Krieger Platoon

by Jay Ivanovich

  Mendez cut the transmission before it replayed. “Captain, I checked the encryption on the message and it checks out. This seems legit, Sir…”

  Mendez was surprised, and rightly so. However, there could be no assumptions. This was suddenly very real, and required real rationale. The Captain waved his hand about with dismissal. “We don’t know anything right now, so no one jump to any conclusions… But we need to find out what the hell is actually going on, and we need to do that now. Miss Shelly, I want you to contact Admiral Morton in the 12th Battle Group. Let me know once you have a secure channel.”

  Miss Shelley nodded. “Yes Captain…but command is still waiting for our ready check. Should I just ignore it?”

  The Captain nodded. “Yes, until we figure out-”

  Commander Varco interrupted him mid-sentence. Unnaturally robotic as ever. “You already know what’s going on, Captain. New Denver is being overrun with rebels and the fleet has given us orders to assist in every way possible. I suggest you ready check and move into position with the rest of the fleet.”

  The Captain, along with the entire bridge crew, turned in genuine astonishment. Where the hell did Varco come from? He wasn’t there before…was he? No, he definitely wasn’t! Varco walked toward the center of the room with a full squad of combat ready NSWs, rifles already in hand. The Captain stared at them in a look of grave confusion and concern. “What the hell are you doing on my bridge with an assault rifle? I suggest you escort your men out of here RIGHT now!”

  Varco stood emotionless. “I can’t do that, Captain.”

  Captain Palmeri turned to the Executive Officer, and spoke in a threatening tone aimed at Varco. “XO, would you please call security and have these sailors escorted off my bridge?”

  “Yes Sir.” The XO nodded, but as soon as he began to walk toward the phone he was shot in the leg by one of the NSW’s. The entire bridge went dead silent in shock, with the exception of the XOs cries of pain. Varco shook his head to the Captain, as if in disappointment. “We could have done this the easy way… You are hereby relieved of your command, Captain. You will accompany my men to your state room awaiting a court martial, or you will be shot as a traitor. You have no other choices.”

  The Captain clenched his teeth. “What the hell is the meaning of this? Explain yourself!”

  Commander Varco and the rest of the NSWs raised their weapons in the direction of the Captain and the rest of the crew. “If you do not come quietly, we will assume you are a traitor and execute you on and your accomplices on the spot.”

  The Captain remained silent in frustration and glanced down at the XO as he clutched his leg in bloody pain, and at the frightened stares of his crew members hiding behind whatever sort of cover they could find. He had no doubt Varco and his men would do that, and would they stop there? Would they execute the rest of the crew? Palmeri couldn’t let that happen… He was bound to the rules and regulations of the navy, never to surrender his ship in a mutiny. But with the lives of his crew hanging so delicately in the balance, he had to back down. That didn’t mean he was going to make it easy though! The Captain turned back to Varco and growled. “You better give Commander Randolph proper medical attention…and don’t even think of harming another one of my crew! You understand me?!”

  Varco motioned to two of his men who immediately moved in, forcibly placed flex cuffs on the Captain, and escorted him off the bridge into his state room.

  Seaman Cameron had frozen in place in the middle of the ladder-well when he had heard the gunshot. Tray of warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies still in hand. That was totally a gunshot… There wasn’t anything else on this ship that made THAT sound. What the hell was going on?

  It was only after he heard the Captain’s door slam shut that he decided to move. He cautiously extended his neck and stood on his tip toes to very carefully glance over the knife-edge of the deck hatch. There were two of those weirdo Special Forces guys standing outside the Captain’s door, speaking into their radio. The slamming of the bridge door forced Cameron to drop out of sight, until the sound of someone being dragged and moaning in pain passed by him and down the hallway to the forward Officer’s berthing. He risked another quick glance, and noticed the Executive Officer was the one they were dragging and he left a streak of blood behind him.

  HOLY SHIT! Cameron held his breath, quietly backed down the ladder well, and started to tiptoe back toward the galley. As soon as he reached the last step he heard one of the NSW acknowledge his radio coldly. “Initiate lock down, Aye Aye Sir.”

