“When we get back, make sure every ship gets the upgrades.”
“Modifications are already being coordinated by Abby.
“That’s good. When we get to the Jacka home world, what will we be able to put on the table for improving their planet initially?”
“Sir, the best initial plan would involve thousands of Jacka being trained to use heavy machinery to mine bentonite clay from the northern continent. It could then be mixed into the sand with microbes that would promote growth and water retention. The Jacka could be trained to build and maintain stations designed to pump water from the oceans to the fields. They would benefit mostly from learning the technology and being able to say they improved the planet. Building their self-esteem is paramount.”
“Okay. We’ll use that as an initial offering.”
Dixie ship Texas, in Dixie space
4 November 2128
“Gentlemen and ladies, I have been in touch with one of our fighter pilots on the surface. He is attached to a small unit of scouts, the only unit still responding from the planet. We will link up with the unit by dropping about a mile south of New Mississippi. We’ll form two camps to reduce the chance of contamination on the ground. The US Army will be a half-mile west of the GP Army. Both camps will use a mix of force fields and trenches as part of their defense,” Staff Sergeant Coyle instructed.
“New Mississippi will be the first city liberated by Earth forces. From what we learn there, we will either continue as a combined strike force or break off in two directions, liberating the cities and acting as protection for each other’s flanks.”
Coyle felt more like a mother than a leader of combat troops. The shuttle was heading for the deck as his troops assembled their gear and tried to stow what they didn’t need. “Dammit, people, get this place squared away. It looks like my kid’s bedroom. When that hatch drops and we un-ass this cesspool, I don’t want to trip over your shit!”
The other nine troops in the shuttle were hustling to stow their gear when they noticed Coyle had stopped and was concentrating on listening to a message only he was receiving. They continued cleaning as they watched his facial expression change.
“Now hear this!” Coyle barked. “Local population is suffering from a pandemic. Before you come into contact with natives, ensure that you are in MOPP 4 gear. No exposed skin. The disease is spread through bodily fluids. Those affected appear like a rabid dog and will bite and scratch you if they can. If you are bitten or scratched, let me or a medic know ASAP. There is still an enemy presence on the ground. The area we are going to be landing at should be cold.
“Immediately after touchdown we will be joining the detail to dig two trenches. Both trenches will surround our entire position. The exterior trench will be for keeping the infected away. The interior trench will be defensive in nature if the enemy attacks.” Coyle clicked his harness locked and then rested his beamer in his lap with the strap over his shoulder. His troops followed his lead as the anticipation of landing rose.
Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie
4 November 2128
Everything was quiet. Scotty had noticed that the wobblers usually just stood and swayed when there was nowhere to go. There was no chance any of them were going to come for a visit, so he started to get up from his surveillance spot. Then he noticed a pair of Red Coats walking out of the city. They had a rope stretched tight between them and were using it to catch the wobblers, who would let themselves be guided back to the city. None of the wobblers even appeared to give thought to getting away or even out of the way. Soon, another half-dozen Red Coats came out and repeated the same procedure. In less than an hour all of the wobblers were back in the city. Then the Red Coats replaced the booby trap in the road that had been discovered earlier with a new one.
Scotty watched a little longer and realized the box wasn’t a trap. The Red Coats used it to keep the wobblers from roaming away. As he returned to the camp, he asked himself why the Red Coats would be keeping the wobblers.
Sam was happy to see Scotty heading toward camp. Thankful for someone to talk to who wasn’t under her command, she poured a cup of coffee for him and wondered what she should be doing. Her scouts were getting restless.
“Hey there, old timer. Care for a cup of coff—”
“Look alive, everyone. We got company coming!” Sgt. Linden interrupted as he pointed toward the shuttles starting to rain from the clouds.
“Those are Gray Panthers!” Sam shouted over the chatter of her excited scouts. “Their heading appears as if they’re going for the fields south of us. Let’s give them time to land and settle in, and then we’ll mosey on over and pay them a visit. We go over in the middle of the landing and some ‘nervous in the service’ private might have an itchy trigger finger,”
Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie
4 November 2128
Staff Sergeant Coyle followed up from the rear, kicking and pushing his troops out of the shuttle. The moist, warm air felt almost heavy on his lungs after five days of dry, canned air. The lack of unwashed body odor and excrement was a nice bonus as well.
The troops were spread out in the grass waiting for instructions as Coyle joined them. The sun was warm on his neck and a breeze was blowing softly across the field. Coyle appreciated that the shuttle had placed them at the very end of the line, so they had an unobstructed view of the fields before them and the road that ran past them and up into the hills. He began to feel his adrenaline ebb after the anticlimactic landing. Some of the troops started to quietly bullshit among themselves. They were suited up in their optical deflection combat suits, making them invisible to the naked eye, so he could only view them with his spectrum ocular device.
“White, knock off that yakking and pay attention to your front, dammit,” Coyle chided. “Garcia, if you’re napping, I’m going to put my boot so far up your ass it’ll take a dentist to remove it!”
