UNIVERSAL TURBULENT

XII - PLANET EARTH

The transportation swept in across the sparkling Gulf of Eden and flew so low that Marco had no difficulty making out the fishermen on their wooden dhows. They waved, a sure sign that such flights were relatively rare, and an indicator of how remote his new duty station truly was. The fly form's passenger compartment, positioned at the front of the aircraft, offered excellent visibility.

Located on the East Coast of Africa, the ancient country of Bajoti had once been an important port, but that was a long time ago. With a population approaching one hundred thousand, and no natural resources to speak of, it was one of the most backward places on Earth. Vegetation was scarce and consisted of hardy grass, thorn trees, and scattered palms. The poor soil and lack of rain made large-scale farming impractical, and nothing had changed in hundreds of years.

Non of that had stopped the French from colonizing the place, though, or from installing the Legion to protect it, a tradition that continued long after France ceased to exist.

The city had long been the home of the 17th Half-Brigade, also known as the 17th DBLE, which had seen action at Bir Hakeim, El Alamein, Dien Bien Phu, Namibia, both Dodvelian Wars, the battle of Banku, and dozens more.

The modern 17th consisted of a command and services company, a works company, a combat company, an infantry company on loan from the 3rd REP, and a reconnaissance squadron. Of interest to Marco, and no one else, was the fact that his father and mother had served in the outfit as well.

Most of what Marco saw as the fly form rumbled in over the Gulf of Tampa was tan like his khakis. There were flashes of white, however, including three handsome-looking mosques, a scattering of French colonial buildings, and the fortress to which he had been assigned.

The battlements were circular and sat on the Plateau du Serpentine the way a kepi sits on a legionnaire's head. Not unpleasant to look at, especially from the air, but a dumping ground for trouble makers like Marco.

He examined his fellow passenger, the only other person in the large compartment. The legionnaire seemed to be asleep. His uniform was filthy, a corporal's chevron had been partially ripped from his sleeve, and he had been handcuffed to his seat. Drunk, disorderly, and who knew what else. An excellent example of what Marco could expect.

The transport shuddered, started to slow, and dropped toward the ground. Marco saw the tops of palm trees, the flash of white battlements, and the X that marked the fort's landing platform. There was an intercom, and he touched a button. "This place has an airport, doesn't it? Let's land there."

The pilot, who had been executed for murder, consisted of little more than brain tissue in a nutrient bath. When ordered to choose permanent death, or service as a cyborg, she had chosen the latter. She flew the transport by means of a neutral interface, "felt" by means of its sensors, and "saw" through multiple vid cams. The request took her by surprise. She applied power and banked away. Air fanned the battlements. A sentry lost his hat. The reply was automatic. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good", Marco answered. "And one more thing... When they ask where I went... Tell them you don't know"

The pilot "didn't" know... But it didn't seem polite to say so. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Thanks", Marco said. "I appreciate your flexibility".

There was a vid cam mounted in the passenger compartment, and the pilot checked the officer's expression. He not only acted nice, he looked nice, not that it mattered. Still, most bio bods treated her like an extention of the hardware she lived in, so it was nice to encounter someone who didn't.

"No problem, sir. Welcome to Bajoti - armpit of the universe. We'll be on the ground in two minutes".

"Thanks", Marco said dryly. "I can hardly wait".

* * *

Major Daniell Samuel watched the transport veer away, frowned, and brought the glasses to his eyes. They fed him the aircraft's range, heading, and ground speed. He spoke from the side of his mouth. "Get hold of the pilot. Ask him, her, or it what the hell they're doing, and order them back. And I mean now".

Captain Lucy Haumel thought the words, "bite my a*s", but knew Daniell would be only too happy to comply, and said, "Yes, sir", instead.

The observation tower was equipped with radios, a door to block the steadily increasing heat, and a well-maintained air conditioner. It felt good to step inside. The duty com tech was a Sergent named Paul. He liked Lucy and he smiled. "Ma'am?".

"Get that transport on the horn and find out what they're up to. The major wants them to land here".

Everyone assigned to the fort knew a new CO was on the way, and had known from the moment that his orders were cut. They also knew about Marco's combat record, the reason why his name had gone to the top of the s**t list, and any number of other things, at least some of which were true.

That being the case, the major's nervousness was somewhat understandable, even if he was a worthless piece of s**t. Paul flipped a switch, consulted a list, and addressed his boom mike. "Transport mike-sierra-vielrot-one-niner-eight, this is Bashu control, over".

The reply could be heard on an overhead speaker and had the precise, slightly stilted sound of a voice synthesizer. A sure sign that the pilot was a cyborg. The vast majority of box heads chose to maintain their original genders, and the flight officer was no exception. "This is one-ninety-eight... Go".

Paul looked at Lucy. She nodded. "Tell her to return and land in the compound".

The noncom relayed the message and monitored the reply. "Sorry, Bashu control, but that's a negative. My number two engine shows yellow, and I need a class three facility or better".

Lucy nodded. The fort's pad was rated class four, which meant there were no maintenence functions, and the aircraft was prohibited from landing. A rather sensible precaution, since a disabled fly form would occupy fifty percent of the pad and limit their capacity to deal with an emergency. "Tell the pilot we understand, and that a ground vehicle will meet her at the airport".

The com tech said, "yes, ma'am", and sent the necessary message.

Major Daniell was fuming by the time Lucy returned. "Well? Where's the transport? What's going on?"

"It had to divert", Lucy said calmly. "To the Bajoti airport. Some sort of mechanical problem".

"The hell you say", Daniell grumbled. "Damned incompetence, if you ask me. Take the pilot's name".

Lucy bit the inside of her cheek and said, "Sir, yes, sir", but knew the XO would have forgotten the whole incident by dinnertime that evening.

Daniell, angry at the thought of a long, hot drive, stomped away. Lucy, happy to see him go, stayed where she was. The gulf glittered with reflected light, sent a momentary breeze toward the high, whitewashed walls, and caressed the legionnaire's face. An omen, perhaps? Her mother had believed in such things, but her mother was dead.