Perkins had read the report about Ruhar scientists working to modify their own lab-grown meat for human consumption. There were cows on Paradise, but they were exclusively for milk production. Because the Ruhar considered killing animals for food to be barbaric, UNEF had a ban on eating cows, or chickens, or the few other types of animals that had made the long trip from Earth before the Kristang stopped shipping in supplies. Of course there were occasional violations of the strict vegetarian policy, but penalties were severe and the Ruhar were generally satisfied that the humans who did eat animals were an anomaly. Now there was potential for meat to be added to the human diet once again, even if the source of that meat had never walked around on two or four legs. Perkins had tasted experimental lab-grown chicken created by the Ruhar, and while it had a somewhat spongy mouthfeel, it tasted like genuine chicken. Supposedly considerable progress had been made to bring lab-grown chicken into production, and now the Ruhar scientists were trying to create lab-grown beef. Perkins knew that officially, the Ruhar were creating lab-grown meat and genetically engineering plants to grow coffee and cocoa beans and other Earth delicacies, as a gesture of gratitude. Gratitude for lowly humans having destroyed a Kristang battlegroup and then saving the lives of forty thousand civilians. Perkins was sure gratitude played some part in motivating the Ruhar effort, but the hamster scientists she had spoken with were eager for the genetic engineering challenges of modifying native plants to produce foods for human consumption. The human presence on Paradise provided a convenient excuse for research efforts the Ruhar wanted to pursue anyway. “Beef would be great,” Perkins agreed while savoring the coffee. “I am getting tired of vegetable lasagna. How many UNars did this coffee cost you?” She asked, concerned she might be sipping a treat the general had spent a week’s pay to get. After initially relying on a barter system, the human economy on Paradise now had a currency called the ‘UNar’, based on a bushel of corn. Barter was still used for many agricultural products, but increasingly people were conducting transactions, and thinking, in UNars.
“Nothing,” Bezanson shook her head. “These beans aren’t from the coffee bean fields in Lemuria, this came from an experimental batch. The botanists wanted an opinion from human taste buds before they engineer a plant to crank out these beans.”
Perkins took another sip and swirled the hot liquid around her tongue. “It’s got a nutty flavor, but there’s a very bitter taste. It’s subtle.”
“Yeah, I told them that. They said the bitterness is likely from the layers of pulp between the bean and the outer coating; they’re going to work on it. They seemed very pleased,” she noted with a smile, “when I told them how they need to adjust the flavor. I really threw them a loop when I asked if they can make old-fashioned English tea, like Orange Pekoe.”
“Can they?” Perkins asked hopefully.
“The hamster,” Bezanson glanced guiltily out her open office door, “Ruhar, I asked is taking that task as a personal challenge. It helps that his sister and her family were on one of those ships you prevented the Kristang from blowing up. So, thank you,” she raised her mug as a salute.
“You are welcome,” Perkins returned the salute. “You didn’t call me here to talk about coffee, General.”
“No, I didn’t. First, there’s this,” Bezanson opened a drawer and pulled out a small red box, tossing it to Perkins, who opened it and looked up in surprise. “That’s right,” the general grinned broadly, happy to be delivering good news for a change. “You’re a Lieutenant Colonel now so you should be wearing the proper insignia. There will be a formal ceremony at UNEF HQ in Lemuria later this week, I don’t think you should have to wait. Sorry your team didn’t get a proper ceremony before, but, you were busy.”
“I, I’m honored, Ma’am.”
“You deserve that promotion ten times over, but we already promoted one person directly to colonel, and that didn’t work out too well,” a frown flashed across her face as she recalled the unknown fate of Joseph Bishop. “We’re going to meet the burgermeister after lunch today, I want you wearing your new rank insignia then.”
Emily Perkins stared at the silver oak leaves of her new insignia, while she ran a thumb over one of the gold oak leaves on her uniform. “I’ll put them on when we finish here, Ma’am.”
