Angry Jasper-Twenty-one

There was something about the prisoner exchange that didn’t sit well with Kate. Maury and the Corporation were only too eager to conclude a deal with the rebels, something they had never done before. The Corporation, and Maury in particular, held a long unwavering policing about never bargaining with rebels and pirates. It seemed unlikely that they would go to such lengths for one man, his kid and a hand full of expendable troops. The Corporation had lost hundreds of ships on the planet and never so much as batted an eye over survivors and hostages. Kate felt sure it had something to do with the weapon. No doubt Maury was having her tracked, but how, and why now?

Not that the rebel position was any better. There didn’t seem a whole lot of sense in risking giving away the headquarters to the Corporation. What were Thomas and the rebel leadership up to? Were they making diplomatic overtures? Was this a momentary lapse of reason in favor of mercy, or some sort of new but fatally misguided moral position of the new rebel leadership? If it was Kate didn't like it at all. Not because she didn't believe that the rebel cause wasn't a moral one, but that morality felt like a vice against the inhumanity of the enemy, an enemy Kate knew only too well.

As the ship came in low over the city Kate tensed a little. She half hoped rebel gunners would blast them out of the sky. That would have made things a great deal easier. Kate would have gladly given her life. She had given so much for the rebellion that her life seemed almost inconsequential as it was. It was only that son-of-a-bitch Jazz that gave her life any greater purpose, and she hated him for it.

She wasn’t alone. Besides Buzz there were dozen or so other prisoners. Most of them, Kate figured, were rebel saboteurs or spies like her, though she didn't recognize a single one. They ran the gamut. Most appeared disheveled, and likely had been rounded up at Cygnus Prime where rebel spies and sympathizers ran as thick as thieves. One bloke was dressed like a methane freighter crewman. Another wore a Corporation uniform, though it was stripped of insignia and patches. His face was a patchwork of welts and bruises, his bruised and blackened eyes nearly swollen shut. Yet another bore a painful wound where a Mercury round had singed a broad line across his chest. Like the rest of them, and like Kate, he was lucky to have survived this long.

The prisoners sat quietly, all of them sullen-faced, and just as anxious as Kate. She was looking directly at one of the prisoners. He was dressed rags and looked every bit as miserable as the others, at least on the surface. There was just something a little off about the guy. That morose expression seemed manufactured, and less than the genuine deep misery of the others. His complexion was soft and pale, and a bit too clean, at least in contrast to the others. Moreover, he dressed like the ragtag fighters on the planet. No one dressed like that on the Moon, or the wheel, freighters or even some rinky-dink frontier colony, and certainly not with that pasty sort of complexion. That, in and of itself was hardly enough to condemn the guy, but there was just something that didn't seem right to here. Damned if Kate could put her finger exactly on what it was.

There was a combat ready platoon of Corporation commandoes on board. They were heavily armed, and dressed in bulky suits and armor, as though they were about to do battle on an asteroid or Jovian moon than on Earth. Beneath bulky gray helmets, that extended nearly to their padded shoulders, and broad silver battle goggles little more than thin severe lips could be seen.

The uniforms and gear were state of the art. Not something the average Corporation soldier or security specialists were outfitted with. The armor and uniforms were gray and dark blue now, but before going into battle each would be activated to change color and pattern to adapt precisely to a particular battle field. The goggles provided an unobstructed view of the battlefield regardless of smoke or dust or lighting. Friendly and “unknowns” were shown in different colors. Through verbal commands or specific eye movements the soldier could zoom in to a specific target or region, or view the battlefield from above. From each man’s helmet a small moth sized probe could rise above a battle, follow an enemy through tunnels and mazes and send back real time intelligence.

Each man had a stunning amount of firepower, enough to match a Twentieth Century Marine Company. Their ARP-47 rifles could fire thousands of standard ball bearing sized Mercury rounds or hundreds varying in size from standard to fist sized. PROGS, or Programmed Grenades were actually capable of tracking and chasing down a specific target. Every soldier was a formidable force unto himself.

Truth of it was, these men and women seemed little too ready, Kate thought. Hell, they almost seemed eager for a fight. Maybe eager was too strong a word. Rather they seemed anxious to get the whole thing over with, and Kate doubted that meant a simple prisoner exchange. She spied the commandoes as they exchanged furtive glances, as though wanting to be sure they were all prepared for what was to come. She gently nudged Buzz, trying not to draw anyone’s attention. As it was most everyone was focused on the dangerous descent towards the planet.

“I don’t like this, Buzz,” she whispered.

“Jeez, I can’t imagine why,” he replied sarcastically. “When precisely did that start to occur to you, Kate?”

“No something’s up. Look at these guys. It’s like they’re itching for a fight.”

“You think?” he scoffed.

“I’m serious. And see this guy over here,” she motioned to the odd-looking prisoner. “Something about him.”

“You’ve been porked by half the damn solar system. Maybe you and he…?”

“I’m serious,” she said.

“So what do you want me to do about it?” he complained a little loud. “We’re in enough trouble, Kate. Don’t start something now.”

“I think Maury is tracking me.”

“I was with you the whole time since Cygnus Prime. I would know if they planted something in you or on you.”

“Are you sure, Buzz?”

“I figured he would have. Damned if he didn't.”

“Then what the hell is going on here, Buzz?’

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

She gave him an odd look, pursing her lips and scratching her head. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“You know what I’m trying to say.”

The engines roared as they brought the ship in for a landing. The sound reverberated through the ship deafeningly loud at the nose pitched upward better than twenty degrees from the horizontal. It touched down a little roughly throwing several of the soldiers hard to their knees. The engines changed in pitch as the ship settled, still running hard should a quick escape become a necessity. Kate and the other prisoners looked to the door as it opened with a whoosh revealing a ruined boulevard and darkening landscape painted in lavender hues. Cool evening air and the bitter scent of wood smoke rushed in.

“Everybody up!” snapped the Corporation commander. Everyone stood and looked at each other uneasily. The odd fellow smiled at Kate, making her skin crawl. “When the exchange begins you will all file slowly down the ramp to the street. There you will remain until I give the order. The exchange will be one for one. That is, when one hostage is safely aboard ship one of you will be allowed to go. If anyone moves without my authorization, or attempts to sabotage the exchange in any way I will kill you all.”