent unauthorized breaks.
“Tell me about those Marines again.”
“Something’s happening, Lyle. These guys differ from the previous batch or any rotation I’ve seen. Sure, they wear the insignia of the 42nd Marines, a regular line unit, but they remind me too much of the special operations guys I saw when I was in the Corps. They’re fitter, leaner, meaner, and their eyes miss nothing. Plus, they’re under a major instead of a captain. If that doesn’t tell us strange doings are afoot, I don’t know what else I can say.”
“But you’re working on nothing more than a gut feel.” Lyle Fournier sounded skeptical.
“When has my gut ever been wrong?”
Joey, the third member of Team Four, snorted derisively.
“Whenever you eat too much spicy food, my friend. Everyone in our block can smell the wrongness.”
Harry gave his colleague the rigid digit salute.
Joey blew a kiss at him. “Love you too, buddy.”
“Look,” Lyle said after downing the rest of his coffee, “it doesn’t matter what they are. There’s only so much any Marines can do around here besides busting heads when idiots drink too much and go stupid. No patrol ever left the habitat and entered the shafts. That old sourpuss Movane doesn’t want any Fleet idiots in the mine, and whatever she wants, Engstrom gives her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was running her own little racket, the way she acts. If it makes you happier, we’ll be more cautious for a while, but we won’t become rich by jumping at shadows. If the Fleet suspected anything, it would send military police, not special operations people. And we’re not even sure they’re anything more than regular jarheads who happen to look sharper than the usual Marines sent here. I, for one, am planning on a comfortable retirement running my own restaurant after a few more tours here, and I won’t let anything interfere. Capisce?”
They nodded at him one after the other. “Understood.”
“Alright then, back to work, guys.”
Although he appeared unconcerned in front of his cronies, Lyle Fournier was a worried man. He knew Harry from way back and trusted his gut instincts more than those of anyone else. Sure, these new Marines who took over the rotation earlier than usual might simply be here because of the rumors that one of the recon droids found something unusual. However, they could still ruin his plans if they were sharper than regular troopers.
Surely, they wouldn’t stumble on his operation and shutter it now. Only a few more shipments, and they would be home free while the penalty for losses was more than he cared to contemplate.
The rest of the shift went by quickly enough, but even Joey saw Lyle’s mind wasn’t on his work. While the former didn’t connect the lunchtime conversation with the team leader’s unaccustomed absent-mindedness, Harry caught on, and a worried Lyle was cause for concern. Harry knew things Joey didn’t. He’d met Jannika Hallikonnoen and knew what kind of hold she exerted on Lyle and their little money-making operation.