General Bezanson saw the frown on the junior officer’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just,” Perkins looked at the UNEF patch on her sleeve. “It feels odd to be promoted in a force that gets more irrelevant every day. The intel summary said, what, seventeen hundred troops left the service just in the past week?”
“Seventeen hundred thirty nine, yes,” Lynn glanced at her tablet. “The previous week that number was over two thousand.”
“Ma’am, somehow it feels like we’re losing.”
“I understand how it feels, but HQ tells us that people leaving the force is a good thing in the long run. The economists say military personnel don’t generate as much economic activity, because much of our time is devoted to what economists call ‘non-productive tasks’,” she winked.
“I find that ironic,” Perkins said with a laugh.
“That what you and I do is considered non-productive?”
“No,” Perkins shook her head. “That we now have economists at HQ.”
“Yes!” Bezanson agreed. “I notice very few of them have resigned their commissions. Really, though,” her expression turned serious, “they’re right about the benefits in the long run. Civilians are responsible for feeding themselves, or they will be within two years if the resettlement plan works. What is most important about the process HQ is calling ‘demilitarization’ is how it affects the hamsters’ attitude toward our presence here. You and your team are showing the flag and reminding them how useful humans can be to the Ruhar military, but you also remind them that humans came to Paradise as a military occupation force. The burgermeister tells me that when we get to the point where ninety percent or more of the human population are civilians, the Ruhar view of us will change. The average hamster won’t see humans as a defeated enemy force, they will see us as a primitive species that got suckered and used by the Kristang. They’ll see us as a people caught up in a war we didn’t start and don’t want.”
“Ha,” Perkins snorted. “The Ruhar brought the war to us. They saw us as primitive natives about to be invaded by the Kristang, and their response tells us how they would act if we were allies. They could have come to Earth, warned us about the lizards and helped us prepare a defense. Instead, they knocked our infrastructure back into the pre-industrial age and bugged out without ever looking back to see what a mess they left behind.”
“The end result would have been the same, maybe worse, if they had tried to help us. We would not have believed them, and even if we knew the true nature of the Kristang right from the start, we would have sent the Expeditionary Force out to serve them, because we wouldn’t have had a choice. The Ruhar have been fighting this war for a very long time, since before humans had civilization. Most of them are sick of fighting, they hit us to get it over with as quickly and efficiently as possible,” she shrugged.
“If they are so tired of fighting, why are they still doing it? They could drop back into a purely defensive posture,” Perkins mused sourly.
“Colonel,” General Bezanson referred to the other woman’s new rank, “you were an intel officer. If I suggested the hamsters cease all offensive operations, what would be your assessment of that idea?”
Perkins frowned. “I’d tell you it wouldn’t work, unless the Kristang stop being Kristang.”
“The lizards are caught up in a nice little civil war now,” Bezanson observed. “Ruhar intel says they expect the war to continue for another three to four years before winding down. Add on another two to five years for whoever comes out of the war on top to rebuild and consolidate their position. Then they’ll be spoiling for a fight with the Ruhar and Torgalau.”
“Why?” Perkins sighed. “They’ve been
doing the same thing for thousands of years, will they never learn?”
“Kristang warrior caste psychology and internal politics require the strongest clans to constantly push outward to acquire new territory. In part, that constant conflict gives their young, lower-ranking warriors something to expend their energy on, rather than causing trouble for clan leadership. Their society needs war, or the entire reason for the warrior caste would disappear.”
