by Chris Hechtl
General Roman had taken great pains in touring the freight areas and boat bays. He'd even led MP teams to go through everyone's luggage and sweep the habitats. No corner of the station was spared. Dirk hadn't had the unfortunate luck to get interrogated by the general directly. He'd heard stories, including how the man could ferret out the truth. Some sort of built-in lie detector in his cybernetics coupled with a lifetime of training in knowing the tell tale signs on what to look for. It wasn't fair.
Dirk had learned his lesson, however; he was an angel thereafter. He made it clear through back channels he wouldn't accept anything from the planet no matter what it was. The risks were just too damn high for comfort. But, after a couple weeks when he thought the heat had died down sufficiently, he returned to moving small comfort items in the other direction. That certainly wasn't a crime, and with one of his customers being General Martell, he highly doubted anyone would get on his case for long about it. As long as it wasn't drugs or anything illicit, he was good.
<>V<>
In March Field Army 2 finished its rest and refit cycle and moved back onto a war footing. The losses had been made good in every unit. Many had been rebuilt almost from scratch as people had been moved up the chain of command.
Sergeant Baloo was tasked with going to India in a new company of corps 2. There he met up with newly-promoted Captain Shier Khan once more. His eyes lit with humor as he set his duffle down and came to what he probably thought was attention. “Well well, Khany baby, fancy meeting you here,” Baloo said with a grin and nonchalant salute.
“I'm overjoyed,” the cat drawled sarcastically, hands behind his back. He looked over his shoulder to the bear and then back to his HQ. His fists were clenched behind his back. The claws pricked his skin before he retracted them.
“Some would say, I'm in from the cold. I'd say more like from the frying pan right into the fire,” the bear rumbled, eying the map the tiger was studying.
The tiger ignored the jibe as he continued to look at the map.
“So? What've we got? Other than a right mess,” the bear asked.
“Definitely a mess,” the tiger drawled. “The division has been tasked with taking India while other forces take on other areas.”
“One division? For that?” A familiar voice asked from the HQ's doorway. Baloo grinned as Loi came in and slapped his hand. They went through their usual greeting ritual before the tiger's soft growl called them back to order.
“Yes, to answer your question, Sergeant Loi; we've got one division to do what must be done.”
“Then I suppose we better get started then, sir,” Baloo said as Loi whistled in dismay and scratched at his balding head.
<>V<>
“Well, they are finally getting somewhere,” Harper said, waving a tablet.
“Yeah, Europe,” Fiben said in disgust. “You know we're going to be last. They are going to sweep east, hit Russia, India, and China. It'll bog them down for years,” he said in disgust.
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Harper said, eying the chimp.
Fiben snorted. “You know I'm right though,” he said after a moment.
Harper didn't answer for a while. Finally he did sigh. “Yeah,” he said exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Still doesn't change anything. We keep doing what we're doing.”
“I know. Still sucks,” Fiben grumbled.
“At least we're getting somewhere,” Harper said. Which was true. They'd cleaned out every corner, every centimeter of the ten, no make that fifteen kilometers of electronics. Nothing was around them, nothing at all. Overhead there was a dedicated satellite now, monitoring the continent. It was not only a COMSAT but an observation satellite as well. They had warnings of weather as well as potential enemy forces moving into their area. And if Skynet was feeling frisky, well, Olympus tended to drop a thunderbolt on them to show the robots the error of their ways.
“You heard about Tumagar? How they wanted him to link up with us?” Fiben asked, snorting and shaking his head.
“Yeah, as if that was going to happen,” Harper drawled. “I don't blame him for staying put. Just getting here was a pain in the ass. Marching across Brazil? Up to here in Columbia?” He shook his head.
“Right. So, now what? No reinforcements, intermittent supply drops …”
“We haven't had any since … oh,” Harper said, cutting himself off at Fiben's expression. “Right,” he said. By silent agreement they didn't let the community at large know that the spacers weren't going to send them anything anytime soon. They usually passed off inquiries about the next drop as on a need to know basis.
