Tasmanian SFG: Welcome to Hell

by C. R. Daems

  Then suddenly we were clear and into the empty space between every group of natives. I reminded myself the next group wasn’t going to be so easy as they would have heard the Zinwe’s shouts and gunfire from our previous encounter. I idly wondered how Sergeant Williams and the Rangers were doing, and whether they were trying to be quiet or like us where they just charged aggressively forward. I hoped the latter because I thought it would be more effective. One thing for sure, Major Lloyd had the natives all wrong. Many trained soldiers would have dispersed if surprised by a horde of Tasmanians charging at them—but they didn’t. They held their ground and made every effort to respond. If they had more and better weapons, we would not have been quite as successful. Minutes later I broke into an area where the vegetation wasn’t as thick. Another group of natives stood looking surprised, but they had been prepared for whatever was coming: guns raised, machetes out, and arrows nocked.

  “Take cover,” I shouted as I switched my Tavor to automatic and sprayed bullets from left to right as I headed for the nearest tree, three steps to my left. I literally ran into it with my shoulder, slid down the trunk into a sitting position, rolled over, and began firing again. I could hear arrows cutting their way through leaves and brush and sporadic rifle fire from the natives mingled with automatic fire from the Tasmanians to my right and left.

  Lying on the ground, I could see nothing through the dense underbrush. I rose on one knee then vaulted up into a run. Nothing moved in front me as I jumped over dead and mortally wounded bodies and raced ahead looking for more. I was no longer in the lead but several meters behind three of my group as we entered another empty area between groups. If my estimate was correct, we had at least two more groups before we would encounter the Rangers, depending on how aggressive they were being. I idly noticed sweat dripping into my eyes and wiped it away with my sleeve. Although I was panting from the hot conditions, humidity, and exertion, I wasn’t tired. It justified the daily runs and workouts when we were at home.

  Several minutes later, we hit next group of natives. I heard distant gunfire but saw no one. Several steps ahead a native lurched out of the undergrowth smiling, his knife aimed at my stomach. Unable to stop my forward motion, I spun ninety degrees just in time but a second late and felt my uniform tear and a burning sensation across my stomach as his knife ripped through my uniform. Continuing to spin, I stepped past him, cutting through the back of his neck, stumbled a few steps, bounced off a tree, and manage to keep my balance. “Thank you, Father,” I mumbled and promised I would visit him the first chance I got.

  I raced, trying to catch up with my team, passing several dead bodies as I went. In front of me, a native rose, bleeding profusely from his back where a bullet had exited. He was nocking an arrow as he did, his eyes tracking Pete, who was ten meters ahead. I took another step and sprang up, landing with one foot high on his bloody back. The impact forced his arrow to loose before he was ready and it landed in the ground several meters ahead. My foot drove the native into the ground face first. As I stumbled off him, I shot him in the head. Several steps ahead I found my squad waiting. Each man had blood splattered on his uniform. I hoped it was all native blood but could see that some of that at least was from wounds.

  “Isaac, any wounds that won’t wait?” I asked, looking more critically at each man’s face for signs of excessive fatigue. After a couple minutes examining each man and me, he shook his head in the negative. Just then Finley’s teams appeared. His eyes assessed my squad and shook his head at me.

  “Gordon, your team take the lead. Luan, Gordon’s team is fresh and will be more effective. Why don’t you take his position on the north side?”

  I nodded. Finley was right. My squad needed rest and would be less effective. Without having to be told my squad shifted north, waiting several heartbeats for Gordon’s group to get several meters ahead before following. My squad only encountered two natives and both were dead from multiple shots before we reached them. We had another open area and then found the Rangers in a struggle with a group of over twenty natives—the normal group of sixteen plus others that must have followed them from where they had been. To their credit, the natives did not disperse when we came pouring in. They stood and fought and lost.

  “Williams!” I shouted and waited, looking around at the group of Rangers who had clustered together when attacked. A tall muscular man emerged from the group and headed toward me and Finley, who magically appeared beside me.

