"Revolution, armed uprising, requires not only dissatisfaction, but aggressiveness. A revolutionist has to be willing to fight and die. Otherwise, he's just a parlour pink. If you separate out the aggressive ones and make them the sheep dogs, the sheep will never give you any trouble."

Major Robert Reid, OCS instructor

Starship Troopers: Miner Disruption

Chapter 16: Workers of the World

It was night by the time Benito returned to Site 51. As if a darkness was spreading across the world, and he could do naught to outrun it.

He shook his head as he parked the jeep. He'd been reading too much Lady of the Rings. Late nights in his habitation unit, where the imagination of Watanga Khan was a means of escape from what was happening on Homecoming. The darkness of the Umbran Lady could spread across the stars, kept in bay only by the power of the Solaris, but in the real world, things weren't as simple. No McGuffin could change the fate of the second planet of a K-type star, scant different from the billions of similar balls of super-heated gas in the galaxy. There was no chosen one from whom the innocent would find deliverance.

And it wasn't some great evil that was threatening them either. Nor was it the only one that this world had to contend with. Yet even so, as he looked upwards, he could feel naught but dread.

The Verhoeven. Its grey hull visible in the moonless sky, blocking out the stars. Its red and blue navigation lights the only points of illumination. Once, it had delivered this world its saviours, but now?

A ship that size has a big gun. Who's to say the Federation won't turn it against us?

Matthews's words echoed in his mind, as he walked across the perimeter of the mine. Of this great gouge in the earth, and the tears deeper down. None of them were unfamiliar to his eyes, but even so, he dared to look down into the pit.

The Mammoth was still digging. The refineries were still processing. When the Federation wanted triple shifts, it got triple shifts. And if that meant the deaths of thirteen people, and injuries of countless others…so be it. The Federation had decided that, Hassan had decided that, the Department of Mining had decided that. Much as he resented Hassan, for what he had (and more importantly, hadn't) done, Benito could concede that Hassan had at least heard him out. Trying to get in touch with anyone higher was like talking to a stone wall, and without the tools to tear into it.

Maybe they were afraid. Maybe they didn't care. Maybe, like Hassan, they were collaborators. And while Benito knew all about those types of people from history lessons…

One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter.

As he recalled what his teachers had said…

There are no heroes in war.

He found himself unable to hate them. Every person was the hero of their own story. And not all collaboration could be chalked up to malice or greed. Not even cowardice.

As he approached the habitation units reserved for non-senior staff, he let his mind drift to Hikari. Of the boarding school she was in at Hampstead, not unlike his childhood spent in the one at Sakrai.

The Federation's wormed its way into our daughter's school. Like everywhere in Hampstead.

Until today, he had no idea how right Tai had been.

Do you know they're teaching our children a subject called History and Moral Philosophy?

Now that he had, he could understand Tai's fear in a way he'd failed to on that day.

Why did you bring them here, Benito?

Clenching his jaw, he quickened his pace. Even if no-one was outside their units this late at night.

Why did you betray your planet?

He told himself he hadn't betrayed anyone. That he'd done the right thing. Or, if he hadn't, all he'd done was forwarded on details of an Arachnid invasion to the government. They were the ones who'd brought the Federation here. They were the ones responsible.

But then, he reminded himself, the Arachnids technically hadn't invaded this world. And if all his justifications were true, why was he quickening his pace even further, if not fear that one of the miners was still awake forty minutes before midnight? If the Arachnids hadn't been invaders, why not just seal the mine and be done with it?

He didn't know. He'd even started to wonder if, given what he knew of the Arachnids on Homecoming, how many worlds were in similar positions. Who was invading whom, in this war?

This is a human world. The Bugs don't belong here. They've killed innocent people, and now the Mobile Infantry is going to do what it does best.

Benito reached one of the habitation units and bit his lip. Liang had been true to her word – they'd cleansed the shafts of the Bugs over the course of a single day. What would happen if the troopers did what they did best again…and turned their guns on other targets?

He knocked three times. Slow. Loud. Heavy.

Still not too late.

