Mavericks (Expeditionary Force Book 6)

by Craig Alanson

  “OK!” Dave patted Nert on the back, hard. “Let’s you, me and Jesse talk about that, huh?”

  Senior Cadet Bifft Colhsoon was indeed pissed, monumentally pissed. Not only had a group of lowly humans suckered him into leaving his assigned patrol area along the river, but when he broke the wargame rules to run back to the river and chase the two human pilots, they had slipped away and evaded him for hours until he had them cornered in a swampy area and was about to send two of his team to circle behind and trap them. Just then, the alarm had sounded to end the wargame, cheating him out of even a minor victory! He had broken the rules and would be punished, and now he had nothing to show for it. At least if he had captured the human pilots he might have been able to justify his actions as preventing the humans from getting away with cheating, since cheating is the only possible way two slow and clumsy human pilots could have shot down three Ruhar aircraft. “Come out!” He shouted, brandishing his rifle toward where he knew the pair of primitive creatures were huddled behind a large tree.

  “Ok!” Irene stood up, brushing muck off her flightsuit’s legs from when she and Derek had been crouching behind a tree. She waved her arms to show her pistol was still in the holster strapped to her hip. “The wargame is over, anyway.”

  “You got lucky, and you cheated!” Bifft shook a fist at her and pointedly did not lower his rifle, even though the weapon could only fire low-powered targeting laser beams. “I will be reporting your shameful underhanded tactics to the wargame authorities.”

  “Cheated?” Derek retorted hotly. “We cheated? You cheated! You’re supposed to be dead, you punk-ass bitch. That’s why we were able to track your position but you couldn’t locate us. The control system cut off your suit’s chameleon and stealth features,” Derek looked at Irene as he spoke, as he had just then figured out why the two of them had been able to evade the team of four Ruhar for hours. While their flightsuits were not fully capable combat skinsuits, they did provide enhanced speed and power, plus features for concealment. During the chase, Derek had wondered why their flightsuits’ sensors had been able to detect and pinpoint movement in the forest, while it appeared the four Ruhar had only a vague idea where the humans were. Now it was obvious, as lights on the chests of the four Ruhar were blinking red, indicating the wargame computer had declared them all dead. The four, who Derek now could see for certain were cadets, should not have been able to move after ‘dying’ in the game. “Dead soldiers are not supposed to be chasing us. We will be reporting your actions to the referees.”

  Derek did send a message to the wargame computer, for the attention of the referee committee that enforced the rules and investigated possible violations by both sides. All he did was transmit a file containing sensor data after they left the Dobreh, showing he and Irene had been tracked and pursued by four Yellow team soldiers, and including a short video of their encounter with the cadets after the wargame ended. Derek’s intention was to show the referees that, if the humans had done anything that slightly bent the spirit if not the stated rules of the mock combat, the four Yellow cadets had flagrantly violated the rules by continuing to participate in the action after they had been declared dead. He figured the rules committee would have to go easy on the humans when they saw how badly their own people had cheated. He was correct, and he had no way of knowing Lieutenant Colonel Perkins would have preferred to keep the whole incident quiet, and she was still mildly pissed at him for acting without checking with her first. “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he replied as the assembled six humans waited for a Green team transport to pluck them from an open area next to the river. A Yellow ship had already picked up the four cadets, and another Yellow transport had landed across the river next to the bog where the abandoned Dobreh sat partly submerged in a bog. Through his zPhone, Derek had been watching a Ruhar dressed in the blue and yellow uniform of an aircraft mechanic slogging through the bog to the Dobreh, then crawling on top and around it. He could not hear the communications from the mechanic to the airbase, but from the man’s gestures, Derek guessed the mechanic was anything but pleased. “I wouldn’t have done anything,” he stated truthfully for he assumed the wargame computer had noticed the four ‘dead’ cadets breaking the rules by running around. “But that cadet said he was going to report us for cheating, so I thought the best defense is a good offense.”