  “I’m Williams,” the man said, producing a tired smile.

  “Our medics will do their best to patch up your injured, but we need to move in the next few minutes or risk being overwhelmed. The Zinwe have three defensive lines consisting of seven hundred natives. We can’t give them a chance to reorganize. Their defensive line between us and the ridge is weak and should be easy to break through if we hit it quickly.”

  “I doubt the Rangers are going to be of much help…” he said reluctantly.

  “We understand, Williams,” I said. “All you need to do is to follow us. There can’t be more than eighteen natives in our way, and I doubt they will follow us once we break through.”

  “Why, Luan?” Finley asked, sounding amused.

  “They aren’t cowards because they prefer guerrilla tactics. Besides, we haven’t won anything. They still have us contained,” I said and Finley nodded. “I think we should move before our Tasmanians begin to think they’re on holiday.”

  “Very true, Luan.” He left as he raised his right hand, circled it several times, and then pointed north. As he did one of his three groups went to the west as a buffer between the Rangers and any natives in pursuit. One group hung back as a rear guard and the third group along with my squad began moving north at a quick pace. Five minutes later, we encountered two groups of nine natives each. They had to have been aware of the fighting since it had taken place less than one hundred meters away, but they appeared focused on the ridge, possibly expecting reinforcements. Caught by surprise, four died before they could react. The other five were forced into one-on-one confrontations. The one I encountered had a machete in his waist band and a nocked arrow pointing at the ground. He smiled. I fired, destroying the large-leafed plant he had been standing in front of. He had moved a split second before I pressed the trigger and disappeared to my left. As I ran by the spot where he had disappeared, I glance left but didn’t see him. Since the objective was to break through the Zinwe’s outer line and not to kill natives, I continued running. But on my fourth step I knew he hadn’t retreated just hidden. I dropped onto one knee and spun hundred and eighty degrees, so I was facing behind me. Sure enough, the native had shot an arrow which whistled over my head. He was in the process of nocking another when I put a small burst into his chest. His nocked arrow shot skyward as he was lifted off his feet and thrown backward. I jumped to my feet and continued after my unit, knowing we had successfully broken through the outer line. As I suspected, no Zinwe followed.

  It took us an hour to reach the beginning of the mountain, and another three hours to reach the top. On the way, we passed two lines of army who were there to protect our retreat. It was a slow climb as most of the Rangers had injuries and needed help at some point. A good number of the Tasmanians had also received wounds of one type or another. When I finally made it to the ridge, my friend Major Lloyd was standing hands on his hips scowling at me.

  “You incompetent bitch,” he screeched, shaking his fist in my direction. “Your unit alerted the Zinwe to my Rangers’ presence which caused the death of ten good men and many more wounded.”

  I knew I was tired, but Lloyd’s words seemed like some strange language I had never heard before. It sounded like he was blaming me for the Zinwe locating his Rangers. “It’s bad enough you use sex to get into the Tasmanians and entertain them by undressing, but you need to be shot for getting good soldiers killed through your incompetence,” he continued ranting. “And who else are you sleeping with that they promoted you? Men taking orders from
a whore. Do they get extra sex for taking orders from you? Or are they the wimps of the Tasmanians? They should call them the pussy squad.”

  I stopped in mid-stride. I knew I was tired and my brain fogged, but that sounded like he had just insulted my brothers. I spun to face him.

  “Major Lloyd, I don’t care what you think about me or what you call me. You’re too insignificant to even beat up. It would be like thrashing an infant for crying. But you have just insulted my brothers, and for that you owe them an apology or I will be forced to give the little boy in the major’s uniform a spanking.” I think the major and I had the attention of the entire camp and vaguely felt the Tasmanians slapping the ground in approval.

  “You can’t talk to me that way, I’m your superior,” he shouted.

  I ignored his words. “I want that apology now or I’m going to kick that superior ass of yours so hard you’re going to be feeding your mouth through your asshole,” I said as I approached him, but before I could get close General Wentworth appeared and shouted, “What the hell is going on here?”

