Plague Wars 06: Comes the Destroyer

by David VanDyke

  “Because an unedited rendering would show just how insane the whole thing was.”

  “To a real Marine, yeah. Or even a decent Ground Forces or Navy officer. But to a hometown politician that’s never worked with troops, or someone’s daddy or mommy… I can tell you he doesn’t like hard chargers like you. He wants a frickin’ college campus here for some reason, with everyone kissing his ass. I think he already knows the entire chain of command doesn’t trust him, so he tries to get troops on his side.”

  Repeth’s jaw had sunk lower and lower, and now she closed it with an audible snap. “I knew he was bad but… We have a lunatic for a commander, trying to undermine his own chain of command and convincing the troops to spill their guts to him, only to use their babbling against them. But why?”

  Tano shook his head, in uncertainty not negation. “Maybe he’s reporting to an officer or politician with an agenda of some sort. Maybe someone wants the Marines’ reputation damaged. We’ve always been the fleet’s guarantee against mutiny or, on the flip side, individual Navy officers getting big heads when they have an independent command. Maybe the Ground Forces feel like they have no status anymore, hanging around Earth and manning a few asteroid fortresses, and they want to undermine us.”

  Repeth chewed her lower lip. “Or maybe some politician is trying to save money by reducing the expenditures on Marines, or…I just don’t know.”

  Tano said, “We can speculate all day. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Repeth immediately realized that was the wrong tack. “Never mind…I’ll figure out a mitigation plan.”

  “You’d better, Top. If this keeps up, something bad is going to happen, no matter how hard you train your people. The nail that sticks up gets hammered down; you know that. You haven’t rocked the boat too hard yet, but Simms may be gathering evidence in case you do.”

  Slowly a genuine smile spread across Repeth’s face, quickly suppressed. “Sergeant Major, I believe I can handle this situation. Thank you for tipping me off.”

  Tano cocked his head critically. “Be careful, Top. You’re a good NCO. I’d hate to lose you.”

  “And if I’m not careful? If I go out on a limb?”

  “I’ll back you up, under two conditions. One,” he held up a thumb, “I’m not gonna get court martialed, and two,” he added his index finger, “you and your fancy husband bring this son of a bitch down once and for all.”

  Repeth’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

  “Oh yeah,” Tano said, “I looked into Lieutenant Commander Johnstone’s background. Don’t worry, I’m on your side. It just seems to me that someone with his skills ought to be able to, well, help out.”

  “Sergeant Major, I have no idea what you are talking about, and if anyone asks, that’s my answer.” She showed her teeth once more, then nodded as she turned to go. “Good day to you, Smaj.”

  Quickly she gathered her platoon sergeants together, four NCOs she trusted, and put out the word to tell the troops that no one was to volunteer anything if the colonel asked any open-ended questions. “Tell them that anyone who runs his mouth, anyone who does anything more than answer a direct question will be in for a hell that they’ll never forget.”

  She hoped that would mitigate the problem, and would lay the groundwork for the next part of the plan she’d thought of. Next, she went and looked up Sergeant Dasko.

  Dasko was the best of her NCOs, a squad leader. As soon as he had enough seniority she’d try to make sure he got a platoon. Most importantly, she was sure he was both completely reliable, and also flexible-minded enough to do what she asked.

  “Sure, Top, whatever you want,” the surprisingly youthful-looking man said once she’d outlined the situation. He appeared barely twenty though he was at least thirty, which was another reason for choosing him.

  “You think you’ll have any trouble?” she asked.

  “No, Top. My guys are all solid. They’ll keep their mouths shut.”

  Repeth reminded herself that good leaders seemed to always have good squads. It was some kind of symbiotic feedback loop, where the good troops reflected their good bosses, and good bosses attracted or found or developed good Marines.

  The opposite also tended to be true, which was one reason the battalion was all screwed up.

  That evening, after making sure Rick had swept their quarters once more for surveillance, she finally asked him to do what he had been waiting for: to put his skills to use.

