Light Duty? More like Punishment Duty
One might think that after fighting the Dominion, the Zerg, and the Protoss, to say nothing of the occasional abomination and pirates, being on patrol around a bunch of civilians would be easy duty. Even back in the Koprulu Sector, at least there you would get a moment's warning if anything ugly, nasty, or both showed up.
Here, on Dumassas? At the Hub? Shit, what was easier than a cakewalk or a milk run? Several dozen Goliaths and Vikings were marching around at any given time, and maybe a couple dozen Marines, Marauders, and medics were on patrol around the Hub. There wasn't even anything particularly ugly they had to worry about showing up. What was easier than a milk run or a cake walk? The biggest enemy was going to be boredom!
Least, that was what Sergeant Richard Han thought when he received the orders from the First Sergeant. Even as he suited up in his fitted CMC-300 power armor. Even as he holstered his C-14 to his combat shield and walked out with a Blunderbuss Riot-Control Airblaster in his right hand. And even as he walked to his post in front of the Hub's Orbital Command Center, located at the edge of the Hub.
Then they came. A foe that no one had expected, had never really trained for. A foe that struck fear into many a Raider soldier and pilot like nothing else, and many other emotions. Something that no one, not since any of them had signed on with Raynor, ever believed they would need to contend with.
Civilians. And not just civilians, but tourists. Tourists from both New Keyes City and Sanctum, the name of the first settlement of the Haven Republic, eager to explore the reclaimed and renovated Hub, and all of the fancy new Terran and Inner Sphere technologies built into it.
At first, it hadn't been that bad. Only a handful of locals had been brave enough to journey around the Hub, at least those that hadn't been involved in the construction while it was still under renovations. A couple of the braver teenagers, some of the elderly who still had energy, and a few adults of varying ages.
Richard had been among the first on patrol when he came across an elderly gentleman, who just watched as a pair of SCVs worked alongside some marines removing rubble.
Richard toggled his radio, double-checking it was set to the right channel before he called,"Control, this Guardian 2, I have a civilian in the Hub by one of the landing pads. Elderly male. Probably in his eighties. Please advise."
"Guardian 2, this is Control. Any signs of hostility or possible threat?"
Richard looked at the old man, sitting on a piece of rubble. His hands clasped on top of his walking stick as he just looked ahead. Turning to see what he was looking at, Richard saw a pair of SCVs removing rubble and rebar, with a pair of marines in their own CMC assisting. "Negative Control. He's just watching some of our guys working."
"Affirmative, Guardian 2. Standing orders to allow civilians free passage around the Hub, barring active construction areas and designated military facilities. Why don't you go introduce yourself?"
Han nodded, even though Control obviously couldn't see it. "Understood, Control. Guardian 2, out." Walking towards the old man, he toggled off his radio before calling out, "Hey there, old timer! You enjoying the show?"
The elderly man turned his head, "Well hello there, son. Hope you're not here to kick me out? I just sat down to rest my old bones."
"Not a problem, sir. You're more than welcome to watch, though, not sure what's so interesting about it. You've seen one SCV, you've seen them all."
"Ha! Spoken like someone whos never grown up with the idea of losTech!" The old man stomped his walking stick on the concrete, "I'm seventy years old, son. Seeing industrial mechs like these is the closest I'll get to being back in a battlemech after all these years!" He gave Richard a toothy smile, which the Raider couldn't help but return. "Name's Douglas Duke. I'd shake your hand, but I don't think even my bones could take one of your handshakes."
"Oh don't worry old timer, I can be gentle." Richard stuck out three fingers, which Douglas took and shook, the marine being sure to be very gentle. "So what was that about being in a mech? You were one of those, whatchamcallit? MechCommanders?"
"Mechwarrior, if I was twenty years younger, I'd probably kick your ass for that!" Douglas snarked. "Well, maybe if I had my Warhammer."
"...You'd hit me…with a hammer?" Richard took a step back, wondering if the old man was a bit cracked…
"PFFT!" Douglas wheezed, leaning forward on his stick, "My-my-my hammer?" Douglas's body trembled from laughter, the sound echoing around them, "I said my Warhammer, boy! WHM-6R! One of the original production runs, in fact!" Straightening back up, still chuckling, he pointed to a larger piece of rubble to his left. "Take a seat, and let me tell you about my 'Dud-bolt'.
Taking the offered seat, Richard leaned forward, arm against a knee. "Hows about we trade stories? See whose had the better comedy?"