Gave five short knocks.

Not too late…for you, or this planet?

Made a knock in the sound of rat-a-tat-tat. Stood there, in the dry night air. A bead of perspiration on his forehead, and a tremble in his hands, as the door slowly opened. Revealing the face of Hieronymus Matthews, and more prominently, the pistol he was holding.

"Benito," he whispered.

The senior site officer didn't answer. His mind, as well as his body, had gone limp. Because as it turned out, having a gun pointed in your face wasn't something that could be shaken off like in action-holos. His stomach churned, as his mind processed how with but a pull of the trigger, his life could be ended here, and now.

"Matthews? Who is it?"

He didn't recognise the voice, muffled as it was. And as the mining supervisor opened the door ever so slightly, couldn't see them either.

"I dunno," Matthews sneered. "Who is it, indeed?"

His stomach stopped churning, replaced by a fire in his chest. "You know who I am."

"Do I? I'm confused. You see, I thought her had an SSO named Benito Sanchez, but he's been absent the last two months, while people like me have to-"

"Don't play the victim, Matthews, it doesn't suit you."

His colleague opened his mouth to speak.

"And you don't have to add to my sins with lies."

Matthews scowled. His trigger finger twitched. But unlike before, Benito felt no fear. No sickness. Because the truth existed somewhere outside Matthews's claims, but not entirely removed from them. Truth, his grandmother had told him, was a double-bladed sword. It lay somewhere between the two blades, while those at either end were cut.

Benito had never held a sword in his life. But as he walked past Matthews and into the habitation unit, he silently admitted that the time might not be far off when he had to wield a gun instead.

"Benito?"

Hearing Mugabe's voice now, he recognised it from before. As well as her face. A wary look at the SSO that was removed of Matthews's dislike, but had no warmth for him either.

"Yes, it's Benito," Matthews said, as he holstered the pistol and closed the door. "Back from brown-nosing Hassan."

Benito scowled. And Matthews must have noticed because he asked, "so how did it go, anyway?"

The SSO didn't answer. Four pairs of eyes were baring down on him, and in each of them was a mixture of hope, resignation, and even contempt.

"That bad, huh?" Asked one of them.

Benito still remained silent, as he turned his gaze to the medic. Claudia Cotton – the medic he'd encountered at the Mammoth a month ago. She was sitting on one of the two beds that remained in the unit, her legs hanging over the side. With baby blue eyes and curly blonde hair, she almost looked like a child…until Benito reminded himself that under the mattress were Morita Mk. Is, their barrels sticking outwards, and he had no reason to doubt that Claudia could use them.

Matthews was stockpiling. And he didn't care if Benito knew it.

"Course it was that bad," Matthews grunted. "Hassan's brown-nosing with the Feds already. So while that might make good company for Benito, you-"

"Fuck off, Matthews."

The foreman fell silent, as Benito glared at him. Mugabe shifted her gaze from Matthews, to Benito, her eyes showing concern for both. Claudia and their fourth companion remained silent.

"What did you say?" Matthews whispered.

"I drove to Hampstead," Benito said. "I saw Hassan. I used to last of my leave, and the last of my savings to talk to him."

"And what did that accomplish?"

Nothing, Benito silently admitted.

"Jack and shit, then."

An admission that Matthews had noticed.

"So," Matthews began, as he began to pace around the room. "Hassan is useless. Benito's useless. So unless any of you have any objections, I suggest we-"

"Your plan's not going to work, Matthews."

The supervisor stopped pacing. His hand grasped the hilt of his pistol. As if it were an old friend. Funny how two months could change a man, Benito reflected. Matthews was far from being a citizen-soldier, but perhaps he wasn't as far removed from David as he thought.

"My plan," Matthews murmured. "I didn't know you were privy to my plans."

"Matthews, you couldn't hide a plan any more than a dune-rat can hide from a rock-thresher. Eventually, you get sniffed out."

Matthews said nothing. No-one did.

"And that's what this is, Matthews. A dune-rat going against a rock-thresher."

"Got quite a few rats, Benito. And even rocks can be worn down."

