Peace dividend, p.1
Peace Dividend, page 1
Peace Dividend
Book Nine of Abner Fortis, ISMC
by
P. A. Piatt
PUBLISHED BY: Theogony Books
Copyright © 2023 P. A. Piatt
All Rights Reserved
* * * * *
Get the free Four Horsemen prelude story “Shattered Crucible”
and discover other Theogony Books titles at:
http://chriskennedypublishing.com/
* * * * *
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
* * * * *
Cover Design by Elartwyne Estole
* * * * *
Contents
DINLI
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
About the Author
Excerpt from Book One of The Last Marines:
Excerpt from Book One of the Chimera Company:
Excerpt from Book One of The Prince of Britannia Saga:
* * * * *
“All candid economists concede the role of military expenditures in sustaining the modern economy. Some have held that expenditures for civilian purposes would do as well. The transition would be rather easy… [But] there is the problem of magnitude. For the price of a smallish fleet of manned supersonic bombers, a modern mass transit system could be built in virtually every city large enough to have a serious bus line. What would be built then?”
John Kenneth Galbraith, The Age of Uncertainty
“Some will say that these initiatives call for a budget windfall for domestic programs, but the peace dividend I seek is not measured in dollars, but in greater security.”
President George H. W. Bush
“The West as a whole in the early 1990s became obsessed with a ‘peace dividend’ that would be spent over and over again on any number of soft-hearted and sometimes soft-headed causes. Politicians forgot that the only real peace dividend is peace.”
Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher
DINLI
DINLI has many meanings to a Space Marine. It is the unofficial motto of the International Space Marine Corps, and it stands for “Do It, Not Like It.”
Every Space Marine recruit has DINLI drilled into their head from the moment they arrive at basic training. Whatever they’re ordered to do, they don’t have to like it, they just have to do it. Crawl through stinking tidal mud? DINLI. Run countless miles with heavy packs? DINLI. Endure brutal punishment for minor mistakes? DINLI.
DINLI also refers to the illicit hootch the Space Marines brew wherever they deploy. From jungle planets like Pada-Pada, to the water-covered planets of the Felder Reach, and even on the barren, boulder-strewn deserts of Balfan-48. It might be a violation of Fleet Regulations to brew it, but every Marine drinks DINLI, from the lowest private to the most senior general.
DINLI is also the name of the ISMC mascot, a scowling bulldog with a cigar clamped between its massive jaws.
Finally, DINLI is a general-purpose expression about the grunt life. From announcing the birth of a new child to expressing disgust at receiving a freeze-dried ham and lima bean ration pack again, a Space Marine can expect one response from his comrades.
DINLI.
* * * * *
Chapter One
Fleet Captain Oleg Kochav sat in his chair and surveyed the control room of the flagship Colossus. The view didn’t thrill him like it used to, because he was alone with one other crewmember who manned both the propulsion controls and communications panel.
It is said the crew is the life’s blood of a ship. In her heyday, Colossus had eight watch standers in the control room to operate the sensors, weapons, communications, and other systems. Now, she was an empty shell of her former self on the final leg of her storied career, worthy only of a bare bones crew. Kochav loved command, but he hated the death watch his tour had become.
The watch stander interrupted his reverie. “Captain, we’re being hailed on the salvage orbit circuit.”
“The salvage orbit circuit? Who’s calling?”
“SOMO, sir.”
The Salvage Orbit Management Office, known as SOMO, was the UNT agency that controlled the salvage orbit around Terra Earth and her moon. As space travel and exploration became more common, the UNT created SOMO and developed a system to maintain unused or derelict vessels for sale, repair, or breaking. Some owners placed their vessels into salvage orbit with plans to bring them back into service at some future date.
When the UNT government ordered the drawdown of military forces, Fleet Command decided to place Colossus and her sister flagships into salvage orbit, along with many of their escorts. The drawdown created a headache for the ISMC leadership—how to dispose of the weapons and other gear carried by the thousands of former Space Marines. There were no facilities on Terra Earth to store such a massive arsenal, but the Corps was loath to destroy it all.
The solution was simple. Colossus rendezvoused with the six other ISMC flagships and transferred their weapons and gear to Colossus for storage. Now that the transfers were complete, they planned to depressurize Colossus to prevent oxidation of the weapons and gear. The Colossus would join her sister ships in salvage orbit and await reactivation. It was Captain Kochav’s sad duty to deliver the once-proud ship to her resting place.
Kochav dialed up the salvage order circuit at his console. “SOMO, this is Colossus.”
