by Chris Hechtl
When he felt a wet nose on his arm, he flipped the tablet down to see a pair of eyes looking at him. “What are you looking at?” Boomer demanded. The dog licked his lips.
“Well bub, if you're hungry, you've got to earn it. Everyone earns their keep around here,” he said, tucking his tablet away and then getting out of his rack. “Come on, let's go see if I can scare up some stuff and try you out on the basics.”
Boomer did his best to try to treat Bumper like a normal dog. After chow and the sun started to set, he took the dog out to a field. They played tug of war, fetch, and Frisbee, though he had to teach the dog to catch. The very idea of a dog not being able to do that … he shook his head in despair. And he kept trying to use his front paws! Boomer wasn't sure what was up with that.
He was testing the dog, unsure of what he could do, what he was capable of, what his temperament was, and how he would handle following orders. So far so good, Boomer thought in approval. He'd have to test the mutt in more complex stuff in the morning and test his sniffer, he thought.
---
Much to his annoyance, Boomer didn't get his chance to do more testing. Instead the powers that be threw them right into the mix the following morning. Bumper groaned but got up with a stiff stretch and then followed along. Boomer put his kit on, then wondered about the dog. “Fuck, I don't have diddly squat for you. I think you should stay here, boy.”
The dog cocked his head then lunged past him into the hummer.
“Move it, Boomer! We ain't got all day!” the Sergeant snarled.
Boomer leaned in to grab the dog. “Will you get out of … oh, hell.” He looked up to the sergeant. “We're on it!” He shook his head as he climbed into the hummer. “It's your funeral, boy,” he said, closing the door. The convoy moved out.
Boomer tried to get back into the swing of things, the mental and the radar. The radar was a bitch; he had to keep one eye on the dog, one eye on the situation, and one eye on the assets around him. That was impossible; no one could multitask on that level. Fortunately, the HUD built into his helmet helped him keep an eye on the assets around him, and the radio chatter was also fed through his helmet.
He was a junior leader, so he had to know what his bosses were thinking and planning and the situation around them and be ready to take a leading role if it all went south. It was something he hated about the rank; if he fucked up, someone would pay for it with their life.
Bumper sighted on something off to their left, then turned sharply to his right. Boomer turned, watching the dog's intense gaze. “Something on our right,” he murmured into his hush mike.
“Can you be more specific?” the sergeant demanded.
Boomer's eyes narrowed. The truck slowed, so he activated the zoom on his HUD. He didn't see anything at first, but then something nagged at him. It was the perfect site of an ambush. With the concrete wall, there it could be great cove … or a great way to channel an IED into the convoy. The sweepers in the hummer on point would let them know if there was anything in the road so that meant ….
He finally saw it when he felt Bumper's paw nudge his arm. He shook him off, but his distraction made the zoom waver from the spot he'd been looking at to another. He immediately noticed the partially buried wires.
“IED four o'clock. That's our right side. Possible ambush site,” Boomer intoned, calling it in.
“IED,” the central net stated. “Warning, IED detected. Stand clear,” the computer stated.
“No, duh, Jarvis,” Shaker stated. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Boomer stated as the convoy ground to a halt. “And I'm on duty to check it out,” he said. He climbed out of the hummer. Shooters were out as well on all sides, covering the areas a sniper or shooter could pop up from. Even the main guns were up. Drones floated in around their convoy.
“You've got the ball, Boomer,” the sergeant stated. “We can't go around so make it go away.”
“Roger,” Boomer said. He pulled out a hand-sized drone and tossed it to where the IED had been spotted. Once the drone landed, he used the hand interface controls built into his armor to direct the drone to the wires, then followed them.
“Magnetic sensors have a lock on the wiring now,” Boomer stated. He grimaced when he saw the crude jugs taped together. “Diesel, something else and a bunch of nails and shit. Nasty.”
“Call the ball then. Do you want us to back up?” the sergeant asked, coming up beside him. “We're exposed here. We need to OOD and I mean pronto.”
“Duck and cover! Fire in the hole!” Boomer said, crouching as he thumbed a switch. The robot nestled up to the bomb, and then activated its suicide charge.
The charge went off with a resounding boom, detonating the IED as well. Shrapnel rained down in the area.
“No hostiles in sight,” a shooter called over the radio net. “No thermal profiles,” he stated.
“No Tangos in the area,” the drone operators stated as well.
“Good. Good job. Let's get the hell out of here then,” the sergeant stated, touching his mike. “Drones do a forensics sweep of the area. I want face rec on anyone you find. Anyone suspicious tag them for later,” he ordered.
“Roger.”
Boomer climbed into the truck but didn't take off his helmet. He continued to survey the area through the drones just in case. The truck's active defenses would intercept any RPGs or other weapons that were thrown at them. They weren't 100 percent accurate though, so it paid to be diligent. He kept his head on a swivel until they finished their errand. Once they did HQ had them take an alternate route back to the base.
“Trust me, mutt, you'd rather be bored then excited,” Boomer said when he heard a wuffle from his partner. He turned in time to hear Shaker snort.
“You talking to the mutt? Dude, are you serious?”