  Emily Perkins knew sports metaphors were as popular in the military as war metaphors were in sports, and she found both to be silly. War was not a game, and the even the most intense football game was not combat. Quarterbacks could be hit hard by three-hundred pound linemen, but no one was shooting at the quarterback, nor did the quarterback need to worry about being targeted by laser-guided missiles from over the horizon. In spite of her feelings on the subject, she avoided rolling her eyes at the pilot. “In the future, check with me first. I am responsible for the actions of this team, so any reporting should be done by me directly.”

  “We did nothing wrong!” Irene protested while touching Derek’s hand reassuringly.

  “None of us did anything wrong, the operation was flawless,” Perkins agreed. “That doesn’t mean there won’t be any blow-back on us. We really crashed a real aircraft,” she used the word ‘we’ because she had approved the crazy operation and Emily Perkins did not hang her people out to dry when they went off-script in good faith. Striebich and Bonsu had followed the spirit of the wargame by acting the way they would in real combat. The fact that the wargame computer did not declare them dead after the hard landing proved the desperate tactic of splashing their fighter across the river surface had worked. “Nert,” she nodded toward the team’s official liaison officer, “tells me that cadet leader you encountered is politically connected. He could make a stink about us destroying a combat aircraft, even get your flight certifications revoked or suspended.”

  “What?” Irene screeched in outrage.

  Perkins held up a finger to forestall an argument. “That is why I didn’t want us reporting that cadet for violating the wargame rules. The computer must know what he did, and the hamsters will deal with it, or not,” she shrugged. “Now we have forced their hand by bringing the incident to the referee committee,because they will have to address it, and the cadet will blame us, fairly or not.” She paused to listen, and the entire group turned toward the south where an aircraft was beginning to transition from level flight to hover mode, its turbine engines pivoting to support the craft’s landing next to the river. “Everyone,” she raised her voice to be heard over the approaching roar of the aircraft, “let me do the talking when we get back to base!”

  “They cheated!” Bifft jabbed a finger awkwardly close to Perkins’ face when they reached the Yellow Team headquarters. “Hiding a frontline Dobreh fighter gunship in a river is not an approved-”

  “Approved?” General Dase cut off Bifft’s argument with a withering stare. “Cadet, do you think in real combat the Kristang will conform to an ‘approved’ set of tactics? I can assure you they will not; neither will the Wurgalan or any other force we may encounter. If you are unfortunate enough to face the Kristang in battle, you can expect they will hit you with every dirty trick they can imagine, and they will not care whether you have a preset set of tactics to counter them. If your rigid thinking is an example of what our military academies are teaching now,” Dase shook his head sadly, “then our people had better become accustomed to losing battles and territory. Lieutenant Colonel Perkins,” he turned to the human leader, speaking slowly to pronounce her rank correctly as a sign of respect. “Your team has, once again, proven to be resourceful, clever,” he paused to see if that word translated correctly and continued when Perkins nodded happily, “and courageous. If the operation had not worked as planned, the repercussions to human involvement with our military could have been long-lasting and detrimental to your people here on Gehtanu and beyond. While I am not pleased to be on the losing side of your unexpected success,” his grin reflected the chagrin he felt, “I am glad this was only a w
argame exercise, so we can learn much without getting anyone killed.”

  “They destroyed a frontline combat aircraft!” Bifft insisted, proving he did not know when to cut his losses and keep his mouth shut.

  “They did damage an aircraft, yes,” General Dase agreed. “Cadet, you will find aircraft are frequently damaged in combat-”

  “This was not real combat!” Bifft nearly shouted. When he heard others gasp that he had interrupted a general officer, he bowed his head. “I apologize, General Sir.”

  Dase snorted and looked down his furry snout at the cadet. “A wargame is only useful if the people involved act the way they would in actual combat. Colonel Perkins, I understand your military organization has a motto to the effect of ‘train the way you fight’?”

  “We believe that very strongly, General Dase,” Perkins replied with deadly seriousness.

  Dase nodded approvingly. “We use technology to make wargame exercises as realistic as possible, but if the people involved,” he glared directly at Bifft, “do not act as if the combat is real, they learn nothing. Tell me, Perkins, why did you plan to sacrifice your ground team and possibly your only aircraft?”