“This is your SOMO agent calling from the transport Lorelei. We are fifty kilometers dead ahead of you, standing by to transfer you and your crew to Terra Earth.”
The transmission puzzled Kochav. Colossus was still 30 hours from the approaches to Terra Earth and her scheduled rendezvous with SOMO.
“There must be some mistake,” Kochav said. “We aren’t due to transfer for almost a day and a half.”
“My apologies, Captain, but the latest schedule from the salvage master shows us assuming control of Colossus today to place her in deep orbit. With your permission, I will accompany my crew over on our shuttle, and we can discuss the matter face-to-face.”
“This is highly irregular. I need to contact Fleet Command.”
“As of this moment, you are no longer under Fleet Command,” the voice insisted. “Please be ready to receive our shuttle in one hour.”
Like many long-serving senior officers, Kochav was accustomed to things being just so, and any deviation from procedures caused him some distress. The demobilization of Fleet and ISMC forces, unthinkable a year ago, created a great deal of angst and confusion Fleet-wide, and it seemed like all the rules and traditions that had guided him for many years were broken. He keyed his mic with numb fingers.
“This is Colossus, roger. We will be ready to receive your shuttle.”
The communications and propulsion watch had turned around and witnessed the exchange, and she flashed him a big smile. The sooner they turned over Colossus, the sooner they returned home to Terra Earth.
A wave of sadness washed over Kochav as he contemplated his next steps. This was not what he imagined the end of his command tour would be like, but he understood the happiness of crewmembers like his watch stander. They had been away from home a long time and would be ecstatic to hear they would be relieved earlier than planned. He dialed up the ship’s intercom.
“This is the captain speaking. We have just been contacted by SOMO. There has been a change to the schedule, and we will be turning over Colossus today. A SOMO crew will arrive via shuttle in one hour to begin the turnover procedure.” He paused for a moment to give the crew time to react before he continued. “In thirty minutes, all department heads will muster with me in the control room and report the status of their departments. All hands are reminded to focus on the task at hand. Colossus is still our ship until the turnover process is complete, and we will operate her in a safe and orderly manner. That is all.”
* * *
An hour later, Kochav and his leadership team stood in the passageway outside the shuttle bay and wa ited while the bay repressurized.
The shuttle hatch opened, and a familiar man dressed in battle armor emerged, followed by two dozen armor-clad individuals armed with pulse pistols who surrounded Kochav and his officers.
“What is the meaning of this?” Kochav demanded. The leader stepped forward and Kochav recognized him as a fellow Fleet captain. “Sam? What are you doing?”
“We’re seizing your ship, my dear Ollie,” said Sam Nicaro, using Kochav’s nickname from their time together at Fleet Academy decades earlier.
“Seizing my ship? We’re turning her over to SOMO.”
Nicaro wagged a finger at Kochav. “You were turning her over to SOMO. Now you’re turning her over to us.”
A man with a severe crewcut that revealed a thick scar across his head motioned to the passageway with his pulse pistol. “All of you, go to your assigned stations. Control room, engineering control, and the armory. Disable exterior communications. If anyone resists, kill them. Collect all crew and secure them in Drop Ship Bay Six.”
Kochav stepped toward Nicaro. “This is outrageous! You can’t do this.”
The scarred man leveled his pulse pistol at Kochav’s face.
“We just did, Captain,” he said with a hard edge in his voice. “It will go better for you and your crew if you cooperate.”
“You’re a Fleet officer, Sam,” Kochav said as Nicaro and his men manhandled the Colossus officers toward the drop ship bays. “How can you engage in piracy?”
Nicaro pushed Kochav through the hatch into Drop Ship Bay Six. “I was a Fleet officer, Ollie. The Peace Party decided to reap my career as a peace dividend, and I became a free agent. You call this piracy. I call it a reallocation of military resources.”
For the next twenty minutes, Nicaro and his men searched for Colossus crewmembers and brought them to Drop Ship Bay Six. Zerec, the man with the scar, punched and kicked their captives as they arrived, and by the time the crew was rounded up, many had fresh bruises and split lips. Finally, Nicaro and a handful of his men returned to the bay and confronted Kochav and his crew.
“Is your entire crew accounted for, Captain?” he asked Kochav.
Kochav looked at the familiar faces surrounding him and shrugged. “It appears so.”
“Wrong answer.”
Two of Nicaro’s men seized a chief petty officer and dragged him to the front. Zerec pressed his pulse pistol to the man’s head.
“Is your entire crew accounted for?”