  Lock Down? The fuck does that mean? This was bad… Maybe that video was right…? I mean shit it certainly had looked like President Clarkson and Admiral Al Hakam! Maybe they were responsible for all this bullshit…and maybe they WERE trying to take over! HOLY SHIT! He had to tell someone!

  Cameron risked moving a little faster; he gently set the tray of cookies down on a random electrical box and then full on sprinted down two decks of passageways and ladders until he entered into the pantry completely out of breath. He tried to speak, but kept gasping for air instead, then held up his index finger in the 1 second gesture. Culinary Specialist Third Class Max looked up from chopping peppers and passed him a peculiar look. “Uh, hey Cameron… Um, did you deliver those cookies?”

  Cameron breathed in a few deep breaths to speak, just as a very monotone voice came over the ships 1MC speakers. “Now all Officers and Chiefs, lay to the wardroom immediately. All Officers and Chiefs…Wardroom.”

  Max looked up at the speaker and shrugged hopelessly. “Well that’s weird…we having quarters today or something? I just hope it’s not another drill… I hate drills…”

  IT’S NOT A DRILL! DAMNIT! Work faster lungs! Cameron took a deep breath and forced himself to speak slowly and clearly. “Max…I just saw…XO get drug away bleeding EVERYWHERE…by one of those Special Forces weirdoes…I’m fucking serious…!”

  Max raised an eyebrow at him and stopped chopping, he looked mildly annoyed. Cameron was no doubt trying to play another joke on…like when his hat went missing and ended up in a block ice…or his ID card, or his left dress shoe, all the same joke. “What? What are you talking about, man?”

  Cameron leaned back against the fridge door and had finally caught his breath. How could he explain this without sound crazy? “I’m dead serious! There was blood and fucking everything! I was going up to the bridge and I heard a gunshot, next thing I know there guards at the Captains stateroom and XO is getting dragged away, and it was all by those Special Forces guys! Dude, something is going on… I think it’s what that broadcast was talking about!”

  Max wasn’t following him too seriously. “What broadcast?”

  Cameron looked at Max in genuine surprise. He had a TV right in the room… The fuck? He started rattling off everything very quickly. “You didn’t see it? Dude! It was a fucking video about President Clarkson and Admiral Al Hakam and they were plotting to kill President McNeal and a bunch of other shit! It took over the whole TV network! How DIDN’T you see it?”

  Max smirked and continued chopping his peppers. “I’ve just been in here preparing dinner, you know because I’m a cook. That’s like my job.”

  The muffled sound of the wardroom door being slammed shut VERY hard, encouraged both Max and Cameron to spy through the small peek space, right under the metal serving window. It’s what they used to make fun of the Officer’s when they weren’t busy and were bored, which was most of the time… Oh, the little things in life! Today however the wardroom atmosphere seemed like it could be a little more important…

  The thirty something Chiefs and Officers were all lounging about, and obviously annoyed that they had been called away from their jobs unexpectedly. They were talking Chief and Officer crap, and really nothing was out of the ordinary.

  Max turned to Cameron and sighed, ready to tell him there was nothing to worry about, when a squad of armed NSWs marched in and quickly locked and blocked both exits. “Attention! Your crew is
under investigation for treason! Any of you who resists will be considered an accessory to the crime and will be detained! All of you will remain seated and silent until the situation is resolved.”

  One of the newly graduated Ensigns stood up and began to complain. “Treason? What is this and why are you all armed? Where’s the Captain?”

  Chief Warrant Officer Schmitz stood up after much effort, since he was such a fat lazy asshole, and walked over next to the Ensign. He glared at the NSW and was quite bold with his words. “All of you need to leave. Petty Officers and Non-rates are NOT ALLOWED in this wardroom! Get the fuck out of here!”

  The NSW Officer’s expression remained blank as he drew his pistol. “Sit down and remain silent or you will be forced to.”