"True. But look at the sky, Matthews. There's a big, titanium-clad rock-thresher up there that could wipe us all out in an instant if it wanted to."

Matthews scoffed, but as he turned around, he had no words to give Benito. Nor Mugabe, as she squeezed his hand. For a moment, Benito felt envy's hand tug at his heart. How, when, and why, Matthews and Mugabe had become close, he didn't know, but it made little difference. The last two months had allowed Matthews to find someone whom he could connect with. Something that Benito had failed to do his whole life.

He looked at Claudia, whose gaze was to the floor. Then he turned to the fourth and final member of Matthews's group.

"Chekov," he said.

Gregor Chekov. The armoury master. Technically a senior staff member, and one of the few who'd remained at Site 51 long-term, even after the Federation had begun overseeing operations. When the "outsourcing" had begun. The man who'd given Klaus, Matthews, and Benito their rifles two months ago, and now, had joined Matthews's group. Possibly ready to use one himself. Short, silent, and studious, Chekov didn't look like a rebel, but then, what worth were looks these days, when long-held assumptions about the Federation were being overturned.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Benito murmured. "You've been giving out guns to Matthews and the miners for the last month. You've been hiding them in habitation units like this one – old, disused, abandoned. Matthews isn't going to risk storing them in his own personal quarters."

Chekov glanced nervously at Matthews. Matthews's own gaze remained blank.

"Yes, I know," Benito said. "I'm the foreman, so even if these troopers only care about you filling quotas, I care about the whole site. So tell me, Chekov – do you have anything that can down a frigate?"

Chekov shook his head.

"A Marauder?"

Chekov shook his head.

"Any heavy armour at all?"

Chekov, after a moment, whispered, "potentially. But I-"

"Potentially." Benito looked at the foreman. "You have something that could potentially take out light armour, which the Federation might potentially deploy, as opposed to heavy walkers. Not to mention the hundreds of troopers they have at their command."

"I have hundreds of miners at my command."

"No, you don't," Benito said. "You're not a commander, Matthews. You're a supervisor. Pretty good one, at the end of the day, but that doesn't make you the head of an army. And it doesn't make the miners soldiers."

"We have security," Mugabe piped up.

Benito looked at her.

"Well, some of them…"

"Some of them," Benito repeated. "Some of, what…twenty? Thirty? How many security officers are actually employed here?"

Mugabe didn't answer. But the look on her face told him that twenty was closer to the answer.

"Tell me – if it came to a fight, would they pick up guns? Shoot at Federation soldiers? Risk life and limb for the cause?"

"I…" She trailed off, before looking at Matthews. "Maybe," she whispered.

"Maybe?" he asked.

"Matthews, people are scared. I'm scared. I'm only filling in for Klaus, getting all of site security in on this…"

"Well you have to," Matthews said. "Because people are dying. The Federation's raping this planet, raping us, and-"

"Matthews, enough."

"No, enough from you, Benito!" He strode towards him, and Benito forced himself not to flinch. "You've done nothing. Said nothing. You brought the Federation here, and while I've made plans to deal with them, you-"

"Matthews, your plan is terrible."

The supervisor fell silent. Benito saw him curl his hand into a fist, but realized that his words had cut deeper than Matthews had let on. Because he looked at Claudia, Chekov, and Mugabe. All for support. None of whom, in their silence, provided it.

"An uprising," Benito said. "A glorious revolution that takes out the Federal troopers here, simultaneously with asserting control in Hampstead."

Matthews remained silent.

"Have you factored in that you have miners and civilians going up against trained troopers?"

Matthews remained silent.

"Or the fact that there's already two warships in our skies, and even if you took this mine, and Hampstead, Federal ships could be here in days? Or that-"

"Well then what's your plan?!" Matthews yelled.

Benito flinched.

"Well?!"

Remained silent.

"You don't think I know the Federation?" Matthews hissed. "My brother's dead, Benito. Dead, because he joined up on their mad war against space insects. Him, and thirteen other miners – more than the Bugs even killed!"

