Entry tags:
trunked story
I really do like the writing on this. However, it doesn't work as a story. Nothing the characters do has any impact on the ending. It might work as part of a longer piece, and I may use it for that when I figure out a longer story it'll fit into. For now, though, I'll just share it.
Tantalus
by Erin M. Hartshorn
A tap sounded on the door; General Barros looked up. Major Pereira entered without waiting for an invitation. "Our contacts in Washington confirm it -- our neighbors have North Korean backing."
Barros shook his head and returned to poring over the maps spread across the rickety table in front of him. "Have there been any weapons shipments? Intercepted communications? A suitcase of money? Anything we can use to get world opinion on our side?"
He didn't want American troops in their country, and the international community wouldn't accept America's word for suspected violence any more, not without proof. Barros preferred that the bodies of his soldiers not be that proof.
Pereira dropped his pack onto the table, which shuddered but did not give way beneath the weight. "Nothing. The geek posse is sifting for video content, but no one trusts the viral links anymore."
Tracing a mountain ridge with his finger, Barros didn't answer immediately. If they used burros, they could get to the old air shafts and use the mining tunnels to slip behind the border. No more than a dozen soldiers -- half a dozen would be better -- to take out lines of communication. It wouldn't be one hundred percent effective; he had to assume the other side had satphones as well. The action might slow down whatever offensive was being planned to take their land, though.
"No one?" Barros asked. "My mother still believes she can pop corn with her cellphone, but refuses to believe the water's safe to drink."
At Pereira's silence, Barros glanced up. The other man avoided his gaze. No doubt Pereira did not want to express an opinion on the gullibility of mothers, or at least the mother of his commanding officer.
"Without our tantalite, however, we will have no new cellphones for her to fear, eh?" Barros straightened and clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder. "But my plan may yet keep our mines free."
Pereira did not look comforted. "At least until the next sortie."
"Or the one after that." Barros smiled wryly. "One engagement at a time, especially if our politicians must keep the peace with the corporations who buy our metal."
That was where the North Koreans came in. They wanted their own electronics megacorporation, and if they could corner half the world supply of tantalum, their production costs would be lower than their competitors', who were gearing up recycling efforts for old cellphones and decommissioned jet engines.
Getting volunteers for the cross-border mission would have been simple, but Barros preferred a hand-picked team. Within half an hour, the plan was underway.
As their burros wended up the dirt track to the air shafts, Pereira's brother pulled alongside Barros. "I don't know if we should believe the reports from Washington."
"Your brother told you?" Not that Barros was surprised, but he would prefer some pretense of confidentiality.
"I'm serious. Pyongyang made a big presentation at the United Nations six months ago about mining the asteroid fields to scrape up what small amounts of metal the M-types will yield."
Following the United Nations wasn't Barros' job, but he was intrigued. "Small amounts? They said that?"
"No, they played it up. Maybe a couple hundred tonnes of platinum a year -- if they find kilometer-long enriched asteroids. Kargel was optimistic on that front, but I'm not sure I agree."
"So are they really up there looking?" Barros leaned to one side to maintain eye contact as his burro rounded a switchback. "Or was it all public relations?"
The younger Pereira shrugged. "I suppose it might be both. Or maybe some other reason entirely. They certainly launched, and if they weren't heading for asteroids, we would've heard about it by now." He waved one hand. "My brother believes Washington. If we find any North Koreans today, I suppose we'll have our answer."
Barros grunted. Even if overseas backers were involved, they wouldn't be public about it. And if Pereira was wrong, then no major reinforcements would be called in by satphone, no mercenary forces or guerillas paid in whatever currency the North Koreans used. Maybe he'd ask Pereira later what they used for money, if he remembered.
They saw no one on their ride. Bird and lizard calls fell silent with their travel and then returned behind them, the normal animal behavior reassuring Barros that there was no one but his group to be seen. The ridge rose clear of jungle, despite the years since the mine had been used. If their opponents knew of this backdoor into their country, they would have spotters eyeing the ridgeline. Before they reached the top, Barros signaled a halt.
"We'll wait for full dark. We have a map of the original mine. It's not completely accurate, but that's why we have the night-vision goggles." Barros laid a laminated photocopy on the ground. "We'll rappel down to the second corridor; the first exits to our side of the border. Once we're down, we'll take this route through to the other air shaft. Getting out is going to be the tricky part."
"Sir -- that may not be the hard part," the younger Pereira said.
Barros turned to look at him, but the other man was staring at the sky. Barros followed his gaze. Balls of fire, larger than any local missile, streaked toward them.
"Take cover!" Barros grabbed the map and scrambled toward an outcropping covered with brush. His men dived in different directions; Pereira wound up with him.
"The trajectory's wrong," Pereira muttered as he peered over the edge of their shelter. "Those aren't local."
Maybe the North Koreans were taking a direct hand after all. The first impact shook the ridge, and Barros risked a glance. The missile was nothing more than a rock, maybe half a meter in diameter. Rocks -- asteroids -- hurled as weapons, not banned by treaties, giving the winners control of the tantalite. The younger Pereira had been right -- there was another reason.
