Krieger Platoon

by Jay Ivanovich

  Brett turned to the Officers and gave the thumbs up signal. They could figure out the minor details on their own. The less Barsha knew, the better. “Sounds good. We’ll work out whatever other details we need to tonight. We’ll get this whole situation mapped out. Anyone have anything else to add?”

  Cholius cleared his throat again. “What about the Hydra facility in Crystal City? As it is, it’s very vulnerable and unguarded. At least that’s how we left it.”

  Barsha shrugged dismissively, almost like she didn’t care. “Don’t worry about it. The facility will lock itself down again after its been idle for several hours.” Barsha stood up from her chair and walked out of sight of her camera. “Be ready to move on my signal…I’ll fill you in once I find out more about Hydra…and no communication outside this room…not to anyone! Don’t try to fuck me on this, it’ll be the last thing you ever do!” She spoke her last words with the same malicious tone she’d used with Brett on the drop ship. Now he had a feeling they’d just sided with the lesser of two devils…but how much lesser?

  The feed went blank, but Bag waited for Cholius to completely secure the connection before he turned to the group and spoke in a dry sarcastic tone. “Well, she’s charming…”

  Brett semi-laughed. “Yeah…at least you didn’t meet her at gun point.”

  Jon grunted loudly, and his tone matched the scowl on his face. “I don’t trust her…”

  James laughed and nodded his agreement. “Yeah…she’s just brutal. I wonder if she’s even married…”

  Matt laughed toward James. “Hah, that’s kind of a dick thing to say!” James shrugged toward him and leaned back against one of the work stations.

  Cholius glanced curiously at the holographic globe of Mars, which had popped up after securing the connection. There were too many unknowns still, and he didn’t hide his disdain as he spoke. “Brett, if I may. I don’t like the idea of sharing an operation with HER soldiers. Whether she’s on our side or not, we could be walking into a hornets nest as it is! With how things have gone lately, I don’t feel comfortable with anyone but our own watching our six.”

  The Officers all nodded and voiced words of agreement with Cholius. They all obviously shared similar concerns.

  Brett sighed and dropped his gaze; he agreed as well but they didn’t have a choice. All he could hope was that Krieger would act first if Barsha tried to double-cross them. “I don’t trust her either, she might be as corrupt as the rest of them… But for now she is on our side, and we need her help to see this mission through. Whether we like it or not.”

  Brett moved to the work table and brought up a 3D map of New Denver and the surrounding area. His tone switching from casual, to his authoritative voice, with the subtle California twang, of a General giving orders. “Dade, I want your guys to be ready for close air support at any moment. Like Cholius said, we could be walking into a hornets nest. I want to station our air assets toward the south west…over behind this ridge. That should be enough for you to stay hidden.”

  Dade nodded. “No problem… I don’t like the prospect of going up against two dozen armed Navy ships with a handful of VTOL fighters and helicopters…but my guys will fly into hell and back if that’s what it takes. I have to point out that any military and police units in New Denver will think we ARE the hostiles if this goes south… We can’t hope to finish this by sheer force alone.”

  In spite of the vast number of unknowns and dangers, Matt was actually looking forward to this mission, if not just to keep his mind focused. It was that or he’d just sit around and think about how messed up the world was, which obviously wasn’t enjoyable. Matt spoke with a hint of excitement. “That’s why we aren’t going to let it get that far. We’ll move quick and silent before they have a chance to react. In an out like the wind.”

  James laughed and mocked him. “Hah, you make that sound so damn cheesy.”

  Matt passed him a dirty look and snapped right back. “Ok, chair force…”

  Cholius grinned at the two’s constant bickering. Competition could be a good a thing to keep them focused. “It’s a sound strategy, Matt. We should expect things to go south though, because they typically do at the worst time. Always plan for the worst case scenario.”

  James sighed in reluctant acknowledgment towards Matt. “Yeah…true… And uh I’ll be the one to say it, what about that Sempra guy?”

