The Tsunami

by Marshall Miller

  “Yes, Senior Training Instructor.” Smith put them at ease, then rest. This allowed them to lower their weapons at last.

  Abigail and Ichiro walked toward Stalin, who called a greeting in their direction. “Good morning, my Lady of Cold Steel, and her friend the Samurai. It is a fine crisp morning, is it not?”

  Torbin turned and looked at the approaching Abigail. “My Lady of Cold Steel? What’s that, like your third title someone has come up with?”

  Abigail looked a bit uncomfortable. “Please. My Title as Avenging Angel was an official position, rank in Deseret. All of the other names you people keep trying to give me are becoming ridiculous. I am not a shield maiden, valkyrie, a Lady of Steel. I’m just Captain Abigail Young, here to help in the fight against the Squids. Nothing more.”

  Stalin smiled. “I will have to protest the last part of your statement. ‘Nothing more’ is a serious underestimation of your skills and abilities.” He continued, “If the title Lady of Cold Steel sounds too ostentatious, then I withdraw it.”

  “I like it,” Aleks interjected. “You are a lady, little sister. But you handle blades and cold steel quite well from all reports. I think it is a fitting show of respect for a superior warrior, as well as a person.”

  Abigail sighed. “Fine. I won’t protest all the nicknames I have received since coming here. I can see most are out of respect or affection, sometimes both. I just don’t feel special enough to warrant all this attention.”

  “But you are special,” Ichiro uncharacteristically blurted out.

  “Ah, the President of her fan club speaks,” Torbin teased. Ichiro blushed a bit and gave his blood brother a nasty look.

  “What? What did I do to deserve that look? I just spoke the truth.”

  Further conversation was interrupted by a loud verbal exchange coming from the ‘F Troop’ formation. “I’ll call her a fat bitch if I want to. I don’t care if she is pregnant or not. Why is she so frigging special?”

  The source of the overly loud comment was a large black woman. Six feet tall, and well over two hundred pounds, she was larger than some of the male trainees. And she knew it. Stalin glared at the formation. “Excuse me,” he said softly as he turned from the conversation with the others and quietly made his way toward the formation. Platoon Leader Smith was trying to get the trainee to be quiet before she drew negative attention, and did not notice her attempts had failed until Stalin was on top of her.

  She saw the Senior Training Instructor, her eyes went wide, and she tried to call the formation to attention. “At ease, Smith,” Stalin said as he walked by, heading toward the tall trainee in the rear rank. “I see Trainee Jefferson has voiced another loud opinion. Please, pray tell me, what has warranted another outburst?” Stalin spoke in a normal tone of voice as he stood in front of the woman, inches taller than he.

  Jefferson was used to telling everyone her opinion, using her size to intimidate many into not disagreeing with her. In simpler terms, she was used to being a bully.

  “What kind of bullshit is this? You drag our asses out here, freeze them off, then make us stand here while you socialize with some fat white bitch. We’re all Veterans of the U.S. Armed Forces, and I got away from Georgia when everyone else was being eaten for being black. I came here to join up and fight, not play fucking games.”

  Stalin responded quietly. “So you say.”

  “What?”

  “I said, Trainee Jefferson, so you say.”

  Her face turned a bit purple. “Are you calling me a liar?” Jefferson yelled out.

  “What if I were?”

  “You white Commie piece of shit…” She took a step to grab him. Stalin bent and twisted a bit, then swung a lightning fast jab into the front of her groin below the belt buckle. Her eyes bugged out and her mouth dropped open, then she fell to her knees, holding her crotch. She tried to curse but instead made unintelligible sounds as she dealt with her excruciating pain and shock to her private area.

  “A bit of a lesson to be learned from this demonstration," Stalin said loudly. A well-placed punch to the groin can be effective on either male or female if done correctly... though it does seem to do more damage to men than women.”

  Every bully has his or her toadies. One of them tried to come to her defense. A tall and lanky white male in his twenties stepped out of rank toward the Training Instructor. In the blink of an eye he was on the ground, a combat boot on his neck, his arm twisted up in an unnatural position.

  “Who’s next?” Stalin boomed.