And of course, Fiben and Harper had apparently no need to know either.
So, they made do with what they had and scavenged for parts and weapons. A lot of the weapons were melee weapons or improvised ranged weapons. Crossbows and bows were making a comeback. Hunting rifles and pistols were prized possessions, even if they had little ammo. Pat had managed to figure out how to use a reload kit someone had found. They didn't have a lot of gunpowder or whatever it was, but that wasn't going to stop them from policing their brass at every opportunity.
It wasn't smart to leave it lying about where the A.I. could pick it up and use it against them after all.
“You heard the broadcasts from the 2nd Mass?” Fiben asked.
Harper snorted. “Who hasn't?” Just about everyone had clustered around the ham radio from time to time to listen to a guy orate about how they needed to stick together, victory was right around the corner. He talked a good game, but the end was far from in sight. Everyone knew that. And Hail Mary runs weren't going to end it. Perseverance was. Patience and a stubborn insistence on getting the job done.
“Mateo cooked that cat. Nasty ass shit, I'm telling you,” Fiben said.
Harper grimaced. “They'll put anything in tacos these days I suppose. Pity.”
“If we don't move we might be next,” Fiben quipped as he got up. “I'm going to take a team on patrol, out and back.”
“Random right,” Harper said with a nod. “Back by sunset,” he said, holding up a restraining index finger and locking eyes with Fiben.
“Yes daddy,” Fiben mocked as he left.
Harper snorted and went back to reading the news.
<>V<>
Boomer rubbed his kidneys as he made his way to the HQ. He missed Molly. She'd been good with her hands. He missed her comfort at night, how she snuggled up to him. No pressure to perform, just a warm presence there; two humans wanting comfort and security in each other's arms.
For a long time neither of them had the energy to do anything more. Nor had they found much privacy in the unit to do it even if they had wanted to. Not that some people had cared about privacy. Jax and Cally certainly hadn't. He wondered briefly how Cally, Brie, Molly, and the rest were getting on. He hadn't heard anything from them since they'd been split up.
“Boomer, just the man I wanted to see,” the lieutenant said.
“Uh oh, what'd I step in this time,” Boomer said in a wary tone. “If you're sellin I ain't buyin,” he said, hands up.
The lieutenant eyed him and then snorted. Parker had come a long way since their first win at the strip mall fortress. They'd taken losses, but they'd gotten the job done. What had bothered Parker more than the human cost had been the loss of the precious stingers. Boomer hadn't been thrilled about that attitude at first. Not until they'd been harassed by a series of air attacks after the fortress had fallen.
Only a freak thunderstorm had kept the drones at bay long enough for them to get out of the area. They'd dodged a tornado and slogged through the weather to get clear of the area. It'd been a bitch and two people had succumbed to pneumonia, but they'd broken through the tin can's surveillance net. At least for the time being.
“It's not like that. Well, it is, but it isn't. The brass found out you are still breathing.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I didn't know your history. That you won the medal?” Parker shook
his head. Boomer squirmed a bit. “Anyway, they want you.”
“Sir? It's nice to be wanted and all, but I've got a job here. Besides, last time I checked, we can't exactly stick our thumbs out and hitch a ride up,” he said, pointing to the sky.
Lieutenant Parker snorted. “Yeah, I know, tell me about it. But they were clear. Something about your partnership skills.” Boomer winced. “They want you to move south to Mexico, then through Central America for a possible evac to orbit. I am not sure why; obviously the brass is not saying over open air.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thoughts?”
Boomer scowled. “Sir, with all due respect, I'm needed here.”
“Agreed. They'll have to get their own dog experts.”
Boomer's eyes widened then narrowed speculatively. “Is that what this is about?”
The lieutenant shrugged. “I'm assuming so. It's the only thing that fits. You are a damn good noncom. You know explosives, and you can set a trap like a seasoned mountain man. Hell if I'm going to lose you, son,” Lieutenant Parker growled.
