Fool's Gold: Carson Lyle's War - Part One, page 8
Lyle swiveled his chair around to face Kagan directly. "What I did? Did you just say that with a straight face?" Lyle was genuinely angry.
Kagan straightened up in his seat, asserting himself as a mountain of a man again. "I said they were unhappy, but not anything about any consequences. Your ship. You were at the helm. Regardless of what or why - you did this."
That made Lyle even angrier. It sure seemed like Kagan just threw him under the proverbial bus. Anger filtered in, further coloring his opinion of the men that escaped El Dorado with him. He remembered they were among the rogues that turned their backs on their brothers in the Authority Military Corps. There was a war that devastated the entire territory because of them. Visions of the destruction to Inner Territory filled a mind that was already clouded by a hate that hadn't swelled up to this degree in years.
"I don't give two shits about whether or not the locals are happy with me," Lyle said. "I've just about lost everything because if this damn job. If we'd have just glassed the entire region from the start, I guess I wouldn't have been here to make the locals 'unhappy'."
"Did he say 'we'?" Said Dex.
Lyle couldn't maintain control any longer. In his head, logic screamed for him stand down but his heart would not listen. All he could think about was the large piles of smoking ash that used to be the buildings that stood at Wagner. Sarah was somewhere in that ash. Maybe these men didn't have anything to do with that attack. It was likely they didn't. But they were here, in arms reach for Lyle to clamp his hands around a neck and choke the life out of someone that could have been involved. He could finally feed the hunger for revenge that had been boiling inside him for years.
Lyle started to unstrap himself from his seat.
"I wouldn't do that," Kagan said.
Dex and Varga drew their sidearms. Kagan waved them off without taking his eyes off of Lyle and started removing his own seat restraints.
"I know a lot of you haulers are ex-military. What corps were you with?" Kagan said.
Lyle finished unstrapping his restraints and floated, in zero G, out of his seat and near a wall. "Doesn't matter!" He kicked his legs behind him and pressed against the wall, launching his body at Kagan. As he did, he reared his right arm back, fist clenched, and unloaded with everything he had. The blow was perfectly timed with his push off the wall.
His right fist came across the side of Kagan's head, making it snap to the big man's right, at the neck. The force of the blow, caused Lyle to careen sideways into the opposite wall.
Dex and Varga started to unstrap.
Kagan looked at Lyle with fire in his eyes. He got a firm grasp on the arms of his seat.
Lyle managed to regain control of his flailing body by grasping hand holds on the wall. He worked to square himself against the wall. When he launched himself again, he was going to draw blood with his next hit. In a single, swift motion, Lyle pulled his feet underneath him and pushed off the wall again, shooting for the big man clutching his seat. Then, for a fraction of a second, he saw the soles of his boots at face level. Lyle's head snapped upwards. He recognized the ceiling right before his face smashed squarely into it.
Lyle was spinning in the control cabin. He couldn't get his bearings. The pain, the taste of blood in his mouth, the site of red streaks of blood hanging in front of him with every rotation of his body. His inner eye refused to compensate for the drastic shifts in motion. Nausea hit him almost as hard has Kagan had. Unable to contain himself any longer, Lyle wretched and vomited. His rotation caused him to draw a long streak of puke in the air that flew outward. He could hear the Dex and Varga gag and the stream hit them where they sat.
His vision started to clear, slightly, just in time to see a large shadow approach. His spin suddenly stopped as he felt a very large hand clamp around his neck. Lyle gagged and gasped for breath.
He could barely make out the words spoken to him: "I should kill you. No one would care."
The grip was comparable to the Agent's.
Lyle hit at Kagan's hand to get him to release. He hit hard on the first two strikes – they did no good. Then it got harder and harder for him to raise his fist, soon he couldn't even maintain a fist.
For Lyle, the sight of Kagan's piercing glare, the muscles tensing in his neck with the continued squeeze of his hand, all began to fall out of focus. For the second time in eighteen hours, Lyle Law felt life leaving his body and Kagan gave no sign that he was going to let go.
