Too Bright the Sun

Part 2

I had finished the fried so I continued sipping black coffee and put on the Trion head-band, activating it by flicking a tiny black switch next to my left temple. “Record,” I said. Most company commanders, at least in USAC, were obliged to record their activities for viewing by paid subscribers; part of a deal USAC had made with the Amtel branch of RA. Most hated doing it but at least you could choose what to record and I never gave the leaches anything of real interest. The recording was made by a cam in the comms centre so a leach couldn’t see what was on my heads-up.

“Download,” I said. A red light flickered once on the com centre. On the heads-up display in front of my left eye scrolled the first of two messages:

Contact: Jena Ω “Hi Jake. I know you’re trying to make me jealous by not replying to my last messages but then again you could just be under attack and I’m supposed to be the rational woman so I can deal with that. I might just be too busy this week to record anything for you too. My boss wants me to prepare a legal-briefing for our merger with a company which has connections with Riccard-Amtel! Can you believe it? Oh I know we try not to bring business into our relationship but I couldn’t help myself. The consequences could be so far-reaching. Promotion, relocation. Who knows? Umm. In answer to your question last time; okay I’ve held out for quite a while haven’t I but yes, women do feel that sometimes. I suppose... Tell me more about what you do... Not during the day (with the boyz and grrls) but after. Are you still writing? Chloe misses u too. xx” End.

Contact: Mary “Hi darling Mum here. How’s the (censored) winter? I know this will probably be censored but I don’t care. There’s lots to tell you but I'll keep it short for now. I’m just off to a local council meeting and later there's an art exhibition, Raccauld, which Justine and I are going to. Actually I’m meeting her for coffee at lunchtime. I think she wants to do some shopping. You know what she’s like. You cannot stop her once hubby has been paid. The Gazette had a nice photo of you the other day which I have stuck in the photo album. You’re a hero around here. The young boys talk of nothing else but the Iron Cross, I hear them when we go for picnics by the river. Oh yes and Robert O’Flannery has been elected Mayor again and has approved redevelopment of the area by the river. Office block I believe. Such a shame. One thing I was going to mention. A peculiar thing happened the other day...”

There was a loud banging on the cabin-door which made me flinch. “Stop record,” I said and ignored the rest of the message in the heads-up. I took two steps to the door and opened it. Sergeant Stone’s chiseled face, topped with a brown flat-top and with shaving foam around its cheeks, confronted me. He was dressed only from the waist down.

“Yes Sergeant?” I tried to sound patient.

“Sir. Seismic activity detected 700 yards east of perimeter. About 100 feet down.”

“Okay. Pick four men and get packed. I’ll be with you in five.”

“Sir? We can investigate if you want. You don’t need to come.”

“No but I want to come. I need the exercise.”

“Sir.” There was no salute. I was informal with my troops most of the time in combat situations, especially the officers and Stone in particular, who had been with me a long time.

***

“Lieutenant Osei, you have the comm.”

We were in the port airlock five minutes later, myself unshaven, all in full-combat gear and Sergeant Stone handed me a Trion X.50. As the red light moved to ‘Gravity-local,’ we all grabbed the hand rails. Gravity on Io was about one fifth of that on Earth or about the same as the Moon and without the S-Grav, the rocking motion of the lift as it took us down to the surface would throw us about. The hatch opened and I led the team out into the moonlit night. I could feel the crunch of sulphur and silicates under my boots but all I could hear was my breath and the steady beep, every two seconds of the uplink indicator. We used a two-step canter to move over the terrain in a defensive pattern of two columns of three, ten feet apart. It was enough distance to give covering fire in all directions without hitting each other if needed. What we were looking for was any sign of a drill rig at the indicated distance of 700 yards. The Ionian Militia 1 normally didn’t have the resources for automated rigs so there would be two or three poor bastards manning it, armed with A.M. 27s most probably. They would be targeting our S-Grav singularity, 1000 feet below the MCS – a known Mob. Command Station weakness. Our MCS was fitted with S-Grav Type 4 which was a lot more stable than the Type 3; its governor was accurate to 14-10 Volts, which it had to be to keep the singularity weak enough to be safe but strong enough to work effectively.

Micro-singularities were inherently unstable anyway for safety reasons but the governor itself was the only real vulnerability in the Type 4. By necessity it was located in the column only a few inches from the singularity and if it could be damaged by a small explosion, then there was a good chance the singularity would run away and if it grew rather than shrank, the result would be a massive explosion. Several MCSs had been knocked out this way.