  “This woman threatened to attack me. I want her up on charges and court-martialed,” Lloyd shouted and his twisted face turned to a sneer.

  “Is that true, Tasmanian Luan?” Wentworth asked, giving me a hard stare.

  “He apologizes to my brothers for insulting their integrity, or I’m sending him to the hospital, sir,” I said settling my nerves and preparing for a fight.

  “He’s an army major, Luan. You can be court-martialed for that.”

  “I don’t care if he’s an army general, sir. He owes my brothers an apology. I don’t care if it’s voluntary or involuntary.”

  Just then Commander Howard appeared at Wentworth’s side.

  She’s right, General, if you arrest her, you’re going to have to arrest one hundred Tasmanians who are insisting the major apologize to Luan for insulting their Tasmanian sister,” Howard said and motioned for Wentworth to follow him.

  “Well, Lloyd. Do you apologize or do I extract it in pain?” I said, watching Wentworth and Howard walk away. “Or you can stand there pissing in your pants and letting every Ranger know you’re a coward.”

  “You’re going to do hard time for this, bitch,” Lloyd snarled, but it lacked the rage it had earlier. I moved another step closer, but before I could generate a response I saw Lieutenant Manning running toward us. He gave Lloyd a quick salute as he slid to a stop only a couple meters away.

  “Sir, General Wentworth wants you and me in his tent, now.”

  “Does he have time to change his pants, Lieutenant?” I asked. “Probably the reason he failed to qualify for the Tasmanians. The stink would alert the enemies to his presence.”

  “You bitch,” he screamed as he drew his knife. I smiled until the lieutenant grabbed his arm and jerked him in the direction of the general’s tent. “When I get back, I’ll teach you proper respect toward your superiors.”

  “Don’t forget to change your pants, Major Lloyd. Superiors have to look the part,” I shouted after the two retreating men. Now the Tasmanians were slapping the ground and most laughing. A minute later Smitty walked up to me.

  “Luan, that was so much better than an apology. You just gave him his handle—Wet Pants.” Smitty lowered his voice. “Don’t get me wrong, Luan, he would have to be crazy to want to fight you, but because you’re a young woman, it’s going to make him look the coward.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Planet Libian: The Facts of Life

  “General, we probably have at least one hundred witnesses to this incident,” Howard said when they reached Wentworth’s tent. “Major Lloyd started the incident by shouting derogatory remarks about her and absurd claims that she caused the Rangers’ death and injuries. In fact, if Tasmanian Luan hadn’t intervened the entire Ranger contingency would have been killed. Lloyd sent them out without waiting for her squad to report their findings.”

  Wentworth shook his head slowly. “As far as the army is concerned, Major Lloyd is an officer and outranks Tasmanian Luan. She is therefore technically in the wrong no matter what he said to provoke her.”

  “If she is arrested, General, the army may find that the entire Tasmanian Battalion has resigned.”

  “They can’t do that,” Wentworth said, dismissing the idea as absurd.

  “Can’t? The army has always considered the Tasmanian Battalion as a high-mortality unit with a much higher casualty ratio. Consequently, they authorized the Tasmanians its own set of rules which have never changed over the past hundred years since they were created.

  “One, we have no rank. Therefore, Tasmanian Luan and I are technically equal. She is taking orders from me because I have been designated by the senior Tasmanians as the commander for this assignment. On the next assignment she may be designated as a commander and I would be taking orders from her or one of her squad members. At home we are all equal.

  “Secondly, this is reinforced by the fact that we are all paid the same rate of pay. It varies only by our time with the Tasmanians. Consequently, there are members of Luan’s squad who are paid more than me.

  “And lastly, no Tasmanian has ever been awarded a military medal or honor. Therefore, it would be very difficult for Major Lloyd to claim he outranks Tasmanian Luan since she has no rank. And since he insulted her with no provocation, who can blame her if she punches out his lights?”