“Sorry, Staff Sergeant. My family were farmers, and I was just examining this strange grass. I wonder what they grow here?” Garcia answered sheepishly.
“I’ll be sure to ask someone when they plant you in the ground here, which is what will happen if you all don’t start paying attention to our front.”
“Blue Five Charlie, Blue Five Actual,” Lieutenant Wright, the leader of Blue Five Flight, radioed. Wright was responsible for the three squads that made up his flight.
“Blue Five Actual, Blue Five Charlie. Ready to receive,” Staff Sergeant Coyle answered.
“Blue Five Charlie, Blue Five Actual. Take your squad to the top of the military crest of the hill, where the road goes over it, and establish an observation post until relieved.”
“Blue Five Actual, Blue Five Charlie. Occupy hilltop, establish OP until relieved. Proceeding now. Blue Five Charlie out.”
“We got orders, gents. We’re going to picket the hilltop until relieved. Tanaka and Garcia, take point. I don’t expect any booby traps and our orders don’t say any different, so we’re going to use the road. Stay alert and move out.” Coyle rose and took a deep breath as he waited a moment for the troops to start their patrol toward the hill.
Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie
4 November 2128
The scouts were using the road to advance toward the south. Ordinarily, they would prefer to use stealth, but they didn’t want to spook their allies.
The first vehicle had two young female scouts; one manned the machine gun from the back as the other drove. The second vehicle now had only two scouts—one drove as the other manned the automatic grenade launcher. The third vehicle included a scout who drove, a scout who manned the automatic grenade launcher, and Sam. Scotty manned the laser in the fourth vehicle. Another scout drove the fifth vehicle while the last scout manned the heavy machine gun from behind.
The patrol reached the last of the hills that overlooked the field. They instinctively spread out so that the two vehicles with heavy machine guns filled both lanes of the road. The laser vehicl
e was between them, slightly back. The two vehicles with the grenade launchers established themselves roughly twenty feet back, ready to use plunging fire over their comrades if needed.
Sam got out of the vehicle and headed to the front to get a better picture of what was beyond the hills. She stood next to Scotty as he panned the laser left and right, copying the scouts who were manning the heavy machine guns.
“I don’t get it. With over a hundred shuttles down there, you would think there’d be someone outside as a sentry, or even just taking a piss,” she said as she peered through her binoculars.
“Sam, switch the binoculars to thermal and tell me what you see.” Scotty suggested as he continued sweeping the laser back and forth.
“Shit! There must be a thousand of them out there! Wish we had that type of technology. Now how do we make contact with them nice and friendly like?”
“You just did, ma’am,” a disembodied voice whispered into her ear. “My troops have your people surrounded. I am going to make myself visible in just a minute. Please have your people shut down their engines and safe their weapons,” Staff Sergeant Coyle instructed.
“Let’s shut everything down and safe the crew-served weapons, now,” Sam ordered, feeling disgusted at how easily she had allowed herself and her command to be surrounded.
The troops looked at her in confusion but immediately responded. They watched her, wondering what the next orders were going to be.
“We have made contact with friendly forces, and I don’t want to scare our new friends. They are going to show themselves to us now,” Sam told her disbelieving scouts.
Coyle seemed to materialize out of thin air. “My compliments, ma’am. I’m Staff Sergeant Coyle of the US Army, attached to the Gray Panthers Army from the planet Earth. I have been instructed to ask you to drive to the bottom of the hill and proceed until given further instruction.”
Sam shook his hand as others got out of their vehicles also to shake his hand. “Thank you, Sergeant. It’s good to see we have allies for what lies ahead.”
Coyle swept his hand from the front of his head to the back, giving the signal for the rest of the squad to appear to the scouts. Soon everyone was hugging, shaking hands, and pounding backs.
“Sorry to cut this short, ma’am, but my lieutenant is getting anxious,” Coyle stated.
As he saluted Sam, the scouts climbed back into their vehicles. Coyle’s troops spontaneously presented arms with their beamers as the vehicles drove off.
“Okay, folks, we met our first ETs, and they weren’t green. Now try and stay sharp in case our next visitors aren’t as friendly.” Coyle disappeared for emphasis. His troops once again engaged their suits and took up positions to watch the approaches to the hill.
Arizona Space Ship Beater, in FTL space, heading for Earth
4 November 2128
Chief Short Blade sat in the commander’s seat on the bridge. Lieutenant Bronia Worchol, one of the Dart pilots who shared in the rotation, was having more trouble than normal and was spending most of her time in the head.
“Beater, what is ship’s status?” Short Blade inquired.
“Ship’s status is code one. No problems detected. No maintenance inspections due for three days. The life support filters will require the ninety-day inspection at that time.”
“Beater, what are the requirements to be an officer in the Gray Panthers?” Short Blade asked, as much to kill time as to satisfy his curiosity.
“The officer selection process is one of two methods. Previous officers may join the Gray Panthers at a rank selected by either Dan or the personnel section. The second process is for personnel to go through the Gray Panther Academy or through merit for select enlisted personnel.”
Short Blade’s interest picked up. “How common is it for enlisted personnel to be selected to be an officer?”
