As promised, Take 2. I left out the attepted flashback, and used the "present day" squad.
At 08:10, the Ready Room of Company E, 3rd Law Enforcement Brigade was humming with early morning talk amongst the five squads present. The fifteen Rangers, the colloquial term for the 3rd Brigade, were wearing short black jackets over rust-red fitted jumpsuits. As they waited for their assignments, they sat about drinking coffee or tea, and snacking on various sweet-rolls or croissants left over from breakfast. Four squads had been dispatched so far, and the remainder was ready to be doing something. The squad leaders all sat around a larger table near the Dispatch Sergeant’s desk, who kept glancing at his tablet from time to time.
Diakite and Brown saw their squad leader get up in response to a call from the Dispatch Sergeant. After talking with the sergeant, Bennett pressed his thumb to the tablet. Diakite and Brown looked at each other, then Diakite downed the last of her coffee as Brown stuffed the rest of his sweet roll in his mouth. He, too, downed his tea and took their dishes to the dishwasher.
Bennett walked toward his squad. His 181 cm, 105 kg bulk looked clumsy yet somehow, he guided his way past heaps of “go-bags” and feet sticking out in the way. Diakite and Brown had their gear up before the Senior Corporal got there.
Diakite stated “I have your bag and Chad has your exo-suit. We’re ready.”
Bennett just grunted and taking the go-bag from her, slung it over his shoulder. Reaching for his exo-suit, he rasped “Let’s go, Rangers!” and lead the way to the hallway door.
Five minutes later, they were buttoning up the hatch on the Martian Surface Excursion Vehicle as the underground garage lift took them to ground level, Diakite taking the controls. Exiting Company E’s Post, they got on Olga Parovina Boulevard and turned east, away from Tikhonravov Colony. After ten minutes had passed, they reached the “Y” where Cassini Road split left, and Syrtis Road kept straight east. The MSXV250 turned north and accelerated to 100 kph.
Bennett, in his gravelly voice, spoke “I’ve loaded the GPS coordinates, so you can bring that up, Diakite.” She merely grunted in acknowledgement as she triggered the GPS heads-up display. “Brown, get into your exo-suit and take over from Diakite.”
Brown’s melodious baritone voice came from the right-hand seat “Right. So what is the mission, Corporal?”
“Standard wellness check. You know, make sure the farmer and his family are still okay,” came Bennett’s reply. “Lessee. Hydroponics farm started by the Williams parents more than 25 years ago. Both Michael, the brother, and Amber, the sister, had gone to U of Mars, with the sister staying there. Two years ago, the parents retired to Marsport – naturally! – and set up a family corporation with shares owned by them and the siblings. Michael runs the farm. He and his wife, Sara, have two boys: David, age 6, and Ronnie, age 3. No one else lives on the farm, except temp workers at harvest time. Closest neighbor is five klicks north with another one seven klicks south. Lots of financial stuff here, but who gives a sh*t.”
Just over an hour later, Brown stepped on the brakes as a farm with its radio tower and a road came up on the left.
Bennett, now sitting in the right hand seat, rasped, “Ain’t it. Wrong side of the road.” He pointed at the GPS, showing their destination still ahead and to the right. “Git going and keep it below 60. That must be the southern neighbor.”
Brown grudgingly complied. Another radio tower was seen to the right, but no cutoff road yet.
When the radio tower was abreast of them, Brown asked, “Where the bloody hell is the road?”
“Keep your shirt on. It’ll be along any minute now.”
The van kept creeping past the radio tower.
Finally, Brown snarled “f*ck this!” and yanked the wheel right, and accelerated.
The van quickly reached the side berm and bounced up, then nosed over, with the ground falling off making the drop more like 40 centimeters than 15.
Bennett had time for one word “Asshole!”.
Behind Bennett, an incoherent yell came as Diakite was thrown on her ass. She had been right behind Bennett.
