“You smell that?” she asked.
“Smell what?”
“The pungent aroma of the barnyard.”
“What?” he asked confused.
“Bullshit,” Argie replied. “You’re in love with me old man, and you know it.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Stay out of poker rooms, granddad. You have no talent for lies.”
“We were discussing your progress,” he said.
“Yes, Captain Cutie. We will use some of the film we have for sealing off quarantine areas. We’ve plenty of that. Minor atmospheric pressure changes shouldn’t affect it. It’s awfully strong.”
“How long?”
“Two hours tops. Then we’ll see what we can do to add oxygen to the atmosphere inside the aid station. That is unless you want us to wait till we can all get high.”
“No, don’t wait. It will take a while for us to get the gardens set up, then even longer to get plants growing,” Denver answered.
She suddenly turned serious. “You think we’re going to be here a long time?” she asked.
“Don’t know, maybe forever, or until the Reptilians find us. I suspect it is only a matter of time now that the navy has decided to fight the war from space and with aerial bombardment.”
They looked at one another for a full minute. Then she spoke up. “You seem to have thought this thing out.”
“As best I can, I suppose. I’ll still need input from my commanders.”
“Your commanders?”
“By tomorrow, I’ll have lieutenants commanding battalions, sergeants commanding companies.”
“What about a staff?”
“Can’t spare the personnel, I’ll have something more akin to a ‘kitchen cabinet’: you, Dmitri, Farouk, Sergeant Washington, and maybe a couple of others. We’ll have to meet daily for a briefing. Anyway, will you be set up for sick call tomorrow morning?”
“Yes sir,” she sang out. “We will be open for sick call at 0600.”
“Good. We’ll need to keep an eye out for our oxygen levels. I don’t want everyone going to sleep and waking up dead from carbon dioxide poisoning. What we really need are some parakeets.”
“Parakeets, what for?” she asked.
“In the old days, they were used down in mines. If the parakeet fell over dead, get the heck out.”
“We have instruments now.”
“How many can we spread around?” he asked.
“Not enough, but we’ll have one for the aid station and most of the places where troops will sleep. Come to think of it, where are the troops going to sleep?”
“In these caves, but it’s getting late. I need these things sealed up,” Smith said.
* * * *
Smith personally watched over the mess the next morning. There was some grumbling about the quantity of food, but the troops could see that Captain Smith did not eat until they were fed. He sat at a table with them, and everyone could see that his portion was no larger than theirs.
He pushed the tray back and typed a message into his com. “There will be a meeting of the same officers and NCOs I met with yesterday. I will need a full update on your progress. I will make new assignments as necessary, and I need a list of things you are in serious need of having. End of message.”
He finished his coffee, or what was supposed to be coffee. It was actually made from something grown under the sea. It was only one of the things we would be running out of … soon.
His com chimed. It was Farouk. “Hi Farouk.”
“Sir, I need to speak with you immediately, face to face.” His voice sounded strained. Something was wrong.
“I’ll be right over.” Smith got up and went to the back of the line to wash his tray. The field setup was actually pretty good. There was boiling, soapy water in the first barrel. You would hook a wire through the hole in the corner of the tray, dunk in it the water, take the scrub brush and scrub. They next two barrels of boiling water were for rinsing. Then they were hung up on a line.
The trays were being constantly pushed forward. One of the mess personnel would remove the tray and towel off any spots of moisture remaining. All in all a quick and effective way to getting the trays clean, sanitary, and dry.
Smith could feel the eyes on him. He just looked up and smiled at the men several times. The walk to the aid station was short and easy in the 0.8g environment.
He went into the aid station. There were a few men being looked after by the medical staff. Smith continued till he found Argie and Farouk.
Farouk stood as he entered followed by Argie. They both looked grave.
“Okay, what’s the bad news?” Smith asked, trying, and failing miserably to sound light hearted.
Argie glanced at Farouk who spoke. “You know how you asked me to find out where we had been dumped. Well, last night I and two others began working on the problem. It took most of the night, but now we know.
“They didn’t move us farther into the secure area as they said. We have been dumped in a disputed part of space. We are near the frontier with the Reptilians.”
“Can there be any mistake?” Smith asked.
“We checked, double checked, and redouble checked. There can be no mistake.”
Smith was dumbstruck and sank into a chair. He gazed off into space for a long moment, his eyes wide, digesting the full ramifications of what had been done to them.
Finally he spoke. “They don’t mean for us to die of starvation or oxygen deprivation, they plan for us to be wiped out by the Reptilians. They are feeding us to the same enemy we were recruited to fight!”
Chapter 18 - Weaving the Dangerous Web
“And that’s everything,” said Mr. Chu.
“Well done, more brandy?” responded Schiller. He had begun to wonder if there should be something done about Chu, as he was the only one in existence, other than himself, who knew the truth. He quickly dismissed the idea. Chu had worked for him too long and was too ambitious. No, his own ambition would keep him loyal, besides who else would do the kind of work Schiller needed, from time to time.
