Chapter 3

Introduction of Harris, Piquet, and MacKenzie (as well as the rest of the Highlanders)

            The light shone in through the vents at the top of the wall. The dust, moisture, and mold filtered the light into a visible beam that projected itself down the middle of the small cell. The stone floor was grimy with a mixture of human waste, vomit, and mildew. The smell was unbearable in the extreme heat. The inhabitants of the cell, 7 men in khaki Grand Army uniforms, sat on the stacked bunks, avoiding contact with the floor; their jackets off and their undershirts open.

            The main corridor outside the cell stretched on for a quarter of a mile in one direction, and only about 50 yards in the other, towards the exit. However, between the cell and the exit was a guard post and a jailer’s office.

            “What day is it, Sergeant?” asked one of the younger members of the group.

            “I don’t know,” responded his superior, “To be completely honest, Garrigan, I stopped counting weeks ago.” 

            Garrigan hung his head and sighed.

            “We ever getting’ out of here, Sergeant?” asked another.

            “The Republic’ll be sendin’ someone, just wait,” the sergeant coaxed.

            Garrigan raised his head once more, “Oh Hell, Sergeant MacKenzie, at last count we was here for 3 months. They ain’t sendin’ anyone.”

            “Hold your tongue, lad!” MacKenzie chastised, “This is the Terran Republic we’re talkin’ about! These are our people. They’ll send someone, I know it.”

            Roger MacKenzie rested his head against the wet walls.

            “Yeah?” another member piped in. “If’n the disease don’t get us like it did Wallis and Martins.”

            “Shut up, MacLoughlan!” MacKenzie ordered.

            “I’m tired of sitting in here waitin’ on the Terrans to send someone to get us!” MacLoughlan yelled as he sat up in his bunk, “Sick of it to death! I’m no’ particularly fond of sittin’ around here, smellin’ our own crap and dyin’ in the heat. I’m sick of it! Now I’ve been quiet for nigh 4 months now by best estimate, finkin’ that you’d come up with somethin’, you bein’ the Sergeant ‘n all. Guess I’s wrong!”

            “You wanna’ go out there?” MacKenzie asked as he pointed to the electrified wall of bars, leading out into a dimly lit corridor, “be ma’ guest. The entire planetary guard”

            MacLaughlan looked at the bars, sighed, and threw himself back against the wall. “I’m sorry, Sergeant.”

            “No need.”

            “I was borderline insubordinate, sir.”

            MacKenzie laughed, “You’re a Scotsman, Rory. It’s what we do. You’re lookin’ out for your team, but you’ve got alotta’ learn afore you’re ready.”

            “Aye, sir.”

            “Oi,” chimed in Garrigan, who was sitting near the bars, “that American’s commin’ down the corridor, sir.”

            MacKenzie sprung into action. “Coats on,” he ordered, “kilts too. Platoon formation, Edinburgh fashion, gents.”

            The entire team stood up and hurriedly put on their khaki jackets and fumbled to get their kilts back on. MacKenzie insisted that his men act as organized as ever, even when treated as subhumans by the warden of their prison, Colonel Nathan Harris.

            Harris approached the bars with his escort and faced MacKenzie.

            “Mornin’, Colonel,” MacKenzie obliged with a smile.

            Harris grinned, bearing white teeth that sparkled even in the darkness of the prison. “Good morning, Sergeant,” he hissed, “any of you ready to talk yet?”

            MacKenzie stood quietly, jaw firm. He aimed a defiant look at his opponent. “Nay, sir,” he frowned.

            Harris looked past Sergeant MacKenzie at MacLaughlan. “How about you?” Harris asked, “I know you’ve come to the realization that your people neither remember nor care about you any longer. How about it? You talk; you get a nicer cell and better food, yeah?”

            MacKenzie became nervous. Out of all of his men, even young Garrigan, the soldier that worried him the most was MacLaughlan; understandably so, as Maclaughlan had only recently married shortly after the war. In fact, the team was called up for service during his honeymoon vacation with his wife.