"That's it! Break his frackin' neck!" Dex yelled.
"Do it, Kagan!" Said Varga.
Kagan reached up with his free hand and pushed off the wall to turned himself and Lyle around. He pushed Lyle, by the neck, into the seat he had been sitting in. "Strap him in," Kagan said, breathing heavily.
Dex and Varga did so but did nothing to hide their disappointment. Kagan gracefully pulled himself into the command chair, fastened the seat belt, and took a deep breath.
His partners finished strapping themselves back in. Dex said, "What's with that? Why are we bringing him back?"
There was a long pause. Kagan said, without looking back, "The Colonel will want him for something."
Chapter 19
Outer Rim Territory
Camp Neptune - Former Mech Corps Training Base
"Hey! Wake up!"
The voice sounded muffled like someone was yelling through a pillow.
"Wake up!"
Carson Lyle forced his eyes open. But opening his eyes was only one part of the equation that added up to being able to see. The light wasn't blinding, but it was more than enough to skew his focus. He judged the largest shadow, in front of him, had to have been the one talking.
The shadow moved toward him. Pain shot from the left side of his face and down his neck in three sharp waves. Someone was patting him on the side of his face.
"Come on. Focus on my voice."
Lyle raised his head up. He could feel it was unsteady. The shadow started to take some shape and the voice got clearer.
"That's it...Now you're coming around...Let the Colonel know."
The beatings Lyle had taken in the last day, were taking their toll. Even with his injuries being treated before the agents cut him loose, Lyle's body still needed time to properly recuperate and it wasn't getting it. But Lyle was still himself.
"Who's...next?"
Lyle heard a couple of chuckles.
"I'm...I'm serious."
"He's got some fire, I'll give him that," another voice said.
"He's got a death wish."
Lyle knew that voice.
"L-Kagan? Get your ass over...here!"
Lyle looked around the room. He still couldn't make out details, but he saw three shadows and one was significantly larger than the rest.
Gotcha, you son of a... "Bitch! You're a little...bitch, Kagan!" He tried to stand, but he could barely get his rear off of the chair he was in.
He heard a door open, and a fourth shadow entered the room. Lyle could hear Kagan and the new addition conferring quietly. "You know it's rude to talk about someone when they're in the room."
The fourth shadow moved toward him. "What's your name, soldier?"
For Lyle, all of the talking and trying to focus on his surroundings was starting to pay off and he could almost make out faces. At least now he could tell which blur was talking to him.
"I'm not a soldier."
"Don't give me that crap, son," the shadow said. "You all but blabbed it out right before Kagan, here, took you to school and the shrapnel the med scans found in your right leg says otherwise. Now...what's your name and rank?"
"Carson Lyle, civilian hauler."
"Do you take me for some sort of wet-behind-the-ears scrub, son?"
Lyle laughed. "Ask me that again when I can see you clearly, and I'll let you know."
"I'm not in any kind of mood for jokes and you shouldn't be either. First, you let the Authority impound your ship with my cargo. Then, during the course of getting your ship and cargo back so you could deliver on your end of the contract, you break our jump gate by making the transition to jump space at over a thousand kilometers per second with missiles in tow? It's a wonder you didn't get yourself or my assets killed."
Lyle protested. "I don't think we need a recap but since you brought it up, if I didn't do what I did we would have been hit jump space already dead. All I kept hearing from them was 'it's all in the preparation'. Well someone didn't prepare for the border patrol ships. And now my ship can't even make a jump because I was helping your ass-sets get home to mama. You got your cargo - cargo that nearly got me thrown in jail – but you got it in hand. So else do you want from me?"
Lyle's vision was almost back to normal. He could make out a uniform on the man he was talking to. Stripes on the upperpart of the sleeve indicated a Full Colonel and the man carried himself as such – no slouch in the back, hands clasped behind him, and standing above Lyle, looking down his nose at him.
"You can start by telling me who you really are. And we know you are not some simple freight hauler, let me make that clear."