Schiller poured the brandy. “Are you sure he could have told no one?”
“Absolutely, he would have been so racked with pain, he would have been unable to speak or summon help. Even if he could have found assistance, there is nothing he could have told them. He was nobody, a nonexistent.”
“Good, good, the operation went as planned.” Schiller was ecstatic, the Prime Minister dead, the government in turmoil, and the Legion out of the way. Life was good.
Schiller went into another room and returned with a small box. He seated himself, looking at Chu. “These are harrowing times, and we must all serve the greater good as best we can,” he said sliding the artificial wood box over to Chu.
“Yes they are, but if we remain strong and constant, we will prevail,” Chu said accepting the box of gold.
“Our contacts have been informed?” Chu asked.
“Yes, they know,” answered Schiller. “It won’t take them long to extract their revenge. That will solve two problems.”
“Two problems?”
“Yes, they will know we can be trusted, and it will get rid of the Legion once and for all.”
“I trust you let them know that the ‘Nest Destroyer’ is among those on the planet,” said Chu, savoring his brandy.
Schiller took a sip and brought his glass down. “Oh yes, I informed them with great delight. They were most impressed.”
“Good, good,” said Chu smiling. In his mind, he could almost see some look of joy on their twisted Reptilian faces.
“We must never let on that we have turned humans, even the vermin from the surface world, over to the Reptilians for execution. That might not go over too well with the more squeamish among our population,” cautioned Schiller.
“This
is no time for being squeamish; that is why we must lead,” said Chu.
Schiller suddenly had a slight jolt of fear; what if Chu wanted to rise even higher. Well, so what of it? He would make a good Prime Minister, after Schiller retired.
The desk com chimed, and Schiller hit it. “What is it?”
“A caller for you sir, Admiral von Karlstad. Shall I admit him?”
“Yes, by all means.”
“I must be going,” said Chu.
“Yes, I must keep this appointment, government business, you know. Here, please use my private exit.”
“Thank you,” said Chu rising. “See you soon.”
“Yes, by all means.”
Chu left by the back entrance with his small chest of gold, just a little something to reimburse his expenses. Schiller quickly went into a different room in order to accept his guest.
Never a good idea to entertain one guest after another in the same room, especially if one should not know about the other. There is always something one might miss while trying to clean up for the next guest; however, he did bring the brandy.
He was standing at the bar retrieving two brandy snifters when von Karlstad entered the room. He turned to greet his old college friend.
“Well done, Admiral,” he said almost formally, “well done indeed.”
“Thank you; I’m glad the operation meets with your approval.”
“Do sit down,” said Schiller. He brought the two glasses and the bottle over. He poured for von Karlstad, then himself. He sat the bottle down and then took a seat.
“Thank you,” said von Karlstad, taking the seat indicated by Schiller.
“I understand that you got the whole lot off planet, without any objections.” Schiller was unashamedly gleeful.
“Yes, that’s true; they just got on the ships with whatever they could carry. It was really quite easy, no trouble at all. Now that they are safely off New Earth, we can get to the bottom of the question about the assassination of the Prime Minister at our leisure.
“We’ll keep them resupplied as necessary, and I have left a ship on station in case of trouble. They have plenty of rebreathers and should be fine until Parliament can decide what to do with them.”
“Excellent. Brandy?”
“Yes, of course, thank you,” answered von Karlstad. “They have adequate rations for thirty days. I’ll have a resupply ship there long before they are in danger of running out.”
“Good,” said Schiller. But to himself he thought, that will not be necessary. Above all, there were two things he must keep secret. First that he was behind Pinky’s murder and secondly, he had handed human beings over to aliens for extermination. The complete destruction of the Legion would solve all his problems. He savored his drink, completely confident of his ascendancy.
“What have you done with the officers?” added Schiller.
“Oh, they’ve been reassigned to the navy, and from what I gather, they are glad to be back.”
He thought for a moment as he savored his drink. “You know,” began von Karlstad, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Always a dangerous undertaking,” interrupted Schiller.
“Yes, quite so. However, there might be some small things we can use contingents from the Legion for from time to time.”
“Good god, what for?” burst Schiller.
“Oh, I don’t mean anything militarily, but some of the dirty work that has to be done.”
Schiller was actually surprised. He wanted only the complete annihilation of the Earth trash. He changed the subject. “Perhaps, what about this Admiral La Force?”
“I don’t see what harm he can do. He just lost three of his key people, that’s all. They can be replaced. Anyway, it has been suggested to him that he retire. I think he will get the message that his career is at an end. Though I must confess, I’m not sure why it is necessary to get rid of him. He’s a good man,” insisted von Karlstad.
