by Weston Ochse
“What are they doing under there?” Thompson asked.
“Million-dollar question. We don’t know, and we need to. This is one of the smallest hives on the planet and it’s in the middle of nowhere. So why have it here? What makes it so important? Why have the mounds at all?”
“Maybe because we’d beat them in straight combat,” Ohirra said, a look of pride on her face.
“You say that now.” Mr. Pink smiled. “But that’s because of TF OMBRA’s suits. BCT OMBRA has them, but hardly anyone else does. Since before the invasion we were in negotiations with most major powers—we even made a presentation before the United Nations—but no one wanted to invest the money or pay the subscription for service.”
“Do you mean you charged for them?” Thompson sounded shocked.
“We’re a corporation, Private Thompson, not a charity. We spent hundreds of billions preparing for this event. Far more, I might add, than the entirety of the world’s governments. It’s only right we should be paid.” He smiled. “We repeatedly offered payment plans, but now that there is effectively no such thing as an economy we’ve begun negotiating in land and mineral rights.”
Olivares scowled. “Sounds like blackmail to me.”
“Is it?” Mr. Pink crossed his arms. “Is it blackmail when you warn the world that something is coming? Is it blackmail when you recommend they should engage in some sort of unified response? We warned them this was coming. We offered them assistance. Now that it’s a bald fact that they failed to handle the situation, we offer again, but from a more solid negotiating position. This isn’t blackmail. This isn’t even an I told you so. This is business. If we spend money, we have to recoup somehow.”
I had to speak up. “If our situation is so dire, then why not do it for free? I’m sure you’ll be rewarded.”
“Corporal Mason... Always the romantic. When we finally push the Cray off our planet, this isn’t going to be like the final scene in Return of the Jedi. There will be no parades. There won’t be anyone left to give out awards. The governments have fucked it all up and won’t be in charge anymore. OMBRA, and dozens of other corporations which have formed since first detection of the pending attack, will become the world’s governments.”
“It just doesn’t seem right,” I mumbled.
“No, it doesn’t. Blame your congress for not being able to get out of their own way long enough to save the planet. It’s not like they haven’t been doing this sort of thing for decades. Blame the world leaders. Blame anyone. But don’t blame the people who told everyone there was going to be an invasion. When this is all over, and I have no doubt that we will win the day, we’re going to have two choices as a species. Start from scratch and huddle around our fires, or have leaders ready to stand up and lead. You can’t count on your governments, but you can count on OMBRA. We have underground bunkers, like the one you all were in during training, filled with scientists and academicians ready to confront the problem and get our planet back on track. Should we be rewarded for that? For being ready to help?” He paused. “I think so. Daring plans and sacrifice should always be rewarded.”
“Okay. I got it, Mr. Pink,” Olivares said. “Thanks for your views on the economy and the state of planetary ignorance which preceded the coming of the Cray. But we’ve been invaded. We’ve had our asses kicked. Most of our great array of weapons don’t work anymore and here you are talking smack about how OMBRA is going to rule the world one day, but you can’t even seem to break into the smallest alien termite mound on the planet. I’m hoping you have a plan.”
Mr. Pink stared at Olivares for a moment. All of us wondered if he was going to get mad, but then he broke into a smile. “Very eloquently said, Sergeant Olivares. Very eloquent, indeed. We do have a plan. We have several, as a matter of fact.” He began pacing. “Back to the question Private Thompson asked. What are they doing under there? Why the mounds?”
We all waited.
Mr. Pink pressed a button and a projector blossomed light from the ceiling. He pulled down a screen and a view of Earth began to rotate on the blank white surface.
“We understood why the aliens would set down in the cities. This is a battle for conquest. They had to be where the people were.” Red spots began to appear on Earth. “These are all of the population areas which have been attacked.”
There were hundreds; I never knew it was so many.
“Now let’s look at the less-populated areas.”
