Scouts Out: Books One and Two

by Danny Loomis

  “Split off and get what we talked about from each of your areas. Remember, leave enough room for a couple’a bottles of booze. We’ll stop at that liquor store we passed on the way back.” They spread out through the store, not noticing the extra man they had picked up.

  Several times Sergeant Hanford heard things being thrown on the floor, along with clattering bangs when his men carelessly threw away anything they didn’t want. Gradually these sounds disappeared until he only heard his own attempts at finding anything of value. He hurried to fill his sack. Everyone else must be waiting for him by now.

  Finally he hefted the sack and hurried toward the front. He almost fell, slipping on a wet spot—wet spot, hell! The floor was sopping wet. He looked closer. Blood. A large pool of blood. And five headless bodies, all that remained of his patrol. He dropped everything and began backpedaling, mouth silently working, trying to shout. Sergeant Hanford’s control slipped and he sprinted to the back of the store, flung the door open and ran from the building. Tears ran down his face and he began a loud, keening wail: “Ohno, ohno, ohno…”

  Next morning a patrol found his body across the street from his billet, with the heads of his patrol stacked neatly around him. Although he was dead, there was no mark found on his body.

  * * *

  Just before full dark, Lieutenant Hunfried walked the four blocks from Division Headquarters to the Political Liaison billets. It was unwise to mix with the regular troops, due to the hatred they engendered enforcing the wishes of the political officers throughout both divisions. With the landing of the second division, their ranks had been swelled to five hundred. The only structures large enough this close to the headquarters had been Vanport’s Eastside High School. Situated on four acres, the seven buildings were now controlled by what the rest of the Alliance forces called the “Goon Battalion.” He passed the outer guards and waved a casual salute. Entering the officers billets, the old administration building, he trotted upstairs to the Commandant’s office.

  At his knock, Captain Leopold Steuffel waved him in with a smile. “Good to see you, Konrad. Got the evening off for once?”

  “No, just picking up my duffel. Major Vogel and I are taking the commandos out for a trip in the near future.”

  “About time we started to advance again. I was beginning to wonder if Lambert had any balls left.”

  “More than you think, Captain. Word is he’s setting up a large trap for those tunnel rats.”

  A faint, eerie howl drifted in the open window. “What in the hell?” Konrad said, peering out into the darkening streets. Again the howling, this time from further to their right.

  “I haven’t heard that before,” Lieutenant Hunfried said. “You think some of the vanished citizens left a dog or two out there?”

  “No, that’s not a dog,” Captain Steuffel said. “Sounds more like a wolf. I’d better take a walk of the perimeter. Keep the morale up and all that.”

  Konrad laughed. “Yes, go hold their hands, bossman. It wouldn’t do for any of the regulars to see our troops piss their pants over a little noise.”

  Steuffel chuckled. “The day any of my boys piss their pants over anything except too much beer is the day I’ll retire. You coming?”

  Konrad shook his head. “I’ve got to pack. I’ll buy you a drink of your schnapps when you come back.”

  Steuffel smiled as he exited the building, thinking how he’d won the case of schnapps from Konrad in a card game before they even landed. Being political liaison officers had its perks. No one checked what you brought with you on a mission. He strode briskly to the front entrance of their compound, noting the tenseness of the four guards.

  “Relax, men,” he said. “You’d think no one had ever heard a wolf howl before. Aren’t you part of Wolfshead division? Or did you come in with the Third?”

  “We’re Wolfshead, Sir,” the Sergeant of the Guard said, stiffening to attention and saluting.

  “At ease, Sergeant. You don’t salute officers when we’re in hostile territory. Don’t want to mark us as targets. See anything out there?”

  “No, Sir. Just that infernal howling. Raises the hairs on my neck, I’ll tell you!”

  “As long as it’s only noise I’ll stay happy,” Steuffel said. “Keep a close eye out, though. There’s supposed to be a small group of Edoans roaming around the city somewhere, looking for the occasional straggler to snap up. We’ve got patrols out, so I wouldn’t be too concerned.”