Lyle thought for a moment. As a Colonel, this man would have had access to the official records, not the public version. Maybe Lyle could come clean? Their mutual hate for the Authority might make it possible for him to get a fair shake for the first time. No. Truth or not, there's still too much bad blood. Maybe the Colonel would understand, but there were too many trigger happy soldiers with guns around here that probably still held a grudge.
He didn't answer.
The Colonel pulled over a nearby chair, spun it around backward in front of Lyle and sat with his arms crossed on the back of the chair.
Lyle finally got his first solid look at the Colonel. He had the grizzled look of a battle-hardened veteran that never turned away from a fight. Scars on his face framed a piercing glare that gave the impression of eyes that had seen more hell than any one man should have to. The scars continued up into his scalp that was only slightly obscured by his crew-cut salt and pepper hair. The creases in his fatigues were perfect. His black boots shined like mirrors. He was a perfect specimen of a soldier and a soldier's discipline, not unlike his own Colonel during the war. May that bastard rot in hell.
Lyle hated him already.
"You've got some explaining to do, son."
"Such as what...sir?"
The Colonel didn't react to Lyle's disrespect. "I'd like an explanation as to why, after being caught red-handed with that cargo, having your ship formally impounded, and all the evidence in the world to charge you, The Authority…agents, no less…just let you walk back on the street?
Lyle was getting tired of the constant questions and a little honesty here might buy him some time to figure out what his next steps should be.
He took a deep breath.
"I don't know. They wanted me to get on the inside, here, and help them figure out what you're up to. I told them to 'cram it up their ass'." His stomach twisted into nervous knots wondering if telling the Colonel about that was a good idea. Best case scenario; The Colonel makes him take a long walk out a short airlock.
"These agents," the Colonel said, "They played a good cop – bad cop routine with you? Did they call themselves One and Two?"
Lyle's eyes went wide with genuine surprise. How does he know that?
"It was, wasn't it? You don't have to worry. If that other short dipshit hauler would have been the one to bring the cargo, he wouldn't have made it through the gate."
"You...you knew?"
"Yeah," Kagan said. "It's...uh...all in the preparation." He chuckled.
Lyle was shocked. It's not often anyone stays ahead of Authority Intel. "So what now?"
The Colonel stood up and pushed the chair aside. "Well, like I said, you don't have anything to worry about. I may not know who you really are, but I know Carson Lyle doesn't have any loyalty to The Authority. I doubt I can trust you, but I know you're not going to spy for those two freaks. But there is still the matter of the gate."
Lyle gave him a questioning look.
"The treaty limits the trade that goes on between us, out here, and the inner territories, for essentials and such."
"Now," Kagan said, "There won't be any for a month. There is the hub gate, but this time of year, our trade partners are too far out of position in the planetary orbits for it to be practical. We'll have to rely on the handful of ships that can jump the tramlines without a gate. That's going to put a pinch on the food supply out here, territory-wide."
Lyle took another deep breath. "I'm sorry about that, but it was out of my hands. I-"
The Colonel held up a dismissive hand. "I know, I know." He started to pace in front of Lyle slowly. "It's a cold, hard life here in the asteroids. The civilian population, here, doesn't live high on the hog like the inner worlds. That was kind of the problem in the first place, as you might recall. The philosophy, here, is everything is one for one. You need repairs to your ship, we need repairs to the gate."
Lyle laughed and said sarcastically, "I don't know how to fix a jump gate."
"Agreed. But you will have to earn your keep while you're here, and whatever you do, it'll have to be something more than just useful."
Lyle shrugged. "I'm pretty good with a torch. Did a lot of the work on the mods to my ship myself."
The Colonel shook his head. "Look, we know you were military. We know this."
"But—"
"I just about don't care who you used to be, but I need manpower—"
"Whoa! Hold on there," Lyle said, protesting with his hands. "I'm not here to join your war or whatever it is you're going to do!"