  Bag glanced up at him curiously, breaking his silence. “What about him?”

  James shrugged. “Well, he didn’t want that data stub to make it into a tree ornament… I have a feeling he wanted to access this Hydra thing. I mean if that stub did what Pierce said it did, then he could possibly launch a missile or something else bad.”

  There was definitely cause for alarm at that thought, but what could they do now? Launch a man hunt for one of the most elusive enemies Krieger has ever fought, who now also has an actual stealth suit? They didn’t have time for that at the moment. Cholius responded, as if he were the bearer of bad news. “I agree. We have to assume he’s already put himself into a position to either use the codes or hand them over to someone who will.”

  Bag stared off into space. He quietly sighed, and ended up going to the pep talk approach, though he didn’t believe the words himself. “We’ll disable Hydra and stop him before he has a chance to do anything.”

  Brett grinned at the comment. If Bag hadn’t said it, he would have. “Yes we will. Now, all of you go get some rest and make sure the team is ready to go by tomorrow evening. Roger?”

  The Officers all respectfully acknowledged Brett. The bulk of them entered the elevator and headed up topside, leaving Brett, Jon, and Bag alone in the control room. Bag moved to the map and zoomed out several miles, allowing the dozens of naval ships, currently holding position above the city, to enter their view. “Well… We’re surrounded by enemies everywhere, some obvious and some acting as friends… This is eerily familiar…” He ended forlornly.

  The group stood silently, until Brett moved over and clapped a friendly hand on Bag’s shoulder. “We made it through Brush Fire AND New Prim, it’ll be the same with this.”

  Jon shook his head and shot back grimly. “We lost over half the platoon at New Prim…”

  Brett sighed heavily in response. There was no winning with these two. “We’re doing all we can to make sure that doesn’t happen again…”

  Bag stared at the map for a long moment, then nodded. They WERE doing everything they could. They had a great team, a good plan, and they all knew it was either victory, or most likely a ‘traitor’s’ death by firing squad. Time would tell if it was enough. “Yeah, but even if we secure Hydra and bring the traitors down and all of that… Sempra still has those codes... We NEED to find him.”

  Jon did agree somewhat, but it just wasn’t practical. Sempra was illusive in every sense of the word. “We don’t know where the fucker is and I don’t have the first fucking clue as how to find him! How do you expect us to do that, Bag?”

  Bag answered indifferently, and his usual proper manner. “We’ll figure it out. It’s got to be a priority given the circumstances.”

  Jon stayed silent for a long drawn out moment. He suspected what this was actually about… Bag had become very withdrawn and cold since this whole thing had started, to the point of standing out amongst even the veterans…especially the veterans. Everyone had noticed it now, and Jon was tired of deflecting the damn questions about it. Bag was really starting to piss him off! Jon snapped back at him angrily. “Yeah, maybe… Or maybe this isn’t about stopping Sempra. Maybe this’ just about you thinking Sempra actually knows something about your family! Let it fucking go!”

  Bag stared back emotionlessly. “This has nothing to do with my family. My attention is strictly on our current operation.”

  Jon growled and crossed his arms. Bag’s denial about it pissed him off even more. “BULL FUCKING SHIT! You’ve been a space case for the past two days, and it all started after we ran into that fuck head! I
don’t give a fuck what he said to you, HE IS SEMPRA! The mother fucker would slit his own mother’s throat if it meant a pay day… Ok, so what if we do find him? What if we find him and the only way to stop him is to kill him? I don’t think you could do it…”

  “I’ll shoot him.” Bag turned his gaze back toward the holographic map. Of course he’d do it…just not right away.

  “I really don’t believe you!”

  Bag closed his eyes tightly and let out a heavy breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes…”

  Chapter 24 – Navy Blues

  The large television monitors blared loudly on the enlisted mess deck floor, as the last of the crew members of the Warship USS Robert Jones finished eating their evening meals. Normally the television monitors were taken over by over enthusiastic sports fans, desperate to find out if their teams had come through at the last minute. Today however the monitors were on the US News Network, with the annoying forty something year old news caster, who had spent too much money on cosmetic surgery to even look real anymore. His face looked like a stretched, plastic dolls face. It was creepy.