  Chapter 38

  The next morning, after the PT period posted on the training schedule, Lieutenant Colonel Simms showed up exactly as Tano had predicted, with a squad of Alpha Company troops in full combat armor, holding battle weapons rather than just sidearms. Additionally, Repeth noticed a team of what must be counterintelligence techs with mysterious electronic equipment that they set up and employed in arcane ways.

  Captain Rapplean, caught out despite Repeth’s warning to him first thing this morning, hustled up to Simms and saluted breathlessly. A moment later, she watched as they turned toward her as she stood at ease, waiting for the inevitable.

  “First Sergeant, prepare the company for inspection.”

  Repeth saluted Simms as the senior, then replied to Rapplean, “In ranks or barracks?”

  Rapplean turned to Simms, whose face turned sour. Simms spoke to her, bypassing his subordinate officer. “A barracks inspection, First Sergeant, with full displayed kit.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” Repeth replied, saluting and performing a crisp about-face, then double-timed into the barracks. “Barracks inspection, five minutes, people! Hop, pop and move, triple time!” She shouted it with a smile, as she looked up and down the perfect rows of Marines standing at the feet of their bunks with their kits displayed. Of course, she’d cancelled PT and had the troops preparing from reveille onward. Simms had hoped to give her just a few minutes to get ready.

  Repeth walked up and down, yelling a few more choice epithets just for effect, as Sergeant Dasko peeked out the window, making sure Simms and Rapplean did not surprise them. “They’re heading this way,” he finally said, after almost ten minutes.

  “Generous,” she murmured to Dasko. “Now disappear.” Dasko quickly scurried out the back door.

  She opened the door in time to call the barracks to attention. “Officer on deck!” Repeth roared in her best leather-lunged DI imitation, and then fell in behind the two commanders as they walked up and down the rows. It appeared Simms’ frustration increased as he proceeded, asking arcane questions on Marine Corps lore, obviously looked up in some obscure history. Some her troops answered correctly, some they didn’t, but that was expected. The colonel then took out a white glove and ran it over as many cracks as he could find, turning up a bit of dust here and there.

  Repeth didn’t mind. A few demerits or perhaps some extra duty or training would be the worst he could legally inflict, and she suspected that if he found nothing to ding her for, he would have been very unhappy indeed. She didn’t want to throw him off his game.

  Once Simms inspected the barracks and common areas, he turned to Repeth, again ignoring his own company commander. This time Rapplean seemed to notice, his expression darkening as the colonel spoke. “First Sergeant, assemble all of your lower enlisted in the company auditorium in five minutes. You and the senior enlisted are released to your other duties.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” she replied.

  “Captain, that applies to you and the company officers as well. That will be all. Dismissed.”

  Rapplean gobbled slightly, then clenched his jaw. “Aye aye, sir.” It was the only possible response. He turned as if in a daze and walked toward his office as Simms headed toward the counterintel team.

  “All right, people! You heard the colonel. You have four minutes to be sitting at attention in your seats by platoons and squads in the auditorium. You think you can do that without your NCOs holding your hands?”

  “YES, FIRST SERGEANT!” came the
thundering reply.

  “Fall out!” she barked, and the barracks dissolved into controlled chaos, each Marine quickly reloading all of his or her gear back into wall lockers, footlockers and drawers. In the midst of the activity she saw Dasko slip back in, his name tag not his own and lacking rank insignia. He’d even swapped his ribbons for a much more modest couple of awards appropriate to his apparent status. He gave her a nod and a wink, which she studiously ignored.

  Within two minutes the repacking was all done, and within three, the bays were clear and everything was shipshape. Repeth smoothed out a pillow and double-checked the area, and then went to the window, using a finger to bend a blind enough to look out. She saw Simms disappear into the auditorium across the parade deck and the doors shut behind him, two Alpha Company Marines taking up positions in their impressive armor, weapons at port arms.

  As if any real Marine would be a threat to their own commander, no matter how much of a lunatic, she thought. It’s insulting. Then again, there is such a thing as a self-fulfilling prophecy, and not all threats are physical ones.

