Free Freehold by William C. Dietz Page A

Major?” Stell asked with an amused expression.
    “Face the other way, child,” Como ordered, his voice gruff but kind.
    The girl made a face, but stood obediently, turned, and sat down straddling the chair. Stell saw the back of her pathetic little dress had been ripped. Working carefully, Como gently pulled the edges of the garment apart to reveal her bare back. Stell winced at the sight. Someone had made a deep slash in her back and then stitched it up with sloppy sutures. Bloody drainage oozed down between protruding shoulder blades to disappear under her filthy dress. Turning to Como, Stell said, “Malik?”
    The other man nodded wordlessly. Stell swore under his breath. The bastard. He'd had his mini-beacon removed and inserted in the girl. That way the beacon had continued to function and had misled his pursuers. He'd done it this way knowing that the needless cruelty of it would make Stell furious.
    “That isn't all, Colonel,” the Sergeant Major said with disgust. “Come take a look at this.” Stell stood and walked over to the girl. He saw she was shaking with fear. He touched her shoulder gently, as Como used a clean dressing from his own med kit to wipe the bloody drainage away. And there, carved into her flesh, was a message: “Dear Stell, I've decided to resign my commission in order to pursue other interests. Too bad the ambush didn't work, but I'm sure we'll meet again. Peter Malik.”

Chapter Six

    The Senate chambers were spacious and cool, a relief after the searing heat of Freehold's noonday sun. Built deep underground, they could withstand anything up to a direct hit from a hell bomb, and Stell's military eye approved. However, the decor was anything but Spartan. Freehold might not be a wealthy planet, but the pride of its citizens was visible in the colorful murals covering the walls, and their hopes for the future could be seen in the holo that covered the ceiling. Clever artwork had been combined with electronic wizardry to show Freehold as it might be, hundreds of years in the future. The planet depicted in the holo was crisscrossed by a network of irrigation canals fed by the underground rivers. Green forests covered hundreds of square miles, giving way to carefully tended farms, and grassy plains dotted with thousands of grazing animals. Hovering as it did over the Senate, this vision of what Freehold could become was more than art—it was an affirmation, a unifying purpose.
    Physical comfort had not been neglected, either. Tiers of comfortable chairs rose in orderly progression toward the rear of the room. The front seats formed a gentle curve facing a low stage and a transparent wall. Beyond the armored plastic flowed a huge underground river. Its power and purpose dominated the room. Cleverly placed lights made it seem as though sunlight was filtering down through its mighty currents, creating an endless dance of light and dark. Against such a backdrop, man's affairs would always seem puny and insignificant, Stell mused. For while men might argue and debate, the rivers ruled Freehold. From them came life-giving water, power to run man's machines, and the tiny bits of mineral matter over which they were willing to fight and die. “And that's where I come in,” Stell thought, settling back in his seat. He watched curiously as Freehold's Senators filed in singly and in small groups. Most were still dressed in the pressurized sand suits that were a necessity outside. Stell noted that most were armed. This was no gathering of a privileged elite. These people were used to danger and hard work, things that Stell understood. Many glanced his way as they entered, talking softly with those around them. The debate was already underway.
    Kasten had met him at First Hole's small spaceport, and from his comments, Stell knew the chances weren't very good. Roop was fully recovered and working hard to organize opinion against hiring the brigade. Kasten had been equally active since they'd parted