Mugabe took his arm. "Matthews, Benito's just saying-"

"No, I don't care what Benito is saying!" he yelled. "Because…" He took a breath. "Because I'll give you this, Benito. You're right about one thing. There are two ships in our skies. How many until it becomes three? Four? Five? A dozen? How long until Homecoming is nothing more than Wallach Two? How long before nothing of this world is our own?"

Benito had no words with which to speak. Instead, he sat on the bunk bed opposite Claudia, and rubbed his eyes.

Eyes which had seen Hampstead. Had seen the flag of the Federation behind Hassan. Seen it raised on the grounds of Hampstead Town Hall. How long indeed, until Homecoming was outright annexed into the Federation? How long until they were all civilians, or citizens, and nothing else?

"I'm doing this," Matthews said. He looked at Chekov, then Claudia, then finally, Mugabe. "We're, doing this. We're going to take the mine, take Hampstead, and inspire a planetary uprising. We're going to drive the Federation off Homecoming, and we're going to use our planet's resources for ourselves. We-"

"Do that, Matthews, and you'll get your dozen ships."

Matthews clenched his fist, but kept talking. "Can't say it'll be hard. I can't say people won't die. But we have to do this, or-"

"Matthews, Hassan is onto you."

That shut the supervisor up. However, as quickly as he fell silent, it wasn't matched by the speed in which he turned to Benito. As in, without speed at all.

Which suited Benito fine. It gave him the time he needed to wonder if he should reveal how Hassan knew. How, thanks to his slip-up at the town hall, Matthews's little rebellion had been compromised.

"You know this?" the supervisor whispered.

"I know that Hassan knows. Turns out when you brown-nose, assholes talk."

A lie. One that reminded him of what his grandmother had said about lies, and the houses that came to rest on them. But then, Grandma Sanchez hadn't lived to see this world. Nor had his parents. Their house was crumbling, the very earth beneath their feet ripped out, and it wasn't because of any lies that had left his tongue.

"Matthews, you have every right to hate the Federation," Benito said, as he sat upon one of the bunks, wincing as he felt the Moritas beneath its mattress. "Heck, maybe you have the right to hate me."

Matthews folded his arms, scowling.

"Maybe all of you do," Benito said, looking at Mugabe, then Chekov, then Claudia. "People were hurting, and I wasn't there. I thought…hoped…that things would work out. I…you know, Captain Liang gave me a list on the very night that her troopers emerged from the tunnels. She told me then and there what was expected of me."

"A kill list?" Matthews murmured.

"Mining quotas."

He snorted. "Same thing in the end."

"Maybe," Benito whispered. "Maybe if I didn't stand aside, more people would be alive. Maybe, fewer people would."

"Unlikely," Matthews uttered.

"But I know if you do this, hundreds of people will die, and it won't gain you anything," Benito said. "Because I get it. The noble rebel leading an uprising against some evil outsider? I get it. Heck, it might even work. You could take this mine, take Hampstead, you could kill every trooper on Homecoming. Heck, you could even march on Neos Aquas if you wanted to."

The look in Matthews's eyes told Benito that he'd already considered it.

"But there's two ships in our skies. At least one of which is equipped with air-to-surface weaponry. The other is…look, I don't know what the capabilities of the Ironside are, but it brought stuff like the Mammoth and other heavy equipment. You think it doesn't have military hardware as well?"

No-one spoke. But Mugabe nodded. Claudia gripped the edge of the mattress. And Chekov, ever silent, made no indication that the armoury of Site 51 had anything approaching the level of firepower to destroy a capital ship, or even heavy armour it might contain.

"So," said Benito. "With every trooper on Homecoming dead, two ships in the air, and the Federation needing our titanium for an attack on Roku San…how do you think the sky marshal would feel, hmm? How would the good citizens of Terra feel knowing that we'd killed their own, after they rid us of the Bugs? How would citizens think about civilians wielding guns?"

Matthews folded his arms. "You know an awful lot about the Federation, Benito."

The SSO remained silent.

"And how the hell do you know about Roku San?"

