Jon snorted a laugh at Pierce’s expense. “If yall are so damn good at picking up Intel and random shit like this, then why couldn’t you prevent the attack from happening in the first place?”
Pierce stood up straight and didn’t bat an eyelash. “The Secret Service was in charge of the President’s protection, not the CIA. Some of us are better at our jobs than others. I’ll leave it at that.”
Bag sighed in frustration. “Ok, back to the topic at hand…. What does that message have to do with the attack? That could mean anything, and it doesn’t necessarily mean the EU was responsible.”
Pierce exhaled slightly louder than usual. “214 is the state room of Admiral Hans Ambrose, the Academy Dean, and also their lead authority of Astronomic Naval Warfare tactics. The EU uses all manner of stupid little poems and sayings in their messages around the Academy, but the reason this is of concern is that it was broadcast completely unencrypted…but with keywords in the heading, like ‘US Fleet’, that would absolutely spark the interest of our analysts. In short, we think he or someone in the Academy wanted us to see it.”
Jon crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and sighed. “Ok…so what’s so important about this?”
Pierce glanced at Jon for an odd moment then turned back to the map. “The message was unencrypted, which means that whoever sent it deliberately disabled the encryption settings beforehand. Anyone and their mother can pick up on unencrypted messages, and then use that message to back track into the system of origin. Especially coming from an Admiral…it’s an unusual and incredibly dangerous move.”
Bag uncrossed his arms and leaned in toward the table. “Well, that is all very interesting…but what does this have to do with our unit?”
Pierce closed the globe image and pulled up a full roster of Krieger platoon on the table. “I want to send your team labeled…One Bravo, into the Academy and have them gain access to facility database and download the Admiral’s files. Before you ask, the teams I pick are not up for debate. The rest of your unit will head into Crystal City tomorrow. We have a facility there that has put itself into a very abrupt standby and will no longer respond to outside commands, and we need you to go in physically secure and reboot it. I’ll give you all the details of both missions prior to your departure tomorrow. That gives your soldiers almost a full day to prepare, I suggest you have them use that time wisely. Any questions?”
This was becoming more and more frustrating and downright shady. They were soldiers, not spies! Fuck this shit, and fuck Pierce’s smug face, and fuck the CIA… Jon grunted a laugh at that thought. “Why don’t you just get some of your CIA spook buddies to do this? You have teams for this kind of shit, I’m sure they’d do a ‘better’ job running your errands than we would.”
Pierce logged out of the entire computer system, and the globe of Mars automatically reappeared above the table. “I was sent out here because we don’t have enough teams to respond to every situation that has arisen in the past day. This assignment was found to be more than suitable for your unit, and that’s why you were transferred to my control. Believe it or not, I am actually trying to prevent a war that would completely end our existence all together. So why don’t you be a team player, Colonel Reverent?”
Jon clenched his knuckles until they were white and was about to scream when Bag moved over next to him and gently kicked his boots, drawing his attention away. Bag placed his arms behind his back in a relaxed parade rest stance. “Alright, Agent Pierce, was that everything?” He said, almost politely.
“For now...” Pierce turned away from both of them and began to check his nearly invisible wrist coms.
Jon continued to stare with anger toward Agent Pierce, until Bag nudged him and motioned him over to the elevator. The two were just about to enter the elevator when Pierce yelled out loudly to them. “Oh Colonel, I forgot! Welcome to the Central Intelligence Agency.”
Jon gave Pierce the stink eye as the doors shut, then sighed loudly and stared in utter disappointed at Bag. Bag glanced over with a muddled look and raised an eyebrow. “…What’s up, Jon?”
“Well, I was just thinking about how I can never yell at someone the way I want to when you’re around.” Jon rumbled the words at him.
Bag sighed, and shook his head. There was always something. “…Really? This right now?”
