“Son,” Bob said, finally looking at the man next to him. “You are exactly the type of soldier we’re looking for. Your motives are pure. You are selfless, but doing what has to be done to survive. You will be an honor to your family, and you are also the most likely to survive in combat. Which leads us to why the general is here. He is spearheading a leaner force, one that is better, better trained, better equipped, more likely to accomplish missions. The days of throwing more bodies into the meat grinder are over. The next war will be won by small unit operations through application of high-impact strikes. Some of you will be on the ground floor of the new ground force. Welcome to TerroCom.”
***
Sheriff Thaddeus Fry sat in the bar of the Mother Lode. He nursed his drink, not wanting to drink, but the bartender had delivered it, saying it was a gift from one of the patrons. Pierre had given over some of the bartending duties to this individual. Thad didn’t even know the man’s name. He should ask.
Someday.
Thad had looked the tables over and couldn’t find anyone he thought would be willing to part with the bar’s extortionist prices to buy the sheriff a drink. But Thad didn’t want to look like an ingrate. He took a sip, smiled appreciatively, and nodded to his unknown patron.
The bartender shook his head as the sheriff tried to get his attention. He would find no source of information there. The bartender was tight-lipped, holding everyone’s secrets close to his vest, as Pierre had instructed him. There were probably threats included, but Thad didn’t care about that. It wasn’t his business. The sheriff appreciated the man’s discretion. Thad liked that people trusted bartenders with their secrets.
The sheriff didn’t push things.
“I heard you was on the Prime,” a gruff old voice said. Thad looked around, but didn’t see anyone. “My boy is buried there.”
The sheriff looked down from his seat and saw an old man scrubbing the floor around the barstools. Nimian Todd, janitor for the Mother Lode. He also washed dishes for the dining facility.
“I suspect that I have you to thank for my drink, but I should be buying one for you.” Thad raised his glass to the man and then drained it. “Take a seat and talk with me.”
Pierre perked up from his corner table. He glared at the janitor, as if trying to will the man back to work. Thad gave Pierre the finger and followed with, “Sheriff business. This won’t take long.”
Pierre bristled at the disrespect shown him in his own establishment, but the only person he could complain to was the Company Man, and she would be unsympathetic. He’d dock the old man’s wages for time lost cavorting.
The sheriff knew what Pierre was thinking. He determined to talk with Shaunte, tell her that he’d cover the old man’s lost wages with his own. And he wanted to pay him back for the cost of the drink.
“Who’d your boy serve with?” Thad asked as the man worked his way onto the barstool. The sheriff waved at the bartender, signaling to give the man whatever he wanted.
“Two-dash-Four of the Forty-First.” The old man’s eyes glistened.
Thad had to look away. The Forty-First Division was thrown into the lion’s maw. Their mission had been to distract the enemy through a feint, but their leadership pushed them too far in and couldn’t get them out when the enemy finally committed.
“Second Battalion, Fourth Regiment had a hard time of it,” was all Thad would say.
“That ain’t no lie.” The old man took the fruity drink the bartender brought him. “How’d you know?”
“The bartender knows what everyone likes.”
“Not that.” The old man snickered, before frowning sadly.
“I know. I don’t want to sit here and cry into my beer. I owe it to everyone we left behind to honor their sacrifice. Wallowing in the misery that was Centauri Prime won’t bring any of them back.”
The old man nodded, pursing his lips. He shook his head slightly before taking a long, slow drink.
“You’re a captain, right?” he asked.
“I was, back then.”
“Did you bring your men home?”
Thad closed his eyes. The faces of every single one of his people flashed through his mind. He tried not to focus on those who didn’t make it out alive. “Not all of them,” he whispered, clenching and unclenching his fist.
“But you cared. I see it in your face that you cared about them all. Two-dash-Four? They didn’t care. I got a form letter over the digital mail. I didn’t get anything from my boy that I could hold in my hand.” The old man started to sob. Thad stood and held the man by his shoulders.
“Where your boy died, we lost all that ground. To recover anything of his would have cost more lives. If they asked me to take my unit in there, I would have refused. We left a lot of good people behind, but we could have left more, and still had nothing to show for it. The people of Alpha Centauri are to blame that we couldn’t talk with them, negotiate a return of personal effects. I’ll hate that government every day of my life.”
“Me too, my friend. I’m glad you didn’t lose more men. I’m sorry. It’s selfish of me to ask someone to sacrifice for my own peace of mind.”
“Would a memento of that campaign hold back some of the pain? I’m sure your son was a good man. That is the best that any parent can hope for.” Thad started digging in his pocket.
“I don’t know if it would or not. Nothing will bring him back.”
“We went to war for reasons that only the central government knows. We fought, and we died. They told us we won, our sacrifice was worth it, but in the end, nothing had changed. Here.” Thad handed the old man a coin. “I had these made for every one of my people after we left Alpha Centauri space.”
The old man looked at the brass-colored coin. It said, Live free for those who died.
“It ain’t so easy, is it?”
