Red Hands

August 16 - Splintered Rock, Al Raqis

It was large and well executed.

A large red hand facing the Splintered Rock landing pad. It was as though a giant had dipped his hand into red paint, one presumes, and placed it against the wall. The effect would have been the same.

-----

On the other side of the market a smaller hand print, normal human size, disgraced a poster outside the offices of the United Systems Directorate.

It was more effective I thought that the imposing giant hand near the spaceport. It was as if the artist was placing his hand over the USD trooper's face and pushing it away. Very clever.

A tall figure walked up beside me. "The next one over has a notecard," he said.

The stranger was in a worn, yellow powersuit. His face hidden beneath his helmet.

He handed me a pamphlet entitled, "Call to arms!"

"Thank you," I replied. Politely, I took the document and began to read.

"My people... Sons and Daughters of The Marauders. This much I vow: The history of these days will be written in blood. By crushing the armies of our enemy, by seizing the weapons they thought to turn against us, we were fighting for our very existence. But if there are those who would deny us peace; refuse us our rightful place in the universe, then we will unleash such terrible vengeance that generations yet unborn will cry out in anguish!"


"Mauraders?" I asked.

"Damn rebels, yep," replied the man. Distancing himself from the group.

I continued to read the pamphlet.

"....The enemy may shatter our bodies, but they cannot break our spirit. Even now they advance on our home, to seize by force what they cannot claim by right. They cannot imagine what awaits them. WE WILL SMITE THE INVADERS FROM OUR SKIES! Though they sweep over our lands like the sands of winter, never again will we bow before them; never again endure their oppression; never again endure their tyranny. We will strike without warning and without mercy, fighting as one hand, one heart, one soul. We will shatter their dreams and haunt their nightmares, drenching our ancestors' graves with their blood. And as our last breath tears at their lungs; as we rise again from the ruins of our cities..."

"So who are these 'Marauders'?" I asked.

"No one really knows," he replied, "I can't even tell you if they are real or not."

I nodded.

"Seem pretty legit to me," he added.

"I don't recognize your uniform," I observed, "Are you with the USD?"

"Nope, I'm just a spacer."

He removed his helmet revealing a rugged, handsome face. Tanned, attractive features.

"Independent?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Trader or merc?"

"Used to be merc," he replied, "I've left that life behind."

I nodded again. "I'm Major Siamendes with the UAP. Security Consultant to House Zenobia."

"That bloody handprint has been popping up all over the place," remarked the man.

"Yes," I interjected, "I saw it on the landing pad."

"...I'm starting to think maybe they are real."

"Your name?" I asked.

"Name's Parker."

"Hello Parker," I replied. "Are these prints targeting only USD points or are they throughout the settlement?"

Parker did not reply immediately. Perhaps it was the appearance of the tall, yellow rabbit woman striding across the marketplace.

"Hello Jup," I called to her, "I see you have your harvesting tools, and are you adjusting to the heat?"

With her characteristic piercing stare, she replied. "Yesss..you could say..there is no rest for the wicked."

I smiled at her little joke. I was aware of her preference for blood drinking.

She grinned, "I must be off... The worms call me."

"Good bye Jup," I said as she padded off towards the desert.

Once Jup was some distance away, Parker resumed his story.

"So, from what I've been able to piece together, the Marauders seem to have two main figures, as they are most often mentioned: a Chieftain Rasvant and The Warmaster."

I listened carefully.

He continued. "The Warmaster is mentioned in another poster up town and Rasvant plays messages over the Al Raqis comm, usually after he burns down food supplies, or sabotages something."

"Oh?" I said, "So a propaganda campaign too... and no clue as to identity."

"Nope, just Rasvant and Warmaster."

"Can you show me the other poster mentioning the Warmaster?" I asked.

Parker put his helmet back on and turned towards the settlement proper. We stopped first outside the medical centre. A second USD poster had been defaced with the same red mark.

From there, Parker led the way to House Velas. On the wall closest to the warehouse another red hand. This one almost as large as the print near the landing pad.

"That is a big hand," I remarked as we stood examining the image.

"Could be a painting," said Parker, "Who knows?"

"One would hope..." I said absently.

"I also heard the USD base came under attack a few nights ago."

"Hmm," I replied.

Above the print floated illuminated text:

THE WARMASTER NEEDS YOU!
RISE UP AND DRIVE AWAY THE OUTLANDERS!

"The Warmaster," Parker indicated, "Outlanders....that some kinda slang for offworlders?"

"Sounds like it," I agreed.

"One last thing maybe you could look into," suggested Parker, "No one who's gone into Khayal Alramady this month has been seen or heard from. It's like they walked over the edge into nothing."

"That is the nearby city across the desert," I said.

"Yeah."

"And do these prints appear there too?" I asked.

"Yes."

"This has been useful... thank you Parker."

"No problem Ma'am."

"Where are you from originally?" I asked.

"New Folsom."

"When did you arrive on Al Raqis?"

"Few years ago," he replied. "Been out on the fringes..."

"I don't remember seeing these signs last year...." I mused out loud.

"...Got some relatives that live out way past the safe zones," he added.

There had been various native groups in the past that had protested or even took action against 'offworlders'. But this was new.

"Well, thank you for your time, Parker."

"No problem Ma'am."