“I think the Admiralty took offense at his undertaking his own investigation into the Prime Minister’s assassination, rubbed the wrong people the wrong way.”
“Maybe so, but it’s a hell of a thing, I mean right in the middle of a war. How will it look?” asked von Karlstad.
It will look any damn way we want it to look! “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. How’s it coming with your new squadrons of Me 147’s.”
Von Karlstad switched gears as though he had forgotten his concerns. “Excellent, Parliament has come up with the funds for my first two squadrons. We are being kept busy working through applicants, and we will be ready by the time the first of them arrive. We are only using the most experienced crew chiefs, mechanics, and such. The pilot applicants are being accepted from people already flying, so training should move along rapidly. The simulators are already being tested, and I expect the second squadron to be operational in record time.”
“Excellent news, excellent, everything is going well,” beamed Schiller.
Von Karlstad grew serious, “Have you seen the report from the navy Intel team concerning the first planet we destroyed?”
“No, I understand that it was a complete success. Why, what’s the matter?”
“According to the report, it was not the complete success we initially thought.”
“How do you mean?” asked Schiller.
“The team was attacked by quite a large number of Reptilian flying craft carrying troops. Apparently, they narrowly escaped with their lives.”
Schiller was stunned. It took several moments for him to recover his composure. “Are you quite sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. I read the report today.”
“I was led to believe that your new spacecraft could wipe out and entire planet’s defenses,” said Schiller, with just a hint of accusation in his voice.
“Oh, don’t get all in a huff. We wiped out their orbiting vessels and destroyed everything we could find on the surface. Intel thinks they dug in deep; probably something in their genetic codes makes them want to dig burrows. Whatever it is, we will find a way to defeat it.”
“Well, I hope so,” responded Schiller.
“What are we going to tell the public and Parliament?” asked von Karlstad.
“Tell them nothing.”
“Nothing? You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not,” said Schiller. “We gave them the report based on the information we had at the time, in good faith.”
“Quite so, but what do you propose to do?”
“I propose you send your people back in there and finish the job,” said Schiller bluntly.
“Surface nukes will make much of the planet uninhabitable.”
“I’m not a military man,” confessed Schiller. “But it seems to me that some sort of bomb, perhaps not even nuclear, which could penetrate deeply before exploding might do the job.”
“That’s possible, but what about locating a target. I don’t know what technology could do that. Besides, we’ve got to tell Parliament something.”
“Oh, stop worrying about Parliament. Have another drink,” insisted Schiller. He poured the drinks.
Can von Karlstad be completely trusted? Completely, no, that is why he has been kept from certain information. It is better that way.
“What does Parliament have on the assassination?” asked von Karlstad.
“Not much really; New Scotland Yard is handling it. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it’s nothing really, but a few upper-level officers have been overheard whispering that blaming this on the Legion is just a bit too neat. I must admit, it certainly appears to be an open and shut case.”
Schiller had not thought about that. He only knew that the navy and their people, in general, did not want Earth trash among them. He had not been able to consider that some members of the officer corps might really support t
he formation of the Legion. How is such a thing possible?
“I see,” said Schiller thoughtfully. Don’t get jumpy, old man. You are almost there.
“What about La Force’s investigation?” asked Schiller.
“Oh, he appears to have abandoned that. There have been no new reports from him. He’s lost the people working on the investigation; you know the legionnaires assigned to him.”
“Yes, the only legionnaires anywhere in the vicinity when the assassination occurred, and these are the people he puts on the investigation. Seems a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”
“Are you suggesting that Admiral La Force might be mixed up in this?” asked von Karlstad, incredulously. He felt offended by the veiled accusation.
The two old friends chatted for a time afterward, but something was beginning to nag at the back of von Karlstad’s mind. Something was just not right.
“I really must be going,” said von Karlstad at length. The brandy was beginning to make him sleepy. It would be unseemly to drift off in Schiller’s apartment, even though in the old days, it was nothing for one or the other to pass out wherever they were while attending some sort of schoolboy bash.
“Well, thank you for dropping by and keeping me up to date.”
“Of course, glad to do it,” said von Karlstad.
* * * *
As von Karlstad rode back to his apartment, he could not help but to feel concern. There was not enough oxygen on the planet where the Legion had been dropped off, and no one had ever depended on the rebreathers for an extended period.
Then there was the question about where his people had dropped them off; it was just too near Reptilian occupied space. While he had no love for the Legion, his people had recruited them. It is not as if the people from the surface had asked to get involved in our fight.
And why were some people so hell bent on stopping La Force’s investigation. Oh yes, he might have been a bit too aggressive, but he got on it, while naval command and Parliament sat on their hands. What were they so afraid of?
It had to be someone from the Legion; who else could it be? Then again, who in the Legion even knew or cared who the Prime Minister was? What advantage would they gain by killing their strongest supporter?
Hell Fighters From Earth Book 2 Page 16
