Columbus Day (Expeditionary Force Book 1)

by Craig Alanson

  The promotion ceremony took place at Fort Olympus, the UNEF HQ complex. I was astonished to see the place was pristine, the Ruhar hadn't touched it at all during the attack. Major Perkins, who accompanied me on the Dumbo flight to Olympus, said Ruhar prisoners told UNEF they'd not hit Olympus because they wanted UNEF command intact, so someone with authority could order all humans on Paradise to lay down their weapons. Which would have been easier to do, if the hamsters hadn't been jamming all of our communications. Who knows how aliens think, huh?

  Meeting General Meers and the other senior commanders was not as intimidating as I expected, I was dreading a long, formal ceremony filled with speeches and me having to maintain either a menacing warrior scowl or a pleasant smile, whatever the UNEF public relations officer thought was appropriate. Instead, because only a small number of Kristang had been cleared to land on Paradise without full environment suits, there were no Kristang present at Olympus, and therefore the promotion ceremony was General Meers in his office pinning silver eagles on my uniform, with a half dozen other senior officers watching. After the brief ceremony, there was a delicious meal in the officers' mess, with steaks that tasted fresh, which I later learned was because they were irradiated and chilled rather than frozen, green beans that weren't the usual mushy Army fare, baked potatoes with real butter, chocolate cake, and real fresh-brewed coffee.

  Seniors officers ate well. That, I could get used to. My joy lasted until a US Marine Corps colonel thanked me for giving the headquarters unit an excuse for a feast; General Meers had senior officers at Fort Olympus on field rations six days a week, to remind commanders and their staff what troops in the field were experiencing. I didn't know much about Meers, but my respect for him climbed several notches after hearing that.

  The steak was great. I was still craving a cheeseburger.

  After dinner, General Meers wanted to talk to me in private. Me. The commander of all human forces on Paradise wanted to have a little chat with me.

  "Serg-, damn it, Colonel, it's new to me too. Bishop." My last name was conveniently rank-neutral. "You've had a hell of an interesting career, for one so young. Nigeria, then the Ruhar crash into your home town and you capture one of them. My G2 tells me you were our gold source of intel here for a while. And then you pull together a squad on your own, and shoot down two Whales. Surprised the hell out of me when they told me you're the same Bishop that captured a Ruhar soldier with an ice cream truck. Those are some big goddamn coincidences."

  "My mother said I was a trouble magnet growing up, always getting into one thing or another." I could hear her voice in my ear as I said it. "It's not all that much of a coincidence, sir. I was on leave when the Ruhar crashed in my hometown, that was luck. But it wasn't coincidence that the burgermeister-"

  "The who?"

  "The Ruhar mayor, or whatever she is, we called her the burgermeister, the one who fed me the intel about wormholes and all that. It wasn't a coincidence she picked me to talk to, she sought me out because the hamster I captured back home reported he was treated well, and she wanted to meet me. I was at Fort Arrow because, uh, I was told it was because the Kristang were sniffing around trying to find who was feeding us intel, so it was no coincidence I was there when the Ruhar attacked. And I probably would have been at the Fort Arrow DFAC with everyone else, except Captain Price there said he was tired of UNEF using Fort Arrow as a dumping ground, and he stuck me on convoy duty to get me out of the way. That's why I was off base then the Ruhar hit us." That was close enough, General Meers didn't need the details.

  "One thing led to another, huh?"

  "That's the way I see it, sir."

  "I suppose you could be right about that. Now that you're here, don't expect you can screw off because you've got UNEF over a barrel. The Kristang promote based on success in combat, what you may not know is they can sack people just as fast."

  "Sir, I don't know what I'm going to do next, but whatever duty I'm assigned, I'll do it the best I can."

  "Good. Last thing we need is everyone in the damned UNEF thinking they can jump ahead quick if they do something spectacular. Most lieutenants out there think they're smarter than their COs. And sergeants think they're better soldiers than any fancy-pants lieutenant." He snorted. "Hell, the sergeants are probably right. We've already had incidents of people trying crazy Rambo shit to get noticed. So busting you back down to sergeant or private because you fuck up somehow would make my life easier, you got that?"

