Nomad's Force

by Craig Martelle

  The final gap seemed insurmountable. The task was to get everyone across.

  “If I can get across, then I can jump in the bucket which will send the arm down. Then everyone can cross.” The platoon agreed. Kimber looked at the mess above. “That’s bullshit to confuse us. Look here. I’ll run between these and jump across the pit. We’ll be over this thing in two minutes!”

  Kim backed up and started to sprint. At enhanced speed, she leapt. Halfway across the pit, she tangled into heavy gauge fishing line. She was held up for a second before falling into the pit.

  Her string of curses would have made her father proud.

  “You’re out. You can’t talk to your team. They are on their own.”

  Kimber glared at him as she climbed the small ladder at the end. The pit was only four-feet deep, more symbolic than treacherous.

  She was furious because she knew who designed that trap. The colonel himself had set it for Lieutenant Kimber, and she stepped into it without hesitation, leaving her team on their own.

  The platoon started to climb. Six of them fell into the pit, joining their platoon commander in her simulated death. Eight more were high in the air, working their way between the ropes and beams when the water filled the container enough to unbalance the arm, which dropped across the opening. As it dropped, the fishing line retracted, creating a bridge across the pit.

  “Hurry!” Kim yelled, before apologizing. The gamemaster subtracted one person from her total. The final fifteen of the platoon walked across. The others were trapped performing aerobatics as they tried to get to the ground before time ran out.

  “All we had to do was nothing,” Kimber said.

  “Sometimes, that is the best course of action,” the gamemaster replied. Kimber glared at him anew. He shrugged. “The colonel said you’d be mad.”

  “He knows me so well.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  San Francisco

  Kaeden ran alongside his platoon. This contest was endurance. The platoons were making laps around the base. How far could they run in fifty minutes? They had to finish as a platoon to get credit for the distance. Kae couldn’t use his enhancements to help out besides keeping a good pace and yelling a motivating jody call.

  Kae zipped to the back of the formation when one young man was falling back. Kae had no idea how the man carried extra weight, but he did, and it was starting to drag him down. He started to heave and Kae called the formation to a halt. The man doubled over and puked his guts out.

  The platoon watched the second platoon pass them. Some of the warriors looked angrily in the direction of the one who fell out.

  “Oh, man!” the warrior whined.

  “Stow it,” Kae said. He looked back at his platoon and yelled, “Stow it!”

  Kae looked at his fastest person. “Go get a stretcher, NOW!” The man launched like a rocket for the nearest building. Past lessons suggested medical gear was best distributed everywhere as one never knew where an injury would happen. In under a minute, the warrior returned and put the stretcher on the ground.

  “Get on,” Kae ordered. The man waffled, but jumped on when he saw that his lieutenant was going to come unglued. Kae grabbed the front handles and two stout souls took the rear two. “Keep up!”

  Kaeden set a brisk pace and those in the rear swapped out often. Soon, they found themselves passing the other platoon. Time was running out.

  “Let me down!” the man called. They slowed enough so he could jump down. He took the front end of the stretcher and raced ahead. Kae grabbed the back and they set the pace. Nine minutes later, the whistle blew.

  Eight and a half miles. His platoon staggered around with their hands clasped on top of their heads to help them drag more air into their chests.

  “You have five minutes to get to the next station. I suggest you hurry. If you’re not in your seats when the whistle blows, you can’t take the test. It’s a half-mile away,” the gamemaster said with a smile.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” Kae said. He wasn’t worried about himself, but his platoon was dogged. “Form up!”

  ***

  Ramses looked at the bay water. He had one hour to swim his platoon to Alcatraz Island and back. The water was cold and the currents heavy throughout the area. A wide variety of gear was available to them, from flotation devices, to rope, to planks.

  The whistle blew, but Ramses stood and continued to contemplate what to do.

  “None of us are as smart as all of us,” he said.

  “They said we could use anything?” one of the warriors asked. The others were chomping at the bit to get going, showing their impatience by huffing and shuffling.

  Ramses held his hands out for calm. “What do you have in mind?”

  “That old canoe over there. We pull a big long string of people who are kicking furiously.”

  Ramses nodded and waved to get the gamemaster’s attention. He sprinted over.

  “Can we use that canoe?” Ramses asked innocently.

  “Sure,” the man replied.

  “Canoe! In the water. Ropes from one person to the next. Everyone wears a vest. I’ll bring up the rear.” Ramses ordered. When the decision was made, the platoon responded in good order. Ramses took a moment to look at the other two platoons. One had life vests on and was swimming furiously. The other platoon had gone without, opting to reduce the drag on their bodies.

  Ramses shook his head. They were taking an unnecessary risk. Safety boats were staged along the route just in case. This was another all or nothing test. The whole platoon needed to get there and back.

  It was a weakest link test. Ramses didn’t have any weak links.

  The canoe pulled away from the shore, the warriors manning it paddling furiously, as their comrades waded in, one after the next, shivering when they submerged to their necks.

  “Exercise will keep you warm!” Ramses called, smiling at their discomfort. He knew that he’d get his soon enough, although his nanocytes would help him manage the cold much better.

