by Danny Loomis
He caught her hand, holding it in both of his. “In that case milady, would you do me the honor of having a date tonight, and maybe a kiss or two afterwards?”
She arched an eyebrow, eyes dancing. “Hm. Sounds intriguing. Especially the afterwards.”
By the time they arrived back at the office, they’d agreed on dinner. “Be off with you,” she said. “There’s still time for me to get some work done for the day. See you at seven.”
She waved him out the door, and entered Brian’s office. “You were right. Had the weight of the world on his shoulders, poor boy.”
Brian leaned back, hands behind his head. “Were you able to help him?”
“Oh, yes.” She smiled. “His mental wounds have been cauterized. Should be back to normal in a couple more sessions.” She sat, hugging herself a moment. “There was more than just a lost love in his head. I think that device he calls a ‘snowflake’ has been keeping him sane for some time. Unfortunately, it had no way to bleed off all the buildup of negative pressures. Especially the hate. I had to handle that myself.”
“You all right, Bernie?” His eyebrows drew together while he studied her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this after a session before.”
She waved a hand at him, face hinting at a smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Just got under my skin a little.”
“What’s this about a snowflake?”
“It seems to be a device that’s helping him utilize the chip they put in his head for more than just flying space ships.”
Brian frowned, straightening. “That sounds close to being an artificial intelligence artifact.”
Bernadette shook her head. “No, nothing of the kind. It’s not exerting control over him. The other way around, actually.” She stood. “Anyway, I’ll find out more about this very interesting man tonight. We’re having dinner.”
“Ha! About time you went out with someone.”
She stuck out her tongue while standing. “And the same back at you, cousin.” She walked to her desk, mind busy. Yes, she was interested in more than Ian’s mind. Being a psychiatrist usually helped her control her own sexual urges. Not this time. She shook her head and sat, getting back into the day’s work.
Two bites into his meal Irish sensed a difference in Bernadette. She’d been her normal bubbly self when he’d met her, and even when walking to the Pub had been chatty. Once at their table, she’d become quieter. Now, all she’d done for the last couple minutes was move the food around on her plate. He put his fork down. Something was definitely bugging her. He opened his mouth to ask.
“I’ve got a confession, Irish.”
He straightened. Well, Hell. She was…
The trickle of a smile crossed her face. “No, I’m not married or engaged if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s something else. I’m a psychiatrist.”
He relaxed. Good, not a husband. “Hey, that’s not so bad. I know several people in the medical business and I still talk to them.”
She reached for his hand, but drew back. “It’s not so much what I am as what I did. I broke a strict code of ethics just recently, and have to tell someone about it.”
He pushed his plate to the side and leaned on the table, making eye contact. “You can tell me, I won’t spill the beans.”
Bernadette glanced around. “Okay, but first some background on me. I’m older than you think. I underwent the anti-aging treatment you call rejuve three years ago while visiting Earth. I was there to present a paper for a rather large medical conference at the time. This was my third treatment, and could only be done by the advanced techniques on Earth. If not for that, I’d soon have been showing my true age.”
Irish captured her other hand, since she’d begun trembling. He gently squeezed them, nodding at her to continue.
“Back here, the authorities finally discovered I was a member of the royal family. I received a warning just before returning to my job at the University that they were going to ‘detain’ me. I decided it was time to become a rebel, so here I am. Recently I was asked to help a person who was becoming increasingly erratic in their behavior. It was just small things, but definitely pointed to underlying problems. Mainly it was physical actions. Like twitching, becoming angry at minor things, and a significant change in facial expressions. There were some other indicators, but those were the most noticeable.”
She took a deep breath, looking at the table top. “He was obviously holding in a lot, and it was beginning to affect his performance. Using my training, I helped that person see what was disturbing him and released some of the tremendous pressure he was under. Ethically, I should have informed him what I was doing. I didn’t.”
“That’s not so bad, not if it helped him.” Irish felt his body heat up, then chill. “Me,” he whispered, releasing her hands. “You did it to me, didn’t you?”
She sat up straighter, eyes filling with tears. “Yes. That’s my confession, and I’m sorry to have delved so deeply into your mind without your persmission. I’ll understand if you can’t forgive me.”
Irish touched his chest, feeling a warmth start to spread. “Forgive you? How about if I thank you?”
Tears started from her eyes. “Oh, my.” She fumbled with her napkin, wiping her eyes. “I wish I’d run across someone like you fifty years ago.”
Irish was taken aback. “Uh, how old are you, exactly?”
She gave a final wipe at her tears and blew her nose. “It’s not polite to ask a lady her age, you know. Let’s just say older than you, and leave it at that.” She leaned forward. “That’s not all, though. Once treatment like what I did on you has begun, it should be continued to its conclusion. We made a good start today, but it’s going to take several more sessions before you’re fully back to being the real you once more.”
He cocked his head. “Hmm, let me think. An older woman goes out with a younger man, says they may need to do this a few more times. She’s attractive, the man thinks she’s the hottest thing on the planet. What damn fool is going to say no to that?”
She stroked his forearms, giving him a heated look. “Let’s go back to my place. We can get a start on our next session. I’ve got a much better way to relax you this time.”