  Activating her backup internal comm circuit – a remnant of her covert ops days and decidedly not Marine standard – she subvocalized, “How are we doing?”

  “Reading five by five,” Rick replied. “The counterintel guys are lazy. If they really wanted to seal that room they’d have to put scramblers into the electrical circuits. As it is I am piggybacking Dasko’s signal through the power network and then grabbing it up outside.”

  “You’re sure they won’t pick up the transmission?”

  “Not one hundred percent, but almost. I’ve forgotten more about CyberComm security than most of them ever knew. Trust me.”

  Repeth’s smile crept into her voice. “I do, oh king of the silicon chips. Just make sure you erase Dasko’s self-override in the log.”

  “Already done, oh queen of Marines.”

  The sealed kumbayah lasted until lunch time, among the longest four hours of Repeth’s professional life. What the hell could they be talking about in there? She really hoped the audiovisuals were good enough to explain this mystery, this complete anomaly of the battalion commander having a private group hug with the troops.

  When the doors opened and Simms came out, he looked pleased, and took the Alpha Marines with him along as he strode away. The technicians packed up their gear as quickly as possible. Had Repeth not had confidence in her husband she might have tried to pump them for some kind of information, but then again, counterintel didn’t let much slip. Ever. Their whole job was to be paranoid.

  The rest of the day was difficult as well, pushing her Marines through the scheduled training. The company enlisted seemed listless and out of sorts, distracted. This only increased her curiosity about what had happened inside the auditorium.

  That evening she’d barely entered their apartment when she asked, “Have you got it?”

  “Of course. Been working on it all day,” Rick said from his computer. He’d hardwired it into the television screen on the wall, and then plugged himself into the computer via his wrist link. “It opens up with the usual hi-how-are-ya crap, how taking care of his people is his top priority –”

  “ – which is bullshit,” Jill interrupted. “Any Marine knows completing the mission is the top priority. Taking care of your people is important, but the mission always comes first.”

  “Just let me set this up, all right?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Okay. Then he starts asking them questions – where are they from, how do they feel about being here, what they think about fighting the Meme, stuff like that. Your people give short, professional answers for a while, but then…” Rick started the video.

  On the screen, Lieutenant Colonel Simms spoke to a male Marine standing at attention in front of his seat. “So, Private Wazinski, you are from Chicago?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But Chicago was bombed in the nuclear strikes.”

  “I was visiting relatives. Just lucky, sir. I was ten.”

  Simms reached out to put a fatherly hand on the Marine’s shoulder. “How do you feel about that, son?”

  “Feel?” The man’s expression held for a moment, and then seemed to crumble. “It was horrible.” With eerie swiftness, tears started to roll down his face. “My dad and mom, my sisters, all wiped out.”

  “And did you think that was fair?”

  “What do you mean, sir?” The Marine was nearly blubbering now, with Simms’ hand still in place as if in comfort.

  “Do you think the government did all it could to prevent such an inhuman tragedy?”

  “I…I…”

  “Isn’t it amazing how horrible people can be to each other?”

  “Y-yes, I…”

  “It’s all right, son, it’s all right. Let it out.” Simms drew the private to him in an embrace and patted him on the back, and Wazinski suddenly clutched the colonel with both hands like a child and buried his head in the man’s chest.

  Rick froze the video. “It goes on like this. For an hour.”

  Jill sat there stunned. “What the…who does…” She just could not figure out what to say for a long minute.

  Rick selected a different time marker and brought it up. “Here’s a sample of his next theme.”

  Now Simms spoke to a different Marine, a young female named Burns. Jill remembered her as very businesslike and professional, and hoped to get her promoted to Corporal soon.

  “Are you happy with the leadership here? Do they take care of you?” Again, Simms put a gentle hand on a shoulder.

  “Yes sir. They’re very good.”

  “Are you sure? Nothing at all out of regulations? Not the slightest deviation?”