"Shut it, son! You owe us some service time for getting you out of there! I'm not saying you're going to fight a war for us, but from what my guys, here, tell me, you seem exceptionally well trained; zero-G combat, piloting skills, etcetera. That's what's useful to me right now. What was your job for the Authority Military Corps?"
Lyle sat, thinking about what to do next. They had him in a corner. Would he be helping them get ready to invade the inner territory? Like it or not, it was his home. With everything else that happened in the last war, he couldn't live with himself if it happened again. He just couldn't. On the other hand, working with them would give him time to find the man that attacked Wagner. It's a chance at the closure he needed for almost a decade.
"Now," the Colonel said, "What was your job?"
Lyle took a deep breath. This is for you, Sarah. "Mech Driver."
The Colonel's smile was almost devilish. "That is outstanding. When was the last time you slept?"
"You mean by choice? I don't even know."
Out of the corner of his eye, Lyle saw a Corporal step inside the door and whisper something to Kagan, who acknowledged with a curt nod. He stepped toward the Colonel.
"Rumlow's waiting in your office with the latest update."
"Got it. Meet me there." Colonel Mann turned back to Lyle. "Corporal, outside, will take you to your quarters. Get some rack time and come see me at my office section D-23."
Lyle sighed. "Fine, thanks."
He watched Kagan and Colonel exit the room and turn left. Dex and Varga went right. He took a minute to replay the last few minutes in his mind and something got his attention. This was a military base, with military regs, and Colonel Mann seemed to be as much 'by the book' as any officer he could remember. Yet the three mountains didn't salute him. Didn't even call him 'Sir'. Not once. It was very strange that Kagan was the point of contact between that Corporal and the Colonel, as well. If they aren't military, then what are they? What were they before the war?
Chapter 20
After being taken to his quarters, which would not be described as 'spacious', Lyle found he wasn't able to follow Colonel Mann's advice and get some rest. He'd pay for it later, he knew, but he had to see his ship. He had to see how bad the damage actually was.
To his surprise, he was able to leave his quarters without an escort. While he did have a visitor's badge clipped to his jacket, that didn't dissuade the questioning looks from those he passed as he went. He was extremely rough, in appearance, compared to everyone else and looked as far out of place as one could. Unshaven, clothes haggard, and walking with a limp, he imagined he looked the stereotypical part most had in their minds about a hauler. Looking like this, he wasn't going change anyone's opinion. But then again, he wasn't there to be an ambassador for his profession either.
That's not to say they didn't take any precautions. While he was out cold, after his fight with Kagan, just about everything useful had been taken from him. His sidearm, his backup, his knife, even his chop, had all been taken. The chop bothered him most of all. It's what kept him legal as a hauler, not that his legal status was what it had been just a few days ago. But he'd make that the first thing that he asked to get back.
From memory, he made his way to the main cargo bay. He hoped he hadn't been too obvious about knowing where to go. He'd even asked for directions twice, for appearance, and got insight as to how haulers were thought of, in the Outer Rim, when those people purposely gave him the wrong directions.
The Majestic, with the cargo containers, was too large for the internal docking bay. So it had to be moored outside the base in the vacuum. There was a multitude of activity throughout the bay. Forklifts and other power equipment were moving about swiftly and efficiently. The sounds of machinery and hard work echoed throughout the bay. He saw he was getting glances from the dock jockeys that were tending to their duties. He made his way across the bay toward the airlock at the far wall.
There was a large group working with heavy power equipment unloading one of the cargo containers from his ship. He stopped for just a minute, hoping to satisfy his curiosity over what he was actually carrying.
A forklift drove into the container. There were some banging and creaking sounds. He could hear the forklift's engine rev up, then it emerged from the container with a covered pallet on the forks. Lyle could tell it was extremely heavy and possibly very important by the way the driver was taking his time with it. A power core, maybe? That didn't make him feel any better. If a core's containment even cracked during all of the bumping and banging the ship took, they all would have been incinerated in the blink of an eye. Typically, dock jockeys were all about production; unload fast now…unloading right was subjective. But they were definitely being uncharacteristically cautious.