  No one moved a muscle.

  “Major Bender, a word please.”

  Torbin marched over to where Stalin had the trainee wrapped up.

  “I must apologize, Major. I have lost control of this group of questionable humanity and they have demonstrated a definite lack of military decorum and discipline. This has embarrassed you and your fellow officers due to my inadequacies and the inadequacies of these supposed ‘retreads’ as you Yankees call them. I must ask for your forgiveness for myself as their Senior Training Instructor and for them as members of the Armed Forces.”

  Torbin tried to keep his reserve, look stern, and not laugh. He knew what Stalin was doing. He was deflecting the effect of the violence at the same time telling the platoon that they were in this together. He may be a mean son of a bitch, but he was their son of a bitch.

  “No need to apologize, Comrade Stalin. I know that the members of this platoon will wish to make amends for the disreputable actions of a few.” Torbin looked around and projected his voice a bit. “Am I right in that assessment, Trainees?”

  Those with actual valid military experience and attitude led the rest of the people in a loud, “Yes Sir, Major Bender.”

  “Louder! Show the Major you mean it.” The Russian boomed.

  “Yes Sir, Major Bender!”

  Torbin called over to Abigail. “Captain Young. Other than the two trainees on the ground, please march the rest of the platoon over to the gym, and let them warm up a bit prior to the other platoons showing up.”

  “Yes Sir. Trainees, form on me over here. Hop to it. Now!”

  They knew of Abigail’s reputation, history, as they did Torbin’s and Ichiro. They knew better than to question people they knew had fought and killed people, Squids, Eaters. At least most did. As they formed up on Abigail, she let them know something in no uncertain terms. “The woman the trainee referred to as a ‘fat bitch’ is a Major in Russian Intelligence. She is also my ‘big sister’, and Major Torbin’s wife. She went through training with Senior Training Instructor Stalin years ago, under much worse conditions. I suggest you treat her with respect or you may have to deal with her after she gives birth to her twin boys. Someone who kills people, Eaters, is not someone to trifle with. Platoon Leader Smith.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  “March them out, to the gym. I’ll follow.”

  “Yes Ma’am.” Within moments the training platoon was marching across the exercise field to the gym.

  As this was occurring, Torbin and Stalin were dealing with the two trainees still on the ground, with Ichiro appreciatively looking on. Torbin bent over to the slowly recovering Jefferson. “Have you seen the error of your ways, trainee?”

  “Fuck you,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

  Torbin shook his head, and turned to the young man Stalin still had pinned to the ground.

  “This is trainee Kant, Major. He is in dire need of some unarmed combatants training.”

  Torbin bent over and Stalin reduced the pressure of his boot on the man’s neck.

  “You understand there is a war on, right Kant?”

  “Yes Sir,” Kant managed to say.

  “Would you like to be shot for mutiny, for attacking an instructor in the performance of his duties?”

  Kant’s eyes widened a bit. “No Sir.”

  Torbin stood up, looked at Stalin. “Well, STI Stalin?”

  The Russian shrugged, then released the man, stepping back. Kant manage
d to get to his feet, holding his injured right arm with his left.

  “Go to the gym, trainee, let Captain Young take a look at it. She’s a trained EMT.”

  “Yes Sir.” Kant stumbled off.

  The large, strong woman, still cursing and threatening, took this moment to try and stand up. Stalin kicked her hard, knocking her to the ground. On her back, Jefferson spat out, “I’ll fuck you both up, you racists.”

  Torbin frowned and glared at her. “I guess she thinks she is the only one who lost people to the Squids, that only people of color were eaten. Guess what, dumbass. You may look tastier, but the Squids eat everyone in a pinch. They just think dark-skinned people make better Cattle. By the way, I’ve lost a lot of good troops who were of a darker persuasion than me. Pissed me off just as much if I had lost a red-headed viking.” He pulled out his cell phone, hit the speed dial for Security Control.

  “Yes, this is Major Bender. Could you send a couple of units for a transport to the brig? We’re at the training facility and field… Thanks, we’ll be waiting.” Torbin sighed. Why did people have to make it so hard on themselves? He looked at Jefferson.