  Burns’ eyes seemed to glaze over, and then she said, slightly petulant, “Well, we did have a piss test shortly after the new First Sergeant took over.”

  “And?”

  “And…I know for a fact that somebody must have tested positive. I mean, I have seen people going in to some of the drug dens in the Quarter, and I’ve seen people popping pills, but no one got busted! All that happened is a few of the worst ones got transferred out. They should have been given disciplinary action!” Like Wazinski before, tears welled up in her eyes.

  “That little shit!” Jill muttered.

  “I’m not so sure it’s her fault, Jill,” Rick replied.

  “What?”

  “There are a lot more examples. In total over thirty separate Marines lost their military bearing in some way. Those were a couple of the worst.”

  “It makes the company look completely dysfunctional, and it’s not like that at all! I was getting them squared away.” Jill stood up and slammed her hand against a wall, making sure her servos were disabled. “How the hell did he get them to react that way? It just doesn’t make sense!”

  “I’m not sure. The quality of the video and audio is not that good, and the only angle is from Dasko’s eyes and ears. In fact, you’re very lucky none of his squad identified him as a plant, but that was probably because it didn’t occur to Simms to ask. But I believe you have to start thinking like a covert operative again.”

  Jill glanced sharply at Rick. “Okay. Could it be some kind of drug? A gas, or an injector ring he’s wearing? Some kind of…sonics maybe? Or tampering with their cybernetic systems? Did you check that?”

  “I checked their cyberware. Nothing I could find. But the one thing I did notice was that in every one of his conversations, he found a way to touch the Marine who lost it. Not directly skin to skin necessarily; sometimes it was only through the sleeve or jacket, but in each case the contact was solid.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Rick shrugged. “You’re the former spy girl. You tell me.”

  Jill paced, rolling her shoulders and slapping her palms together in frustration. “I don’t know. I need someone to see this and figure it out, but I’m not sure who I can trust. Just the fact that this video exists proves I spied on my ow
n commander. In the wrong person’s hands…I’m in big trouble.”

  Rick nodded. “Not like the old days when you had that presidential ticket in your pocket. But you still know a few people. You bodyguarded Absen, right?”

  “Yes I did, but that’s…remember, I helped launch the missiles that incinerated his family. Appealing to him could go either way.”

  “Who else, then? Spooky? Or former President McKenna?”

  Jill thought for a moment with a hand raised. “You know…even if you can get a transmission out of here without it being blocked or noticed, we can’t be sure the other end is secure. What if this is more than one complete nut case? What if there’s a conspiracy?”

  Rick sat back in his chair, being careful not to pop the link cable out of the computer. “What about releasing it anonymously? Send it to enough people and someone will have to take action.”

  Jill took a deep breath. “That’s a last resort. If you can set that up just in case…but no, that’s the nuclear option. It will get messy. I’d really rather try to do this surgically. I’m convinced that if we can somehow get rid of Simms and get a decent commander, the rest of this battalion’s problems will become manageable.”

  “How, then?”

  “I have an idea. If it works, it will go a long way toward solving our problem. If not, it will tell us that the corruption goes higher.”

  Chapter 39

  Rear Admiral Huen called Shan into his quarters and waved him over to look at the surface of his desk, which had a full-screen video file open. “I found this anonymous message and file attachment at the top of my inbox when I logged in this morning,” he told the steward. “It’s titled, ‘Lieutenant Colonel Simms, commander, Callisto Base Marine Battalion in closed session with lower enlisted Marines.’ I find it very interesting, but I wanted you to take an independent look.”

  “If you will permit me, Admiral?” Shan reached over, and with a few taps on the touchscreen put the picture up on the large wall display.

  “I’ve only seen about a half hour of it, fast-forwarding through it to certain marked places. I’ve got a staff meeting in twenty minutes, but I can get one of the other stewards to escort me. I’d like you to stay here and view the entire thing. We’ll talk later.” Huen stood up. “And Shan…don’t share this with anyone yet.”