Boomer nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“I'll deal with it. This harem scarem send ‘em here across unknown terrain without support, on foot, they need their heads examined,” the Lieutenant said, shaking his head in disgust. He winced. “Don't quote me on that. Please.” He eyed Boomer severely, then the private in the corner of the room working on his gear.
“Didn't hear any insubordination, sir,” Boomer replied dutifully. “But if I did, it'd be preaching to a loud choir.” He heard a snort of agreement from Private Atwood.
“Dismissed.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Marines,” the lieutenant said in mock despair, rolling his eyes.
“Didn't you hear, sir? The incoming spacers are Marines. Space Marines,” the private said.
The lieutenant groaned and covered his eyes. “Don't remind me. Space invaders. Men from Mars. Joy. And they had to be Marines,” he said, thoroughly disgusted. That earned a chuckle from the private.
<>V<>
In June the 2nd Mass and survivors of the 14th regiment hooked up with the remnants of Major Sing's 3rd regiment. Their concentrated forces was enough for Ares' watching UAV to task a UAA to bomb them. The cluster bombs rained down from above the cloud cover, outside visual range. They were smart bombs, targeted on a laser beam the UAV projected on the vehicles and suspected HQ.
However, their local tech expert and Native American Cochise picked up the laser and warned them of incoming fire. They did their best to disperse, but the 14th and 3rd were gutted by the bombing.
Those that survived passed on a warning over the radio network to not cluster as they carefully picked up the wounded and got the hell out of dodge.
<>V<>
Additional forces were slotted in to make up for losses in the Marines. Each convoy seemed to bring in a couple thousand personnel, all green but ready and eager to fight. There were never enough to stand up new units as some had expected and anticipated however. Despite the EMP and carnage in Europe resistance was stiff, rookies sometimes didn't live a week after reporting in to their unit. And the further they headed east the worse it got.
Chapter 44
November 2203
To Fiben and Harper's surprise, instead of bogging down in China as expected 1st corps of army 2 was retasked with the invasion of South America. The apparent plan was to let 1st army and 2nd corps to continue nibbling at the Russian and Chinese border, taking out the orbital defenses to allow orbital strikes and the eventual deployment of EMP devices.
General Sinclair was to take over command of 3rd army once it began to coalesce. When was a big question; losses in 1st army were already starting to mount as they started to hit stiffer and stiffer resistance from Zhukov.
But, for the moment that was someone else's problem. Fiben and Harper had their own concerns. They'd done their best to get everyone cleaned up and the community as clean as they could muster. Fortunately Kelsy was something of a neat freak, so she'd been big on trash cans and landed hard on anyone who littered.
General Caesar himself stepped off the lead shuttle. He marched up to Harper and Fiben and relieved them. Both chimps saluted the general.
“You are relieved Lieutenant Collins, Mister Bollinger,” Charlie said formally as they struck the salutes.
“I stand relieved, sir,” Harper said.
“Good. Now you two can shag your asses topside. You've got a week of rest, debriefs, and med checks before they reassign you both or at least you, Lieutenant,” Charlie said, eying Harper. He turned to Fiben. “I understand you have declined employment in the Marines, Mister Bollinger,” he said with a cool tone.
Harper eyed Fiben with a “see what comes back to haunt you” look. Fiben shrugged such considerations off. “I'm certain I'll find something to do. I always tend to land on my feet,” he said flippantly.
“Right,” Harper drawled.
“Sir, what about my team? And Miss Nelson?”
“Miss Nelson and your team are civilians. They too will be evacuated when we have the lifting capacity,” the general proclaimed.
“Sir, if it is okay with you and higher, I'd like to stay on,” Fiben said slowly. The Neochimp general eyed him in surprise. Fiben shrugged it off. “I'm a search and rescue specialist, sir, a leader. I know my field. I can be of use here. I know the players and the terrain. I can move in after your people and help … help people,” he said lamely.
