Crager arrived from the adjacent housing area, where he’d been in a late meeting with Colonel Dearborn, concerning an equipment supply problem for a class farther ahead in the training cycle. Although SOB-1 was not a top-secret installation, at least on paper, Crager was on the inside of the small group of people that knew what direction Special Ops intended to move in the future. He personally didn’t know crap about genetics; he only knew that they were never going to produce troops with abilities to match the enemy with what they were doing now. He had expressed his opinion to some of the scientists, some of whom had agreed, and mentioned what had been done in the past that was now outlawed. That had been the start of the conspiracy.
Colonel Dearborn, in casual off the record conversations, revealed his similar sentiments, and it was apparent he also wanted to see the capability of spec ops troops greatly enhanced. Like Crager, he didn’t much care how they made the war winnable, so long as it was possible to do. A small seed had been planted and needed cultivation. SOB-1, in its isolation, and with black ops funding outside any audit trail, was fertile ground.
Tonight, Crager and Dearborn were concerned that some leak had brought a snoop into their midst. SFC Norris, who might even support their operation, wasn’t part of it simply to keep the number of those actively involved to a minimum. Frankly, it wasn’t certain there was much to be involved with, because the science was sketchy. The smart science people involved all knew it was possible, and the Clone Wars had proven what could be done three hundred years ago. However, they didn’t have the basic knowledge that had been destroyed in the Purge (so they assumed).
Norris, not certain why Crager was so intense as he stalked between the formed up platoons, glaring at every face, was startled when his Top said he would be going one on one, questioning each man. He told Norris to move them all, right now, to the auditorium dressed as they were. He also wanted the barracks searched, and a detailed examination made of the ground near the fence when daylight arrived, done by their advanced instructors from SOB-4, the Special Reconnaissance teams. In the meantime, he didn’t want anybody to walk all over the “evidence.”
Evidence? Norris wondered. Of what? He couldn’t think of anything that warranted so much concern. Not even the impression in the sand from some small airship landing outside the base. That might only be a rendezvous of some horny volunteer and his girl, planned for celebrating after “hell week” ended. Top was treating it as if it was a life or death matter.
Chapter 11: Immigration Policy
Colonel Trakenburg was stunned more than outraged, although his tone sounded more the latter. “Captain Longstreet, it has only been seven weeks! Mirikami can’t pull his people out of training this early. True, they started with physical capabilities much greater than our men possess, but they have too much to learn to leave here now. They could be the weapon we’ve been trying to make of Special Operations all along. They need to join with us. A weapon without the knowledge of how to use it is wasted. Captain Mirikami has to be made aware of this.”
Longstreet had tried to offer first name informality with his superior in private talks such as now, when he suggested the colonel could call him Joe, or Joseph. Trakenburg rebuffed that, as inevitably weakening the command structure. The captain didn’t take it personally, because he knew General Nabarone also had offered to allow Trakenburg to call him Henry in private. It was still “General” when Trakenburg spoke directly to the Planetary Defense Commander, in any setting. Some kinds of starch never washed out.
“Colonel, if they were typical trainees on Heavyside, even as physically capable as they started, the full twenty months of training should still be too little to bring them up to the skill level and knowledge of the men in my expanded platoon.” He shrugged.
“I can’t rationally explain it, Sir. They already can do everything the best of our people can do. Because of their speed and strength, and incredible coordination, any of them do it better and faster. Better than any of my men, or any that I’ve ever seen, including our legendary First Sergeant Crager, who taught me everything I know, at Heavyside and on live missions later.”
Trakenburg shook his head. “In just five weeks? We had them wasting time exercising for the first two weeks of the last seven.”
“That first two weeks wasn’t wasted, Sir. They are superhumanly strong and coordinated, but had never been pushed to their limits before we beefed up the regimen and made the course too tough even for us instructors to run. SOB-1 would have been a better location for that, but I’m positive they came from a planet with a bit more gravity than Heavyside.”
“There are no other habitable planets like that in Human Space.”
“That’s the point, Colonel. They said they came from a planet outside the Rim, left there by the Krall to die. We ran their DNA, compared it to their archived records for the four older men, and we know they have genetic enhancements to the normal genome that apparently make them a near strength equal to us in our Booster Suits.
“Sir, the scientists that General Nabarone brought in have reviewed the medical reports from the four TGs that arrived here wounded. They told me they’re stumped. The SGs have some mysterious nervous system features that seem redundant, and a strange second one is not used. The TGs also have redundant nerves, but do use the new set. They found other genetic changes that their DNA comparison equipment can’t recognize. The scientists claim we don’t even have experts any more that can decipher what those unknown genes must do.
“Colonel, the doctors and scientists may not know how the genes do what was done, but they can see some of it when the TGs are in a med lab’s scanners. All of them, SGs and TGs alike have an extra tissue based superconducting nervous system, yet the SGs use only the same one you or I do. Of course, yours and mine have the supplementary platinum alloy nerve imbeds that drive our implants and Booster Suits. However, the SGs have essentially the same neuron connections at their nerve endings as we do. They have nearly the same reaction time as we do.
