Tasmanian SFG: Welcome to Hell

by C. R. Daems

  “Well, Howard, Major Lloyd, what do you think we should do?” Wentworth asked when everyone had assembled in the command tent. “The damn natives seem to have disappeared.”

  “They took a beating on this ridge, perhaps they decided to avoid us,” Howard said, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.

  “The natives are cowards, so I doubt we’ll see them again,” Lloyd said in a condescending tone. I wondered if the major considered guerrilla tactics cowardice. The ones I fought didn’t appear to be afraid of anything. Our victory on the ridge may have been a slight setback, but I believed the natives had a strategy, and we were right where they wanted us.

  “Howard, send out some Tasmanian recon teams,” Wentworth said. He sounded frustrated, and I got the feeling this assignment wasn’t what he had anticipated. Probably thought a two-day sortie into the jungle, kick the natives’ asses, and go home. “We aren’t going to be able to complete our contract if we can’t find them. Maybe they can find some indication as to direction they went.”

  “The Rangers are good at recon,” Lloyd said. I sensed resentment in his remark, as if using the Tasmanians for the recon was an affront against the Rangers’ ability.

  “No. We may need the Rangers to reestablish the supply line if we need to go further into the jungle,” Wentworth said while shaking his head and not looking pleased about that contingency. Great, I mused. I hoped the Zinwe were as incompetent as Wentworth thought or the cowards Major Lloyd thought, and not the clever strategists I was beginning to think they were.

  “Suggestions?” Howard said, when Wentworth and others had left and there were only Tasmanians remaining.

  “I think Luan and her group have been having all the fun, and the boys would like their turn. We each have some scouts in our groups. Why don’t each of us put together a small group of scouts and let them see what they can find,” Clifton said, looking around the group.

  “All right, we’ll send two groups out this afternoon and two more tonight. Lacy, your group go west, and, Clifton, your group north. When they return, Sadler, your group go west, and, Finley, your group north.” After receiving nods, Howard looked at me.

  “I thought I’d take my group out tonight, south,” I said, having the feeling that the natives wanted us to go further into the jungle chasing them.

  “Why south?” Howard asked. “General Wentworth will be sending Rangers south to reestablish our supply line.”

  “Can you get him to wait until tomorrow?” I asked. If I were right, that would be a suicide mission.

  “Why?”

  “If the Zinwe are stupid or cowards, we will be in this jungle for months chasing them,” I said. “If on the other hand, the Zinwe are not stupid or cowards, they will let us travel in any direction we want except south.” That generated an eerie silence as everyone contemplated my reasoning. Slowly heads nodded.

  “Well, Luan, if you’re right, we won’t have to chase the natives,” Howard said. He didn’t look happy as he turned and headed in the direction of the general’s command tent.

  “Luan, I hope Howard doesn’t mention that it was your suggestion,” Finley said, his forehead wrinkled in concern. “Major Lloyd already thinks the Rangers are in competition with the Tasmanians. That could be the catalyst for him to insist on doing something stupid. And it’s worse now that a woman has qualified for the Tasmanians when he couldn’t.”

  I turned to Smitty. “Tell the boys we’re going out tonight, and I think it’s going to be a long night.” They were veterans so there was no point telling them they should eat heartily and get some sleep.

  “If you’re right, Luan, that would make the Zinwe very clever,” Sadler said while giving me an appraising look.

  “My father always stressed that it was better to overestimate your opponent’s ability. If you overestimate his ability, and you’re wrong, you lose nothing. If you underestimate his ability, and you’re wrong, it could cost you your life.”

  “She’s right of course,” Clifton said, clearly amused going by the smile on his face. “We tend to feel we’re not only the best-of-the-best but exceptionally well-trained, and therefore don’t have to worry about surprises—we will always triumph. Our new sister also believes that, but she would rather not do it the hard way if she can avoid it.”

  “Figuring out how to avoid the surprises is the fun part, and… if it saves one of my brothers’ life, it’s a damn good exercise,” I said, then smiled and waved. “I’m off to work on the next surprise, see you later.” I made my way to the edge of the cliff and stood surveying the area. Looking north, I could see the river was much wider, but the whitecaps indicated that the water was flowing rapidly toward the gorge and would be difficult to navigate. As it neared the narrowing gap in the mountain the land dropped several hundred meters, producing a five-hundred-meter waterfall and turbulence rapids that had over the years carved itself deeper into the mountain. Here at the top, the roar of the water was so loud you would have to shout to be heard. A couple hundred meters to the south, the river widened but was still too narrow, creating rapids for another kilometer or two. As far as I could see in either direction, the river formed a natural barrier separating the two landmasses.

  If my conjecture was right, sneaking through what the Zinwe had waiting for us in the south would be extremely difficult because of the numbers, similar to the exercises we had in the Tasmanian qualifying school. But… I made my way toward the army camp wondering whether anyone had dragged climbing equipment along.