Thad could only shake his head. “No, but we have to try. If you’ll excuse me.” Thad offered his hand to the old man. “I know there are people out there who don’t understand what a valuable gift they have--the chance to live a good life. It’s up to us to show them.”
Maximus appeared and shoved his snout between Thad and the old man. They both reached down to scratch the pig-dog’s head and ears.
The two men finished their drinks and went back to work.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tiberius looked from the windows of the chairman’s office. Located next to the boardroom, Tye couldn’t escape the incessant power plays that surrounded his position. Everyone wanted something.
He scowled. I can give everyone something, but then what do I get? My kingdom for a horse! He joked, trying to raise his own spirits.
Tye had hoped to sneak one or two more entries into the board minutes, but with Phil’s discovery, that avenue was no longer available.
Of course, Tiberius Plastes had a backup plan with alternatives and more backups. Leave yourself an out, his own father had told him when he was learning to drive the hovercar. Always leave an out.
Tye was conservative in how he took risks. That had left him playing second fiddle for almost his full adult life, but as the others played and failed, he remained standing tall. “Who looks the fool, now?” he asked out loud.
His office was not bugged. He wouldn’t have it. Tye could afford the best in personal security. He paid their price, and they delivered privacy and discretion. Conversely, he made sure that there was an appropriate amount of eavesdropping on the boardroom. He owned the feed and secretly gave each board member the link.
If they found out that they all shared the same secret, I might be in trouble. Probably not. What would they do? Not trust me any more than they don’t trust me already? But they do. They trust me more than the others, and that’s why I sit in the big chair. Less distrust has earned me the position of Chairman of the Board. What an odd way to run a universe…
***
The monitor buzzed in Shaunte’s office. She saw that the call was from SagCon headquarters. She sighed, wanti
ng to ignore it but knowing she couldn’t.
She tapped the screen and looked over the top of the monitor. “Shaunte Plastes, how can I help you?”
“By looking at your father and saying hello,” a familiar voice said softly.
“Daddy,” she replied quickly, focusing on the screen and smiling a genuine smile. Her father had been hard, but he’d never led her astray.
“That’s more like it,” he told her warmly. “What have you been up to?”
Her smile disappeared. “What do you mean? What have you heard?” she blurted in a near-panic.
“Whoa, my bucking bronco! I only ask after your good health and well-being. Now, you have me worried, but I’m going to start over. What have you been up to--yoga, jogging, light weights? Is there a man in your life I should know about?”
Tye laughed softly and shook his head. He made a mental note to double-check a few things. His daughter had something going on and he didn’t know about it. Good on her, bad on him. He would find out and help her if she needed it, even if she didn’t ask for or want his help.
“No, none of that. I’ve been getting back into light calisthenics, only because some of my wardrobe is fitting a little tighter than it should. I can’t have that.”
He let it go that she couldn’t afford to buy expensive new clothes because she continued to plow her salary back into Darklanding to cover the shortfalls that Chairman Stoddard had programmed and ramrodded through the board.
“You didn’t answer about a man in your life. You want to look good for him.”
“Dad, I don’t know what you mean, and that’s a sexist thing to say!”
“Tell me he doesn’t work out.”
“Of course he does. It’s part of his job.” She slapped a hand over her mouth when she realized what she’d done. There was no ‘them,’ but now her father was convinced there was. He started to open his mouth, but she pointed a finger at him. “Don’t say it.”
“I’m telling your mother,” he said with a sly grin.
“There is nothing to tell her.”
“Who is it?” he asked, cocking his head.
“No.”
He looked back at her, contemplating using other assets at his command to find out. He rethought that plan, then rethought the rethinking. He was confused.
“Just tell me. This will go a whole lot easier if you do. If your mother calls, you’ll get an earful.”
“Gonna bring in your boys to lean on me, Daddy?” It was Shaunte’s turn to cock her head and look down her nose at the screen. “I’m dumping a big bucket of ice cold no all over your head. And my mother knows all kinds of things you don’t know, so you may want to rethink your strategy of trying to sic her on me. The tables could turn in a way that you don’t want.” Shaunte pointed at the screen to emphasize her point.
Tye leaned back in his chair. “What does your mother know that I don’t know?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I would.”
“You won’t,” Shaunte countered.
“I see this is getting me nowhere.”
“Nowhere fast, Dad.” Shaunte laughed softly. “I’m fine. Getting better with each day. I think Darklanding is getting better with each day. I’m starting to like it here. I actually like the people.”
“Actually? You say that as if you’re surprised. Don’t be, because I’m not. Everything else aside, it always comes down to the people. I knew you’d win them over, and great things would happen. Your mother and I are happy for you, Shaunte.”
Tye’s face flushed. He shook it off. He wasn’t used to being shmoopy.
“That means a lot, Daddy. I have to get back to work. Reports. That SagCon chairman is a real ball-buster, or so I hear. Can’t be late with the numbers.” Shaunte waved.