“And then the Ruhar and Torgalau will get stuck in the war whether they like it or not,” Perkins noted, while wondering how true that really was. The Ruhar had originally taken the planet Gehtanu away from the Kristang Black Trees clan, not because Paradise was strategically important to the Ruhar defense posture, but because the Ruhar wanted more territory for their growing population. Humans had been exiled to the jungles of northern Lemuria, then forced to move out because Ruhar real estate developers wanted to create communities there, and the hamsters knew their property values would be lowered if dangerous humans were in the area. The Ruhar were not innocents in the ongoing conflict, and they certainly were not good-guy saviors of humanity. The actions of the hamsters at Earth proved the Ruhar only cared about their own strategic interests, and had given little thought about how lowly humans would be affected by being dragged into the endless war. Perkins did not fault the Ruhar for putting their own interests first, but the incident caused her to remind herself, every time she had dealings with the technologically-superior species who owned the planet, that the fate of humans meant little to the Ruhar and their federal government. “Our civvies here will play the part of innocent farmers, while my team reminds the Ruhar that they owe us?” Perkins guessed.
“Something like that, yes,” Bezanson agreed. “Your team also keeps us in the game. If the hamsters are our patrons here and they’re going to keep fighting, we want the ability to defend ourselves. Because we sure as hell can’t count on the hamsters protecting us, if they really get pushed by the Kristang or whoever.” Even after Perkins and her team destroyed a Kristang battlegroup and secured control of the planet for the Ruhar, the distant federal government had still wanted to give the planet back to the Kristang, and leave humans at the mercy of the lizards. Discovery of valuable Elder artifacts had persuaded the Ruhar to retain control of the planet they called Gehtanu, but Bezanson knew that situation could change in a heartbeat. If the Ruhar suffered a serious military setback in that part of the sector, they might be forced to pull their battlegroup away from Paradise. If that happened, Lynn did not think the unlikely prospect of finding more Elder goodies would make the Ruhar determined to keep the planet. Already, the failure of Ruhar scientists to find even a single additional Elder artifact was causing rumblings in their military, about the value of keeping a battlegroup stationed at such a backwater world. Chief Administrator Logellia had told Lynn that in a few years the growing population of Gehtanu, plus the substantial investments the planet was attracting, would soon cross a threshold where it would be politically poisonous for the Ruhar federal government to abandon that world. But that threshold had not been reached yet, and the number of ships assigned to the Gehtanu battlegroup had shrunk every time the task force rotated commanders. “Enough depressing talk,” Lynn slapped the table emphatically, and pulled two more boxes from the open drawer. She lifted the lid of the first box, displaying a dozen chocolates. “Latest batch from Ruhar labs, these in the center are chocolate-dipped caramels,” she announced as she took one of the delicacies and popped it in her mouth.
“Mmmm,” Perkin’s eyelids fluttered in ecstasy as she savored a caramel. “It tastes just like real chocolate!”
“I’ve been challenging them to make maple syrup, but the only sample we have left is half a bottle that got cooked pretty badly while it was in the jungle,” she noted with disappointment. She had tasted that bottle but it already had an off flavor, so she returned it to the owner and instructed the Ruhar not to use it as a flavor example. “Now the fun part,” she pulled the lid off the second box, exposing a stack of Velcro-backed patches. “This will be your new unit symbol, we’re calling your team the ‘Mavericks’.”
Perkins picked up one of the patches, studying it. “Mavericks, huh?”
“The idea came from one of the referees from that last wargame; she said your team was the element the Yellow commander failed to account for. Also,” Bezanson cocked her head. “You kind of have a reputation for going off and doing whatever you feel like, and maybe telling HQ about it later. You could at least send us a postcard, Perkins.”
“Uh huh,” Perkins’ cheeks reddened slightly, knowing she could not argue with the general’s comment. “I guess ‘Mavericks’ is appropriate. Do the hamsters know what that word means?”
“Probably not,” Bezanson made a mental note to check on that. “You like it?”
“My team will love it,” Perkins replied happily. Her team were still wearing the symbols of their old units that were now increasingly irrelevant. It was time for Colter and Czajka, for example, to replace their 10th Infantry insignia, as they had not served in what was left of the 10th on Paradise for a long time. “So, the Ruhar don’t have any hard feelings about the results of that wargame?”
“Quite the opposite. The Yellow Team commander wrote a glowing evaluation of your team, and recommended you be approved for an offworld training assignment.”