  He spoke in his typical news caster manner, with overemphasized and drawn out words to try and build up some kind of fake excitement. “Tensions are soaring between the United States and the European Union after the Union has made claims that they’ve recovered the bodies of several US Service members, who they say were part of the team responsible for the attack on their Military Academy in New Madrid several nights ago… Though the US has yet to release an official statement about the claims, a massive buildup of forces along the EU border has many worried that this is a prelude to all-out WAR! The Martian Assembly is pushing hard to maintain the peace between the two nations, but so far their call to an international investigation into the incident, along with the terrorist attack on the US Capital, is being met with silence by both sides.”

  Cameron snorted a quiet laugh. Well, something interesting was actually on… He normally avoided watching the news all together, but this particular story had drawn his attention…

  Culinary Specialist First Class Lind yelled from the galley window a moment later, breaking Cameron’s focus. “DAMNIT CAMERON! GET YOUR FOOD TO THE WARDROOM BEFORE IT GETS COLD! You aren’t here to watch television!”

  Cameron had a feeling Lind picked on him because he was smaller than most of the other crew members, by size and height. It was a constant annoyance he had to deal with all his life. Cameron sighed loudly and carefully picked up both trays of food off the table, then began the obnoxiously long march down to the Officer’s Wardroom. Though food is a lose term…the combination of greenhouse grown food stuffed with synthetic additives, and fake and often nasty tasting dairy products, are completely for survival…not really taste. Government food at its finest…

  When he had received orders to the Destroyer USS Robert Jones, one of the last true Warships in the US Navy, he thought he would be out patrolling for pirates or at least have some interesting port calls on an exotic frontier colony or two. Instead, the ship went from being dry-docked for four months in New Boston, to two months of space trials just around the Martian Moons, and now they were just sitting above New Denver for who knows how long.

  Not to mention he signed up to be a Quartermaster and navigate through the galaxy…not to serve food and wash dishes for the ungrateful masses as a mess cook. The excuse was the budget cuts made everything too difficult to advance his career, and he had to wait until things improved. The Navy blaming his problems on this budget cut bullshit was…well, bullshit. All his fellow quartermasters had already been working their jobs for months, and he was literally the only one in his class that wasn’t advanced to petty officer. Someone must hate him.

  As soon as Cameron approached the wardroom pantry door, Culinary Specialist Third Class Max barged out of the pantry without looking and narrowly avoided causing a disaster of a food spill. He was always chill though, and had a laid surfer-ness to his voice when he spoke. “Oh wow, sorry man I didn’t see you there… Is that the last of everything?”

  Cameron sighed quietly, regaining his balance and control over the trays. “Yeah, and I already setup the salad bar and the drinks and everything else. It’s all good... Lind is bitching up a storm like usual, saying that I need to go help the aft mess cooks with their dishes today.” He didn’t hide the disdain he had for Lind, the self-important ass. It took him 12 years to go from second to first class petty officer, which as a Culinary Specialist meant he was either a complete idiot or just didn’t try. More likely it was the first one.

  Max laughed, and shook his head. “Haha, no! You work up here with me, I don’t care what he says. Just get that food on the table, I’m going to grab the desserts. Oh, and check on Kailua in the Chief’s Mess, he went in there a few minutes ago and hasn’t come out yet…”

  Cameron nodded and gently pushed the wardroom door open with his back. While the rest of the ship was a bleak composite and alloy wasteland, with only the occasional framed policy update or ships award to break the monotony of the dull white interior paint; the wardroom looked like something out of an old detective movie. The walls, ceiling, and floors were decorated with honey oak carved wood paneling, though the floor itself was a slightly darker hardwood. Of course the Officer’s took all the best furniture for themselves…

  The walls were decorated with paintings of old time American warships from the sea faring days, and with pictures of old ports, cities, and American landmarks on Earth. One entire wall was dedicated as a library, and the center held two large, rectangular hardwood tables where the Officers were all sitting, relatively in order by their rank.