  “Will do, Captain,” the Sergeant said. Steuffel moved towards the next group of guards.

  For the next hour he joked, cajoled and gave encouragement to his troops, both on guard duty and in their barracks. Finally he headed back to his office, thoughts of a pleasant supper with his friend Konrad filling his mind. He barely noted the short soldier who swept the hallway, intent on reaching Konrad before he drank any more of the schnapps. Hm. Not in his office. He snatched up a bottle and moved to the end of the hallway, and knocked on Konrad’s door. It swung open, and he entered waving the bottle in front of him.

  “We’ve just got time for a drink or two…” He came to a full stop, shock robbing him of speech. Konrad’s outstretched body lay on the floor, both outflung arms pinned at the wrist by knives. He had been disembowled, but worst of all was his face. It looked as if someone had beaten it to jelly. Captain Steuffel backed from the room, feeling piss run down his suddenly weak legs. “Sergeant—Sergeant of the guard!” His first bleat was cut off as a wire dropped over his head and snugged about his throat. His last coherent thoughts were of regret. He’d been saving the schnapps, and never got a taste.

  * * *

  Wolf flitted silently down a side street near the middle of Vanport. Dawn was an hour away, and patrols had increased to the point he was unable to reach his lair. Time to find shelter. He heard the tramp of feet one block over. He slipped in an open doorway just as a flitter roared overhead. Something new. Wanted to catch him more than ever. Wolf found an empty cupboard under a sink in the middle of the building, curled up and was asleep within seconds.

  A click of metal on metal brought Wolf awake and on guard. He’d wedged the door of the cupboard he’d crawled into slightly open. Now he saw two pair of legs pass out of the shop. “Nothing,” a voice said. “I thought you said dentists kept drugs.”

  “I guess they don’t on this mudball,” another voice said. Wolf waited until sure no one else was present, and painfully crawled out of his cramped quarters.

  Two dentist chairs flanked the sink. He kept low and peeked around the sides of the open doorway, into the reception area. No one in sight. For the first time in hours, he stood up and began a series of muscle-stretching exercises. Once loose enough he began looking for food, something in short supply for him the past two days.

  He struck paydirt in a back office. A small refrigerator yielded up several plastic containers of juice and water, while the lower drawer of a huge desk was filled with sealed pouches of dried food. Just add a little hot water, and he’d have a complete meal. Looked better than the long range patrol rations the Army had for scouts. A small microwave stove provided the means to boil water, and within minutes he was busily eating his first hot meal in many days.

  Once comfortably filled, he searched the office for any useful weapons or tools. Nothing but several sets of dentures. He paused, a grim smile playing about his mouth. He picked up a set, opening and closing them a few times. These would work nicely. He crawled back into his cupboard hideout, prepared to sleep until dark, the time of the Wolf.

  * * *

  That night a horrible gurgling scream sounded outside Third Division’s headquarters. A rattle of gunfire from nervous guards brought the officer of the guard on the run. “What is it?” shouted Captain Teufel, coming to a halt at the front gate. “Not sure, Sir,” the Sergeant of the Guard said, staring out into the dark. It was another hour before moonrise, and pitch black outside of the illumination around the headquarters perimeter.

  Again the s
cream sounded, and again nervous gunfire sounded.

  “Cease fire,” the Sergeant bellowed. “The next asshole to fire without a target gets my boot up his ass!” Instant silence fell on the perimeter.

  The insistent shrill of the phone inside the guard shack made Teufel jump, twanging already stretched nerves. Moments later a soldier leaned out. “Sir, Colonel Frey wants to see you at HQ right away. He sounds pissed about all the noise.” Teufel quailed at the thought of having to explain what was going on to the Chief of Staff. It wasn’t for nothing other staff officers had nicknamed him “E-gad” behind his back. Reluctantly he began the walk to Headquarters, completely across the ten blocks in diameter area taken up by the Third Division.