“Our own nerve implants give us a slight edge on conductivity and speed of reactions over an SG. Although, the superconductor nerves they have do seem to help the SGs improve reaction speed by giving them advance sensory input to their brains. I think you and I still have a trivial speed advantage, sending information back from the brain to move our Booster Suits.”
This was actually already known to Trakenburg, but Longstreet thought he was the first to brief the master snooper of what Nabarone’s own AI data had revealed. “Captain, of course you know the real prize is how the TGs are able to use the second superconducting nervous system. That’s where they get that reaction speed. We know they start life with the muscle enhancements of the SGs, with the added carbon fiber within their existing tissues grown at a later age. Now it’s as if they wear a Booster Suit internally, and have powerful human muscles in addition to that. I had wondered how they were safely absorbing the tremendous impacts when I saw them risk long drops. How did they not break bones? You and I could drop just as far in our suits and still survive the impact. However, because we would have to crawl away with broken feet and legs, we would die if this happened in combat.
“A Magnetic Resonance Imaging system was brought in that went over Ethan Greeves, checking his rib regrowth from the plasma burn and chest puncture before we let him join the others on the obstacle course six weeks ago. I heard about the MRI results from a doctor, but dismissed it at the time, thinking it was the same substance as their carbon fiber muscles.
“I recently learned from General Nabarone’s medical team, (he had Max steal the report), that the carbon nanotubes in their bones and carbon fibers in their muscles are structurally very different, grown by completely different gene changes. The bones have interlocked carbon nano tubes built into them. Longer nano tubes just like those are the same material used to make the Space Elevator cables on Earth and Mars. The TGs don’t have pure nano tube bones, but they are damned hard to break, and they flex more before reach
ing the fracture point.”
Trakenburg realized he had been pulled away from his main objective, to discuss a way to keep Mirikami and his TGs here, to complete their training, and to convince them to join forces with Special Operations. General Nabarone did not have the reach, away from Poldark, to order or conduct the strikes Mirikami had said he wanted his people to conduct against Krall interests. Spec ops did, at least in principle.
“If we run some live missions with the TGs, where they put what we taught them into practice, they will see the value of our men’s experience, and one or more of the older SGs might come over to my point of view. I don’t want to lose this opportunity. I can’t let them leave.”
Longstreet was quite certain that other than disabling their ship, that they couldn’t stop them from leaving. The TGs could capture any other ship on the planet they wanted and only massively overwhelming deadly force could beat them. Not an action conducive to friendship and cooperation. He needed to get Trakenburg to accept a theory he now held to be true, and which explained why they were ready to leave training so early.
“Sir, we’ve both observed how quickly the TGs learn. I even see the four older men picking up tactics I’m surprised they learn so quickly. However, they don’t do it as fast, in a single one-day session, and they sometimes forget details a week later. That almost never happens with the TGs. They learn at a phenomenal rate. After a few sessions with different men acting as instructors, they combine the best parts of each instructor’s techniques, and I honestly can’t see a way I could teach them how to do it better. Then they practice some situations on their own, and damned if they don’t find ways to do it better, using moves we couldn’t teach them, because we can’t do them.
“I know you saw the recordings of how they cleared the Krall from each deck of that clanship as they went up, one deck, sometimes two decks at a time. They leaped up to flip in midair, firing as they did that, and planted their feet on the bottom of the next deck above to push off, flip, and land away from the stairs. They continued to shoot and cover the next TG coming a second or two behind them. They would have five or six TGs through in seconds, all of them increasing the rate of fire, and they do not miss what they target.” He added that emphasis.
“I sure as hell can’t do that. Almost everything we teach them is improved on by them when they are left on their own. I’m telling you, Sir, they somehow pass that learning on to the next squad, even if the next group never had a chance to see the initial demonstration. How do you think they do that, Sir?”
“Captain, you are with them every day, I have not observed that. By the tone of your question, you obviously have an opinion to offer.”
“I do, Sir. However, it will sound…, strange. I don’t suppose any stranger than how bizarre they already seem to us.
“We all have heard them speak of SGs and TGs, and they have explained a bit about what that meant. Did you ever hear any of the younger ones call one of the appointed squad leaders a TG1? I mean someone like the Martin boy, and Greeves’ son, that Conrad Boston kid, and some others.”
“I think I recall overhearing the term a few times. I assumed it’s a sort of ranking they used at home. All of them are squad leaders for you I think.”
“Not all of them, Sir. I’ve heard some of them call Warren Brock a TG1, and another boy named Carlos, whose last name I don’t remember. Those two don’t lead squads because they are not particularly assertive or natural leaders. They both have excellent physical ability, but not leadership qualities. They are both called a TG1 at times.”
In an annoyed tone Trakenburg pushed him to make his point. “Captain, I don’t care what rank or honor they grant one of their TGs. You said they both had excellent physical abilities. That may be why any of them are called TG1s.”
“I think it has more to do with a mental ability, Sir.”
More annoyed now, Trakenburg asked, “Like IQ, memory, math? Or what?”
Longstreet had to grit it out, if he sounded like an idiot, so be it. “I think TG1’s use some kind of telepathy.”