Jon expression instantly turned to one of hilarity. “Damnit Bag, I’m just kidding! You’re too easy. Hah!” He let out a deep breath and turned away. “I’m still pissed at you, though.”
Bag sighed deeply, clearly frustrated. Jon laughed again. “I’m just kidding! It’s so easy it’s not even fun anymore.”
Bag half-smiled. “Well…I’m glad you still have your sense of humor even after that cluster fuck.”
Jon shrugged. “Hey, in all seriousness though, I’m not so sure about all our new guys.”
“You’re never sure about the new guys. What do you mean?” The topic suddenly sparked Bag’s interest. Jon WAS being serious.
“Well, they just keep trying to be overly buddy-buddy with everyone. I mean, that Ramirez especially. He kept coming up to me this morning asking me about random shit.”
Bag raised an eyebrow. “What kind of random shit?”
“Like what’s my favorite color, and shit like that.”
Bag smirked. “What IS your favorite color?”
“Fuck off, Bag…”
Bag laughed. “I think he was just trying to be friendly.”
Jon let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, well he shouldn’t be so annoying then. Look, I know I’m an asshole…but seriously some of these guys are just kids. Yeah they did pretty well today…but they don’t have any real experience, especially not with what fuck face CIA spook wants them to do…which is an entirely different argument…”
Bag shrugged. “Give them a chance, Jon. I’ve been hearing good things about them from the rest of the guys. I know they’re new, but they’re who we got. That CIA jackass is right about one thing, if we don’t do something soon there will be some kind of war on top of the shit the Army is already dealing with. I don’t like it any more than you do…but these are the cards we’ve been dealt and I intend to win the pot with them.”
Jon stared blankly off into space for a moment. “Ugh, you never were any good at poker…but fine. I just don’t think we as a team are ready for this.”
Bag shrugged again and then carefully pulled out the note Brett had placed in his pocket. Bag held it up to the light…the words were written hastily and smeared but it looked like it said ‘Smoke outback in 30’.
Jon stared at the note inquiringly. “What’s that?”
Bag placed it back into his pocket. “I’ll tell you later.” Bag said, much too dismissively for Jon’s liking. The elevator doors dinged open a moment later, and Bag began to walk toward the back of the building without Jon, who stopped in his tracks. “Where the hell are you going?”
Bag smiled sarcastically. “I’m going to go smoke.”
“Bag, you hate smoking... Fuck it, whatever, but we’re gonna have some beers with the rest of the platoon tonight.” Jon indicated clearly.
Bag was unsure about that. Too much alcohol might make the next day a pain, and there was no going easy when drinking with the unit... “We really should be getting caught up on sleep…”
Jon let loose a laugh, and made it clear he was not going to let Bag out of it. “Not a fucking chance after the shitty day we’ve had. We’re getting beers and that’s final.”
Bag let out a passive laugh. “Ok fine… I’ll get a few beers. I’ll meet you over there in like fifteen minutes.”
“No, you’re taking a fucking shower first! You seriously smell like nasty, shit ass death. Be there in thirty or something.”
Bag continued down the hallway, and passed Jon the thumbs up sign over his shoulder. The exit door was a ways farther back than Bag had anticipated, but found it easy enough and exited to the outside pavilion with the small birch tree th
at was clinging to dear life in the harsh Martian climate. The cold night air was rolling in, and the vast night sky of countless shining stars was out in full force. Brett was sitting on a nearby bench; visible only by a dark silhouette and the fiery glow of a cigarette he was smoking. Bag hadn’t thought he was serious about that part; then walked over and plopped down next to him. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
Brett took a puff and tossed the cigarette into the sand. “Yeah…neither did I…” His bleak tone gave and overwhelming feeling that he wanted to say something, but just wouldn’t. The two sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, until Bag spoke first. “Brett, you know when it comes down to it I’m in this for the long run…but the spot you put us all in today is very difficult.”