  The Ensign passed Mr. Schmitz a very concerned glance, but Mr. Schmitz simply waddled closer to the NSW. “I’ll have you sent to Captain’s Mast for disobeying an Officer! I’ve been in the Navy since before you were even born, you little shit! Learn your place!”

  The NSW Officer fired a single, semi-muffled shot into the Mr. Schmitz foot, striking a sudden surge of fear through the wardroom and smothering all sound with it. The NSW spoke in a cold, but unusually expressive manner for his type... “I do NOT care. Your ship is under our jurisdiction. Until the situation is resolved, all of you must remain seated and silent. Do NOT attempt to disobey our orders any further…”

  Well…THEY obviously felt anger. The crew had taken bets on what it would take to make one of them crack and not be so damn emotionless… Cameron suddenly shuddered at that thought now. Mr. Schmitz rolled over in pain, as the Ensign stood frozen in shock. The bulk of the NSW force departed the wardroom and immediately locked the doors behind them, leaving only two NSW guards on either door.

  Max backed away from the rolling window and looked at Cameron, as everything he’d said suddenly snapped into place. He whispered hoarsely. “What…the…fuck?”

  Cameron shrugged at him impatiently and then whispered in kind. “I fucking told you! Look man, we need to do something and we need to do it fast or bad shit is going to happen…I just know it!”

  Max leaned against the counter top and tried to make sense of all of it. His head was spinning from that. Part of him wanted to just go hide in the reefer until this thing blew over…but he had a feeling that was a very bad idea, but so was trying to stop these guys! “Yeah maybe…but what can we do? They have guns! We don’t even know what’s really going on! Maybe the Captain DID do something illegal…shit I don’t know!”

  Cameron stared back at him frustrated and shook his head. “No way man, its Captain Palmeri were talking about! He’s like the best Captain in history!”

  Max threw his hands up and sighed in frustration. “Well what should we do then? What can we REALLY do?”

  Cameron crossed his arms and casually said, “Sound General Quarters and get the Marines up an about. I can activate the 1MC from the Quarter Master Office! The Marines will kick these guy’s asses!”

  Max cursed under his breath. He signed up to cook, not to deal with a damn mutiny! Why didn’t he just stay with his family in the bakery? He could be home making pastries in peace! Pastries damnit! “Ok fine! But we need to be on the down-low… Here take one of those pitchers and I’ll take what’s left of the cheese cake. We’ll make it looks like were just working.”

  Max in his cook whites, and Cameron in his worn-down Navy Blue jump suit, quietly exited the pantry and made their way around the side passages outside the wardroom, as they moved toward the Quarter Master Office just one deck above them. After they passed down the long hall and were about to take the ladder up to Deck 2, Lieutenant Junior Grade Faren walked out of his the Engineering Office and headed straight down toward the wardroom. Casually waving to them. “Hey Max, hey Cameron. Special dessert delivery?”

  Max rushed to cut him off and cleared his throat. “Sir, wait! You can’t go to the wardroom right now!”

  Mr. Faren stopped and gave him a strange look. “What? Why not?”

  Max adjusted his tray of desserts as they began to slide dangerously close to the edge. “I know it sounds weird, but I can’t explain right now. Could you follow us to the Quarter Master Office? I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Mr. Faren noticed the serious in his expression and in his voice, but still hesitated. “Uh…is something wrong?”

  They didn’t have time for a debate, but they couldn’t let him leave either! Cameron spoke in a hushed tone. “Yes Sir…but we can’t talk about it here…can you please follow us?”

  Mr. Faren wrinkled his forehead in thought. “Ok…but let’s make this fast.”

  The three continued on briskly, and continued to confuse Mr. Faren as they cautiously checked corners and froze at the sound of every footstep. As they finally came upon the Quarter Master Office door, Cameron set his pitcher down and began to type in the access code…and then retried it…and then tried an older code…and then began to frantically jiggle the handle. “Damnit… What the fuck? The code was changed!”

  Mr. Faren took a deep breath; he’d had it with the games. He had work to do and not a whole lot of time to do it in. “Alright, both of you need to tell me what’s going on right now.”