Trakenburg blinked. “You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding!”
Yep, the colonel definitely thought he was an idiot.
“Please hear me out, Sir. It must be one of the genetic enhancements they appear to have, which we can’t identify, and may be tied somehow to their superconducting nerves. I don’t think it works like broadcast signals sent through the air. It is apparently connected to that touchy feely thing they do, every time one group is shown something new, or a squad leader is first to complete a new training exercise.
“They do this sort of group hug thing. I know you’ve seen it, because I heard you make a disparaging comment once when they did that. They all circle up and stack hands with the squad leader, or sometimes with Carlos what-ever-his-name-is, or Warren Brock, who offer the first hand at the bottom of rings they initiate. We thought it was a team building exercise of their own, except they also do it between different, supposedly competing teams.
“I’ve seen non-leader Brock finish a classroom session on methods to create diversions, or how to conduct hit and run actions, and non-leader Carlos after a description of what favorable factors to look for when selecting ambush sites. Those two so-called TG1s always meet with the next class coming in, before they go off with an instructor to practice what they were just told, or sometimes simply go to lunch. Their own squad members don’t hang back to participate in the ring with the next group, and the incoming squad leaders are sometimes other TG1’s. They do their own rings during training.
“What became significant to me was that the next new group always had the answers to randomly asked questions on completely new course subjects, or can perfectly perform whatever the physical action is in the exercise being taught, even though they have never had it demonstrated for them. They already know what to do.”
Still skeptical, but willing to listen to one of his best platoon leaders, Trakenburg had a hypothetical question. “If they have such a farfetched ability, have you seen signs that the so-called TG1’s try do it with any of us?”
He was satisfied with the look of surprised wonder on Longstreet’s face as he considered an implication he had overlooked. The colonel thought he had forced a retraction of this preposterous suggestion, when the captain said, “I’ll be damned. That’s how he knew.”
“How who knew what?”
“Sir, I know you have the recording of the demonstration fight in SOB-23’s parking garage, between Warren Brock, Sergeant Jenkins and Corporal Bender. They shook hands before the fight, right after Thad…, I mean Colonel Greeves…, suggested he do that first. Greeves also said to think about what his first move would be in the fight. I automatically did that too, just as if I were about to fight some greenhorn kid with a highly exaggerated build up.
“I’ll bet Jenkins and Bender thought about it as well. Brock beat them both so quickly because he knew their first moves. At the end he was hurting Corporal Bender by nearly pulling his arms off. An object lesson that we now know he could have actually finished. He said something after that, which indicated he knew what both Bender and Jenkins had been thinking before the fight.
“He said Bender wanted to hurt him really bad, just to impress me, and that Jenkins simply wanted to knock him out fast and easy. The words he used were something like that, so we’ll have to watch the recording again to be sure. At the time, that sounded reasonably the same as I thought both men might think, knowing them both as well as I do. I only wondered later how the kid could have sized them up so quickly. It must have been during the handshake. That means they can read us as well. Damn!”
Trakenburg wasn’t nearly so skeptical now. He recalled the incident. His AI, Max, back at his headquarters was out of transducer range, but he used a landline to call, and asked him to upload that fight sequence to another AI at the training base in the crater.
He and Longstreet watched the short sequence multiple times, in light of their new perspective. Br
ock deliberately looking away from Jenkins, nodding to Greeves and then leaping to meet what should have been a surprise move from Jenkins. He clearly anticipated Bender’s kidney kick without ever looking his way.
Shaking his head in dismay, he decided Longstreet was probably right. Trakenburg gave him the first order that came to mind. “Make all our men wear the beta test Booster Suit gloves, even if they crumple a few fragile items before they develop fine control. You and I will wear them too if we are ever in a position to shake hands with any of those TG1s.”
He gave his reasoning. “Every indication I’ve seen and as you have described is that if this is real, it requires physical contact with their hands. Mirikami and his men don’t form those rings when training, so they can’t directly do what the TG1s do. However, they must get a training update from them each night. Obviously, these kids can send as well as receive…, something…,” he was grasping for the proper description.
“They could be passing what they learned on to the SGs later. That must be why the older men show a day’s lag time in improvement, yet are still far ahead of the training schedule.”
His own mind was doing what Longstreet’s had just done. Going over inconstancies and mysteries, which he’d recently pondered. “It is incredible, but this idea certainly makes some other pieces fall into place that I couldn’t make fit. General Nabarone and I have had joint possession of that damn Krall clanship commander; a fruitless interrogation, I might add, since they turned his paralyzed butt over to us last month. He’s alive and aware and we have to force feed him, and apply that drug daily to keep him docile and unable to will his own death.
“However, he has never uttered a single word to us. Dr. Martin says the Krall had finally realized he was actually speaking aloud when he thought of the answers to our questions, and had clammed up to stop helping them after they attacked his ship. Before that, Carson, was recorded telling them by transducer that he had been getting intelligence from that Krall, which they acted on to win the fight. Such as how to armor seal the troop transport’s front cabin, how many warriors they faced, and that clue about how the Krall were warned just before a plasma weapon would fire.”
Koban: Rise of the Kobani Page 38