Brett dropped his head. “Remember back in the bar, how I said there was a war going on? Well…it’s more like two wars. The obvious one that you participated in earlier today…and the one you saw a few minutes ago in Command and Control. ‘America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves.’”
Bag nodded solemnly. “Sadly that seems to be coming true now… Who said that?”
“Abraham Lincoln…though some history books say otherwise. It’s a good quote regardless.” Brett began to rub his eyes and let out a long drawn out sigh. “Everything I try to do is shot down by the Army. Every broken policy or piece of equipment I try to fix is denied without explanation... This base is the life line of the southern frontier, and the big shots in New Denver don’t seem to realize that. We’ve been in a bad way every day of our existence, but we are the ONLY reason the raiders haven’t reached the inner territories… at least we were.”
Bag grunted in frustration. “Yet, here we are recalled from the field and working for a CIA spook that threatened to have my entire team court martialed and thrown into the brig! Regardless of whether he can make it happen or not, that is bullshit. He stole my prisoner of war…which I’m still confused as to how the hell he even knew we had him in the first place, and now I have to work for him? The man is walking all over us, and you!”
Brett took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I know you’re upset, but he has the support of General MacAnthony, who is MY boss. I can’t do a whole lot about this because brass doesn’t want to hear any more complaints from me. They just want to see actions and get results... So far Krieger has been labeled as a funding drain, and we don’t have much to prove otherwise...”
Bag shook his head with contempt. “So, this is about proving we’re worth the money, is that it? Just how much is a dead soldier worth now a days?”
“A kid right out of boot camp is worth about 9,413 dollars and 28 cents…and they really do put that amount next to the KIA statistics… I wanted to bring Krieger back because I felt like we might be able to make a difference here…to be able to just be soldiers again and fight for the people without all that political BS in the way...” Brett sighed and began to cough loudly from the cigarette. “These are horrible, I don’t know how people can smoke these things…”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do anything with the shit storm we’re in now.”
Brett nodded sympathetically. “Yeah… Well, you’re not the only one frustrated with the orders you have to follow...” Brett sighed, stood up, and stomped out the cigarette. “I really need to go call Trish…just to make sure she isn’t too worried….” Brett slowly made his way back inside, closing the doors quietly behind him.
Bag remained outside on the bench for a long while, now more frustrated than ever. Maybe a beer or two wasn’t such a bad idea after all…
Chapter 15 – Old World Comforts
“If you hit that puck in one more time, I swear I will slap-“
The air hockey puck slammed across the abused game table and into the open goal, almost uncontested. Matt began howling in laughter, much to the displeasure of James, who had just lost the second game, and the bet. “Matt…I want a rematch!” James pointed at him, with a serious tone.
Sarah, Gaillard, Reagan, and a large number other members of the platoon began to laugh from their bar stools and corner stalls in the sectioned off game room, which Krieger had grabbed before it became too crowded with the rest of the base personnel. The Enlisted Club, a large converted warehouse of sorts in the center of Fort Gregg, was filled to absolute capacity with civilian cloth wearing Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, and Airmen, all unwinding from similarly long days of duty and laughing and arguing loudly.
The place was decorated with enough neon signs and military memorabilia to look like a shady antique store. The game room was separated by a solid wall, met at both ends by two double wide door frames, which had the doors removed. On the bar side as just a long rectangular bar in the center, surrounded by bar stools, and further by tables around the outer edges. The place smelled like a typical Enlisted Club with an overriding aroma of oil fried food and cheap watered down beer. It was tax free though…so that was a plus. That and Fort Greg was literally over a hundred miles from any major city so there weren’t any real options.
Cholius swirled his Ice Tea and lemonade and nodded sympathetically toward James. “It’s alright James, you win some, and you lose some.” He spoke in his characteristic calm demeanor, and opted to remain sober for the night in order to ensure everyone, mostly the veterans, didn’t get too out of hand and start another brawl…and a fire. There would be NO Military Police called tonight.