EIRE-MAIN REBEL BASE (Day +78)
“We’ll plan on hitting the six biggest targets with two teams each. This should include the city garrisons, 41st Division’s HQ and the Leg’s main HQ. Other targets are the largest Leg garrisons, at these locations.” Irish touched the map at several points. He surveyed his audience–one hundred recently trained snipers plus the LRS squad–and smiled at how attentive they were.
“LRS personnel, minus the two team leaders and Staff Sergeant Two Eagles, will be responsible for keeping track of five teams each. All of the objectives within one hundred kilometers will be reached by foot. Any team needing a guide to their location, get with our Admin personnel after this.
“Kickoff time for those walking is tomorrow morning. Those being flown will be dropped off within fifty klicks of their targets. We’ll start drop-offs day after tomorrow. LRS personnel, you are responsible for ensuring all your folks have sufficient equipment and commo. Make sure you have rations for two weeks. That’s overkill, but it’s best to have too much than starve.”
Minutes later he finished the briefing, and scanned his silent audience. “My children, I’m so proud to be leading you into our first major action. The only thing I ask of you is what I’ll ask before every mission: Do your utmost to complete your assignment, but not at the risk of your life. We need all of you for the days to come to assure victory.”
Everyone, to include the LRS, stood at attention and began chanting. “Father! Father! Father!”
Irish lifted both hands for a moment before leaving the conference room. Once in the tunnel, he picked up his pace, shaking his head. Not sure where that last little speech had come from. Made him tingly all over when he did it, more so when they called him Father.
&n
bsp; “Wait up, Irish.” Two Eagles hurried to catch him. “Man, that last bit was scary. Where d’you come up with stuff like that?”
He shrugged, turning into his office. “Not sure. I think once they made me an officer the B.S. meter moved up a notch or two, though.”
* * *
The shuttle touched down just short of a small stream twenty kilometers south of Galway. Irish eased it into a small stand of native trees, causing their narrow leaves to rattle against branches.
“Stay put until we check the immediate area, guys.” He lowered the ramp.
Two Eagles rose from the co-pilots seat. “I’ll take Brendan with me. We’ll put detectors out while we do a security sweep.”
After double-checking the board to ensure cloaking was on and everything else in the green, he joined the other three in the back. “This a first mission for you guys?”
The tallest one shook his head. “I went out last week, Cap. Didn’t get to shoot anything, but did some spotting for Sergeant Nolan.”
He touched the man’s shoulder while moving by him. “That’s all right, Yearly. You’ll get your chance this time.”
Yearly’s eyes went wide. “You ‘member my name?”
Irish looked back, keeping a sober look on his face. “Of course I do. You’re one of my kids, aren’t you?”
He turned away with the hint of a smile. Helped to have a filing system built into your head, too. “Make sure you’re gear’s ship-shape. We’ll be heading out in a minute.”
By the time he’d reached the bottom of the ramp, Irish had unlimbered his needler. He crouched, listening. Other than the wonking sounds of small frog-like creatures in the water and whisper of wind in the trees, nothing registered. Good. Hope it stayed that way. He moved back inside, mind relaxed but focused on the job at hand.
He’d just broken out his ghillies when Two Eagles and Brendan trotted up the ramp. “Hey, what’s with the invisible suit?” Two Eagles asked.
“Thought I’d cheat today and wear these. Didn’t want to get my hands dirty or break a nail by digging a hidey-hole. I am an officer, after all.”
Two Eagles gave a snort. “Officers are all alike. Some folks even call ‘em lazy asses. Not me, though. I’d never call one that with witnesses around.”
Irish laughed. “You’re the worst example of a kiss-ass I’ve ever seen.” He looked at the others, face sobering. “It’s time for you to go kill the enemy. Any questions? Okay, head on out and good hunting.”
Two Eagles watched the other four file down the ramp and disappear into the
woodline. “Good guys. Hope they’re okay.”
Irish finished checking out his Mark IV. “Now you sound like me. A mother hen worrying about her chicks.”
Two Eagles grinned at him while slapping a magazine in his rifle. “Not near as bad, I hope. By the way, were we sent the updated information about Second of the First Battalion’s location? What I’d heard yesterday was they planned on moving over to the 41st Division’s location pretty soon.”
Irish finished pulling on his ghillies, leaving only his helmeted head showing. “Not a word about moving. Except there was a lot of radio traffic yesterday from their location east of Galway.”
They moved down the ramp and paused while it closed. Two Eagles lowered his face shield and pulled up the hood of his cammys. “In that case, let’s boogie. It’s twenty-five klicks as the crow flies to where they are, and I wanna kill something.”
They trotted along the bank of the stream, one shadowy form barely seen, the other invisible but for his helmet. Soon the forest and its gloom swallowed them up.
Twenty kilometers and three hours later, both slowed from the steady distance-eating trot they’d maintained without a break. Now, their speed was a shuffle-trot, which would have them at their objective within the hour. Deep forest had turned into heavy brush interspersed with small groves of trees. The route had been mostly downhill until now. Terrain was flatter, with occasional low ridgelines across their front.
