Sean-Michael Argo - Hard Cargo

“I am sorry about Braden. I know the man who issued the order. He will not rest until this matter is resolved, there’s no other way,” said Samuel, the years of war and toil suddenly feeling heavy upon his shoulders. “Better the recovery agents today than some merc squad tomorrow, and the longer I’m here the more tempted your own people will be to make a move.”

“You know an Anointed Actuary?” asked Narek, seemingly oblivious to Samuel’s implied suggestion that the former battle trooper would betray his captain’s orders and make a run at the bounty himself. “And he knows you?”

“It’s been a strange journey getting here,” shrugged Samuel, doing his best not to think about the bodies of friends and loved ones lost along the way.

“Goddamn Tango Platoon,” growled Narek as he shook his head, though the smile on his face was genuine.

The captain’s comms lit up, and Samuel could hear Meridian’s voice on the other end.

It was time.

“Let’s go get your boy back, Samuel,” said Captain Dar as he gestured to Narek to escort the marine out of the room, but then put a hand on Samuel’s shoulder to stop him long enough for the captain to cut away the zip ties.

Hota 12 was a cold and rugged world, ill-suited to colonization, and with no natural resources beyond the slabs of rock that comprised the majority of the planet surface. On the long-range scanners the planet appeared to be covered in endless snow storms, though upon a second sweep Meridian realized that it wasn’t snow, but salt. Braden would have noticed right away, though he was now just another frozen corpse jettisoned into space by the janitorial staff aboard Dagda Station. The distant dwarf star that gave the planet what meager illumination it had did little to warm the world.

A remote planet without utility to any corporate interests and far too inhospitable for even the desperate folk on the Red List. Perfect for conducting an exchange that was best-kept secret.

Meridian piloted the Halo to the agreed rendezvous point, struggling against the salt gusts that battered against the hull of the ship. Samuel stood in the cargo bay, flanked on either side by Garn and Narek. Both mercs were in full combat kit, and Samuel was fully aware that they were just as likely to shoot him as they were the Grotto agents if something went badly. No self-respecting mercenary could allow someone else to collect a paycheck for a prize that so many on their side had already bled for.

Samuel had no illusions that he was either leaving Hota 12 alive and in the custody of the Grotto agents or dead with his corpse in storage aboard the Rig Halo . Captain Dar would not stop the mercs from doing so, as he had to maintain control by not appearing to be overly weak and sentimental. His troubled relationship, or lack thereof, with Sura Hyst, had done enough damage to his steely reputation as it was.

The Halo touched down, and the disembarking lights went green. Captain Dar opened the hatch and immediately the salt began to swirl and collect at the edges of the hatch.

It had been nearly eighteen hours since the fight and their first contact with the Grotto agents and Sura was suffering badly. Samuel had arranged for the agents to provide the captain with additional medical supplies to extend Sura’s timeline and give her some hope of surviving the journey back into corporate space.

He wanted to say goodbye, for he did love her, even if the last few years had gone sour. He wanted her to be happy, to be free, and as these thoughts went through his mind Samuel realized that his desires had remained unchanged since the first day she told him she was pregnant. Happiness and freedom for his family. That was why he’d fought and salvaged his way from one end of the universe to the other, to parts beyond and parts in between. His goals had never changed, even if everything else had.

It was some small comfort, a tiny warmth against the cold of Hota 12 as the group of men marched through salt drifts towards the rally point. After nearly ten minutes of trudging over rocks, they saw several dark shapes through the white blur of the storm. One of the figures ignited their orange body lights, and shine off the armor, made them something of a beacon in the salt.

“Hyst,” said Narek suddenly, and after he had the marine’s attention he tapped his mechanical finger against the war decorations affixed to his armor. “A few of these I got for killing Reapers. I’m thinking about burning ‘em off.”

Before Samuel could respond Narek looked away, and the moment was lost in the blizzard.

The prospectors and mercenaries drew near, and Samuel saw the three Grotto bond recovery agents standing with guns drawn. He could hear the hum of the force weapons, each charged and ready to unleash devastation. Each of them was no doubt cranked up to lethal settings, as the agents had already suffered wounds of their own, and no chances were being taken.

Samuel could not see any of their faces behind the helmets, though he knew that the fourth person standing next to them, covered head to toe in a hostile enviro-poncho, was Orion. The youth looked up, and though he had on goggles and a re-breather to protect him from the driving salt, Samuel knew it was him. The central armored figure, with a force shotgun, held his hand up to let the oncoming group know to stop.

“Samuel Hyst, identify yourself and take a knee,” came the voice of the armored figure, the sound of it carrying through in spite of the storm, amplified as it was by a voice caster.

Samuel did as he was ordered, and knelt down on one knee in the salt drift. Once he did, the armored figure beckoned Orion and walked him at gunpoint until they were beside Samuel. The armored agent looked down, his opaque faceplate all the more menacing in the orange light.

“Orion Hyst has in his possession the medical supplies as we agreed upon,” said the agent as he tossed a pair of mag-clamps down to Samuel. “Bind yourself and stand.”

Samuel did as he was told, and when he stood he locked eyes with his son as best he could.

They stood like that a moment. The marine dared not make a move to hug the youth, for such a thing might set off shooting. He said nothing for the same reason, only daring to dip his head once, a gesture mirrored by his son.

“Off you go,” said the armored man as he pushed Orion with the muzzle of his shotgun, and Orion walked towards Captain Dar and the others.

Samuel watched the boy reach the group, and was happy to see the captain immediately put himself between Orion and the armored agents. The marine looked back at the agent in front of him, who nodded and led Samuel back to where the other two agents still stood with their weapons at the ready.

The marine dared not look back as his son turned and walked away with the mercenaries and prospector captain. The agents seemed to understand and did not prompt him to turn. After a few minutes, the lead agent spoke.

“You have saved Grotto Corporation a tremendous sum in allowing yourself to be apprehended by recovery agents instead of bounty hunters,” said the agent as the group began walking towards where their ship presumably waited, “For that, and for your prior service as a Reaper, we corporate citizens thank you. You may continue your journey knowing that Grotto has no lingering interest in the affairs of your family.”

“Are we bound for Baen 6, my home world?” asked Samuel as the group walked up the plank into the agent’s spacecraft.

“You will be remanded to the wardens on Vex, the nearest Grotto Corporation prison colony,” answered one of the other armored agents, the man’s voice wheezy as if he struggled to breathe. “Until such time as the Anointed determine your fate.”