  “Jolie,” Shirley shouted as she appeared from around one of the tents. “What are you looking for back here?” She looked excited to see me, probably hoping I had some news. I imagine everyone was bored having nothing to do and anxious to know what was coming next. “Major Lloyd is in the command tent ranting at General Wentworth. He’s claiming the Tasmanians are too afraid to move and that the female with them thinks the natives have us trapped. He wants to take the Rangers back to the base camp and reestablish our supply line. He’s also claiming all the actions they are giving you credit for are a lot of bullshit. They have you in charge of that squad, so you don’t have to participate in the action but get credit. They know they made a mistake letting a female into the Tasmanians.”

  “He’s entitled to his opinion, but I hope the general doesn’t let him take the Rangers south until my unit has a chance to scout the area. The major believes the natives are cowards and have run off to hide.”

  “They have disappeared.” Shirley grinned.

  “The critical question is whether disappeared means you can’t see them or disappeared means that they’ve gone. The two are not the same.” I grinned back.

  “And makes a big difference if we are going to return to the base camp.”

  “Hopefully, the general will wait until the scouting teams return and he has up-to-date information,” I said, then continued. “Actually, that’s the reason I’m here. You wouldn’t happen to know if the army has any grappling equipment?”

  As we talked Clare and several other Rangers approached.

  “I don’t know about the army, but we brought a grappling gun along just in case,” Shirley said.

  “Can it propel a line eighty to one hundred meters?” I asked.

  “It depends on the weight of the line,” Clare said. “It could carry a light line a hundred meters.”

  “Is it possible for me to enlist your help? I want to string a line across the gorge separating our ridge and the other side.”

  “Then what?” one of the male Rangers asked. He was young, wiry, and probably hoping that it involved something exciting to relieve the boredom.

  “I want to get my unit to the other side.” I pointed in the direction of the river.

  “That’s a hell of a long drop if something goes wrong,” the same young man said.

  “I trust the Rangers can do it and do it right.”

  “Why not ask the Tasmanians?” another young Ranger asked, his face not quite a sneer
.

  “They would think a rope would make them look weak, so they would try to jump to the other side. I don’t mind looking weak.” That produced my intended result, and I saw lots of smiles and a few laughs.

  “Let’s go look at the gap and think about what we’ll need to do,” Shirley said and began walking toward the cliff with everyone following. The group now included two female and four male Rangers.

  “That’s at least eighty meters to the other side,” the wiry young man said. “By the way, I’m George”

  “For those of you who may not know her, this is Jolie Luan,” Shirley said. “And the boys are Charlie, Sammie, William or Bill, and George.”

  “How much weight can the light line support?” I asked, wondering if I could make it across on that line.

  “Safely?” Sammie asked, then pursed his lips in thought before replying. “Fifty kilograms. Seventy to seventy-five kilograms max.”

  “Stripped down, I weigh about fifty-two kilograms. If you can get the line anchored, I can make my way across and then drag a heavier line across. I looked around the group, awaiting comments.

  “You’re crazy,” Charlie shouted. “Any additional pressure on the line, like gust of wind bouncing you around, could break the line and you will fall to your death. Is getting to the other side that important?”

  But before I could answer, Major Lloyd came running over. “You people have nothing better to do than stand around and talk?” he shouted between gasps for air.

  “Tasmanian Luan wanted to know if it would be possible to get her to the other side. We were discussing various options,” Shirley said.

  “First, if the Tasmanians need Ranger help, they should talk to me. Second, if the Tasmanians want our help, the request should come through Commander Howard, not a new recruit. Who, by the way, is taking credit for her unit’s scouting activities when I hear she not only didn’t contribute but kept herself safe by not participating in the scouting.” Lloyd glared at me the whole time he was talking, his face twisted in anger. “It’s a shame that the Tasmanians are lowering their standards. The only reason they gave her a unit was to make it look like she is really a qualified Tasmanian and was not someone who was given special consideration.”

  All eyes were immediately riveted on me. The major had personally insulted a Tasmanian, which was never a good thing, but he was a senior officer and in uniform. The group stood deadly silent awaiting the unknown response, but you could almost feel the static electricity crackling and popping like a giant Van de Graaf generator.

  “Sir, I believe Commander Howard would be interested in knowing how you feel about Tasmanians’ lowered standards and their pretending I’m a real Tasmanian. You should also tell him what you heard about my cowardly performance. I think he has a right to know,” I said in a normal conversational tone devoid of the amusement I felt. He looked like I had kicked him in the solar plexus and his face turned a pasty white. Before he could speak, General Wentworth approached the group.

  “What is going on here?” he asked looking around the assembled group.

  “I was asking the Rangers for their suggestions on how I could get to the other side of the cliff, sir,” I said.

  “Why do you want to get to the other side of the cliff, Luan?” Wentworth asked as his eyes darted around the unusually silent Rangers.

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s on the other side of the river and traveling on that side should allow us to get behind any concentration of Zinwe troops.”

  “Why do you believe the Zinwe will concentrate their troops in the south when we’re pushing north into their territory?” Wentworth asked, his eyes now focused on me.

  “I think the Zinwe are fighting a war of attrition using guerrilla tactics. Their lack of access to modern assault weapons would put them at a disadvantage in a head-to-head confrontation, and the poor visibility in the jungle makes it ideal for guerrilla tactics. They maintain just enough contact with us to keep us chasing them while they snipe at our flanks and separate us from our supply line.”