Seven white spots appeared, all within twenty degrees of the equator. The Gobi Desert. The Australian Outback. Kilimanjaro. Mount Ararat in Turkey. Texas. Hilo Island. Venezuela.
“In five months Earth is going to be in aphelion.” He pressed a button and the view changed to a wire diagram of the galaxy. A pulsating blue spot appeared. “This is the destination of the pre-invasion communications. It’s presumably either the Cray’s home planet or a world which they had already taken over and used as a staging post. In five months, the plains of Kilimanjaro will be in a prime spot to communicate with this location, as far as possible from the sun’s radiation, at the perfect angle of declination. We believe it’s been placed here as some sort of communication node.”
“What about the other six locations?” Aquinas asked.
“The angle won’t be right for accurate and effective communication from these sites.”
“But doesn’t the Earth turn on its axis every day? What about the... er... wobble?” I remembered something about the Earth not rotating exactly perfectly each time.
“If you’re speaking of the Chandler Wobble, then that was taken into account, yes.” Seeing our concern, he said, “This is classified above your pay grades, but know that we have other forces in place to deal with the others.”
“Other BCTs?” Ohirra asked.
“Above your pay grade.”
She shook her head. “Jesus.”
“So we have a possible—correction—probable communications array we need to remove.” He turned the projector off and raised the screen. “The problem is that we can’t effectively attack it from the outside.” He pointed at a diagram on the screen. “This is what we were able to construct based on the ground penetrating radar and sonar.”
Lines emanating from the volcano ran beneath the plain and intersected other lines, many of them near our location.
Then it became clear. “Am I reading this right? Is there a way for the Cray to travel underground to our location?” I said.
Mr. Pink nodded. “We’ve identified several tunnels which have breach potential. But there’s still several hundred meters of rock between us and them.”
“Have you started working on that?” Olivares asked. When Mr. Pink hesitated, Olivares cursed under his breath and stood. “Hey, sir, you’re the one who decided to brief a bunch of lowly grunts. And you’ve clearly done it for a reason. Don’t start getting touchy if we ask questions you weren’t expecting. Most of us are a lot older than the average baby soldier, and in the end, pay grade or no pay grade, we’re going to have the need to know if our lives are going to be at stake.”
I’ve had my issues with Olivares, but just then I wanted to slap him on the back.
Mr. Pink waved for Olivares to sit again. Once Olivares was seated, the company man offered us an apologetic smile. “No, I get it. And I’m not briefing everyone, just a few select units with the understanding that this information is closely held and sensitive. And yes, we have an element working on that now, but we’re trying to work quickly and quietly, more so because we don’t know exactly what we’ll find when and if we break through.”
“Is that what you want us to do?” Aquinas asked. “Do you want us to go in first?”
“Not here,” Mr. Pink said, pointing at our location. He moved across the wire diagram and pointed to the top of the volcano. “Here.”
“You want us to scale the mountain and climb inside a volcano?” Thompson said. “That’s cool.”
We all turned to stare at him.
He shrugged. “What? You never wanted to go inside a volcano before?”
“Uh... no,” Ohirra said.
I agreed. I didn’t mind fighting, but the idea of going into an enclosed space where the rock could melt your skin somehow failed to excite me the way it did Thompson.
“I need two persons to volunteer.”
We all looked at each other. We’d been in the military long enough to know that you never volunteered for anything.
“I’ll go,” Aquinas said.
“I’ll go, too,” Olivares added.
Olivares saw me gaping at him and shrugged.
Thompson looked back and forth with a stunned look on his face. “Shit. Put me on standby then,” he mumbled.
“Okay. We have one more mission to lay more ground penetrators, then we’ll begin preparing for the mission to breach Kilimanjaro.” Mr. Pink gave me a look as if he was disappointed that I hadn’t volunteered.
I frowned and crossed my arms. I might have volunteered, but I’d thought we knew better than to do something so stupid.