  The canoe seemed to stop when the final members of the platoon were in. Ramses tread water so he could see what was happening up ahead. A cross current was fighting against the canoe. The two other platoons were already spreading across the bay, slaves to the vicious tide.

  Ramses’s platoon was doing better, but they were stalled. He untied himself and swam around his platoon. When he reached the canoe, he was jerked sideways in the current.

  “Here!” he called as he tossed his shirt and trousers into the canoe. “Tie me on.”

  With a rope wrapped around his waist, he started swimming, using all the power available to him. Making his nanocytes surge to the rescue. The canoe started making headway and all of sudden, it lurched forward, almost running over Ramses.

  “Power on! Get our people out of there!” Ramses called as he continued his efforts. He was giving it all he had and the paddlers were, too. The line of people washed to the side and one by one, they were dragged through the cross-current and into calmer waters. As each kicking warrior added his power to the next, they gained on Alcatraz.

  They reached the island twenty-four minutes after they started. A gamemaster stood on the shore, counting heads as each person touched the target rock before diving back in. They changed out the paddlers and powered back into the bay.

  Ramses had sent them on a less direct heading in hopes of avoiding the worst of the current. It was longer, but would make for an easier swim.

  “Anyone beat us?” Ramses asked the gamemaster as he was last to return to the water.

  “You’re the only one who had touched the island. Good job, Lieutenant.”

  Ramses waved as he returned to the water, swimming more casually as he brought up the rear. When he stepped ashore on Treasure Island, they’d taken fifty-five total minutes, but the entire platoon had made it. Ramses got dressed on the shore while Cory watched.

  “I think you could use some warming up,” she offered.

  �
�I could, but we’re going to have to hold that thought. I’ve got to get to the next pain-inducing obstacle that your father devised.”

  “It’s pushups, sit-ups, burpees, those kinds of things.”

  “You have got to be shitting me,” Ramses declared. He looked at his people stumbling about, trying to get blood back into their tortured limbs.

  ***

  Marcie sat at the table twiddling her thumbs, having raced through the test. She knew everything tested and was sure she had maxed it. She wasn’t so sure about the rest of the platoon though. Many seemed to be pulling their hair and scratching their heads.

  She expected that they’d learned the history of the Force, and the various classroom training required for warriors. She had never bothered to reinforce those lessons. Marcie was questioning her choices. Since she had given the impression that it was unimportant, that was the lesson that her people had taken away.

  Marcie hadn’t done anything to convince them differently.

  At the twenty-minute point, they turned their tests in and went to the next room, where they demonstrated emergency medical techniques. When that was done, the final test was blindfolded weapons breakdown and reassembly. Marcie strolled to the front but was told that she had to pick ten people to do the test.

  She looked at the gamemaster and saw that he was hiding something.

  “No. You pick. Any ten.”

  He smiled and put a note on his paper.

  He grabbed the first ten and stood them at tables, put on the blindfolds and yelled, “Go!”

  The last person finished at three and a half minutes, not a record by any stretch, but Marcie was satisfied and clapped each of them on the back as she walked down the line.

  “Fucking A!” she yelled. The platoon cheered so loudly that the gamemaster had to cover his ears.

  ***

  “I wonder how the kids are doing?” Terry said for the seventy-fourth time. Char ignored him, like she had the other seventy-three times.

  They were helping Mary Ellen and the staff set up for the barbecue. One cow and two hogs were turning on the spit, as they had been since before dawn.

  The closer it got to the end, the better it smelled.

  Clovis laid near the fire, soaking in the warmth. His muzzle was all gray and he walked wherever he went, no longer able to run. Boris kept him company from his wheelchair. The captain’s skin was gray and translucent.

  Two oldsters on their final legs, enjoying the little pleasures in life.

  Char nodded for Terry to join them. He dragged a chair over to sit next to his old friend. “Anything I can get for you?”

  “A new body,” Boris joked, his voice raspy. “Nah. Me and Clovis, we know the deal. We’re just biding our time until the planets are in alignment. The trip over the bridge will be better then.”

  Terry didn’t have a witty comeback to that. He settled for the mundane. “I reckon so. It’s been a good run, hasn’t it?”

  “Really good, Colonel. I got no complaints. Look at Clovis. He knows he’s on borrowed time, but he still wants some of that beef.”

  Terry took the cue and asked the chef for a few pieces. No one denied Terry Henry, especially such a reasonable request.

  He returned to the old dog and handed over the pieces one by one. Clovis raised his head, but he didn’t stand. No need.

  Cory joined him, getting some more meat for her dog. No one denied her either but for different reasons. She was the nicest person most of them had ever met. She thanked the chef profusely before returning to the small group.

  “Who’s a good boy?” she asked and Clovis wagged his tail. He enjoyed being fed and pampered.

  Who wouldn’t?

  “Ramses was the only one who made it to Alcatraz and back,” Cory said without looking up.

  “I wondered who was going to pull that one off. That current could have been a killer, but if you don’t train hard, you won’t be ready for the real work.”