  "Yes, sir." It was kind of what I expected to happen eventually anyway. I had no business wearing silver eagles.

  "That said," Meers pondered the view outside the window, where a pair of Chickens were flying by, "I don't want you to fail. Bishop, I'm giving you fair warning that we plan on riding you like a rented mule, so if you think being a mustang colonel means you fly around and give speeches, you best put that thought right out of your head."

  "Never considered it, sir." I appreciated the warning.

  The next day I got started on a crash course in the responsibilities of a US Army colonel, and the protocols and etiquette for dealing with the Kristang. One of the protocols for a meeting with the Kristang was eating a bland diet starting the day before; the Kristang thought humans smelled bad, and us chowing down on meat or spicy foods made us even smellier. UNEF heard from the Ruhar that the Kristang think all other species smell bad, that humans shouldn't take it personally. What it meant for me was oatmeal and tea for breakfast instead of eggs and coffee; lunch and dinner were similarly bland and boring. Other instructions I received were not to try shaking hands with the Kristang, they didn't like us touching them at all. And not to speak unless the Kristang asked me a question. Also no smiling, the Kristang interpreted smiles as humans not taking things seriously, and the Kristang overall were not known as a jolly species.

  The instructions regarding my new role as a colonel were both simple and complex. Simple because the colonel who was tasked with bringing me up to speed clearly didn't know what UNEF planned with do with me, or whether my rank was a short-term publicity stunt, so his instructions consisted of telling me to act like an officer and not do anything that might embarrass UNEF. Complex because he emailed me an enormous series of files to read, starting with training materials a second lieutenant was supposed to know by heart. The war would be over before I read half of the crap in my inbox.

  The next morning, after another bland breakfast, the Kristang sent down a dropship to pick up General Meers, several staffers, and me. We were fortunate that the space elevator and therefore the space station were in the same longitude as Fort Olympus, which meant their morning wasn't the middle of our night. Meers was going to confer with the Kristang about, whatever the Kristang wanted to talk about. I was going along so the Kristang could personally give me an award or something, we weren't clear on what was going to happen, other than the Kristang requested that Lt Colonel Chang and I come up to their space station at the top of the elevator.

  I was dressed in a brand spanking new colonel's dress uniform, in which I tried to sit carefully so as not to take the sharp crease out of the pants. The day before, I'd been shot up with another dose of magical Kristang antinausea meds, so I wouldn't be puking up oatmeal all over myself, and everyone else, when the ship went zero gee in orbit. Sitting next to me was a Lieutenant Reynolds, whose sole job was to keep me from doing or saying anything stupid. Including stopping me from automatically saluting her. She made a point of saluting me, and calling me 'sir'. It felt unnatural.

  The ride up was smoother than what I remember of the ride when we left Camp Alpha, either we had a better pilot this time, or the Kristang were taking care of their human VIPs. My first time aboard the space station, all I'd seen was the inside of a docking collar, and well-worn corridors as we were hustled from our ship to the elevator car that was parked at the bottom of the station. Our dropship flew into a landing bay, and we got to see the station for real. It was startling, what I imagined of Kristang interior design wa
s stark and functional, something industrial and military for their warrior caste. What I saw was sleek and functional mostly, but with jarringly ornate elements. There were tapestries hanging on the walls that even I found to be beautiful, landscapes of distant planets, starships outlined against a nebula, intricate geometric designs, even flowers, in addition to the depictions of Kristang warriors in battle that I expected. The Kristang were an interesting species, so full of contradictions, if what the burgermeister had told me was true.

  The ceremony wasn't much, we marched into a large room with Kristang seated along both sides, and high-ranking Kristang on a raised dais at the far end. It was my first time ever meeting a Kristang in person, and I was intimidated. They were all taller than the average human, bulky and muscled, and their default expression seemed to be a fierce scowl. For all I knew, that was their version of a friendly smile. Oh, and one word about how the Kristang objected to how humans smelled; they could have used an air freshener in the station. Being in a room, even a large room, with a hundred or so Kristang, had a dry, leathery smell, with an undertone of something like day-old sweat.