  “Some MPs are coming to take you in. Try and fight them and I won’t be responsible for your injuries. You’ll get your day in a hearing or court to spout all the crap you want. I suggest you take the path of least resistance.” With a look of abject hatred on her face, she tried to spit at Torbin, who deftly dodged it. He shook his head and turned to Stalin. “Want to bet she fights the MPs, Comrade?”

  “That is a given, Major. Let us instead bet as to how long it takes for them to subdue her.”

  “Done. I say they clock her in twenty seconds.”

  “Hmmmm. I say thirty seconds. There are some muscles under that flab, and she is quite angry.”

  They were both wrong. It took a full minute and tasers to get her cuffed. Then she was dragged to the paddy wagon.

  After Jefferson had placed in the transport vehicle, Stalin walked over to Aleks, who had been calmly watching all the activity. It brought back some not so fond memories. Stalin stood at attention, clicked his heels, and gave a short bow. “My utmost apologies, Major Smirnov. I do not think you came here to be insulted today.”

  Aleks grunted, replying in Russian. “I seem to remember I tried to kick your balls up into your throat after you had called me worthless one too many times.”

  Stalin gave a small smile. “And you nearly succeeded. You were—I can tell you now—one of my best trainees. I knew you would succeed. I just did not think I would see you again. Especially not here, with twins in your belly, and a Marine for a husband.”

  “Which brings us back to why I came here.” Aleks maneuvered around her large pregnant stomach, reached up, and kissed Stalin on both of his cheeks. “I thank you for helping me survive to this point. I will expect you to visit us at our home someday, after I give birth. My sons will need to meet another one of their many unofficial godfathers.”

  This brought one of Stalin’s rare full grins to existence, which looked as much as a grimaced snarl as a smile on his craggy face.“I would be honored. I will bring the vodka, to see if Marines can hold their liquor as well as they claim.”

  “They can, Comrade, trust me. They can.”

  Another internal kick brought Aleks back to the present. This was the most active her twins had been since the Christmas pageant at a large hall downtown.

  It had been a night of friendship, music, food and drink. Brynhildr, Abigail’s cousin, in full Valkyrie garb, had first belted out a Wagnerian ballad. Then, she had followed with Silent Night in the original German. By the time she had finished there was hardly a dry eye in the hall.

  Her boss, Commissioner Miller, had said to her later, “You never told me you had the makings of a professional singer.”

  “You never asked. Besides, what has that to do with being a Special Agent?”

  Paul Miller had grinned. “Not a damn thing. But it makes an old man feel good.”

  Brynhildr harrumphed. “If you are old, I am but a child.”

  “Now you understand.”

  The young children clustered around Abigail and Fuzz. She had told the organizers that Fuzz would come inside to check things out, as he had done at the awards and memorial service weeks earlier, where he had discovered the concealed Eater. Of course, no one complained. They were glad they had such coverage for free. Having a four legged hero also added something special to the pageant, especially to the children. Rin Tin Tin, Lassie, Benji, every former canine media celebrity rolled into one, which was what Fuzz had become.

  Her reverie was suddenly broken as Aleks felt an odd sensation. Then, her water broke.

  She looked at the pool on the kitchen floor. “You trolls just could not wait until your father and I had opened up Christmas morning presents, could you?” Something told her things would be happening fast.

  “Husband!” she yelled, then put two fingers in her mouth and let loose with a very unladylike whistle. She heard Torbin bound out of bed, then saw him with his Ka-Bar in his hand.

  “Torbin, my water broke. The trolls want a Christmas birthday. Grab my suitcase, I will get a towel and head to the car…”

  “Like hell you will,” interrupted Torbin. He grabbed the wall home phone, and dialed Central Security Control. “Hello, this is Major Torbin. The download has begun. Please call General Reed. We’ll wait for the crash truck. Yes, thank you.”

  “What are you doing?” Aleks questioned her husband.

  “Orders, love. General Reed said in no uncertain terms that you would not be taken in a POV. We are to wait for the heavy duty ambulance they are sending. You are the first woman to give birth after the Squids screwed with our genes and hormones. You are to be treated with kid gloves.”