  “Interesting,” Wentworth said, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve always thought that some secret database somewhere contained each Tasmanian’s rank and awards which they weren’t allowed to wear on their uniform by tradition.”

  “I was in the area when Major Lloyd began his rant. He accused her of getting into the Tasmanians by sleeping with some unknown individuals, that she is only here to entertain the men, and that she was the cause of the Rangers being ambushed. Luan only turned to confront the major when he implied her brother Tasmanians were wimps. Conversely, every man here wants an apology from Lloyd for insulting their Tasmanian sister. Not to mention the fact that every Ranger who survived the major’s ill-advised order to return to our supply depot would like to have him shot,” Howard said, then laughed. “Understand that I am not advising or asking you to take any action since I have no authority here except with the Tasmanians.”

  * * *

  “You wanted to see us, sir?” Lloyd said, bracing to attention and saluting as he stepped inside the tent.

  “Yes, I did,” Wentworth said after returning their salutes. “I wasn’t present when your argument with Tasmanian Luan started but Commander Howard feels you started it.” Wentworth raised a finger to his lips indicating silence. “I am therefore relieving you of your command, pending an inquiry. Lieutenant Manning, you are to take written affidavits from the Rangers that were present during the confrontation with Tasmanian Luan, along with Major Lloyd’s instructions to the Ranger team he sent back to the supply depot. Those depositions are to be given under oath.”

  “That’s not fair, General,” Lloyd shouted, his face pale.

  “I’ve decided to leave it to an inquiry board to sort it out. We don’t have time for this in the middle of an assignment and during an engagement with our opponent. Dismissed,” Wentworth said quietly but in a tone that booked no argument. “Do you think this will end the dispute, Commander Howard?” Wentworth said after two officers and left the tent.

  “I believe the Tasmanians will consider your actions more than adequate. Don’t worry about Luan, she is the least volatile of the Tasmanians.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Planet Libian: Time to Leave the Party

  “Luan, I want you and your entire unit to join me at my tent,” Howard said, as he approached me after leaving the general’s tent. He said nothing more as he continued walking toward his tent. I took out my TCom.

  LUAN: All members Report to Howard’s tent.

  “Luan,” a woman’s voice shouted. When I looked, I could see Shirley and Clare running toward me. “We’re o
n your side, girl, but he’s an officer and going to have the military on his side.” They both looked pale with concern etched in their furled brows.

  “Don’t care,” I said, having no regrets… well in truth, I didn’t like embarrassing him in front of his Rangers. I would much rather have preferred a physical confrontation. I thought the man a poor excuse for an officer, but I didn’t hate him or wish him ill. But he insulted the Tasmanians and that couldn’t go unchallenged. “He can insult me as much as he wants because I don’t think enough of him to care what he thinks about me. But I can’t let him insult my Tasmanian brothers.” I laughed. “His problem right now isn’t me. My Tasmanian brothers will demand an apology for insulting their Tasmanian sister. And like me, they aren’t going to care that he’s an officer.”

  “We wanted to thank you for saving our asses. Another hour and we would all have been dead,” Shirley said, and gave me a tight bear hug.

  “When we get home, we’re throwing you and any Tasmanians who want to come a party by way of thanks,” Clare said, also giving me a hug. “That is, if you Tasmanians can manage to get us off this ridge.”

  “Got to run,” I said. “I think that is what this meeting I’m late for is all about.” I waved goodbye and double timed toward Howard’s tent. When I arrived, the platoon leaders were there along with my unit members.

  “I’ve invited Luan’s unit members since they each have personal knowledge of the Zinwe’s deployment and potential weaknesses we might be able to exploit,” Howard said. “For example, their charge through the Zinwe’s second line of defense. That was not a desperate rush to free the Rangers, but a well thought out tactic based on what they had previously observed.”

  Smitty laughed. “At the time I thought Luan had just acquired a huge dose of testosterone. But she was just being a Fox leading wolves on the hunt.”

  “This meeting is to get your ideas on how we get off this ridge,” Howard said and sat back awaiting comments.