Two Eagles slowed to a walk, and motioned towards a small grouping of trees on their left. Just within the fringe they paused, listening intently. Nothing out of the ordinary caught their attention.
Irish unlimbered his canteen. “Let’s take ten before scoping out the place. According to the map, we should be able to see the garrison’s perimeter from that hill to our front.”
“Hope so, it’ll be dark in an hour.” Two Eagles peered upwards. “Luckily it’s cloudy. We’ll be able to sneak clear around their perimeter if they don’t have too sophisticated a security system.”
It was turning dusk when they crawled to the military crest of the small hill. No electronic security was detected by their helmets, and only two guard posts this side of the perimeter four hundred meters away.
“Too quiet,” whispered Two Eagles. “Not any action, either. We’ve only seen the guards, and they’re in static positions. Doesn’t have the flavor of an Alliance setup.”
“I agree. Not picking up any radio chatter, either. When it’s full dark, let’s check out the building on the right.”
A thin fog settled in by the time they moved down the hill. The last hundred meters was on their bellies, between guard posts. A trip wire ran along the ground, but easily spotted and avoided. An hour after starting, both crouched near the wall of the objective.
They came upright and started a slow circuit of the building. A door beckoned, one which Two Eagles managed to silently breach in less than a minute. Irish turned up the gain on his helmet’s light amplifiers, which normally made a person’s surroundings look bright even on the darkest night. This time, he could barely make out the far wall it was so dark inside. Three empty crates stood forlornly in the middle of the empty warehouse.
Two Eagles tapped his arm. They touched helmets. “Next building, okay?”
Irish nodded, and they slipped out the way they’d come.
Three hours of silent creeping among the eight structures scattered around the garrison turned up nothing except a guard detail in the smallest one. Irish made a “follow me” wave of his hand. They silently snuck off, leaving no sign they’d ever been there.
A hundred meters from the perimeter, Irish stood. “Back to the shuttle. Got to report this.”
Dawn was breaking when they trotted up the ramp of the shuttle. “Hell, that wasn’t any fun at all,” Two Eagles said, folding up his cloak.
Irish paused while peeling off his ghillies. “You want to call base and tell them the Battalion’s gone? Probably joined up with the 41st, but better alert them anyway.”
“Will do. You got another mission in mind for us? I don’t want to sit around here till the others are finished.”
“Thought we’d fly to the other side of the Division’s perimeter. Long’s we don’t get too close to the other team.” He yawned, scratching his head. “But not until I get a nap.” He lowered the pilot’s seat and laid back with a sigh.
Moments later Two Eagles climbed into the co-pilots seat and followed suit. “HQ contacted, and thanked us for the new info. I also told the other two teams where we’d be. The team that headed for the 41st said the north side is all ours.” He snuggled into the seat. “Now it’s time for my favorite activity.”
Sleep had just claimed Irish when the shrill buzzing of a perimeter detector brought him upright, keying in a map of the surrounding area before he was fully awake. Several blips appeared on his screen. “Right front, four hundred meters,” he said. “Looks like a ground patrol heading straight for us.”
Two Eagles was already in the bay, checking his weapons. “I’ll flank ‘em on the right. How many you see?”
Irish shut down his board and hurried to catch up. “Five bogies. I’ll take left flank, let you know when I’m in position.”
“Right.” Two Eagles was down the ramp soon as it touched the ground, and disappeared.
“I’m teamed up with a ghost,” muttered Irish, shakin
g his head. A quick double-check of his weapons and he trotted down the ramp, pulling the hood of his ghillies over his head before moving into the trees.
Minutes later Two Eagles’ whisper came over the comm. “They’ve stopped, and–Shit! Close up, Irish. They’ve got a prisoner.”
After a quick check on his helmet map to fix the location of the bogies, he unlimbered his needler and sprinted to the top of a small rise. He crouched while moving across the top. Fifty meters below, four Alliance troops were stripping the clothes from a woman who was still tied, a hood over her head. “In position,” he murmured.
Two Eagles response was immediate. “I’ll take the two on your left. Fire.”
A double tap on each target ensured they were down, just like Two Eagles’ targets. Irish switched to his rifle and scoped the area. The naked woman was all that moved. “Quiet here. How’s the back trail?” he asked.
“If you’ll take care of the woman, I’ll check it.”
Irish moved swiftly forward. He took out his knife and cut her bonds. The grey-haired woman sat up and rubbed her wrists, staring around with large, coal black eyes.
“My thanks to you, Spiorhad.”
He rolled a dead soldier off her robe and handed it to her. “Sorry about the blood on this. We don’t have anything else, I’m afraid.”
She stood, pulling on her robe. “No need to apologize.” She stared directly at him, a hardness in her eyes. “From your speech pattern, you too are an outlander.”
Belatedly Irish pulled the hood of his ghillies down and raised his faceplate. “The ones we killed are our enemies. My friend and I are from the Confederation, here to see if we can help drive them away.”
She touched his face, recognition dawning in her eyes. “You may be from another world, but you are of the blood. I thank you in the name of Gaia for having spared me from their vileness.”