“He's smarter than you, Shaker. He can probably shoot straighter too,” Boomer responded as they rolled through the gates.
He got the credit as he climbed out of the truck. Marines slapped him on the shoulder. Boomer couldn't help but smile and wave them off. It felt good to be appreciated.
Bumper seemed disgusted. He snorted several times and gave Boomer such a dirty look that the marine waved the congratulations off. “It was a team effort. Bumper alerted on something. I saw the IED and called it in.”
Bumper seemed mollified as a few of the marines turned to pat him and rub his ears. “Let's go get some chow.”
“We've got a report to file, then chow,” the sergeant stated.
“Okay, Macky, will do,” Boomer said with a headshake of resignation.
When the others took off, Macky patted Boomer on the arm and then leaned against the rear fender of the truck. “You two did a good workout there.”
“He's okay. I don't know how good. I haven't had time to synch up with him. I have no idea how well he's trained. It could have been blind luck,” Boomer said, shaking his head. The dog growled, a clear sign of disagreement.
Macky crossed his arms and looked at the dog, then adjusted his wrist cuff. “I think he disagrees. I don't know, so I won't judge. Get synched if you are worried about it. But still, good work. Both of you,” he said, standing once more.
Boomer nodded.
“And make certain you get that report in on my desk. You know it's going to get bumped up to higher as well as intel. That's the first IED we've had in a week.”
“Yeah,” Boomer sighed.
---
Boomer took his kit off and then sat on the edge of his rack and worked on the report. He started it, then had to stop to go back over the video feed from his helmet camera as well as that from the late drone. The dog was curious at what he was doing but eventually laid back down at his feet.
There was little to go on: riggers tape, milk jugs, screws, and nails and shit. Wires leading elsewhere, possibly to a remote receiver and battery. He scowled. They should have looked that over. Then again, sometimes the bastards put a booby trap on the remote r
eceiver too. He'd heard that had happened twice last year.
After the third sound of licking chops, Boomer eyed the dog then heaved a sigh. “Okay, I guess you've earned it.” He set the tablet aside as he finished with the report. “Stay put,” he ordered and got up. He went over to the bag he'd gotten and ripped a corner open. He dug out a handful of pellets and then dropped them into a plastic bowl. A second bowl was filled with water from the latrine sink.
He set them down in front of the dog. “Dig in. Chow is served,” the marine stated. He stretched. “My chow is getting later,” he grumbled. Lunch was almost over at this rate. He might have to get a few things from a vending machine if he could find one or the commissary. Hell if he was going to eat a Meals Ready to be rEgurgitated. They sat in his stomach like a brick and were a pain in the ass to pass. Literally.
He looked over to the dog. He drank water but refused to eat the cheap kibble crap Boomer had picked up from the commissary. He turned mournful accusing eyes on the marine.
Boomer was going to have none of it. “Look mutt, until they give me a slip or something, you're going to get slop. I can't pay to feed you like you'd like. If you don't like it, put in a complaint,” he growled.
When the dog didn't eat, he just shook his head. “Suit yourself.”
The dog flopped to the deck and wuffled a sigh. That was weird; no dog turned down food. The dog hadn't eaten in a day, come to think of it. Did he eat something he shouldn't have? A trickle of concern worked its way through Boomer. Wizzer had been that way too, a small voice said in the back of his mind.
“Come on, if you won't eat let's go get you checked out,” he said. The dog groaned. He sighed and picked him up. It was Boomer's turn to groan as he hefted the dog. The dog looked at him in surprise but didn't thrash.
“That's right; don't you dare bite me,” he stated.
He hefted the dog until he had him on one shoulder in an improvised fireman's carry then went out. A passing MP gave him a ride to the base Vet.
The Vet wasn't busy, so he immediately took the dog and handler in. “What's wrong with him? Step on something? We're getting that a lot,” she stated.
“No, I think he is sick,” Boomer replied. “He hasn't eaten anything in twenty-four hours. I put food down, but he refused it. Just drank water.”
“Is he holding it down?” the Vet asked as he put the dog on the exam table.
“Yeah.”
“So, no blockage.” She examined the dog carefully, running her expert hands over the animal. She made soft sounds as she worked, as much to sooth and comfort the dog as the handler.
“I'm not feeling anything.”
The dog just looked at her. “I'm unfamiliar with him ….”
“We just got him.”
“So this is his first exam? Wait, is this your personal dog, Corporal?”
“No, no, nothing like that. The general ordered him up. He's secret so no paper trail, Doc.”
“I see,” she said, turning to write a note.
“I'm serious, Doc,” he said. She shook her head. When she put the tablet down, he saw the dog stare at it. After a moment the information she had entered erased itself.
“Um ….”
“Were you listening?”
“Sorry,” Boomer said, returning his attention to the doctor. “Sorry, it's been a busy day.”
“Okay. I want to do an X-ray, purely as a precaution to see if he has swallowed anything,” she said. “He could have a blockage.”
“He's gone poop, Doc,” Boomer said, wrinkling his nose. He'd had to clean up the crap right after first call.
She reached down, stroking the dog's legs. “That's odd,” she murmured, examining his front paws.