James cringed slightly and leaned heavily onto the side of the air hockey table. “I don’t like losing…”
Matt walked by and patted him on the back. “It’s ok Buddy, it’s just air hockey.” Then made his way back to his seat, but stopped and yelled to the rest of the platoon. “Hey everyone! Lieutenant Horace just bought the next round!” The platoon all began to cheer and clap toward James, who just stood next to the table in a self-scolding stupor before making his way over to the bar stool. Sarah slid a beer down to him and patted him on the back. “James, did you know that in science, beer is technically a solution?”
James popped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig. “Beer is always a solution…” He hesitated for a moment then raised his bottle into the air, a little more cheerful now. “What should we drink to?”
Matt lifted his beer and yelled. “To drinking beer!” The members agreed in laughter and banged their glass bottles together. Sarah laughed and beamed over to James and Matt. “Seriously, where have you loser been? It’s not like I missed you or anything.”
Matt laughed and nudged James hard on the shoulder. “Yeah loser, why haven’t you invited us out to that fancy Air Force base of yours?”
James shrugged, and countered right back. “Why haven’t you let me drive that fancy car of yours? You know I’m a better driver than you. Hah!”
Matt laughed genuinely. Driving his car was NOT an option. Period. “Yeah, you wish! You will NEVER drive my car. I would let you kiss my girlfriend before I’d let you even sit in the driver seat. Sorry buddy, it’s just not going to happen!”
Ramirez walked up out of nowhere leaned on the bar next to Matt, obviously drunk already. “Heeeeeeeeeeey Siiiiiiiirrr! What kind of car d’yah have? I got a blue 2109 Feratti Hydro. ALL composite, and I just installed a new water retention system that I, the incredible Ramirez, custom made!” Ramirez began to pull up pictures of his car on his wrist coms.
Matt gave Ramirez a surprised look and then coughed a laughed. “Hate to tell you but Feratti is a girl’s car, man. I on the other hand have a sexy darkened silver 2111 Yubara Sport with a suspension I built MYSELF! LED floor lights, competition tires, suspension…everything!” Matt brought up pictures of his car, just as Gaillard leaned back on her bar stool and glared over to Matt and Ramirez. Her tone obviously offended by Matt’s words. “A girl’s car? No disrespect intended Sir, but my ‘girl’s car’ would destroy your beater any day of the week!”
Matt smiled in genuine surprise, an
d Ramirez laughed hard. “Oh damn, those be fighting words!”
Gaillard walked over and joined the intensifying automobile argument, to which the rest of the group couldn’t quiet follow. Reagan sighed a laugh, and then turned to James. “I have no idea what language they’re speaking… You work at Grissom Air Force Base though, right James? I heard it’s pretty nice there.”
James took another swig off his beer and nodded in agreement. “Grissom’s nice and New Denver is amazing, but you get cabin fever pretty fast. It really is in the middle of nowhere…”
Sarah laughed to herself. “Yeah, kind of like here…”
The front door to the enlisted club swung open and loudly banged against the wall. The closest patrons all stopped their conversation and watched with mix emotions as Valor and Alighten, laughing and joking loudly at some internal jokes, and obviously already drunk, walked in like they were the stars of the evening. The two walked about halfway over to the game room before freezing at the sight of the entire platoon.
Valor laughed and slapped Alighten hard on the shoulder. “Holy shit, yo! Everyone is here! Damn, tonight is going to be off the hook!” The two rushed directly toward Sarah and the veterans; Valor crossed his arms in mock anger and spoke sarcastically. “You know what, you don’t write, you don’t call. I don’t even care anymore.”
Sarah crossed her arms and stared right back. “Good, because I don’t care either.”
Valor shook his head and hooted loudly. “HAHA! Damn, Sarah! I haven’t seen you in like…years yo!”
Sarah smiled and spoke half-laughing. “Yeah, but your lame jokes haven’t changed at all.”
Krieger Platoon Page 19