  Perkins had an answer ready, because she only needed to tell the truth. “Because my team had multiple, significant disadvantages in both physical ability and experience with your equipment and tactics. The only possibility for us to contribute to mission success was to use unconventional tactics. Otherwise, we could have stayed back at base like some people wanted us to.”

  “Quite so,” Dase said with admiration. “Cadet Colhsoon, I suggest you throw away whatever texts the academy has assigned you to read, and instead study the actions of Colonel Perkins, both today and from the events of them activating maser projectors and destroying a Kristang battlegroup. A real battlegroup,” he added for emphasis. “As to the Dobreh fighter that was damaged,” he downplayed the damage to the aircraft, which had been declared a total loss and was being salvaged for parts. “The aircraft logs state it was not actually combat capable, and should never have been assigned to participate in the exercise. It was not, as you described, a ‘frontline combat aircraft’. It was a source of spare parts and now it is fulfilling its true mission,” General Dase actually winked to Perkins. “That our counterparts on the Green Team stuck the human pilots with that barely-capable piece of,” the translator stumbled and Perkins heard it say ‘junk’ in her ear but she thought Dase had used a stronger term. “Is shameful and does not reflect well on us as a people. Colonel Perkins,” Dase bowed slightly, “please convey my apologies to your pilots. Your team succeeded despite having the deck stacked against you.”

  Perkins bowed curtly to acknowledge the compliment and her eyes twinkled. “Have you ever gone into actual combat without having the deck stacked against you, General Dase?”

  “No,” the Ruhar commander chuckled. “I have not. Cadet Durndurff,” he addressed Nert. “You intend to continue serving as liaison officer with Colonel Perkins?”

  Nert brightened up immediately. “Oh, yes, Sir, General Dase, Sir,” he replied with pride, throwing his shoulder back and standing tall.

  “You are a fortunate young man, and if you keep your mind open and learn, I expect great things from you.”

  “Oh,” Nert swallowed hard as he realized the pressure on him. “Sir, I hope to serve with distinction, Sir,” he nervously ignored Jesse’s instruction not to make a ‘sir sandwich’ when speaking to an officer.

  “Cadets, you are dismissed,” Dase sent Nert and Bifft away with a curt nod and turned his full attention to Perkins, gesturing her to follow him as he walked toward his command center. “I have a call with the admiral in only a few minutes, but please walk with me and indulge me in a question, Colonel. How did you get the idea to hide a fighter aircraft in a river? Sensors aboard my aircraft that were declared shot down did briefly detect a submerged anomaly, but the crews ignored it. That will be a lesson learned to go straight into the standard operations manual.”

  “It was Captain Derek Bonsu’s idea,” Perkins felt a jolt of pride that lowly humans had taught another lesson to the Ruhar. “He was assigned to an airbase before and during the Kristang occupation,” she smiled and did not mention that Bonsu had been taken off flight duty back then and limited to being basically a gofer for the aircraft maintenance teams. “He observed a Dobreh fighter being subjected to something you call a ‘water immersion test’? He was surprised to see that after being in a water tank for several hours, the fighter was able to pass flight tests and return to service with minimal maintenance.”

  “Yes,” the general’s face lit up with understanding. “I remember that. The company that builds the Dobreh was testing one fighter from the batch delivered to Gehtanu, as part of a service contract. That aircraft has what I think you call a ‘ditch switch’ to close external ports in case of a water landing, but the purpose of that test is to demonstrate the aircraft will not be damaged by flying through heavy rain, or by fire-suppression equipment in a hangar.”

  “Heavy rain?” Perkins’ eyebrows flew up. “That must be some seriously heavy rain.”

  “Our aircraft must be capable of operating in extreme environments,” Dase explained, “because we never know what planet we will be called on to occupy next.”

