''If they feel safe sleeping just down the hall from the Colonel, do you think two boot ensigns could get them excited?''
''What kind of Navy is this?''
''I thought you'd recognize it, Ensign Lien. This is the Navy your preachers talked about. This is hell's Navy.'' Kris stopped by the locker to collect her M-6. She had to remind Tom how to lock and load his weapon. Together, rifles slung over their shoulders muzzle down to keep the rain out, they walked the two blocks to the warehouse. Actually several warehouses, all surrounded by barbed wire. A civilian guard stood at the gate, his rifle also muzzle down against the beating rain.
''Who are you?'' greeted them.
''Ensigns Longknife and Lien. I'm in charge of the warehouse facilities here in Port Athens. I've come to inspect them.''
''You can't. It's dark.''
''So I noticed,'' Kris said, taking in the warehouses. The area was bathed in light; several trucks were backed up to the loading docks. ''Looks well enough lit to me.''
''Listen, I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing here, but you don't belong here. Get lost while you can, or I'll…'' The rifle started coming Kris's way.
Kris doubted she could outrun a bullet, but at the moment, the rifle looked within reach. Without thought, Kris grabbed for the muzzle. Her hand wrapping around the cold gun metal sent a shock through her. You're crazy, woman. Still, it seemed like the kind of thing Trouble would do. The guard looked just as shocked to see her hand on his gun as she was. He struggled for a second, but she yanked the weapon from his grasp and brought the butt up under his chin.
''Looks like we need to have a little talk,'' Kris growled. Up close, under the lights, Kris got her first good look at the guard. A kid of maybe thirteen, he stared through wide, round eyes at his rifle in her hands.
''What's going on here?'' Kris demanded. Running her brother Honovi's campaign, she'd walked into some messes.
Course, most of Honovi's campaign crew didn't carry guns and looked a lot less hungry. For an answer, the kid started screaming out names. Kris brought the butt up hard on the erstwhile guard's jaw, just like they did in the vids, and to her surprise, his eyes rolled back and he slumped into a mud puddle. However, heads popped out of trucks and loading dock doors. Kris had the attention of a good twenty or thirty folks. Time for a campaign speech.
''You are trespassing on government property,'' she shouted—and ducked as a rifle came up. The round was high, but Kris felt a distinct lack of cover. Ducking, she brought her own M-6 up and snapped off a three-round burst, likewise over her targets' heads. People piled from the warehouses into trucks. Motors came to life.
''Is there any other way out of this warehouse?'' Tom asked from his fighting position at the bottom of the largest pothole available.
''I don't think so.''
''So they'll be leaving right over us?'' he squeaked.
''Oh God,'' Kris breathed. She need not have worried.
Trucks turned away from her and, with a few more shots over her head, smashed a hole in the fence opposite the formally agreed-upon exit. Kris stood only after the last truck was long gone. She glanced down at the kid.
''What are you going to do?'' the terrified youngster asked.
''Send a message,'' Kris said, using the muzzle of her M-6 to signal the boy to stand. He looked painfully thin. His clothes needed patching. ''Who hired you?''
''I'm not gunna tell you nothin', lady.''
''What's your pay for this?''
''A sack of rice. My mom, brothers, sister, they're hungry.''
''Come by the warehouse tomorrow. You work for me, I'll see your people get fed. And tell the folks you were working for that if they come back here tomorrow, I'll see what kind of jobs I can find for them. They come back tomorrow night, there'll be armed marines walking the perimeter. Tell them there's a new broom in the warehouse. They can change and eat, or try to do it the old way and starve.''
The kid's face changed as she spoke. Terror drained out. Dismay and shock were there for a while, along with a large dash of doubt. But he was nodding his head as she finished. He started backing away, careful like. Kris watched until he disappeared into the dark.
''What do we do now?'' Tom asked.
''Well, unless you want to spend the rest of tonight walking fence, I say we go back to our rooms and get some sleep. I strongly suspect tomorrow is going to be a bitch of a day.''
''But the fence, it's wide open.''
''So I noticed. And likely to stay that way until we get it patched. Kind of inviting to anyone who wants to wander in. Hungry women, kids, anyone at all. Check me out on this, Tommy. We are here to feed people, right?''
''Right.''
''Well, if a few people want to help me in the distribution of the food, that's fine by me.''
''Then why did you shoot at those trucks?''
''Because they had guns. How much of that food do you think they were planning on sharing?''
''Right,'' he snorted. ''Count on a politician to care more about how they do it than what they do.''
Kris thought she was just being practical. With a shrug, she turned and headed back to the main compound, now shouldering two rifles. ''What else can you do, Tommy? Nine times out of ten, perspective has more to do with the final result than anything you do. Perspective…and getting some results.''
At the base, Kris paused in the rain. The Colonel's window was still lit, the only light showing in the Admin building. ''What is it with him?'' Tommy asked, shaking his head.
''There was trouble on a planet, Darkunder,'' Kris said. ''Farmers didn't think they were getting fair trade for their crops. Happens every once in a while. Hancock led a battalion of marines dispatched to keep order. Some reports say he was too friendly with the money interests. Others say he just had a bunch of battle-sharp troops. Anyway, standard crowd control methods didn't seem to be working, and somebody thought machine guns would be better. Lots of recriminations. Hancock was brought up on charges, but the court-martial found him not guilty.''
''So he is that Hancock. Yeah, even on Santa Maria we heard about him. Media about went ballistic. How could the man be found not guilty when a hundred unarmed farmers died?''
''You know many farmers on Santa Maria?'' Kris asked.
''A few.''
''I know a few generals. They felt Hancock did his job. He stopped a bunch of anarchists from murdering, raping, and pillaging in the streets.''
''You agree with them?''
''No, but I understand them. I also wonder if the Navy had sent two or three battalions to Darkunder if the crowd wouldn't have seen the wisdom of going home early before anything got out of hand. Anyway, Hancock was exonerated by the court, but you can see what kind of assignment he drew next.''
''Yeah, but I don't understand it.''
''Brass won't hang him because the civilians want him hung. But they don't want any other officer making the mistake of thinking they can get by with that kind of failure. Since he didn't do the honorable thing and quit, he's here having his nose rubbed in the fact that he's a failure.''
Tom glanced around at the compound. ''Does look a mess.''
''And I suspect it will only get worse. When I was in college, I read an essay on leadership by Grampa Trouble. He had a lot to say, but the thing that struck me was his idea that leadership depended on belief, maybe even illusion.''
''Belief? Illusion?'' Tom didn't sound like he was buying. ''As the commander, you have to believe that you are the best person to lead, that you can get the mission done with fewer casualties, less grief, better than anyone else can. And your troops have to believe the same. Even if it isn't so, you all have to buy into the illusion that it is.''
Tom shook his head. ''No illusions here.''
''Right,'' Kris agreed. ''And that, more than the rain, is making this place hell.''
''What are we going to do?''