Charlie frowned thoughtfully then shrugged. “It's not up to me. I'll pass the idea on to higher of course. You're technically still a Lagroose employee, so it's in your chain of command.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Oh don't thank me, Fiben,” Charlie replied. “You're just making more work for yourself. And opening yourself up to a lot more heartache, not to mention regular headaches I suppose.”
Fiben snorted.
“He's just trying to get out of the debriefs, sir, and the med checks,” Harper teased.
“More like sharing a shuttle with you lot,” Fiben retorted. “Some people have cut back a bit too much on showers.”
“So I … smelled,” the general said in a mock strained voice. That earned a slight snort from the chimps and a gasp of dismay from Kelsy who had come up hastily behind them. “Why don't you get that sorted out before the troops suck up all the available water?”
“It's rationed, sir. Showers are weekly,” Fiben explained. “And there are currently twenty working for the entire community.”
“Twenty?” the general asked, raising an eyebrow. “For how many people?” he asked carefully.
“Fourteen thousand nine hundred and sixty-four by our last census, sir,” Kelsy volunteered, seemingly eager to interject herself into the conversation. “Kelsy Nelson, sir, Pavilion Industries. I was wondering if I might be able to ask for a ride?” she asked in a slightly hopeful and wheedling tone of voice.
“You've got a seat, but it might take a few hours,” the general replied. He returned his attention to Fiben. “Really? That many people? And that few means to keep clean? Didn't you say you were some sort of expert?”
Fiben winced. “Yes, sir. We made do with what we had. The bottleneck was power and water treatment before and after.”
The general nodded sagely. “Ah, I see.”
“We're also low on parts,” Pat said, coming up behind them. “Many of the buildings are unsafe, General, warn your people. The snow buckled many of them. That and the ice.”
“We've run into similar situations in Africa. We're aware,” the general replied coolly.
“Another member of my team, sir, Pat Morita. He's our tech expect.”
“Handyman, jack of all trades, whatever you need, sir,” Pat said with a slight bow.
“Pat has been a trooper and miracle worker, sir,” Harper expanded. “He's the reason we have power and any sort of water treatment in the first place. Though the sewage treatment still needs work,�
�� he admitted.
“Only so much I can do with the power budget you've given me, plus the lack of chemicals,” Pat said, spreading his hands.
“You folks have done wonders and deserve commendation. Good work. I'll talk to higher. In the meantime, Lieutenant Collins, prepare for movement. You'll catch the first available shuttle out.”
“Yes sir,” Collins replied, coming to attention again.
“Enjoy the colonoscopy, old boy,” Fiben teased, slapping him on the shoulder as the general departed.
Harper groaned, shaking his head. “Don't remind me,” he said theatrically.
“Will they really do that?” Pat asked.
“That and more. Physically and mentally. Full medical work up, we can't bring anything up with us. Plus we need a full debrief for intell and historical purposes I suppose,” Harper said.
“Ah hell. I was looking forward to going up and catching some Z's in a real bed. But for that, it's almost worth just staying down here,” Pat said, looking around. “I mean, we've almost got it halfway decent,” he said, surveying the civilians and military personnel.
“You think so,” Fiben said, already seeing a problem. Some of the military personnel were going into a couple of the condemned buildings. “I've got to warn off those idiots. Harper, nice knowing you. Kelsy, go up or stay. If you stay, I'm going to need help setting up barracks, chow, and a place to store their supplies. Stay or go, let me know quick. I'm on this,” Fiben said.
Pat frowned thoughtfully and then shrugged. “I'll stick around for a while. Someone needs to show the noobs the ropes and keep our natives from getting too restless I suppose.”
“That's the spirit,” Kelsy murmured, clearly torn. She watched Pat and Fiben move off.
“Baxter will stick around. Same for Ace and the other dogs. You can go too,” Harper murmured.