"Hassan," Benito answered truthfully. "Call him what you want, but he doesn't want bloodshed."

"And nor do you."

It was an accusation, not a statement.

"No. I don't," Benito said. And think of me what you will for that, but I don't think some great uprising is going to help us. As Kublai Chang once said, 'not all the blood in all our people will cause this desert to bloom.'"

Matthews rolled his eyes. Clearly he didn't appreciate 23rd century poets.

"And even if it did, even if we shod blood, and it worked out for us…what then, Matthews? Your plan requires taking over a town and its local government. How do you think the rest of Homecoming would feel about that? What makes you think your revolution won't take on a life of its own?"

Matthews shrugged. He didn't know. Or, Benito suspected, cared.

"So what do we do?" Mugabe asked, as she took her confidante's hand. "You don't like Matthews's plan? What's yours?"

Benito opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"What is your plan?" Claudia asked.

"I…"

She smiled grimly. "Easier to criticize than create, isn't it?"

Benito couldn't disagree.

"Well, plan fast, Benito. Because I've treated more injuries than I have teeth, and let me tell you, the thought of breaking some has entered my mind more than once."

How many times? He wanted to ask. Because the truth of the matter was, it hadn't entered his. Not ever. Not with Hassan. Not with Matthews. Not even with Liang, in any of the times he'd met her. Sonia Liang who, from what he could tell, was loyal to the Federation, but by no means malignant.

She and her troopers had put their lives on the line, after all. Some of them had even crossed it. Into the hereafter promised to citizens, or whatever nonsense the Federation preached. She was a believer, sure, but even so, clearly rational. And while it was one thing to slaughter Bugs, it was another to slaughter your own. After all, he reminded himself, human beings weren't naturally violent. There was no shortage of human suffering in their history, but Homecoming had been founded peacefully, had chosen its governments peacefully, and had, for the most part, existed peacefully. Not a single war, internal or otherwise. Even when his parents had died...he'd sobbed. But not screamed. Nor shouted.

He doubted Matthews would have done the same. But more than that, Matthews's plan would interrupt Homecoming's peace, one way or another. More violently than even the Federation had. Surely there was another way?

"Well," Matthews said. "Since Benito doesn't have a plan, I suggest we-"

"We strike."

Three pairs of eyes stared at him.

"We strike," Benito repeated.

"Strike?" Mugabe asked. "Strike what?"

"No, not strike. Strike. As in, we go on strike."

Chekov raised an eyebrow. Matthews snorted and turned around, putting a hand to his mouth, as if to contain his laughter. Mugabe gave a grim smile, and even Claudia looked at Benito and said, "really?"

"Really."

"Benito, I'm all for following in the footsteps of labour movements, but this isn't some pay dispute." She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Though I wouldn't mind a raise, in case you're wondering."

"I wasn't. But you're right. This isn't about our weekly earnings. So that's why I think my plan should meet my friend's halfway."

Matthews spun around. "Friend?" he mouthed.

"We take the pit. We stop work. We secure weapons, we use the Mammoth as our base It's heavily armoured, and the Federation will be loath to damage its own vehicle."

Mugabe nodded.

"But we don't harm the troopers. We let them leave the mine. But we won't be the ones to draw first blood." He looked Matthews in the eye. "Because we can't win a war. Either we lose it on the first day, or the first week, or the first month, but mark my words, if we fight, we lose."

"And instead, we do...what?" Matthews asked. "Appeal to the goodness of their hearts?"

"Yes."

Matthews stared at him. Everyone did.

"They need the titanium," Benito pressed. "They need us to get it. You notice that they deployed the machinery, but not a single worker of their own? And besides, the Federation would rather fight Bugs than humans. Call them fascists, call them jingoes, call them bastardos absolutos, it's all justified. But these are human beings. We stop work, we stand firm, we get them to negotiate. They get to see that well paid, well rested workers are better labourers than ones being run into the ground."

Matthews folded his arms with a scowl, though Benito could see the wheels whirring behind his head. As he waited for Matthews to speak, he looked at Chekov (still quiet), Mugabe (looking at Matthews), and Claudia. Her jaw locked, as she nodded.

