Chapter 8

Martha and I were in the food court like many others, watching the negotiations on the monitors. As soon as Tiberius finished, there Immediately rose howls of rage. Masses of people started flooding into the pubs and food courts. The overall mood was murderous.

It was apparent that things were getting out of hand. I grabbed Martha, and we started running for our dorm room. When we got there, it was obvious that Ike, Mike, and Jim had already been there and had grabbed their belongings and left. I told Martha to get her E-Suit, and as many spare O2 bottles as she could find. I had just come off shift, so I was already suited up. The bottle I had been using was at a quarter full; I had grabbed a new bottle before leaving the shop.

As soon as we were ready, I stopped for a moment. Which way should we head? We could head for the company headquarters and see if we could throw in with them as loyal employees. However, I had my doubts about whether that would work. Or we could head for the Union areas.

The Union had basically taken over the Pubs and food courts. I was reluctant to head that way also. I felt that if something were going to happen, those would be the targeted areas. I decided our best bet was to avoid the crowds and stay in our dorm room. I felt that we had enough supplies to last for a couple of days, and we would be less likely to be harassed. I recognized the wandering crowds for what they were, lynch mobs working themselves up to a riot.

One of the things I had started doing when I realized that things were getting serious was to start hoarding food and water. We were still issued our basic three ration bars and a liter of water. I usually was able to hold out one of the bars and half a liter of water. Martha followed suit and did the same. So when we forted up, we were in pretty good shape.

The evening after Tiberius’ announcement, a union meeting was held. A vote was demanded, and a general strike was called. At 23:59, everybody laid their equipment down and walked off the job. At 00:01, the company shut down the ventilators. They also turned off the water supply.

I found out later that Colonel Montgomery demanded that the company restore those services. He took over the auxiliary control station by force when the company refused. When the troopers broke down the hatchway, they found the workers slaughtered. When the bodies were examined, it was determined that they had been dead since before the strike vote.

Within hours of the air and water supply being restored, pitched battles broke out between Company police and miners. It started as the usual riots. Miners armed with whatever makeshift weapons they could fashion. Versus the riot police armed with shock batons.

Colonel Montgomery contacted his superiors and advised them of the situation. While waiting for a reply, the situation worsened. No one was sure. Either the company started arming their police, or the miners had somehow acquired firearms. I had heard rumors that Shaun Fitzpatrick and his people had set up clandestine armories and had been making weapons for several months.

In either case, the situation degenerated to open combat.

When The Fleet Headquarters was advised of this, Colonel Montgomery was ordered to use whatever force necessary to put an end to the situation and return Phobos to a semblance of calm.

Colonel Montgomery’s troops were badly outnumbered and had no support from outside. Meanwhile, the company could resupply and reinforce the security forces. They also controlled the media. As a result, news to the outside world was decidedly one-sided.

Martha and I had been forced from our dorm room when company police started actions in the area. While we were leaving, we began to see our first casualties. Mostly they were miners, wounded by gunfire and explosives. Martha would stop and offer whatever care she could. I stood by as her guard, just in case. We helped as many as we could. Some were beyond help. Miner and Marine stretcher teams also helped, moving the injured out of the area.

Not long into the battle, we started to find injured Marines. Mostly they were the worst injured. Their battle armor protected them from most injuries. Their armor also had built-in medical systems. For example, administering pain medications and treating most wounds. But even then, the systems could be overwhelmed, and outside assistance was needed.

The Colonel was able to fight delaying actions. But he was continually forced to give up ground. Even when the inexperienced miners in modern warfare reinforced him. We were eventually forced into a covered crater owned by the Windermere Real Estate Company. Windermere had thought to turn it into a speculation community. They were going to sell space at a fixed price and then constructing, to order, living pods for wealthy and retired Earthers.

Martha was working on a particularly hard-hit Marine. Whatever the company people had used had burned through his armor like a knife through butter. Even with the suit’s medkit and the limited supplies, he was still hurting.

I was doing my best to hold him still while Martha worked, but between his personal strength and the suit’s augmentation, I was having trouble.

As I was about to lose control of him, somebody joined me. While we were holding him down, my partner jacked into the suit’s comm circuits. The Marine immediately calmed down, and Martha was able to finish up.

I looked up and was staring into Colonel Montgomery’s face. “Colonel, I, I, I,” I stammered.

He grinned at me. “Don’t worry about it Sergeant, Glad to help.”

“Sir, I’m not a sergeant. I’m not even a Marine. I’m just here helping My fiancé with this mess.”

“Sergeant, If I say you’re a sergeant, you’re a sergeant. You too, Ma’am, you have our thanks for the help you’re giving. Our med staff are stretched thin at the moment.”