  My part was a brief rehearsed speech that had been written for me, Lt Reynolds told me the Kristang had demanded to review and approve my remarks in advance. My speech, delivered in English and translated by zPhone, was appropriately warlike and bloodthirsty. After I stepped back, Lt Colonel Chang stepped forward, and made a brief speech similar to mine. While Chang was talking, my eyes wandered around the crowd. Most of the Kristang looked bored, even slightly disgusted. They were sitting stone-faced, or staring at the ceiling, or checking messages or playing games on their zPhones. I could sympathize, the Kristang seated along the sides of the room had been voluntold to attend the ceremony, all they wanted was for it to be over. It was like being in a roomful of human teenagers. Seeing the bored, unimpressed Kristang told me how unimportant I was, they truly couldn't care about what I'd done, whether I got promoted, or whether I survived the shuttle ride back to Paradise. When Chang was done speaking, a Kristang handed a box to General Meers. Meers took gold ribbons out of the box and pinned them to our uniforms. One of the Kristang on the dais stood up, saluted us, and Chang and I returned the salute. And it was over. Meers and the officers who were of actual importance stayed for discussions with the Kristang, while Chang and I were handed off to a Kristang who was openly resentful of babysitting two lowly humans.

  "Come with me, inferiors," is what the translator said when the Kristang gestured for us to follow him. His expression told me the translation was accurate. Sullenly, he lead us winding our way through the station, an observation deck that was fairly deserted. It had chairs, a couple tables, and big windows with a great view of Paradise. It was difficult for me to resist shouting out 'I can see my house!' because I thought I recognized the big bend in the river that was just to the south of Teskor. The Kristang dismissively gestured for us to sit, while he went over to what appeared to be a bar in the corner. It was a bar. He got out a glass, poured himself a generous serving of a golden liquid, added two cubes of ice, and angrily slumped into a seat across from us. "I am supposed to congratulate you on your achievements as warriors, and welcome you to our glorious coalition. Pththth." He stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry at us.

  I looked at him more closely as he took a big gulp of the liquid. Whatever it was, it smelled like alcohol, sort of reminded me of tequila. His eyes were slightly unfocused and glassy.

  Crap. He was already drunk. He'd come to the ceremony drunk. He was drinking more. This wasn't going to be good. Chang caught my eye as the Kristang stared out the window. I shook my head. Whatever happened, we were both going to be on our best behavior as guests of our allies.

  "Ahhhhhh." The Kristang sighed and settled deeper into the chair, closing his eyes. Inside, I was hoping he'd fall asleep, and I could sit and watch the view quietly until someone came to fetch us. "My leader hates me. Why else would he punish me so, to make me breathe in the foul stench of inferiors?"

  Assuming he didn't expect an answer to that question, I kept my mouth shut. Chang did the same.

  The Kristang shook his head and gestured at us with his zPhone. "I'm told you scum need to use these to talk to each other. Shameful. Your species should not be speaking multiple languages, it is a sign of weakness! The dominant group on our disgusting planet should have conquered the others by now. You," he pointed at me, “are from uh-mare-ee-ca?"

  "America, yes, sir," I answered. "I serve in the American Army."

  "Army?" He laughed. "You inferiors are not an army. You are little children playing with toys. My pet chahalk could kill a hundred of you. I had to read about your pathetic planet, so my leader did not waste his time. Another sign that he hates me, to make me soil my mind with the history of such a pathetic species. Your A-mer-i-ca had nuclear weapons, the only nation to have nuclear weapons, for several years, yet you failed to use your advantage to destroy your enemies and conquer your planet. You are weak and pathetic. And you wonder why we have no respect for your species. Such weakness shows a serious lack of resolve. You," he pointed at me, "you served in combat somewhere on your world, a place, a place," he checked his zPhone with a hand clumsy from drinking.

  "Nigeria." I said.

  "Nye-gee-ree-ah. This place had no nuclear weapons?"