  Thirty minutes later the same phone shrilled. Again, after a few moments, the soldier leaned out. “Sergeant, the Colonel is real pissed. He wonders when the Captain is gonna get off his sorry ass and report to him.”

  Sergeant Waldrip looked around with a sinking feeling. “Tell him the Captain should’ve gotten there at least ten minutes ago. We’ll start a search from this end.”

  The rest of the night was spent in a fruitless hunt for Captain Teufel. Every structure was turned inside out, all guards closely questioned. Finally, reluctantly, Colonel Frey went to awaken Brigadier General Latham. He quietly knocked before entering, pushed on the bedroom door and met resistance. What in the—With more vigor he shoved the door and caused something inside to fall with a crash. “Guards!” he bellowed, and drew his sidearm as he entered the General’s bedchamber.

  The Colonel and several guards scrambled over the dresser that had blocked the door, and were brought up short by what was on the bed. General Latham and Captain Teufel lay intertwined, stark naked, arms tied around each other. Their legs had been taped together, and the general was gagged. There was no need of a gag for Captain Teufel. His throat had been ripped out, and what looked like human teeth marks surrounded the torn flesh.He had also bled heavily all over the General.

  By this time over a dozen men were in the room. Several began trying to remove the gag from General Latham’s mouth, as well as untie him from the corpse. From the look of outraged fear in the eyes of the General, Colonel Frey knew his time as chief of staff was rapidly coming to an end.

  Even while the bindings were being removed, the story spread across the compound like wildfire. By dawn the entire division had heard of their commander’s “Night of Love” as it would become known.

  Wolf observed the frenzied actions at the division headquarters from a rooftop two blocks over. Time to dig a deep hole and disappear for awhile. Then he’d begin his search for where they were keeping Brita. If she hadn’t been sent into space, that is. He eased back from the roof’s edge, and disappeared in the predawn darkness.

  * * *

  Grand Admiral Haven disembarked from the shuttle and strode across the intervening distance to Wolfshead Division headquarters. For security purposes he hadn’t told anyone of his visit planetside until just before landing. From the startled look on the guards’ faces he had succeeded in his surprise.

  “Greetings, Admiral,” General Lambert said, hurrying to meet him. “We would have laid on a proper greeting, but someone apparently forgot to tell us you were coming.”

  William smiled, and offered his hand. “No one’s at fault this time, General. I wanted to keep my visit as low-key as possible. Do you have a secure room where we can talk?”

  “Certainly, Sir. My office is swept for bugs twice a day. This way, if you please.” Without comment, William followed Lambert to his office and remained silent until the door had been closed.

  “Admirals don’t normally apologize,” he said, “But this time I must make an exception. Security was more important than observing protocol, so no one was notified of my visit until the last moment.”

  “What’s up, Sir?” Lambert asked, his attention sharpening.

  “I got your latest report, and it sounds like you’ll be fairly busy for the next several days. So it’s best I brief you on what we’re doing upstairs now, rather than wait a couple of days as was first planned. I’ve finally gotten word. The other two operations have started. That means I’ll be leaving next week.”

  “I heard something about them, but didn’t have any details. How will this impact us?”

  “Here’s a data cube with the particulars of what’s happening,” William said. “In summary, we’ve begun incursions at two other points of the Orion Confederation’s sphere of influence. Point A is nothing more than a ploy to draw off some of the Confederation’s forces. Point B is the major thrust, with its objective being to reach the planet Eire. They’ve recently shown unrest under the yoke of the Confederation. I intend to make it a base of operations for my future efforts.”

  Lambert frowned in concentration. “That’s, let’s see, at least twenty light years into Confederation space. I didn’t realize we had that many ships, let alone other military forces, to take that drastic a bite out of them.”

  “Not many do know, General,” William said with a satisfied smile. “But we’ve managed to gather fifty battleships and twenty cruisers for the thrust. Another twenty battlecruisers with fifteen divisions onboard transport ships are in reserve, and will follow up our initial thrust by taking over as many of the star systems as we can along our axis of advance.”

