Seconds later the technician was inside Fort Howe, where he made straight for the barracks in which the first squad, STM platoon, 321st Colonial Rangers Battalion was quartered. Though not a member of the outfit himself, Feek felt a natural bond with the men and women who were slated to wear his creations. And the squad had adopted Feek as one of their own. Like them, he had left his family behind in order to fight—in his own way—for the cause. But right now, he had even more important matters to attend to.
Having arrived in front of the building, Feek pulled the door open, pounded up a flight of stairs, and went looking for Raynor. Because even though Tychus was bigger and had more stripes on his arms, Raynor was generally the man with a plan. And given the kind of trouble Zander and Ward had gotten themselves into, it was going to take one helluva plan to get them out.
Raynor was dreaming a good dream when someone shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes, saw Feek, and closed them again. “Go away… . We have two days off and I plan to spend both of them in bed.”
“You can’t,” Feek insisted. “Zander and Ward are in trouble. You need to get them out.”
Raynor swore, sat up, and swung his feet over onto the cold floor. It was early, and the entire platoon had the weekend off, so just about everyone was still in bed. Except for Zander and Ward, that is. Their racks were empty and neat enough to pass an inspection. Raynor yawned. “Where are they? In the brig?”
“No,” Feek replied urgently. “They’re almost twenty miles northwest of here, unless the bandits took them somewhere else, and I wouldn’t know—”
“Wait—bandits?” Raynor demanded incredulously, suddenly alert. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“It all started a couple of weeks ago,” Feek explained patiently. “Suddenly Zander had lots of money. I asked him where it came from, but he wouldn’t say.”
Raynor knew the source but saw no reason to explain. He trusted Feek, but the fewer people who knew about the theft the better. “So?” he asked. “Where do the bandits come in?”
“Zander bought a lot of food with the money and hired a truck,” Feek responded.
Raynor groaned and held up a hand. “Don’t tell me… . Let me guess. He loaded the food onto the truck and headed for some refugee camp or other.”
“That’s right,” Feek agreed. “Ward and I agreed to go with him and provide security in return for a couple of beers. But somewhere along the line word of the shipment must have leaked out— because we were only about halfway there when we ran into a Confederate checkpoint—”
“—except it wasn’t a Confederate checkpoint,” Raynor finished for him. “It was a roadblock put in place by the bandits.”
“Right again,” Feek conceded. “So they took all of the food, plus Zander and Ward. I managed to slip away.” He indicated his small stature. “I had to hitchhike back—but I came as quickly as I could.”
Raynor felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. “Thanks, Hiram.” He rubbed his eyes and held his hand there for a few seconds, deep in thought. Finally he lifted his head. “Okay, roust Harnack, Kydd, and Doc. But don’t bother the rest of the platoon. Understood?”
Feek nodded. “What about Tychus?”
“I’ll take care of Tychus.”
“How?” Feek asked. “I mean, no offense, Jim,” he added, “but Tychus isn’t known for random acts of philanthropy.”
“These people are bandits, right? So they have loot,” Raynor responded. “That’ll get his attention. Plus, don’t underestimate Tychus. He may look hard—but he has a heart of gold.”
When Feek smiled, his mustache went up and sideways at the same time. “And a liver of gold, lungs of gold, and kidneys of gold,” he responded.
Raynor forced a chuckle. “Yeah, something like that… .” He patted Feek on the shoulder approvingly. “We’re going to need a vehicle.”
Feek nodded. He had the truck that was used to ferry the Thunderstrike armor around and run errands. “I’ll supply that.”
“Good,” Raynor said. “It’s nice to know that we won’t have to steal one.”
The better part of an hour was required to get everyone up and off base where Feek was waiting to pick them up. The civilian was driving, Doc was riding shotgun, and Tychus, Raynor, Harnack, and Kydd were sitting in the back of the truck, sorting through the weapons that Feek had hidden there prior to leaving base. They had absolutely no idea where their friends were being held. But Raynor had a plan.
The single cargo light was on, but most of the illumination was coming in through the open roof vent. “This is farm country for the most part,” Raynor said, shifting position so Harnack, Kydd, and Tychus could see him, “and I know something about farming. This area might look empty, like nobody’s around, but believe me, there are eyes everywhere. So the locals know where the bandits are, and are either afraid of reprisals, or related to them! So they aren’t going to talk. Not to the authorities, anyway. But if we can find the right person and make it worth their while, we might get a lead.”
“Or we could take someone aside, kick his ass, and choke the location out of him,” Harnack suggested hopefully.
“We’ll use that as the backup plan,” Raynor replied agreeably. “I told Feek to stop in a little town called Finner’s Crossing. Odds are they have a pub there—that seems like a good place to start.”
“And have a beer,” Tychus put in. The truth was that he figured both Zander and Ward were dead. But he wasn’t about to say that to Raynor, especially in light of Omer’s recent death. Plus, it was to his benefit to hold the squad together. “A few brews and this trip will actually seem worthwhile.”
“Ignore Sergeant Sunshine,” Raynor advised as he shifted his gaze from Harnack to Kydd. “Kidnappings have been common around here ever since the wars started and the economy tanked. Some people will make money any way they can. Odds are the bandits are hoping that someone will come along and pay a price for our friends.”
“Our idiots is more like it,” Tychus said sourly. “You give them more money than any private has a right to and what do they do with it? They buy food and then give it away! Now that’s stupid.”
“Getting kidnapped sucks,” Kydd mused aloud. “Look where it got me: I got drugged by some hooker and now I’m stuck with you jerk weeds for God knows how long.”
A palpable silence filled the truck as everyone turned to look at the blank-faced sniper. Several seconds passed before Kydd erupted into boisterous laughter, and the rest of the crew followed suit.
Tychus shook his head in wonderment. “Look at Kydd, talkin’ like he’s one of us grunts and not some frou frou Old Family prick. The military’s done you good, boy.”
The small door that provided access to the cargo compartment from the cab was open, so Doc had been able to listen in. And she knew that if her squad mates had large sums of money there had to be a reason. That was the sort of information Vanderspool would want to know about.
It was too early in the day for a dose of crab, especially if some sort of fight was in the offing, but the stimpack was legal, and would help tide her over. The device made a gentle hissing sound as she pressed it against the back of her neck.
NEAR THE TOWN OF FINNER’S CROSSING, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II
Finner’s Crossing was five miles short of the spot where the food shipment had been hijacked. Rather than roll into the center of town where the vehicle would almost certainly attract attention, Raynor told Feek to park on the outskirts of the community next to a fueling station.
Then, after a good deal of argument from Harnack, it was agreed that Raynor and Tychus would walk into town while the rest stayed back to guard the truck. “We’ll bring you something to eat,” Raynor promised. “And remember, two of you should be awake at all times. That includes you, Hank.”