The van hit. Hard. Brown had the van still doing at least 50. The shelves behind them were losing items in a loud racket. Brown finally obeyed the physical demands of his seat restraints bruising his body and slowed to a gentle 35 kph or so. The van settled into a gentle rocking motion as he drove cross-country and started up a 50 meter ridge.
Grabbing his seat belt, Bennett muttered “¡Pinche pendejo!”, his gutter Spanish from his South Texas youth never forgotten.
Diakite, on her knees, simply held onto her seat with both hands while glaring at Brown.
“Damn it! Stop at the top, Brown,” Bennett hollered, his head still aching from the ceiling. “I’m thinkin’ you’ve screwed us.”
A few moments later, Brown slowed then gently stopped the van. As he applied the parking brake, Bennett nodded his head forward at the three klick crater before them. The radio tower was behind the opposite rim.
“Dumb-ass. Now look there,” Bennett pointed to the left. The cutoff road branched off into the larger semi-buried crater locals called Dobrynskoye. The road was a klick and a half farther. “Get back there and start pickin’ up your mess.”
Managing to scowl and look sheepish at the same time, Brown silently moved to the back and started cleaning up. Bennett took the driver’s seat and Diakite moved up beside him. Bennett began backing the van down the small rim they had climbed. Then, he drove along the side of Cassini Road until he got to the cutoff. The rim of Dobrynskoye was worn down there, and the cutoff lead past rubble into the crater’s bed. Bennett stopped as soon as the farmhouse was visible. He and Diakite looked the farm over.
Diakite said “Looks like six partially underground fields, twenty by 100 meters.”
Bennett grunted noncommittally, noticing movement out past the fields, stretching further into the crater bed. Focusing there, he soon made out the robots feeding the water separator. Then, he focused back on the farmhouse. He said, “The lights are on, but I don’t see any movement.”
That did not really concern him. Farmers on Mars rarely had to go Outside with underground fields and tunnels connecting them. “Typical farmhouse: oversize garage, large first floor, with two smaller floors above.”
Diakite noted, “Satellite dish, two line-of-sight dishes. I guess they are pointed to the neighbors.”
Bennett replied, “Yeah. Looks like it.”
Diakite spoke up again, “The garage looks open, Bennett.”
He zoomed in on the garage. “Nah, it’s just shadows.” Bennett sighed, and thought for a moment. “Brown, you done back there?”
“Yes. All picked up and restored to their rightful places,” Brown said coming up behind Bennett.
“All right, let’s go on in,” Bennett said. He closed up on the farmhouse.
“Brown, get the recorders going, and start scanning radio frequencies. Let’s see if they are broadcasting anything. Diakite, with me. Make the squad push on channel 5.”
They all buttoned up their helmets and Diakite started draining the atmosphere. Bennett grabbed a couple of stunners, handing one to Diakite. “Chad, when I call you, bring a blaster.”
“Yes, Corporal.”
Diakite and Bennett walked up to the front airlock with twin hatches. Looking at her, he waved her to the main hatch and stepped back. She began pushing the alarm button and banging on the hatch.
Bennett switched to the primary hailing frequency and began calling “Williams Homestead, this is the Rangers. Please open your main hatch.”
After three attempts, Brown interrupted, “Corporal, I’m picking up something you need to hear. Channel 27.”
Both of the Rangers outside quit trying to get a response from the farmhouse and switched to channel 27. Terrible screams filled their helmets. Horrifying, bloodcurdling, gut wrenching screams going up and down in volume with pauses for air.
“sh*t!” Bennett said. “Squad push! Brown, you recording, right?”
“Right!”
“Ok, I’m calling a life-threatening situation. Forcing entry. Brown, get over here with the blaster.”
Their helmets continued to play the wailing from channel 27, as Bennett stepped up to the security code panel and punched in the day’s emergency code. His stunner was drawn, as was Diakite’s. Before the hatch opened, Brown was up with them, his blaster leveled at the waist.