  Aleks flushed with anger. “No one asked me about this. I am not some weakling. I am a Russian officer...” The rest of the conversation was cut short as a contraction hit. She plunked back down into her chair. Torbin quickly stepped to her side, and grabbed her hand.

  “Remember your breathing, dearest…”

  “Oh shut up. Women have been doing this without the help of you oafs for thousands of years.” Another contraction. Seven months would be on the edge of a premature birth. Tests had shown that with the effects of Tschaaa tinkering, it would be the new norm. It looked like the actual birth sequence might also have been greatly accelerated.

  The large crash truck, used as a small emergency room on the flight line for serious aircraft crashes, arrived in record time. The fact they had been personally primed by General Reed had led them to practice for this event, including the response time. They had it down to a science.

  Torbin helped his wife to her feet, just as someone knocked on the door. It was Abigail, using her spare key to open it. “The babies are coming? Your whistle woke up Fuzz and I.” The aforementioned K-9 was directly behind her, and tried to force his way around. “Hey. Who’s in charge?” Abigail said to him, and he started to whine. He smelled Aleks, and seemed to know what was about to happen. Two legged puppies were on their way.

  Seeing Fuzz and hearing his whine, tears of joy flooded Aleks’ eyes. “See what saving me did, you big beastie? You are going to have two young humans to take care of now. “

  Just then, the crash truck arrived outside, the emergency lights flashing through the windows. Abigail stepped out the front door, and waved at them to hurry. Then she dashed to the closet and grabbed Aleks’ large parka. She wrapped it around her adopted big sister as the EMTs came in. For once, Fuzz did not complain about a bunch of strange humans being around. He sensed what was happening.

  As they hustled Aleks into the oversized ambulance, her contractions sped up. The female EMT Sergeant yelled at the driver. “Tell the Emergency Room the babies are coming now! We’ll just have a delivery en route.”

  Torbin looked at the Sergeant. “You can do this?”

  She flashed a quick smile. “Did I ask you if you can gut a Squid with
a knife? You know your job, Sir. I know mine. Hop in, we’re leaving.”

  Abigail had to hold a whining Fuzz back. He wanted to escort the pregnant human and her children personally. After all, he had protected them up until now. As the crash truck accelerated away, all of the neighbors came out of their houses to watch, and one yelled out. “The Major’s having her babies?”

  “Yes,” Abigail answered. “And quickly. Impatient Marines, you know.”

  Suddenly, people began to cheer and applaud. Torbin and Aleks were their people. Abigail gazed down at Fuzz. “Come on. We’ll clean up inside and then go in my SUV. I know you can’t wait any more than I can. I’ll see if I can sneak you into the hospital, okay?”

  Fuzz seemed to give her a knowing look, then barked.

  Two blocks from the house, the head of the first twin appeared. Before they knew it, he almost literally popped out. Aleks luckily had a broad enough pelvis, almost as if she had been made to give birth to accelerated babies. Then, the second twin followed mere seconds later. Both were over nine pounds, explaining Alek’s enormous belly. Both were born with dark hair, and opened their eyes a bit on their own, each giving a small hiccup instead of a loud cry. The female Sergeant, a big grin on her face, did a quick toe and finger count as each came out. She set them up on Aleks chest as she prepared to tie off and cut the umbilical cords. Torbin pulled out his Ka-Bar. “Please, sterilize and use this. It means something to me.”

  The Sergeant did not question the request. An alcohol wash on the blade, quick cuts with the razor sharp blade, quick tie offs, and it was done. Two beautiful baby boys were sitting on Aleks’ chest, taking nourishment from their mother. Gage, the first one out, was on Aleks right breast, and Tristan, his younger brother by a few moments, was on her left, both concentrating on suckling.

  Aleks beamed at Torbin through teary eyes. “Your sons are gorgeous, my husband.”

  Tears of joy began to run down Torbin’s face. For once, he did not hide his tears. He had two good reasons for being so happy.

  “That, Major, has got to be one of the easiest and quickest deliveries of twins on record,” the EMT Sergeant opined. Torbin suddenly hugged her, and kissed her cheek.