“Offworld?” Perkins gasped.
Lynn Bezanson’s grin was almost wider than the one lighting up Perkins’ face. “Specifically, a fleet assignment. They have a dedicated training ship, an old cruiser. If you’re interested-”
“Interested? Hell yes we’re interested!” Perkins knew she didn’t need to ask her team, they were all eager for an opportunity to get aboard a Ruhar warship.
“You’d be away two or three months, that’s the length of a typical training cruise.”
“Sign us up!” She would need to concern herself later with the logistic details of humans being aboard a Ruhar ship.
“It’s going to be a lot of work, just to qualify for spaceborne duty,” the general warned the overeager new lieutenant colonel.
“Spaceborne?”
“Spaceborne Army,” Bezanson explained. “That’s the closest translation of the Ruhar term. The Ruhar don’t have a distinction between soldiers based on land or ships, like we do with the Army and Marine Corps, because all their troops rotate between dirtside and shipboard. The training cruiser arrives here in four months, thereabouts, and you have a lot of work to do before you can be space duty certified. That includes working in spacesuits, in a zero-gee environment. Your pilots need to transition to flying a dropship, they will have the most challenging training. All of you will need training to help with damage control aboard the ship.”
“Of course. Just the six of us?” Perkins asked. Many people wanted to join her unit, but to date, UNEF had not allowed her to add personnel to her accidental team. UNEF HQ did not want to dilute the positive publicity of her team by adding people who had not already destroyed a battlegroup and saved thousands of Ruhar lives.
“Seven,” Bezanson corrected. “Cadet Durndurff will be coming with you.”
“Oh?” Perkins expressed surprise. After the wargame, Nert had returned to his studies at the military academy. He sent them messages regularly, but he was too busy for anyone to visit.
“Going aboard the ship for a training cruise is a regular part of the academy’s program. Usually a training cruise is reserved for third and fourth-year students, but they will make an exception for Nert, if you want him with you.”
“General,” Perkins responded carefully, “we all love his fuzzy face, and having him with us would smooth things for us aboard that ship, but-”
“But?” Bezanson asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Look, when the burger-when his aunt Baturnah requested her nephew join my team, I was not happy about the prospect of babysitting a teenager. Since then, he has proven to be very useful to us, my whole team loves ha
ving him around, and he’s got a great future ahead of him.”
“You haven’t got to the ‘but’ yet, Colonel.”
“But,” Perkins paused, “I am concerned his service with us is not good for him. We take up a lot of his time, if he misses assignments while serving as my liaison officer he has to make it up when he returns to the academy. He tells us he is famous now at school, and that puts a lot of pressure on him. Plus,” her expression turned angry, “some of the cadets are mean to him because he associates with humans.”
“Perkins, I appreciate your concern. I’ve met Nert and I like the little guy too-”
“He’s not so little anymore,” Perkins interjected.
“-and he’s a teenager. If his classmates didn’t tease him about spending time with us, they’d pick on him about something else.”
“True enough,” Perkins admitted. She held up one of the Mavericks patches. “Ok if I send one of these to Nert? He’d be tickled, well, his skin is already pink under the fur,” she laughed and Bezanson laughed with her.
“Perkins, it will be your call whether Nert will be with you or not. The academy hasn’t made the offer to him, so if you decide against the idea he won’t know the decision was yours.”
“I know Nert, if he found out the Mavericks are going on a training cruise without him, he would be heartbroken. All right, I need to think about how to make this work, but it sure would make life easier for us if he’s with us.”
“Decision made, then,” the general concluded. “Perkins, I like that you are considering the impact on your liaison officer, but you need to prioritize the benefits to humanity, and UNEF in particular. Your team will be the first to get an opportunity to go offworld, everyone’s eyes will be on you. Any screw-ups will reflect badly on all humans. If Cadet Durndurff can make your job a bit easier, you need to take that opportunity.”
Mavericks (Expeditionary Force Book 6) Page 9