            “No sir,” MacLaughlan stated resolutely. “You’ve already killed 3 of us: one by disease an’ the other by interrogation. You’re not getting’ ana’thing from me.”

            Harris sighed. “How unfortunate. Your rations will decrease for this, you all are aware of that. You all are going to die in here at the rate your blindly following Sergeant MacKenzie.” He smiled as MacKenzie noted a quiet contemplation in his demeanor. “Yes, you will die and your precious Terran Republic will give not a second thought about you. Let me modify my offer slightly. Instead of –.”

            Harris was cut off by the approach of a conscript. MacKenzie noted a tablet computer in the young officer’s hands. He quickly passed it to Harris, who began to read it. A grin grew wide on Harris’s face; “Finally,” he whispered, “this is our chance.” He turned to his guards and stated, “I’ll send orders to execute them all. Their survival matters little now.” He turned once more to the cell. “I tried to save you MacKenzie, but your undying devotion to your tyrants will be your downfall. Good day to you all, and may the Almighty have mercy on your souls because the Minoan Commonwealth won’t.”

            The Colonel pivoted towards the entrance of the cell block, and he and his guards moved away down the corridor.

            “Sir,” Garrigan addressed MacKenzie, “what the Hell is he talkin’ about?”

            MacKenzie had seen the look on Harris’s face before on other men. He had observed it on fellow soldiers when an epiphany of strategic import had dawned on them. He had seen it before on ship captains after they had obliterated the shields of an opponent. It was the same look one would expect a lioness to adopt before pouncing upon an unsuspecting gazelle. MacKenzie knew something was going to happen; something big and something crippling to the Terran Republic.

            “I don’t know, lad” he whispered, “but we’ve gotta’ get outta’ here.”

            “What’s the plan sir?” MacLaughlan asked anxiously.

            MacKenzie shook his head. “I don’t rightly know,” he sighed, “but it’s gotta’ be soon. It’s gotta’ be within a few days.”

            “Sir, if I may,” Garrigan piped in.

            MacKenzie turned to the softspoken young man. “Aye?”

            “Sir, I don’t think that we’re the only ones in this prison, sir,” he confidently stated.

            “Explain yourself,” MacKenzie ordered tersely, “now.”       

            “Well, sir,” began Garrigan, “I heard some guards talkin’ the other night; when everyone was sleepin’; do you remember hearin’ of the Mercury, sir?”

            MacKenzie thought for a moment. “The Mercury?” he pondered, “yeah, that Grand Navy sixth-rate that went down in the first attack on the system; what of it?”

            “It didn’t go down sir,” Garrigan smiled, “I believe she’s somewhere in this complex, as well as her crew.”

            MacKenzie cocked his head to the side at the young man. “Are you positive, lad?” he prodded.

            “Absolutely, sir. As positive as I can without actually seein’ the boat, that is.”

            MacKenzie turned to the small, grated window and stared at the beams of light filtering in. “If that’s true,” began he, “than we’ve gotta’ get to ‘em.”

            “But how, sir?” MacLaughlan asked.

            MacKenzie had been working over a guard for the length of their stay; and he had nearly gotten the young man to secure a small torch for the team, “for heat”. He had already worked the boy over for extra bread rations in the past few weeks; perhaps he could work him for information about the alleged crew.

            “I’ve gotta’ plan, don’t you worry about it, but for now, I need you all to stay on your toes. Report everythin’ to me; don’t keep it to yourself,” he ordered, “be on the ready to move, though; we need to start shapin’ up physically. I know it’s gonna’ to be tough, but we need to get back to our exercises. We’ve gotta’ clean up this damned sty of a cell; make your situation more livable. Something big is in the works, and I intend to be out of this place when it comes to fruition.”

            The Highlanders all nodded, hope and loyalty once again in their eyes. Even MacLaughlan, who Roger had so many doubts about, appeared to be onboard.

            “Let’s get to work,” he smiled.