“We’ll reconvene after the memorial this evening,” Olivares said, getting up. “Until then, your time is your own.”
“Can I ask one more question?” Thompson asked.
Olivares fixed him with an exasperated look, but sat back down.
Mr. Pink had been heading for the door. He stopped, glanced around the room, and directed his attention at Thompson. “Go ahead.”
The young blond drummer boy looked around self-consciously. When he finally spoke, it was with a quiet voice. “What about our dreams?”
I watched as Mr. Pink’s gaze flicked over us, then settled back on Thompson. “What about them?”
He cleared his throat. “Romeo One. We hear them.”
“What do they say?”
“They’re not saying anything. They’re screaming.”
“We know about the dreams.” He shook his head. “We’re working on it. That’s all I can say at present.” Then he left.
Olivares stood. “I guess that answers our question, huh? If you got something to do, don’t do it here.”
Thompson and Ohirra came up to me on my way out.
“Can you believe those two?” she asked.
“They volunteered,” I said, still a little numb.
“Do you know what MacKenzie would have said?” Thompson asked. We both looked at him. “Focking stupid to volunteer.”
Still, we laughed. If nothing more than to see Thompson trying so hard.
On my way back to our quarters, I remembered the note. I took it from my pocket and tried to navigate by the rough map. After three false turns, I found the spot, behind a generator in one of the farthest caverns. I turned the corner behind the immense, growling machine, and saw Aquinas, sitting on a cot in her underwear, reading the sort of magazine one used to buy at the checkout line back when there was a Hollywood and we cared about who was cheating on whom. The savagery she’d done to herself was etched on the insides of her arms, from elbow to wrist.
She caught me staring at them. But instead of covering herself, she simply regarded me calmly, and what seemed like a hundred years of fighting disappeared in a moment. The ghosts of Frakess and MacKenzie and D’Ambrosio and everyone I’d ever known were torn apart by a hurricane of need. I forgot everything but me and her, a boy and a girl in a cave at the end of the world. My hands reached out to her and she moved into them like a freight train, catching me off balance.
Our lips met, and I felt her need meet mine. She ripped at my clothes as I reveled in the feel of her hot skin beneath my rough fingers. We forgot ourselves, falling onto the cot in a desperate embrace. We loved each other for almost an hour until we finally fell into a restless sleep, our sweat slick and cooling between us.
For once I didn’t dream.
If you know the enemy and know yourself you need not fear the results of a hundred battles.
Sun Tzu
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I AWOKE TO the sound of a banshee screaming. At first I thought it might be of remnant of a dream, but I shot bolt upright when I realized that the sound was real. I was alone and naked on the cot; the blanket that had covered us had fallen to the floor. I looked around, but saw no sign of Michelle.
The banshee call came again.
Bagpipes.
Oh, shit! MacKenzie’s wake!
I struggled into my uniform and boots and rushed around the corner to find a young woman attending to the generator. She gave me a look and I offered her an embarrassed smile and broke into a run. I followed the sound of the pipes until I skidded to a stop in the back of the mess hall. All the tables and chairs had been folded and stacked against one wall, leaving the center free for the ceremony. Several dozen body bags lay in a row in front of the gathering.
I looked for Romeo Three and, spotting them near the front, made my way towards them. Thompson saw me coming and moved aside to make room for me. Ohirra was on his other side. Beside her was Michelle, and then Olivares.
As the lamenting wail of the bagpipes died, a chaplain stepped forward. He began to speak of service and sacrifice. Military chaplains weren’t much on God’s wrath and fury, because of the vast differences in beliefs amongst the soldiers, but they were fond of delivering speeches about duty, and this one was no different. And as he spoke of our duty to our fellow man, I thought back to the day I first entered the military. Fresh out of high school and not a care in the world, except that I didn’t want to work fast food, I was pumped up on the red, white, and blue and wanted to fight for my country. Only back then I didn’t know what that meant. To me it was little more than an idea fueled by TV and movies.