  The general looked stunned. “My God, we really are at war!”

  William shook his head. “Not yet, General. Not until I show up and spearhead the vanguard with the Ragnarok.”

  “What will you leave us for support?” Lambert asked.

  “I’ll leave Rear Admiral Jordan here, with ten battlecruisers, six cruisers and four battleships. They should be able to blunt any attempt by the Confederation to try anything.”

  Lambert smiled in relief. “Very good, Sir. We won’t let you down at this end.”

  “I appreciate it. Now, how about your upcoming offensive? Need any additional support from us?”

  “I don’t believe so. Major Vogel’s already moved his battalion of commandos out. They should be in place within the next forty-eight hours.”

  “I heard about that bit of unpleasantness he’d gotten into. How’d that situation work out?”

  “He became carried away in his interrogation, and paid the price. I’m letting him make amends by using his forces as the cannon fodder. I think he’ll do just fine, Sir. If he survives.”

  William nodded. “If he does survive, I’d like him to be relieved of command and sent back to my staff. I’m supposed to have a political liaison when I leave here, but if we’ve left before he’s free to join me, stick him on the next available ship headed my way.”

  “Very good, Admiral. How about the prisoner we’ve got in stasis, do you want to take her with you?”

  “Um—no, I think it best she gets to a hospital that can handle major traumas like that. When the next resupply convoy arrives, send her back with them.”

  “When should we expect that convoy, Sir?”

  “Probably within two or three weeks,” William said. “We should have a replacement for General Latham by then. I think you were smart to relieve him. Having someone in command everyone was laughing at couldn’t have been good for the morale of his troops.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I only wish we could catch and squash the sick people who did that to him. They’ve been a thorn in our sides for several days now.” He shrugged off his annoyance. “Will you have time for a complete briefing on our planned offensive?”

  “I’d be delighted. I also hear you have an excellent chef. Perhaps I could be persuaded to stay for lunch.”

  General Lambert beamed. “My chef would be thrilled to have another person to ply his not inconsiderable skills on. Let me inform him, and then I can begin your briefing.”

  EDOAN SUPPLY CAVERN, NORTH OF VANPORT (DAY +56):

  “What I don’t understand is why I’m doin’ this on my day off,” Pointy said, trailing behind Ian. They e
ntered another side tunnel that contained hundreds of needler pistols and grenade launchers stacked along both walls. “You’d think Lissa and me could think of somethin’ better to do. But no, you’ve both got to volunteer me for this shit detail.”

  “Quit bellyaching,” Ian said and passed an extra hand computer to him. “You count the pistols, I’ll take the launchers.” Ahead of them four Edoans along with Lissa removed weapons from large crates. Once finished, they walked back towards Ian and Pointy, stepping around the boxes of ammunition piled five high in the center of the chamber.

  Lissa paused by Pointy and stroked his back. “In case you’ve forgotten, I volunteered us for this duty so you and I could have the evening off. Or would you rather not…?”

  “Er—um—yeah, o’course,” stammered Pointy, turning beet red.

  Ian chuckled at Pointy’s discomfiture. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you without something to say.”

  An hour passed before Ian straightened, keying his last entry. “Pointy, we’re about done here. Why don’t you give a holler to the others and we can take a lunch break.” Lissa and Pointy hurried out, and Ian picked up one of the grenade launchers. Little more than a rifle stock with a 30 centimeter in diameter barrel attached, it took a ten round magazine. Each round had a seven meter in diameter lethal radius when it exploded, and an effective range of seven hundred meters when launched on the surface. In the tunnels it didn’t much matter. If you could see the enemy, they were close enough to kill with one of these babies. He patted its stock as he leaned it against the wall.

  Halfway through lunch Ian began feeling uneasy. Uneasiness turned to alarm when his brain seemed to give a lurch—and he found himself on the ground, Pointy’s concerned face hovering over him.