Tye waved back. “Give that sheriff of yours a kiss for us.” He signed off before the surprise registered on Shaunte’s face.
“There is no kissing,” she emphasized to the dark screen.
***
“Meatheads,” Bob whispered in the training sergeant’s ear. “You’ve cultivated a full crop of meatheads.”
In front of them, the entire platoon wallowed in the mud pit after failing to navigate the balance beam as part of the obstacle course. Not one or two had fallen, but every single one of them.
“Solidarity, sir. We’re building a team here.”
“A team of meatheads.” The general leaned forward to look over their shoulders.
“Sergeant, how long are you going to let them flail in there?”
“As long as it takes, General,” Craken replied with more confidence than he felt.
“That’s the right answer. Now, why don’t you give them a little guidance. Maybe help them to help themselves?” the general prompted.
“Yes, sir.” The training sergeant eased to the edge of the pit. “That way! Form a chain and help each other out.”
The sergeant pointed where he knew the slope was more forgiving. The privates started clawing and pulling themselves in that direction. As soon as the first found a foothold, he reached out and helped the next man. Soon, they had a chain and the first private worked his way onto the shore. He put out his hand and started pulling his fellows from the mud.
“Well done, Sergeant,” Bob whispered. “Even a pack of meatheads can figure it out if you train them. Isn’t that your title, training? Why are you making it so hard?”
Sergeant Craken clenched his jaw so tightly that his face started to shake. Bob felt a certain gratification at getting under the man’s skin. The general was not amused.
“Bob,” the general warned.
The major backed away slowly.
The sergeant smiled to himself. He didn’t like the major, but the man wasn’t wrong. The quality of the recruits had dropped over time. The sergeant had seen the worst that humanity had to offer. Craken didn’t expect that TerroCom would bring out the best in the new recruits.
Training had always been about exceeding a minimum standard.
The platoon slimed their way to the training sergeant, where he screamed at them to get in formation. He turned to the general, ignoring the major.
“I have an idea,” Craken said. The major’s eyes blazed in fury that he had been bypassed.
“Shoot,” the general replied as he rethought the entire process, disappointment clear on his face.
“You wanted to find the all-stars. I suggest we start splitting them off now, with a little incentive to motivate those on the fence.”
The general’s boredom disappeared. “I’m intrigued. Explain.”
The major wanted to insert himself into the conversation, but held his tongue because he didn’t know where the sergeant was going. The major was also intrigued.
“We start peeling off the high performers. Give them better food, more time off, and less discipline training. And we do it in sight of the others. When we call them to attention, they pop. When we run trials and conduct combat drills, they go first, excel, and then get to relax. We treat them as elite forces.
“The average recruit is holding the all-stars back. Our general training regimen is to train to the least common denominator. Let’s train to a higher standard. When we find that the people want the perks, I think we’ll find people who are willing to work for them. From that, we build the esprit de corps from which TerroCom will thrive.”
General Quincy rubbed his chin in thought, mulling over the process, developing his plan of action, and finally making his decision. “Bob, go find us another training sergeant.”
The major was confused but smiled. Sergeant Craken’s shoulders hunched and face fell under the weight of the general’s declaration of his failure.
“We need a new sergeant to take the stragglers. Craken, select the all-stars and pull them aside. And, Bob, get some snacks and fruit punch out here. Let the positive reinforcement begin.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Tye paced his office, mumbling to himself as he looked at
the floor.
He didn’t hear the soft knock at the door.
The chairman slowed his pacing as a smile crept across his face. He stopped and sighed. “I love the moments of clarity,” he told his empty office.
A loud knock made him jump. He’d had the voice-activated systems removed once security told him they were all vulnerabilities, which meant he had to manually unlock the door and let the person in.
“Hold on!” he yelled, even though with the soundproofing, no one beyond could hear him. He stormed to the door, but recovered his composure and smiled graciously as he gripped the handle, knowing that it was a guest and not his assistant, because his assistant would have called.
His assistant should have intercepted the people. Who would pound on his door like that? He pulled it open, not knowing who to expect.
Two members of the board and the minister of defense stood outside. Behind them, Tye’s assistant held up his hands in frustrated surrender.
“It’s okay,” Tye told the middle-aged woman before turning to his guests. “My assistant would have been happy to help you. That is what I pay her for. We’re not barbarians, at least I didn’t think we were.”
Tye did not offer his hand. None of the people before him made demands on his time without his approval and none of them commanded his respect.
Finally, the minister accepted his place, as much as it chafed. “My apologies, Chairman. I let my exuberance run away with me.”
I guess that will work, Tye thought. As long as you know your place.
“Pay it no mind, Minister. We all get wrapped up in our own worlds. Life is complex and pulls us in many directions, does it not?” Tye asked, having maintained his smile throughout. He held out his hand and the minister took it, gripping tightly as military tended to do. Tye squeezed back, refusing to yield. One of the other board members bumped the minister, breaking the power handshake, as he leaned in to make his greeting.
SAGCON Page 2