The idea of serving and the reality of it were two different things. I remember talking about it with MacKenzie. He’d joined because of the situation in the former Northern Ireland. He’d hated what both sides had done, but felt a duty to England to help her defend against what he’d perceived as a campaign of terror. When I asked him what it was like working against the terrorists, he said, “It’s okay to know me, Benjamin, but you don’t want to be my friend. Terrible things happen to my friends, and there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“But we’re friends, aren’t we, Jimmy?”
“No, Benjamin. We’re not friends. We’re mates. That’s a whole different thing.”
I still didn’t understand what the difference was, but as I stood and stared at his body bag, I felt a special connection to him, more so than most of the others. The way he’d turned back to fix the device was the definition of duty. He did it knowing he’d die. He did it for us. And when I’d turned to join him, I did so as his mate.
The chaplain ended the service and the gathering began to disperse. I bid farewell to my mate, and hoped he was in whatever heaven or libidinous hell he’d desired.
I turned to go, and bumped into Olivares. I smiled and moved to push past, but his eyes flashed angrily. I saw Michelle over his shoulder chatting with Ohirra. Did he know?
“You were late,” he said, stilling me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Sorry,” I said, and moved to get around him, but he held me fast. “What gives?”
“I’ve worked hard to get this unit working together.”
I nodded, not knowing where this was going.
“I’ve been trying to make sure someone doesn’t ruin it.”
“I got it, Sarge. I won’t ruin it. I’m with the program.” I didn’t want to make any trouble.
He shook his head. “You ain’t got shit.” He dropped his hand. “We have a mission brief in an hour. Be there and wait outside the room for me and don’t bother suiting up.”
Then he stalked out.
Don’t bother suiting up? What the hell was he talking about? Without me that would leave only four. Sure, I’d proven to be hell on the EXO, but I’d demonstrated my worth and they knew they needed me. Was he joking?
Thompson came up to me. “What was that about?”
“I don’t kn
ow, but he was pissed. He said I shouldn’t bother to suit up. I can’t imagine he was serious.”
Thompson shook his head. “You better think again, Mason.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Your shirt,” he said. “It doesn’t belong to you.”
I looked down and saw Aquinas’s name badge. I glanced up and saw her staring at her own chest, Ohirra laughing and pointing. We made eye contact. I tried to smile, but she wasn’t in the smiling mood. Her face was a mask of anguish as she stomped out of the room.
“What happened?” Thompson asked.
“Just a mix up, is all.”
Back in the squad bay, I found my shirt hanging on my locker. I removed hers and put on my own. As I did, I noticed her lingering smell. I couldn’t help but smile.
“Now I know why we’re called Romeo... Romeo.” Ohirra laughed behind me.
I turned away from her as I pulled on my shirt.
“Don’t be mad about it, Romeo. It was only a matter of time anyway.”
“Oh, yeah? Says who?”
She smiled secretively. “You know. Girl talk.” As Ohirra passed, she patted me on the shoulder. “Take it easy, big boy. It’s probably only a wartime crush.”
Wartime crush.
I let the idea percolate for a while, before realizing that I’d be late for the briefing if I didn’t hurry. I needed to talk to Olivares and get him to change his mind. He was just pissed at me. I seriously doubted that he would put the mission in jeopardy because of some juvenile jealousy.
But at the mission brief I discovered I was completely wrong. Whether he took our tryst personally because he’d had his own intentions was unknown. He was keeping his feelings for her close to his chest. Whatever the reason, he was sticking to his directive that I sit out the next mission.
From what I was able to gather, this mission would be a lot like the previous mission to emplace ground penetrating sonar and radar. This was also the last mission for Romeo Three as a cohesive unit. Upon completion, Olivares and Aquinas were falling under Mr. Pink’s command for tactical control for the Kilimanjaro Mission. The rest of us were on standby, relegated to professional thumb-twiddling while everyone else fought.