  Cameron immediately brought the first large tray of spaghetti to the Executive Officer, who was sitting at the head main table, then took the other plate to the Logistics Warrant Officer, Mr. Schmitz, who began to snap his fingers at him in his usual rude manner. “I still don’t have my Italian dressing. I would like to eat my salad some time tonight!” He spoke as condescending as ever. Were all the assholes in the Navy sent to this ship? Guess that’s why it was called the Curse of the Robert Jones amongst the crew.

  Cameron swallowed down his frustration and forced himself to be civil... Lest he tell the man how big of a fat, rude asshole he was…and get kicked out of the Navy because of it… “Yes Sir, I’ll go get that for you…” He quickly walked into the wardroom pantry and grabbed the oldest and most expired dressing from the far reaches of the fridge, just as Max walked through the doors carrying a massive plate of cheese cake. Max sighed and slid the desserts into the still open fridge. “I’ll get these plated up in a minute…do you need anything in there?”

  Max looked a little shaken, and his voice was edgier than it was a moment ago. He must have just had another argument with Lind over pecking order. How terrible to have a boss like that, on top of being underappreciated by the crew for the shitty jobs all cooks are stuck with.

  “Yeah, a new job.” Cameron replied like a smartass.

  Max laughed and nodded in genuine agreement, as Cameron walked back into the Wardroom to hand the Officer the dressing. Schmitz didn’t even look in his direction, grabbed the bottle from his hands, and waved him away. “That will be all, nonrate.” He spoke loud enough for the whole wardroom to hear him.

  Some of the junior Officers looked on at the spectacle in unease, and a few gave Cameron sympathetic nods, but none of them would really do anything about it, especially not in front of the other officers. Cameron had brought it up with his division officer before with the same effect. Nothing ever changed permanently.

  You know what, fuck Mr. Schmitt! Who the hell snaps their fingers at someone? Rude bastard… Cameron walked over toward the designated mess cook corner by the pantry window, snapped to parade rest. Now began the game of waiting until one of the officer had some other stupid thing to ask…or until they had all finished eating so he could clean up after them like children.

  The Damage Control Officer, Lieutenant Junior Grade
Faren nodded over to him just then. “Hey Cameron, could you bring the water over, please?” He asked respectfully.

  Cameron nodded and did exactly that; though Mr. Faren stood up out of his chair and met him halfway. “Thanks man. I appreciate it.” He spoke with a courteous smile.

  Cameron nodded respectfully and moved back to his corner; now that’s more like it. Mr. Faren is who an Officer is supposed to be; easy to talk to, polite, and very knowledgeable in his job. Hell, he’s one of the reasons Cameron and most of the newer crew members became basic damage control qualified so quickly…and how he and a few others escaped unscathed from what could have potentially been a very bad alcohol incident…and the end of Cameron’s career. Mr. Faren really had everyone’s backs, unlike that overweight, self-righteous, jackass Mr. Schmitz…

  A loud outburst of laughter drew Cameron’s attention; the Engineering Officer Lieutenant Commander Sanchez was proudly bragging about how quickly her engineers had repaired the quantum drives, and even replaced the shower spigot in aft female berthing, and all the typical Engineer stuff. Rightly so I guess, since this ship had been inherited from a crew who had practically driven it into the ground in EVERY way.

  Captain Palmeri, the ships Commanding Officer, was a soft-spoken older gentlemen with thick salt and pepper hair, who started his career as a Boatswains Mate before going to OCS. He had more experience than most of the wardroom…most of the ship put together but you’d never know from talking to him. He was so informal and friendly about everything. A refreshing change from last Salesman of a Captain. “That’s outstanding, Mrs. Sanchez. I’m glad to see the crew is making this old wreck into a functioning vessel again…”