“Six enlisted personnel have been advanced to officer, including Captain James Young, marine detachment commander on board the Beater.”
“Beater, please review my experience and compare it to the officers currently in.”
“Your experience and special skills are comparable to at least two hundred officers in the Gray Panthers. There are six hundred enlisted personnel with skills and experience similar to yours. Does this information answer your question adequately, Short Blade?”
“Yes. I was hoping to maybe find a way to be an officer,” Short Blade answered dejectedly.
“Request for officer advancement is not difficult. You need to submit a request to your captain. He then forwards it with his recommendation to the admiral. The admiral will approve or disapprove the request.”
Short Blade mumbled as he scooted back into the captain’s seat. I am as good as any of the young officers, he thought. I can navigate the ship with all the training I’ve had when we’ve been in FTL space. I could easy take the helm and steer anywhere I was told to go. I can fix anything that goes wrong on this ship, without Beater, if need be. I’m going to submit the request. What’s the worst that can happen?
Bronia entered the bridge and saw that Short Blade was deep in thought, since he would have jumped up to let her have the captain’s seat if he had noticed her return. She sat down in the pilot’s seat and did a course check, since she’d just spent almost sixty minutes in the head being sick. She was relieved to have the little guy as a backup.
Arizona Space Ship Grub, heading for League of Planets space
5 November 2128
Colonel Blade walked from his cabin uncertainly. His head felt like it was three times bigger, and his stomach felt like he had a pair of baby clockos fighting each other. He wanted to feel better just so he could kill Dan Daniels.
“Good afternoon, Colonel Blade. It’s a lovely day, is it not? I don’t blame you for sleeping in.” Dan smiled evilly as he held out a large cup of something that was offensive to the colonel’s nose.
“What is this? More poison to finish the job? I think I would welcome that. What was the poison you used on me?”
“I’m surprised, Colonel. It was your son’s favorite Earth drink. I guess he just has more stamina for such things. The cup you have now was recommended by Grub, the ship’s AI. That concoction should cure what is called a hangover.”
Blade downed the drink in a single gulp, avoiding the urge to puke. “Do not insult me, Dan Daniels. How often does my son drink this milk?”
“Your son drinks regularly with the others on his ship, when duty permits. He is respected by his fellow warriors and accepted as their equal.”
“That is good.” Blade sat and wondered if the room was starting to spin.
“Grub informed me that many of the ways to make your home world more habitable could be accomplished by having your people do the actual work. Do you agree with Grub that your people would appreciate learning new technical skills? That would include heavy machinery and flying, to just name a few,” Dan asked.
“They would be happy, but they would be suspicious. You offer too much for what seems too little in return. If they do not think you are trying to cheat them, they may think you are a fool to offer them so much for what they want.”
“How would you do it if you were me, Colonel Blade?”
“I would charge for the equipment they would need to do the work. Then let them demand a warranty on that equipment, since they will fear it breaking. They will want to keep the warships, even though they will belong to the League of Planets. You can just remind them that there will be no one to take it away from them!” Blade started to feel better as he concentrated on other things besides his hangover.
Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie
5 November 2128
General Black was happy to be able to sit down and get human intelligence from on the ground. Old memories pushed themselves to the surface. The heavy canvas tent had the same smell of grass and mildew he remembered from when he was a young enlisted man, eighty years ago. The tent sides were up to let the breeze in and not make the ten
t so cavern-like.
“General Black, Lieutenant Scholl and Captain Culpepper are here, as you ordered,” Master Sergeant Cross announced as he entered the tent with Scotty and Sam and handed the general some files, along with a cup of coffee. “I notified intel. They’re already beating feet to get here.”
“Please, come in and find yourself a seat,” Black said to Sam and Scotty as he checked the files he’d just received. “We have a few more folks to come in, and then we can get started.”
Sam studied the general and couldn’t help but think that he could remember the War Between the States. The general had to be about a hundred and was still spry. She took another look and noticed that his enlisted aide must have been seventy, and the other staff officers were almost all somewhere between those two ages. They each had the energy and enthusiasm of a young man. Looking at Scotty, she simply asked, “Gray Panthers?”
“Truth in advertising, honey. Over eighty percent of the Gray Panthers are seventy or older. Funny thing is, if you put them in swim suits and place a bag over their head, you’d guess they were eighteen to twenty-five.”
When the remaining officers arrived, Black didn’t mention their tardiness. He stood and expressed his sincere gratitude to Sam and Scotty for making the effort to get to them with their intel. He then relinquished the floor for them to begin.
Noticing Sam’s nervousness, Scotty stood and asked if anyone had a map of the city. The intel officer almost tripped in flipping a button, and a 3D map of the city seemed to float in the center of the tent.
“Thank you. In this part of the city I accompanied the scouts to a main thoroughfare into the city. From the very beginning, the city was built with a siege mentality because of how the population found itself here. Each compass direction has a main road through a wall surrounding the city that’s twenty feet high and four feet thick.
Gray Panthers: Dixie Page 10