  I shook my head, surprised. "Nigeria, no, they don't have nukes."

  "Your army could have used nuclear weapons without fear of retaliation, yet instead your soldiers were sent chasing your enemies through the jungle. Why? Because you are weak and unworthy. If this nye-gee-ree-ah was so much trouble, you should have exterminated them and taken their land." He paused for another gulp of his drink, and gestured at us with the glass. "The two of you are the finest warriors of your species? Ha! Your species is worthless to the war effort, you do know that? Letting you police this planet is indulging a spoiled, stupid pet. We never should have brought you out here! Do you know what humans on Earth are doing? Instead of working hard for the war effort, they are complaining about us damaging the planet's environment. And your workers expect to get days off for vacations? Slave don't get vacation!" He said that last with an angry screech, and slammed the glass down on the table in front of us. "I told my leader, we should bring other slave species to Earth, and show you humans how to serve us properly. You humans are lazy and useless!" He looked out the window at Paradise below us. "You shouldn't be down there at all, it should be Kristang dealing with the Ruhar! Treacherous Ruhar, to contaminate our planet with biological agents, we should kill them all." he fumed silently for a minute, sipping the drink, which was almost gone. "I have volunteered to take the experimental serum that will allow Kristang to walk freely on the planet. Then I will show you how to treat the Ruhar. There are so many of them infesting our world, who will miss a few thousand, huh? Ruhar are weak and soft, but it is good sport to hunt them." He drained the last of his drink, and said quietly, "I can't wait to hunt them. Yes."

  The Kristang, whatever his name was, set the empty glass on the carpeted floor and rose unsteadily to his feet. "Enjoy the view," he laughed and waved dismissively, "it may be your new home forever, as our slaves. Or it may become your grave." He laughed again and staggered out the doorway.

  "Shit." I breathed when he was out of sight.

  Chang nodded, then spoke in perfect English. "I think this is not a good place for us to talk about, about, what our friend there said."

  No doubt the Kristang had us under close surveillance aboard the station. "You're right, Colonel Chang." I felt ashamed that Chang spoke English, while the only word of Chinese I knew was 'pinguah', which I think was the word for 'apple'. I'd seen it on a fortune cookie, and it stuck with me. My entire language knowledge of one of the world's oldest and greatest civilizations was from a fortune cookie. And fortune cookies were an American thing, not Chinese.

  "Lieutenant Colonel," he said in a tone that had a touch of bitterness.

  "Hey, you were a real officer bef
ore all this. I wear a colonel's uniform, and I know that all I am is a publicity stunt for UNEF," there was definitely bitterness in my voice. "I'll be happy when UNEF finds an excuse to knock me back down to sergeant, and I can be a real soldier again. Last thing I want to do is be a fobbit and ride a desk."

  "Fobbit?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "Oh, sorry, US Army slang. A fobbit is a guy who stays safe inside the fence at a Forward Operating Base, while real soldiers are out in the field. Someone who pushes paper instead of carrying a rifle."

  "Ah, yes. We have those in our army, also. On this planet, though, there is no true rear area, I think. When the enemy can attack from orbit, everywhere on the surface of the planet is the front lines."

  "True enough." I stood up and walked over to the window. "I was at Fort Arrow. Before that, my EOT was at a hamster village near the bend in that river, west of those mountains," I pointed unhelpfully. "Where are you stationed?"

  We talked about our experiences on Paradise, and our lives before the Ruhar attacked. Chang had been an artillery officer in the People's Liberation Army, a career officer from a military family. He was just as worried about his family back on Earth as I was, the Chinese had not heard anything either; no messages or letters from home, no news, nothing. Chang was a good guy, professional, certainly a better office that I was. He was also not looking forward to being paraded around as a public relations stunt by UNEF, although he thought that would be lower-key than what I expected. During the action that had resulted in him being promoted, he'd lost most of his men, including a lieutenant who was the only son of a high-ranking government official. The Chinese Army on Paradise wasn't eager to trumpet Chang's action too loudly. If I'd gotten the son of a senator killed, my military career would hit a roadblock for sure.