"Ha! I got decades on you, kid. Good luck! Now, Dud-Bolt, she was a Warhammer, a 70-tonner, and she'd been in service since before the Star League with the Terran Hegemony…"
As more and more of the Hub was rebuilt, and tourists went back to their homes with stories of the 'Terrans from the Deep Periphery', more tourists started to come. In their ones and twos, and the occasional cluster of teenagers. Now, only a week since the major surface was completed, there wasn't a patrol where Han wasn't waved down by some kind of tourist, looking for photos, stories, occasionally some kind of souvenir.
Course, some locations were still off-limits to civilians, such as the Factories, most of the Barracks, and obviously the Orbital Command. Most civvies got the message the first time around when they were told they couldn't enter, and it was restricted to military personnel.
Mostly.
Then there were days like today…where people didn't get the message.
"-And who the hell is your manager?! I want them here right now!" Case in point, a random woman with a gaggle of kids was screaming at Richard, finger pointed at his lowered visor. "Do you not know who I am?! I know the governor!"
'I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie…' He repeated the mantra over and over again in his mind, trying to ignore the screeching banshee. Speaking as calmly as he could manage, he tried to again, "Ma'am, as I told you. This is a military installation. As per the Agreement, these facilities are barred from all Dumassas citizens without explicit agreement and authorization. And I said before you do not hav-"
"Don't give me any of that crap!" She shoved her finger in his face again, or at least tried, only managing to jab the chest-plate. "I told you, I want to see the inside of this Center! You call it a Center! Like a community center! You will let me in, or I swear, I'll get the governor to fire you!"
'I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie. I must not punch a civvie…' Mantra still repeating in his mind, Richard tried again, "And as I told you ma'am, Control has denied that there was any sort of Request filled, let alone granted. Now If you will pleas-"
"Screw you! If you won't let me in, you can at least give me that gun of yours for my kids!" Gesturing at his Blunderbuss.
"Wait, what? No! Ma'am, you need to back up now!" Before he could take a step back, the woman reached for the gun with both hands. Even as she reached, Richard was screaming the mantra in his mind, ''I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE! I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE! I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE! I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE! I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE! I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE! I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE! I MUST NOT PUNCH A CIVVIE!!!!'
One Week Later...
Richard tipped back the glass, downing the last of the whiskey cocktail, setting it back down on the bar. It joined three others already on the bar. Before he could even look up, another cocktail was placed in front of him. Looking up, he saw the rather attractive bartender giving him a smile. "Cheers, mate. Not every day one gets away with giving someone what they deserve."
He took the glass and saluted the bartender with it, "Cheers to that!" Next to the empty glasses, was a folded paper. The only text visible reading, "with the conclusion of our investigation, all pending charges have been dismissed with prejudice. Please report to your commanding officer the fortnight after this date."
Author's Note: Greetings all. So this side-story was one that is meant to address an issue people noted in the last chapter: why did no one do anything about the civilian?? Well, this scene is meant to show why. The entire Hub wasn't restricted to the general public. Just active construction zones, and military installations, and that was mainly entrance, not observation. Keep in mind, for the Terrans, nothing that they are doing and showing is something they even consider actively keeping hidden. Especially not with all of the local labor already involved.
Their SCVs, marines, marauders, vikings, and goliaths? It's all so mundane to them. It's so commonplace, that it never even registered in their minds to keep tabs on people. And in the future, nothing they really will be thinking of keeping hidden. It's the equivalent of all the videos the armed force of the world, for example; the US, puts out of all their equipment, construction, bases, etc, on the internet and freely.
It's effectively mundane to them that it slipped under the radar of 'Oh, this might get a LOT of peoples' attention.' Hence, civilian tourists.
At first, it was the brave, the clueless, and the 'zero fucks given' crowd. Then as the day workers go back home, and tell their stories to their friends and family, and some of the work starts being completed, you have more of that crowd, if a bit less brave, a little less clue, and have some shreds of fucks to give still. So there's more than just that one tourist taking photos.
A number of kids, teenagers, and adults on Dumassas are also now proud owners of an inert C-14 Impaler cartridge.
And then eventually you get the normal tourists and the...Karens...
For anyone thinking that the crazy woman's behavior in this scene is unrealistic, I really, Really, REALLY wish you were right and I was dead wrong.
But I have indeed read, heard of, and seen such behavior.
As far as progress on the next next chapter? I'm still trying. Dropping this side-story to not only address the issue but also let people have some fun.
Another side-story or two may drop as I work on the next chapter, and maybe I'll finally get the Dramatis Personae done...
Yes, it is intentionally left ambiguous so you all can imagine just exactly what happened that day.
Have fun!