  “Ah,” Perkins made a mental note to remember that lesson; she could no longer afford to think only in terms of conditions on one planet, whether that was Earth or Paradise, or Camp Alpha. She needed to consider what her team would do under conditions she could barely imagine.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Perkins tugged at the knees of her formal uniform pants to straighten the crease, before she took a deep breath and held up a hand to knock on the doorframe of the UNEF liaison office. On Earth, a general officer would have a waiting room with at least one staffer to filter visitors, but on Paradise such luxuries had been dispensed with. Even at UNEF HQ in southern Lemuria, the tents and hastily-constructed prefab buildings used as offices had no waiting areas, in most cases they didn’t even have doors. The human military force on Paradise had shrunk by almost forty percent, due to people seeing no point to being part of a military organization that no longer had a military mission. Nearly four in ten UNEF soldiers had already opted to put aside their uniforms and become civilians, mostly farmers although the humans had a growing economy, and more people left the UN Expeditionary Force every day. At current trends Perkins had seen in a classified report from UNEF HQ, it was estimated that within two years only ten percent of humans on Paradise would still be wearing a uniform. Elections were scheduled for the next year, after which the military would be subject to the authority of civilian leadership.

  Civilian humans on Paradise, she had to shake her head at that concept. The force was evaporating as their original mission faded away into history. Emily had briefly considered hanging up her own uniform, but at the moment she was having too much fun training with the Ruhar, even if the majority of hamsters considered including her team in their training to be a joke. As long as her little team wore UNEF patches on their uniforms and participated in training, the Ruhar were reminded their continued possession of the planet they called Gehtanu was thanks to the actions of humans. And that forty thousand Ruhar owed their lives to Perkins and her team blowing up an island to wipe out a group of Kristang commandos, while the hamsters with all their superior genetics and technology had no idea that crack group of commandos even existed. It was important for the Ruhar to be reminded that humans could be useful, had been useful. So Emily and her team endured the jokes, the insults both subtle and openly stated, and showed the UNEF flag to represent all of humanity.

  She rapped a hand on the doorframe and straightened her shoulders. “You wished to see me, Ma’am?”

  General Lynn Bezanson looked up from her tablet and silently waved Perkins into the office, swallowing the coffee she had just sipped. “Perkins, come in, sit down.” Saluting had mostly been dispensed with inside the building, especially as
Perkins and Bezanson were probably the only two humans in the building that day. When Perkins and her team had accepted the opportunity to train with the Ruhar army, Bezanson had moved from southern Lemuria to be UNEF’s liaison to Chief Administrator Lohgellia, which is why Bezanson had a small office in the main administration building, only one floor below Lohgellia’s own suite of offices. “Coffee,” Lynn raised her plastic mug with the UNEF logo and pointed to it. “Real coffee, can you beat that? It tastes real, anyway, better than a lot of the Army coffee I’ve had on Earth,” she beamed with joy and took another sip of the precious liquid. Supplies of coffee from Earth had long ago been exhausted, and Lynn found the lack of the bitter brew almost more difficult to accept than the loss of her favorite foods. For breakfast, she loved hardboiled eggs with maple-flavored bacon, but while chickens on Paradise were producing a decent supply of eggs, there was no bacon anywhere. Some people were experimenting with making bagels, but without peanut butter, Lynn didn’t see the point of eating a bagel. “Pour yourself a cup,” the general gestured to the pot simmering in a corner of the office.

  Perkins poured herself a half cup, noting the pot was nearly empty and knowing coffee was still in very short supply on Paradise. She sniffed then took a tentative sip. “Hmm, not bad. Better than typical gas station coffee.”

  Bezanson nodded with enthusiasm. “There’s cream, real cream from Lemuria, in the fridge.”

  Perkins had liked cream in her coffee but she had been out of the coffee-drinking habit and knew cream also had to be in short supply, especially in the planet’s capital city. “I’ll drink it black, I want to savor it straight.”

  “Take all you want, it’s due to you and your team that we have coffee. And chocolate!” Lynn clapped her hands with delight. “Did you read last week’s intel summary? We could have beef in six months. Beef! I haven’t had a steak in,” she looked at the ceiling. “Too long. If we do get beef, I am going to have corned beef and cabbage, even if I have to prepare the beef myself.”