At 08:10, the Ready Room of Company E, 3rd Law Enforcement Brigade was humming with early morning talk amongst the five squads present. The fifteen Rangers, the colloquial term for the 3rd Brigade, were wearing short black jackets over rust-red fitted jumpsuits. As they waited for their assignments, they sat about drinking coffee or tea, and snacking on various sweet-rolls or croissants left over from breakfast. Four squads had been dispatched so far, and the remainder was ready to be doing something. The squad leaders all sat around a larger table near the Dispatch Sergeant’s desk, who kept glancing at his tablet from time to time.
Diakite and Brown saw their squad leader get up in response to a call from the Dispatch Sergeant. After talking with the sergeant, Bennett pressed his thumb to the tablet. Diakite and Brown looked at each other, then Diakite downed the last of her coffee as Brown stuffed the rest of his sweet roll in his mouth. He, too, downed his tea and took their dishes to the dishwasher.
Bennett walked toward his squad. His 181 cm, 105 kg bulk looked clumsy yet somehow, he guided his way past heaps of “go-bags” and feet sticking out in the way. Diakite and Brown had their gear up before the Senior Corporal got there.
Diakite stated “I have your bag and Chad has your exo-suit. We’re ready.”
Bennett just grunted and taking the go-bag from her, slung it over his shoulder. Reaching for his exo-suit, he rasped “Let’s go, Rangers!” and lead the way to the hallway door.
Five minutes later, they were buttoning up the hatch on the Martian Surface Excursion Vehicle as the underground garage lift took them to ground level, Diakite taking the controls. Exiting Company E’s Post, they got on Olga Parovina Boulevard and turned east, away from Tikhonravov Colony. After ten minutes had passed, they reached the “Y” where Cassini Road split left, and Syrtis Road kept straight east. The MSXV250 turned north and accelerated to 100 kph.
Bennett, in his gravelly voice, spoke “I’ve loaded the GPS coordinates, so you can bring that up, Diakite.” She merely grunted in acknowledgement as she triggered the GPS heads-up display. “Brown, get into your exo-suit and take over from Diakite.”
Brown’s melodious baritone voice came from the right-hand seat “Right. So what is the mission, Corporal?”
“Standard wellness check. You know, make sure the farmer and his family are still okay,” came Bennett’s reply. “Lessee. Hydroponics farm started by the Williams parents more than 25 years ago. Both Michael, the brother, and Amber, the sister, had gone to U of Mars, with the sister staying there. Two years ago, the parents retired to Marsport – naturally! – and set up a family corporation with shares owned by them and the siblings. Michael runs the farm. He and his wife, Sara, have two boys: David, age 6, and Ronnie, age 3. No one else lives on the farm, except temp workers at harvest time. Closest neighbor is five klicks north with another one seven klicks south. Lots of financial stuff here, but who gives a sh*t.”
Just over an hour later, Brown stepped on the brakes as a farm with its radio tower and a road came up on the left.
Bennett, now sitting in the right hand seat, rasped, “Ain’t it. Wrong side of the road.” He pointed at the GPS, showing their destination still ahead and to the right. “Git going and keep it below 60. That must be the southern neighbor.”
Brown grudgingly complied. Another radio tower was seen to the right, but no cutoff road yet.
When the radio tower was abreast of them, Brown asked, “Where the bloody hell is the road?”
“Keep your shirt on. It’ll be along any minute now.”
The van kept creeping past the radio tower.
Finally, Brown snarled “f*ck this!” and yanked the wheel right, and accelerated.
The van quickly reached the side berm and bounced up, then nosed over, with the ground falling off making the drop more like 40 centimeters than 15.
Bennett had time for one word “Asshole!”.
Behind Bennett, an incoherent yell came as Diakite was thrown on her ass. She had been right behind Bennett.
