It took Marcus's militia a few hours to secure the base. Colt had been low on the list for patch-ups. He'd crashed where he fell until someone got to him.

The next day the real work started. Colt went looking for signs of his cousin. He wandered the base, saw the mix of shock and relief in people's eyes. One rocket had taken out the main militia unit. An inter-settlement football match had been the cover, they had to leave. Turned out some of them were Mr Winder's people.

By midday, the militia were mopping up stragglers. Then someone told him Marcus wanted a word. Colt found himself steered toward Dr Elsharif's apartment.

Marcus looked up from a screen as Colt came in.
"Find anything?" Colt asked.
"Too much and not enough," Marcus said. "But I've been waiting for you. Elsharif liked a good bottle of wine after surgery. This is off the books. No medals. But you did good. Thought we could celebrate."

Marcus stood, fetched the open bottle, poured.
"You OK?" he asked.
"Been staring at bodies all day," Colt said, taking a glass. "Bringing them up from the greenhouse."
"Grim. Find your cousin?"
"No. Thought I had, a couple of times. Too many bodies. Not people any more. Just husks. Found a few older than two years."

Colt raised the glass. Marcus stopped him.
"I've got bad news."
"Lenna?"
"No, she's still in intensive care. Being shot in a hospital turns out to be the best thing you can do. It's Keene. Broke his cuffs. Got away." Marcus swirled his wine. Sniffed it. "Good vintage."
"Don't worry," Colt said.
"I still don't get why he killed the doctor."
Colt thought. "Boss dies, contract's over. Killer for hire without a hire. Riley said he had a bonus if the surgeon died if the  general died. So he collected."

Riley came in. Marcus had taken her testimony personally. She'd been there when mercs hijacked a corporate water train the colony needed. Under the law of the sea, it was piracy. She was the key to putting most of them away.

"How's your mother?" Colt asked.
"Over the worst," Riley said. Her eyes were red, her voice frayed. "She can be moved in a couple of days. I couldn't sleep, so I went over the books."
"Good to hear," Marcus said. "Wine?"

"Colt, I found this." She held up a pad. A table of data. One row highlighted. "Database of harvested organs."
Marcus grimaced. Unused organs meant someone nearby had been stripped for parts.
"I traced this ID. It intersects with your DNA. Two organs in the bank—" She stopped.
Colt stared at her.
"This code's a prostate. This one's gonads. I'm sorry."

"Nothing else?" Colt asked. 
"God," Marcus muttered, topping up his own glass. "They really did pick people apart. I think we need more of this."
"I'll take one," Riley said.
"Warm it with your hand," Marcus said. "Genuine import. France. Earth."

"Speaking of Earth," Riley said. "What happens now?"
Marcus shifted in his chair. "We collect evidence. This place flew a U.S. flag—our jurisdiction. Evidence goes back to Earth. Trials will be remote. If convicted, they'll go straight to exile. Canada's got a new super-max in Candril."

A knock at the door. Marcus put his glass down. One of his officers stood outside.
"Sorry, sir. The merc leader, a Colonel Volkov. Insists on talking. He's outside."

"Guess so," Marcus said.

Volkov came in. Colt recognised him from Red Horizon. A face that looked like it was always laughing at the law. Marcus chained him to a heavy duct by the table. The guard left. 

"What do you want?" Marcus asked.
"You can't hold me," Volkov said.
"You attacked Red Horizon. Shot people," Riley said.
"Not American territory," Volkov shrugged. "We can do what we want. He can't hold me for that. Let us go."
Colt said, "The land train flew a U.S. banner."
Marcus nodded. "Kidnapping. Law of the sea makes it piracy."
Volkov smirked. "We've got lawyers. We can drag it out for years. Might as well let us go. Save the air."

Colt grabbed the bottle, smashed it. Turned the jagged neck toward Volkov.
"Whoa, whoa," Marcus said, stepping in. Riley moved too.
Volkov smiled, settled in his chair.

"Get out of my way, Marcus," Colt said. "Turn your back."
"That's not how we do it."
"Please, Colt," Riley said, putting herself between them.
"Just leave me with him for a minute," Colt said. "You know you can."
"I can, but I won't."
"Listen to them," Volkov said behind Marcus.

They pushed Colt back. Marcus set his glass down.
"Listen. Volkov and Vaelstrom were working for someone. Maybe a country. We don't know who. He's the leader. Most likely to know. We need him alive."
"Alive," Colt said. "But to talk he doesn't need his hands or eyes."
Marcus almost smiled. "If you've got the stomach. But if I say stop, we stop. Drink on it?"

They raised their glasses.

Colt smashed Marcus's out of his hand.
"What the hell?" Marcus said.
Colt pointed.

Marcus turned. Volkov was on the floor. Glass in hand. Lips stained red. The rest spilled.

"I think the wine's off," Colt said.
"Shit," Marcus said.