  Max set the tray of cake down on the deck and sighed. “Well Sir, I just watched Mr. Schmitz get shot in the leg by one of the Special Forces guys, and Cameron saw the XO get shot! We came up here to-”

  Cameron interrupted with an exclamation. “Hah, yeah Mr. Schmitz really did get shot… Oh wait…I remember!” He began to input the code again, and then like magic the door unlocked itself. “My bad…forgot they changed all the codes last week… Mess Cooking does that to my head.”

  The three immediately entered the office just big enough for all of them to stand in, as Cameron grabbed the ships phone, hit the switch for the air-raid sound of General Quarters, and then dialed the number to initiate a broadcast over the 1MC.

  Mr. Faren passed him a suddenly confused and concerned look. “Uh, what are you doing? Hold on!”

  Cameron replied with absolute confidence. “I’m doing my job, Sir. Just trust me right now.” Then he held the phone up to his mouth and spoke in a clear and serious tone. “Now General Quarters, General Quarters! All hands man your General Quarters stations! The ship is under attack! Naval Special Warfare personnel are attempting to take control of the ship! This is NOT a drill! I say again, this is NOT a drill! All security and boarding team members dress out and lay to the bridge! All security and boarding teams…bridge!”

  “Wow…that was a pretty good pipe.” Cameron congratulated himself as he hung up the phone.

  Mr. Faren shook his head very dissatisfied with the whole situation now. Every bit of his Officer training tugged at him to take control of the situation and stop this right then. The XO and Mr. Schmidt shot by the Special Warfare team? No… that was just ridiculous. “I really don’t like this. How do you know they’re actually trying to take over the ship? Do you have any proof to back up what you said? This is highly inappropriate and I’m not at all comfortable with what you just did. You know this is grounds for a court martial, right?” He replied frankly.

  Max sighed. “I saw it with my own eyes, Sir. These special ops guys are trying to take over... Trust me I’m still trying to make sense of it…but just trust us, ok?”

  Max’s obvious lack of caring toward the disciplinary action that was just threatened was noted, along with the pleading sincerity of his tone. Cameron as well had the same mannerisms. Something told Mr. Faren that this might not be too ridiculous all of a sudden. Maybe he should look into this, actually…

  Cameron rigged the phone with grey tape to stay connected to its base, then hid the entire unit in a desk drawer. “I left the phone connected to the 1MC so no one else can make pipes. As long as it’s on, they can’t use the line, pretty simple. Knowing that and how to react to it is part of my Quarter Master Third Class board. Sir... Just saying, a promotion might be in order after this.”
/>
  Mr. Faren looked progressively more apprehensive. A promotion? That was the last thing he was going to think about right now. “Yeah… We’ll talk about that later…”

  Heavy footfalls began to sound on the deck above them, as an unknown number of individuals headed down from the ladder from the bridge. Cameron and Max’s eyes went wide with unease. “We REALLY should go! Like now!” Cameron whispered.

  Max nodded and rushed to grabbed the tray of desserts. “Not without my cake!”

  The three rushed out of the office, locked the door behind them, and then hid down a side passage right as a group of five NSWs reached the door and attempted to force it open. Cameron peeked back down the hall and sighed. “Damn…well there goes that plan.”

  Max retorted on an upbeat note. “Yeah well at least those five aren’t on the bridge anymore… Hey, we got the word out too!”

  Cameron thought about it for a moment. He’d only seen four NSW’s on the bridge, and there were only 20 in total… He suddenly had an idea. “Yeah, there probably aren’t that many left up there…”

  Mr. Faren became troubled. He picked up the workings of a plan in the man’s words and he knew he was going to regret hearing it. They were pushing his buttons way too hard. He should put a stop to this… “Ok, you guys need to calm down. This probably isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

  Cameron ignored him and then looked over at the tray Max was carrying. “So Max, we still have those desserts to deliver up to the Captain.”

  Max smiled and sighed. “Hah… At this point, why not? We can use the back ladder well and go up through Ensign Town berthing. That way we don’t have to bother the guys over there…” He motioned toward the NSW’s who had begun to plant a thermite charge on the office door.