"It doesn't drive the Federation away," Matthews murmured. "We'd still be mining titanium for them. Not us."

"True," Benito said.

"And it doesn't bring back the miners we lost."

"Also true," said Benito. "But nothing any of us can do will accomplish that." He got to his feet. "I get it, Matthews. I do. David's dead. Friends are dead. But we've worked together for months, and we were all the better for it, so I'm asking you, begging you now…don't start a war. Just…make a stand. I don't believe in angels, but maybe we can appeal to them all the same."

Angels. The word hung in the air, as surely as an angel itself. A being that people on Earth had conjured into their imaginations thousands of years ago. In a world where mankind could sail the stars as easily as ships upon Terra's seas, it struck Benito that it was incredible that anyone could believe in them.

But Mugabe did, at least. Or he assumed so. Either way, she was fingering the trinket around her neck. Her ancestors had boarded the Haldeman like his, only searching for God in the process. Now, they were confronted by a people who claimed that only their own kind – citizens – got into Heaven. Damn all those who fell outside the chosen few.

Maybe God did exist, Benito reflected. Maybe he'd created the human race, and looked away in shame.

There was a silence in the room, with all waiting for Matthews to speak. And he must have known it, because instead of meeting anyone's gaze, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Lightly kicked one of the two bunks, and in doing so, briefly revealing the rifles stored under there.

"Feds want their minerals so much, they can't even watch the armoury properly," he murmured.

"Well, that," Chekov whispered. "But I thought the plan was that we leave most of the guns in the armoury until the time comes, and when that happens, we-"

Matthews held up a fist and Chekov stopped talking. All eyes remained on Matthews, as he looked to Benito.

"Can't deny that your plan sounds whack," he said. "Some limp-lipped halfway measure." He frowned. "Kind of like you, Benito. Not committing to one side or the other."

If it was bait, Benito didn't rise to it.

"Still," Matthews said, as he sat down on the bunk, "you're right. Much as I hate to admit it, you're right. We could take the mine, Hampstead, even Neos Aquas today, and all the Federation would need to wipe us out is a single shipped armed with nova warheads."

No-one disagreed. Whatever weapons the Federation owned, the basic premise of planetary warfare that space superiority was superior to ground superiority. Anything going fast enough was a potential death sentence for a world.

"We have one week," Matthews said. "That's the deadline. My plan, Benito's plan, some combination of the two, that's when we make our move. No ifs, no buts. And as much as I hate to admit it…" He sighed, looking at the foreman. "Benito's plan has got promise."

Benito smiled. "I-"

"But I hope you're right, Benito," Matthews whispered. "I hope to God you're right. Because if you're wrong, only He will be able to help you."

Do you honestly think the Federation can help us? That it'll be alright?

It was Matthews who was speaking, but it was Portia's words ringing in his ears.

"So can I count on you?" Matthews asked. "No ifs, no buts, are you in, or out? Because fun as it's been working with you, Benito Sanchez, I need you fully on my side, or not at all."

He extended a hand. Claudia, Mugabe, and Chekov watched on.

"Are you in?" Matthews asked.

Slowly…firmly…Benito took Matthews's hand, and shook it.

"I'm in," he whispered.

I hope so, Benito. I really do. Because if you're wrong…then there's no going back.

Matthews said something, but again, Benito didn't hear him. In part, because of his ears. In part, because as he looked at his hand, he was left to wonder how much blood would end up on it.

Hopefully none.

"So then," Matthews said, addressing his band of criminals. "Here's to adjusting the plan. Here's to our…miner disruption."

Everyone stared at him.

"Miner," he said. "M-I-N-E-R."

Everyone stared at him.

"I mean, it's a pun, but…"

Mugabe burst out laughing. And in turn, so did Claudia.

Chekov remained silent, while Benito smiled.

Laughter, he reflected. How long had it been since he'd heard it?

And how long, he thought, as his eyes drifted to the guns under the bunk, was it until laugher was replaced by screams?