  “Major Lloyd believes they are cowards who are hiding,” Wentworth said.

  “He might be right, General,” I said, giving Lloyd the benefit of the doubt. “That is why we’re sending out scouts to the north, west, and south. It would be a shame to see people die because we guessed wrong.”

  “Have you figured out a way to get to the other side?” Wentworth asked as he stepped to the edge and look down into the gorge.

  “The Rangers and I were discussing some options, but Major Lloyd has made it clear he doesn’t consider me a real Tasmanian and doesn’t want me talking to his Rangers.”

  Lloyd interrupted me with a shout. “I didn’t say that, you lying little bitch.”

  “If I’m lying, then you should report that to Commander Howard along with your concerns about me being a coward.” I ignored the fact that there were six witnesses to the conversation.

  “Enough of this nonsense. Luan, you and the Rangers can continue to discuss what crazy options can get you to the other side of the cliff, while Major Lloyd and I go talk with Commander Howard.” The general marched off toward the Tasmanian area with Lloyd reluctantly following. When I looked around the group, everybody looked like they wanted to say something but decided it wouldn’t be appropriate at this time.

  “I repeat, you’re crazy if you want to risk your life crossing that gap based on the tensile strength of our lightest grappling line,” Charlie said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “We could tie another lifeline around her in case the main line broke,” Clare said, but Sammie interrupted before she could continue.

  “Even if the safety line held after she dropped away from the mainline, it would slam her against the face of the cliff and probably kill her,” Sammie said, shaking his head in disbelief. We were still discussing various options and even debating putting up a test line to see if it would break if I bounced up and down on it, when Wentworth and Howard approached.

  “Luan, what’s this I hear about you wanting to get to the other side of a cliff?” Howard said, frowning as he gazed across the gap.

  “Yes, sir,” I snapped. “Thought it would be interesting to see what’s on the other side of the river and a good way to get behind any concentration of Zinwe without being seen.”

  “Are you planning on taking your unit or going alone?” Howard asked.

  “The Rangers believe a light grappling line can reach across the gap and that if I strip I can make it across on that line. Once across I can drag across a more substantial line for the unit to come across.”

  “What do you think, Howard?” Wentworth asked.

  “She’s new to the Tasmanians, but she already has a handle—Fox.”

  “All right, I’ll authorize the Rangers to work with Luan to get her and her unit to the other side,” he said, shaking his head. “Call me before she attempts to across.”

  Over the next hour, every Ranger in camp was either participating or watching along with my unit and the other Tasmanians. They tied a light line between two trees. Then to everyone’s amusement, I stripped down to my briefs and made my way hand over hand from one end to the other, occasionally bouncing up and down. The line didn’t break.

  “I think we’re ready, Jolie,” Shirley said, smiling, but I could see the concern in her eyes. By the time we reached the cliff’s edge, Rangers were already loading the grappling gun with the light line. When it was loaded, Charlie took the gun, pointing it up about forty-five degrees, and fired. The grappling hook shot upward for what looked like fifty meters before slowly dropping. It missed the edge of the other side by less than a meter.

  “Even with the light line we’re pushing the limits of this gun,” Charlie said. “And the wind isn’t helping.” As evening approached, the wind lessened, and Charlie finally managed to land the hook ten meters onto the other ridge. Even so, it took six tries before the hook finally latched on to something that appeared to hold. After several Rangers h
ad pulled on it and it didn’t break loose they pronounced it ready for me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Planet Libian: Death Trap

  “I want to wait until it’s dark, and I’d like a commotion on the other side of this ridge to distract anyone who may be watching us.” While we waited for dark, we assembled our equipment and the heavier rope we would need for the unit to cross. Only the original group of six Rangers stayed to watch and help if necessary.

  When the sun had set, I put on the climbing harness and then attached my rappelling clamp. Fortunately, the land on this side of the ridge was slightly higher than the surface on the other side, and we had connected the rope on this side to the top of the tallest tree. A little bit of experimentation proved I could use a standard rappelling technique to transverse to the other side. They had insisted on attaching a safety line to my harness, although in all likelihood if the main line broke the safety line would propel me into the cliff and cripple me if it didn’t kill me, depending on how far I was away from the ridge when it broke. On my Ready signal, the Rangers on the far side of ridge began firing guns and making a big commotion in the hopes of drawing any watching natives’ eyes away from me.

  The actual rappel prove anticlimactic. As usual, the Ready, Aim part took far longer than the Fire part.

  As I set my feet on the ridge I realized one potential weakness—I had no weapon. If natives were on this side they could just shoot me. Well, too late to worry, I mused as I began pulling the light line, which was now attached to a heavyweight line across the gap and secured it to the largest tree I could find. Several minutes later, the members of my unit began coming across. Smitty was first, carrying a small duffel bag.

  “I brought your clothes,” Smitty said, smiling. “Your pale skin stands out like a lightbulb in the moonlight.”

  “Luan, I don’t think the major likes you very much,” Todd said with a snort. “I’m surprised he didn’t ask the Rangers to take the line down while you were rappelling to the other side.”