“Please. Give me a minute to get a full muster.”
Kochav’s crew fell into ranks and he took a headcount. One hundred and seventeen. “There are three missing,” he said.
The hatch banged open, and pirates dragged two dead crewmen in by their heels. Behind them, the young female petty officer who had been the propulsion and communications watch in the control room stumbled in and collapsed into the arms of a female lieutenant. She had a fresh black eye and disheveled hair, and she sobbed uncontrollably.
Kochav gasped in shock and anger, and several of his crew crowded forward. Zerec leered at the group as if daring them to make their move.
“It seems everyone is accounted for now, Captain,” Kochav said.
Nicaro, Zerec, and their men turned and exited the space without a word. The hatch slammed shut behind them.
The Colossus crew gathered around the injured woman.
“What are we going to do about this?” one of them demanded of Kochav.
“What can we do? We have no weapons, and they control the ship.”
“We have to fight back!”
A warning klaxon sounded and amber warning lights began to flash. The motors that controlled the massive external doors whined to life.
“My God! They’re de—”
His statement was cut off as the atmosphere inside the drop ship bay whooshed out through the open doors into the vacuum of space, along with Kochav and his crew.
* * *
Nicaro watched on a monitor in the control room as Kochav and his crew tumbled into space. The drop ship bay doors closed, and the warning lights went out.
“Inform Lorelei that we are setting a course for the Freedom Jump Gate,” he ordered. He looked at Zerec, who stood next to him in the control room. “Who assaulted that woman?”
Zerec smiled, and Nicaro felt a twinge of fear.
“Who cares? She’s gone now.”
“We’re not animals, Zerec.” He turned to his second in command, a narrow-faced former Fleet major named Elean Dietz. “Who did it?”
“I don’t know, sir,” he said. “I was searching the engineering spaces. I didn’t know anything had happened until they brought her to the drop ship bay.”
Nicaro slammed his hand on his console. “Fucking find out!” He pointed a finger in Dietz’s face. “I didn’t select you as my exec because you make excuses, Elean. I chose you because you get results. So get them.”
“Yes sir.”
Zerec chuckled and walked away.
Thirty minutes later, Dietz returned to the control room with two men. They stood in front of Nicaro with nervous, downcast looks. He recognized one of them as a Fleet petty officer from his last command. The other was a former Space Marine.
Petty Officer Wicht.
“What do you have to say for yourselves?”
They shifted nervously as they stared at the deck in silence.
“Look at me!”
The pair looked up, wide-eyed. Wicht looked like he was on the verge of tears.
“Well?”
“Captain, sir, we found her hiding behind the consoles, and she fought when we dragged her out. One thing led to another, and…” Wicht’s voice trailed away.
“And you raped her.” Nicaro’s accusation hung heavy in the air.
Wicht covered his face with his hands and sobbed, and he would have fallen to the deck if his companion hadn’t supported him.
“We are on a great undertaking to make a better future for ourselves, not to show how savage we can be,” Nicaro said. “I would have you flogged around the fleet if we were still serving.” He glared at the two men for a long moment while his mind raced.
Nicaro was in a difficult position. He needed all his former Fleet hands to crew Colossus on the journey to the Free Sector, but he also needed to keep Zerec’s former Space Marines under control. The good order and discipline of Fleet personnel and Space Marines were maintained by regulations and the consequences for violating them. Kochav had hit close to the truth when he accused Nicaro of piracy, and like pirates, the only thing that now kept the crew in line was fear of physical violence.
“This is the first and only warning to you and the rest of the crew. While you are on this ship, while you are under my command, you will not engage in such barbarism. If anything like this happens again, justice will be swift and severe. Do you understand?”
Wicht and his companion nodded.
“Exec, we have a long and perilous journey ahead of us. We can’t afford any more screwups. Now, get them out of my sight.”
Dietz escorted them out of the control room, and Nicaro stared at the navigation display, oblivious to the hypocrisy of his outrage at the rape while he himself had participated in the murder of over a hundred Fleet personnel.
“Are you finished with your show?” Zerec had observed the scene from across the control room and now walked over to Nicaro.
“What’s wrong with you, Zerec? That wasn’t a show. I can’t maintain discipline aboard my ship if your men act like animals.”
Zerec raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Your ship, Nicaro? This ship belongs to The Master.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Brother Nicaro, you are not in command of this mission. You are here to deliver this ship to The Master. You should keep that in mind.”
Zerec’s tone reverberated with malice that sent a shiver of fear down Nicaro’s spine. Zerec’s smile became a leer.
