Redliners(108)

"I figured that was it," Blohm said. He looked at the forest. "Well, shit. Look, Doc. There's two things. What's left isn't Mirica. But I don't want it to hurt. I don't want it to, you know, suffocate because it just got unplugged. Even though it's just a lump of meat. You understand?"

Ciler thought about the oath he swore when he became a doctor; and he thought about Hell. "I understand," he said softly.

"The other thing is," Blohm said. "I don't want to know about it. Not ever, not in any way."

"I understand," Ciler said.

Caius Blohm strode away without speaking or looking back.



The bulldozer that would be breaking trail the next morning was parked at what would be the head of the line of march. Blohm walked around it and leaned against the curve of the high steel blade. A veil of phosphorescent moss shimmered on the edge of the forest like a magenta dream.

The blade was cool. Blohm took his helmet off and turned to rest his forehead against the metal.

Seraphina Suares appeared at his side. She put an arm around the striker and began to weep quietly.

Blohm hugged the widow close. "There," he said, holding her. "There."

But he didn't shed a tear of his own.





Once More into the Breach


The lead bulldozer cut into the berm and shoved a section of the dirt and debris slantwise into the jungle. Farrell watched Blohm and four strikers under Verushnie step through the gap. The scout vanished into the jungle while the others waited for the bulldozer to begin its advance.

The column was still forming, though it was later in the morning than Farrell would have liked. Manager al-Ibrahimi and his monitors were redistributing loads and help for the injured among those still capable of marching on their own.

"The berm isn't really protection," Tamara Lundie said. Her voice had a distant quality that made Farrell look harder at her. Her face was drawn and her arms trembled even though she clasped them firmly to her abdomen.

"It won't keep the jungle out, that's true," Farrell said. "It's useful as a boundary for the civilians, though. Especially kids."

"We've learned fast," Lundie said. "Even the children. All of us who survived know about dangers we'd never before appreciated."

"Are you all right?" Farrell said abruptly. "Do you have a fever?"

Lundie squatted down, hugging herself harder. She closed, then reopened her eyes but they weren't focusing on her present surroundings. "The poison's affecting me," she said. "I'll be all right in a few minutes. I won't have to be carried if I can wait—"

She wobbled. She would have fallen over except that Farrell dropped into a squat beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. The sheeting was rolled in the first trailer; the bulldozed ground, though bare, wasn't safe to sit on.

"Six?" said Kristal's voice. "We're ready. Over."

"Four, start the march any time God gives the word," Farrell ordered. "Out."

He continued to support Tamara Lundie. Her whole body shuddered as if she was in the last stages of a deadly virus.

Nobody gave them more than a glance. Hundreds of civilians were half crippled or wearied to the edge of collapse even now at the start of the day's march. The strikers focused on the things that were likely to cause them problems: the jungle, the health of the colonists in the section they were responsible for today; injuries and sores where load-bearing equipment had worn through their skin in the humid warmth. Two more huddled figures, whatever their rank, were less important than personal survival.

"You were redlined, you know," Lundie said with her face buried against Farrell's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his stocky torso, holding on like a sailor to a stanchion as a wave surge drags his body toward the great gray ocean. "The whole of Strike Company C41 was redlined."

"I know that," Farrell said. He'd known it even as the boat lifted the screaming, weeping survivors from Active Cloak. Until he got the new orders, he'd hoped the authorities wouldn't look too closely. "They put us on colony security as a stand-down. They didn't know how dangerous Bezant was."

"No," Lundie said. "He chose BZ 459 because it was dangerous. It was his plan to reintegrate you into society by showing civilians what soldiers did for them. Making them understand how helpless they were except for your lives pledged for them. They would see, and you would know they saw."

"C41," Kristal's voice ordered. "We have clearance from the manager. Lead elements proceed. Remaining personnel follow and keep your sections closed up. Out."

"Regiment planned this?" Farrell said. The poison was making Lundie hallucinate. 701st Regimental Command was a number of things including uncaring, ponderous and inefficient, but it wasn't crazy; and its power was limited to the Strike Force. This involved civilians. "Can you stand up, Tamara? I see Dr. Ciler over there."