The van hit. Hard. Brown had the van still doing at least 50. The shelves behind them were losing items in a loud racket. Brown finally obeyed the physical demands of his seat restraints bruising his body and slowed to a gentle 35 kph or so. The van settled into a gentle rocking motion as he drove cross-country and started up a 50 meter ridge.
Grabbing his seat belt, Bennett muttered “¡Pinche pendejo!”, his gutter Spanish from his South Texas youth never forgotten.
Diakite, on her knees, simply held onto her seat with both hands while glaring at Brown.
“Damn it! Stop at the top, Brown,” Bennett hollered, his head still aching from the ceiling. “I’m thinkin’ you’ve screwed us.”
A few moments later, Brown slowed then gently stopped the van. As he applied the parking brake, Bennett nodded his head forward at the three klick crater before them. The radio tower was behind the opposite rim.
“Dumb-ass. Now look there,” Bennett pointed to the left. The cutoff road branched off into the larger semi-buried crater locals called Dobrynskoye. The road was a klick and a half farther. “Get back there and start pickin’ up your mess.”
Managing to scowl and look sheepish at the same time, Brown silently moved to the back and started cleaning up. Bennett took the driver’s seat and Diakite moved up beside him. Bennett began backing the van down the small rim they had climbed. Then, he drove along the side of Cassini Road until he got to the cutoff. The rim of Dobrynskoye was worn down there, and the cutoff lead past rubble into the crater’s bed. Bennett stopped as soon as the farmhouse was visible. He and Diakite looked the farm over.
Diakite said “Looks like six partially underground fields, twenty by 100 meters.”
Bennett grunted noncommittally, noticing movement out past the fields, stretching further into the crater bed. Focusing there, he soon made out the robots feeding the water separator. Then, he focused back on the farmhouse. He said, “The lights are on, but I don’t see any movement.”
That did not really concern him. Farmers on Mars rarely had to go Outside with underground fields and tunnels connecting them. “Typical farmhouse: oversize garage, large first floor, with two smaller floors above.”
Diakite noted, “Satellite dish, two line-of-sight dishes. I guess they are pointed to the neighbors.”
Bennett replied, “Yeah. Looks like it.”
Diakite spoke up again, “The garage looks open, Bennett.”
He zoomed in on the garage. “Nah, it’s just shadows.” Bennett sighed, and thought for a moment. “Brown, you done back there?”
“Yes. All picked up and restored to their rightful places,” Brown said coming up behind Bennett.
“All right, let’s go on in,” Bennett said. He closed up on the farmhouse.
“Brown, get the recorders going, and start scanning radio frequencies. Let’s see if they are broadcasting anything. Diakite, with me. Make the squad push on channel 5.”
They all buttoned up their helmets and Diakite started draining the atmosphere. Bennett grabbed a couple of stunners, handing one to Diakite. “Chad, when I call you, bring a blaster.”
“Yes, Corporal.”
Diakite and Bennett walked up to the front airlock with twin hatches. Looking at her, he waved her to the main hatch and stepped back. She began pushing the alarm button and banging on the hatch.
Bennett switched to the primary hailing frequency and began calling “Williams Homestead, this is the Rangers. Please open your main hatch.”
After three attempts, Brown interrupted, “Corporal, I’m picking up something you need to hear. Channel 27.”
Both of the Rangers outside quit trying to get a response from the farmhouse and switched to channel 27. Terrible screams filled their helmets. Horrifying, bloodcurdling, gut wrenching screams going up and down in volume with pauses for air.
“sh*t!” Bennett said. “Squad push! Brown, you recording, right?”
“Right!”
“Ok, I’m calling a life-threatening situation. Forcing entry. Brown, get over here with the blaster.”
Their helmets continued to play the wailing from channel 27, as Bennett stepped up to the security code panel and punched in the day’s emergency code. His stunner was drawn, as was Diakite’s. Before the hatch opened, Brown was up with them, his blaster leveled at the waist.