He grabbed for his satphone to call the Ministéria and saw the next rock coming, too large to dodge.
-The End-
Tantalus
by Erin M. Hartshorn
A tap sounded on the door; General Barros looked up. Major Pereira entered without waiting for an invitation. "Our contacts in Washington confirm it -- our neighbors have North Korean backing."
Barros shook his head and returned to poring over the maps spread across the rickety table in front of him. "Have there been any weapons shipments? Intercepted communications? A suitcase of money? Anything we can use to get world opinion on our side?"
He didn't want American troops in their country, and the international community wouldn't accept America's word for suspected violence any more, not without proof. Barros preferred that the bodies of his soldiers not be that proof.
Pereira dropped his pack onto the table, which shuddered but did not give way beneath the weight. "Nothing. The geek posse is sifting for video content, but no one trusts the viral links anymore."
Tracing a mountain ridge with his finger, Barros didn't answer immediately. If they used burros, they could get to the old air shafts and use the mining tunnels to slip behind the border. No more than a dozen soldiers -- half a dozen would be better -- to take out lines of communication. It wouldn't be one hundred percent effective; he had to assume the other side had satphones as well. The action might slow down whatever offensive was being planned to take their land, though.
"No one?" Barros asked. "My mother still believes she can pop corn with her cellphone, but refuses to believe the water's safe to drink."
At Pereira's silence, Barros glanced up. The other man avoided his gaze. No doubt Pereira did not want to express an opinion on the gullibility of mothers, or at least the mother of his commanding officer.
"Without our tantalite, however, we will have no new cellphones for her to fear, eh?" Barros straightened and clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder. "But my plan may yet keep our mines free."
Pereira did not look comforted. "At least until the next sortie."
"Or the one after that." Barros smiled wryly. "One engagement at a time, especially if our politicians must keep the peace with the corporations who buy our metal."
That was where the North Koreans came in. They wanted their own electronics megacorporation, and if they could corner half the world supply of tantalum, their production costs would be lower than their competitors', who were gearing up recycling efforts for old cellphones and decommissioned jet engines.
Getting volunteers for the cross-border mission would have been simple, but Barros preferred a hand-picked team. Within half an hour, the plan was underway.
As their burros wended up the dirt track to the air shafts, Pereira's brother pulled alongside Barros. "I don't know if we should believe the reports from Washington."
"Your brother told you?" Not that Barros was surprised, but he would prefer some pretense of confidentiality.
"I'm serious. Pyongyang made a big presentation at the United Nations six months ago about mining the asteroid fields to scrape up what small amounts of metal the M-types will yield."
Following the United Nations wasn't Barros' job, but he was intrigued. "Small amounts? They said that?"
"No, they played it up. Maybe a couple hundred tonnes of platinum a year -- if they find kilometer-long enriched asteroids. Kargel was optimistic on that front, but I'm not sure I agree."
"So are they really up there looking?" Barros leaned to one side to maintain eye contact as his burro rounded a switchback. "Or was it all public relations?"
The younger Pereira shrugged. "I suppose it might be both. Or maybe some other reason entirely. They certainly launched, and if they weren't heading for asteroids, we would've heard about it by now." He waved one hand. "My brother believes Washington. If we find any North Koreans today, I suppose we'll have our answer."
Barros grunted. Even if overseas backers were involved, they wouldn't be public about it. And if Pereira was wrong, then no major reinforcements would be called in by satphone, no mercenary forces or guerillas paid in whatever currency the North Koreans used. Maybe he'd ask Pereira later what they used for money, if he remembered.
They saw no one on their ride. Bird and lizard calls fell silent with their travel and then returned behind them, the normal animal behavior reassuring Barros that there was no one but his group to be seen. The ridge rose clear of jungle, despite the years since the mine had been used. If their opponents knew of this backdoor into their country, they would have spotters eyeing the ridgeline. Before they reached the top, Barros signaled a halt.
"We'll wait for full dark. We have a map of the original mine. It's not completely accurate, but that's why we have the night-vision goggles." Barros laid a laminated photocopy on the ground. "We'll rappel down to the second corridor; the first exits to our side of the border. Once we're down, we'll take this route through to the other air shaft. Getting out is going to be the tricky part."
"Sir -- that may not be the hard part," the younger Pereira said.
Barros turned to look at him, but the other man was staring at the sky. Barros followed his gaze. Balls of fire, larger than any local missile, streaked toward them.
"Take cover!" Barros grabbed the map and scrambled toward an outcropping covered with brush. His men dived in different directions; Pereira wound up with him.
"The trajectory's wrong," Pereira muttered as he peered over the edge of their shelter. "Those aren't local."
Maybe the North Koreans were taking a direct hand after all. The first impact shook the ridge, and Barros risked a glance. The missile was nothing more than a rock, maybe half a meter in diameter. Rocks -- asteroids -- hurled as weapons, not banned by treaties, giving the winners control of the tantalite. The younger Pereira had been right -- there was another reason.
He grabbed for his satphone to call the Ministéria and saw the next rock coming, too large to dodge.
-The End-