“What about them?”
“They are tucked up. The toes seem long. And the dew claw is almost a digit.”
“He's some sort of gene-engineered, super dog, Doc,” Boomer admitted.
“Oh, um ….”
“The X-ray?”
“Yeah, sure.” She was staring at the dog though. “This way ….”
---
The X-rays spotted odd things in his skeletal and muscles but nothing in his stomach or IG track that would block him up. Bumper snuffled, then sneezed. “It could be a cold,” the vet said, checking the dog's nose. “No nasal drainage. Nothing in his eyes,” she murmured thoughtfully as she checked each eye. Finally she looked up to Boomer. “Or he could be homesick,” she said as she rubbed the dog's ears. “Adjusting to the new smells and such can be tricky for some. Give him another day. As long as he's drinking water, he's not serious.”
“Okay, Doc,” the marine said, fighting the urge to sigh.
“I'll give you some soft food for you to take back home. Wet food fortified with some extra vitamins. Don't try to give him any over the counter electrolytes just yet; the sugars can tear him up.”
“Okay, Doc.”
“Just watch him and let me know of any changes,” the vet stated as Boomer headed to the door.
“Will do.”
When they were outside, he looked at the dog and then shook his head as he looked away. The dog was back on his feet, even wagging his tail and sniffing at the light evening breeze. The worst of the heat was starting to dampen down now that the sun was headed to the yard arm and slowly downward to the horizon.
“Well! That was a monumental waste of time. What an afternoon,” the marine said.
“Well, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. I missed lunch, which sucked,” the marine said as his stomach growled. “So, the chow hall it is,” Boomer said, changing direction for the mess hall. “At least for me, you can stay outside,” he ordered. The dog sat down outside the mess hall as the marine entered.
He was first in line since he was early, but the good news was that they were having steak. Boomer chatted with the cooks as people began to file in.
He never noticed a stealthy red intruder until he sat down at his table. He turned when he heard a sloppy sound on his left. He turned just in time to see out of the corner of his eye as Bumper lunged in from his right to steal Boomer's steak. “Give that back!” Boomer snarled, lunging to his feet. He was pissed as he chased the dog through the galley and into the barracks. The other marines laughed.
The dog ran with his tail up and mouth full, clearly not sick at all Boomer thought as he tried to catch up. But the dog was too quick; his four legs quickly outdistanced the biped.
Bumper charged up into the barracks, and then went through the bay. Boomer swung around the building to cut him off. But when he got inside, he found that the dog had anticipated him through smell or something. He got away by going into the latrine and shutting the door. Boomer wasn't sure how he had done it; the door was usually shut. Could someone had let the dog in? Or left the door open? He heard the sounds of the dog eating his steak and sighed in resignation. “Fine, you win you red shit. But don't think this is over,” he said as he tried to turn the knob. He frowned; the door was locked.
Again, something was odd there. The lock was a button on the knob. Not something a dog knew how to do. He frowned thoughtfully. And the four-legged bastard had gotten in and locked the door all with his mouth filled with the purloined steak. He shook his head and left. The dog could stay in there for all he cared, though somehow he doubted it would be for long. Something told him the dog could get out just as easily as he'd gotten in.
“Now it's my time to get ribbed. Gee thanks, mutt,” he murmured as he stepped out into the evening air and the whistles and laughter of a few of the marines who'd seen the chase. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up fellas. Just hope it doesn't happen to you,” he said, shaking his head as he went back to the mess hall.
---
“So, they did okay?” the general asked.
“Yes, sir. And it looks like we've got a handle on the theft. One of the two culprits the dog busted was identified as a civilian contractor. The other was a local. We're tracing their contacts now from their p
hones and gear. It looks like they smuggled the stuff they had stolen out in the trash. We may have broken the whole ring wide open, sir,” the sergeant major said with a smirk.
“Thank God, that's solved. You think they were smuggling in anything?”
“Contraband? No, we haven't seen any sign of it. But we'll look into that, sir,” the sergeant major said with a dutiful nod.
“And the dog?”
“Do we have to return him, sir?” Jamey asked, now reluctant to give the team up. They may have been lucky, but no one gave up an asset in the field. Not when they could be useful.
“Hmm …,” the general rubbed his brow. “I don't think so. No, we can see where it leads, at least until they demand him back.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What about Aspin? Is he on board with this?”
He's not objecting, sir. He also hasn't put in for a transfer. They do need more training time though.” He smiled slightly. “And he could use some additional support. The dog definitely needs armor. He eats as much as a human does too, which I understand is a problem. And he definitely doesn't do kibble.”
The general snorted. “Then give it to them. Next problem?”
---
Bumper got up in night. Boomer watched the dog pad through the barracks to go into the latrine. He left the door open and did his business, then Boomer's eyes opened wider when he heard the water from the faucet nearest to the door come on. There was the loud lapping of water, then the faucet shut off. A moment later the dog came padding back, apparently none too pleased by the taste of the water but resigned to it. He flopped to the deck near Boomer's rack once more.
Boomer reached down and stroked the dog's fur on his side. Eventually the stroking and the soft patter of the rain helped him to drift off back to sleep.