  “You knew!” Cory shot back, the hairy eyeball present and glowing blue.

  “Of course! Why do you think there were rescue boats out there? I’m not trying to kill anyone,” Terry replied defensively. “That’s good to hear about Ramses.”

  “And I heard that Kimber was the only one who made it up the wall,” she added.

  “That’s my girl!” Terry said, giving Cory a nudge.

  “I know where you sleep,” she said coldly.

  Terry turned to Char before realizing that he wouldn’t find any sympathy there. In fact, the women in his life had a tendency to team up against him. It wasn’t fair and would never be fair.

  The sound of a unit marching in step resonated through the area.

  “Hot damn!” Terry called and jumped up, leaning back down to pet the startled dog. He pushed the wheelchair even though Boris said he’d wait there.

  “Nonsense,” Terry said. They stopped when they reached the podium. Twelve platoons marched in, joining the three who had finished on the parade deck. Shoulders sagged and heads drooped, but they marched proudly anyway.

  The gamemasters rallied to share their sheets, add the points, and deliver the final scores to the colonel.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. I want a list of the star performers, too.”

  “Got it right here, sir,” the head gamemaster replied. Terry looked it over, disappointed that there were only ten names on it. “Lots of great people out there, sir. But the truly outstanding are something completely different.”

  “You are right and thank you.” Terry looked at the scores. He was proud and unhappy at the same time.

  Ramses had finished first. Kimber was second, barely beating out Kaeden. Marcie was in sixth place.

  The colonel climbed onto the platform and looked at the assembled group. The Force de Guerre. They’d accomplished something that he hadn’t seen in nearly one hundred years. Small unit leaders and the warriors themselves had risen to an incredibly challenging series of tasks and persevered. They’d given their all. Of that, Terry was certain.

  “How do you feel?” he yelled. There were groans and grunts. Someone held up an arm in a cast. Terry shouldn’t have laughed, but he did.

  “Third place goes to Lieutenant Kaeden’s platoon.” There was some cheering. Marcie looked down because she knew.

  “Second place goes to Lieutenant Kimber’s platoon.” She cheered and ran down the squads in her platoon, high-fiving them as she passed.

  “And first place, Lieutenant Ramses’ platoon. You are this year’s shining stars. Your reward is deployment to Vancouver, the sweetest place you’ll find, that I can send you to.”

  The cheering stopped as the warriors tried to understand what the colonel had just said.

  “Platoon commanders, when I give you the command to fall out, you will send your platoons to chow while you report to me. Fall out!”

  The warriors suddenly had an abundance of energy as they raced for the food line. Terry was amazed. He had thought they left it all out there, but that was why there was always hot chow on the objective. It helped the human become superhuman.

  The platoon commanders jogged to the center of the field where Terry and Boris waited for them.

  “At ease,” the colonel said before anyone stood at attention. He could see the strain on their faces.

  “Great day today, people. Really great day. The first three places are deploying. Ramses, you’re going to Vancouver. You leave in a week. Kim—Portland. And, Kaeden, you got the suck. Going to the waste and fire that is Los Angeles.”

  Terry shook their hands and each of the platoon commanders cycled past Boris to shake his hand, too.

  “Marcie. You’ll take these ten people and train them as a new tac team. You’ll conduct reconnaissance up and down the coast while the other platoons are deployed.”

  Ramses pursed his lips. Terry shook his head. “Fine. Just in case someone gets hurt.”

  Ramses couldn’t wait to tell Cory that she was going, too.

  CHAPT
ER THIRTY-FIVE

  WWDE + 71

  Vancouver

  “No, Mister Simpkin. We won’t arrest your neighbor for making loud noises. That’s not what we’re here for,” Ramses explained, losing his patience quickly.

  “What good is security if you don’t provide security?” the old man grumbled.

  “You are free to complain about your neighbor. That’s security. If you want police, contact them!”

  “We don’t have no police,” the man replied.

  “Then I guess you’re just going to have to deal with it. Now go home, Mister Simpkin, and shut your windows so you don’t have to hear him.”

  “Simple answers with you kids. Do this and the problem will go away. Ignore the problem. Don’t complain about the problem. Well, Mister whateveryournameis, you can suck my hairy balls!” The old man thrust his chin forward.

  Ramses suspected a light breeze might knock the man down. He turned his head to Cordelia, who was biting her lip to keep from laughing.

  “Mister Simpkins. I will escort you home and then I will talk with your neighbor.” Cory smoothly took his arm, turning him away from her husband and leading him away.

  They were on the edge of town, trying to stay separate from the local populace.

  Ramses questioned the mission from day one. They had no power and a light population. There were more lucrative targets for the Forsaken.

  What he watched over was a pre-industrial community, struggling to make their way. Their population was static.

  Six months into his deployed year, and Ramses did not feel like he was making progress. Between training and settling squabbles, he was spinning his wheels. When the platoon arrived, he had high hopes for change.

  They were backwards and set in their ways. The end of his year couldn’t come quickly enough.

  Cory returned with a big smile on her face. “It’s all taken care of,” she said softly, before going inside the small cabin they claimed for their home.