by C. R. Daems
"Jolie, you look frustrated," Smitty said as he neared the dining table where I was sitting. Currently, I had several magazines spread around my dinner plate; my food had gone stone cold while I ponded the problem.
"There is no rhyme or reason for the damn clothes the women wear. A man has slacks, a shirt, and maybe a jacket–that's it. A woman has pant-suits, slacks, shorts, various sized dresses and shoes that vary on whether it's casual, informal, or formal wear, sports outfits, and hundreds of accessories." I gestured to the magazines laying around the table. "It would cost a year's salary. Oh, and the styles change before you can get the first lot dirty." I laid my head on the table and banged it a few times.
"Are you planning on becoming a civilian?" Smitty asked, frowning in confusion.
"No. You men can wear your uniforms. It attracts women like a five-karat diamond." I used the two fingers of my right hand to imitate legs running across the table. "For me, it would be like wearing a sign reading, I have ebola."
"That would be a turnoff," Smitty said, trying not to laugh. "I'll ask around and see if we can hook you up with one of the younger wives to give you advice. You'll probably have to go to one of the larger cities. Not many single men want to compete with Tasmanians. Fortunately, it's not a today problem. I hear we have another assignment coming, and to the Tasmanians, your team's a five-karat diamond."
* * *
Either Smitty had connections on the inside or the rumor mill employed a psychic because Smitty was right, and my TCom buzzed just as I was eating breakfast. A message flashed across the screen.
Luan, report to the staging area in front of Tasmanian headquarters.
I took the last couple gulps of my coffee, left my half-eaten meal, and double-timed towards the headquarters building. When I arrived, two men stood talking. I recognized Simons but not the other man.
"Here she is," Simons said, obviously having been discussing me. The man stood a few centimeters taller than Simons with a wiry build and black, piercing eyes. "Luan, this is Kurt Muller who will be in command of this assignment. Kurt, this is Jolie Luan, call sign Fox," Simons said, nodding in my direction. "She's been noted on occasion to follow orders."
"Jolie, you have got to be the most talked about Tasmanian. I've heard your name so often, I almost feel like I know you. But I have to admit that I imagined you much… bigger," Muller said, smiling as he scanned me. "Howard has convinced me that you are most effective when reporting directly to me and in charge of a team. What do you think?"
"Everyone tells me I've fucked up enough times that I'm always going to be a team leader," I said feeling a little embarrassed. Mueller laughed. "If I must be in charge, Commander, I'd like my old team."
"It's Kurt or my call sign, Watcher. Based on your past performance, you could have a couple of teams if you wanted."
"No, please. I believe I do best with a small team operating independently."
"Alright for now," Mueller said as two other men approached. I didn't recognize either man. Mueller introduced the two men as Russell and Phelps. Both men were short and stocky, looking to be about one hundred seventy-six centimeters and weighing ninety kilograms. But where Russell was clean shaven with curly brown hair cut just over his ears, Phelps had black hair, a full beard cut close, and a crew cut. Both were evaluating me as Mueller introduced us. "We are going to the planet Lochpin where the local Moech are fighting again. This time the North Moech have breached the neutral Moech Alley and are threatening the cities of Mortone and Nowice. The South Moech army has roughly the same technology, but they are smaller by thirty percent and they fear engaging them could mean the defeat of their army and South Moech. They have appealed to the USP Committee. Delphi has decided to send one thousand army, one hundred Rangers, and one hundred Tasmanians to repulse the North Moech. General Witcome is in command of the brigade's nine companies; Colonel Delgado commands battalion one–three companies of army, one Ranger, and one Tasmanian; and Colonel Watkins commands battalion two–three companies of army and one Ranger. The way it's configured, I'd say the Tasmanians and Rangers are reserve units." He paused and looked around the group. When no one said anything, he continued. "Simons, Phelps, and Russell, you will each be in charge of three ten-man squads, and Luan one ten-man squad. Luan, you are platoon one; Simons, two; Phelps, three; and Russell, four. We leave tomorrow at ten hundred hours."
As I began typing on my TCom, I noticed that everyone else was also busy attempting to put together their squad leaders.
Smitty, we have an assignment on the system Lochpin. Is everyone available? Luan.
Luan. Yes, we were just waiting for it to be official. Smitty.
"That was quick. You look like you have your team assembled?" Mueller asked as he saw me put away my TCom.
"Smitty, my second in command, informs me the members of my old team are all available," I said, feeling relieved. I had become fond of the men Smitty had originally selected. I knew I shouldn't, as it would make my future decisions in the field harder, knowing it could mean sending not only brothers but close friends to their death. My morbid racing thoughts were interrupted by Phelps’s voice.
"You have your ten-man team assembled already?" he asked, frowning as he scrutinized me as if seeing me for the first time. "Who, if you don't mind?"
"Todd…" I began then realized there could be multiple people with the same name. "Mamba, Taipan, Wolf, Peppermint, Bulldog, Firebird, Salamander, Spiderman, and Flintstone," I said, using their call signs, which were unique for each person.
"That's an impressive list of very senior and talented Tasmanians," Russell said, nodding in thought. "Brothers any squad leader would love to have on his team."
"I hear the Fox's squad is their first priority. She has a talent of being where the action is the hottest," Simons said, a brief smile on his lips. Allowing me to pass the Tasmanian Qualification School had been a risk to his reputation and to the credibility of the SFG. The senior members of the army had not only been against the idea but had actively tried to get me to fail. "I think they would cancel their vacations to ensure they didn't lose their place on her squad."
Proving how crazy my brother Tasmanians and me were, I mused as I headed for the barrack to pack with a smile and a little hop to my step.
* * *
"Jolie, you appear to be on every assignment. Normally, the senior staff try to ensure every Tasmanian doesn't get more than two assignments in a row," someone shouted from a third-tier bunk. I jumped out of my first-tier bunk and looked around as if to see who might be listening and put my finger to my lips.
"Sshhh. I'm not Jolie this trip," I said while my eyes darted left and right and my head swiveled to see if anyone new was observing us. "I'm Patrick Luan. Jolie's twin brother." I looked around, and added, "Jolie is on vacation on the planet Surbaya."
"You look just like Jolie," someone shouted.
"That's what the idiot checking my identification said. I told him that's because we're twins." I shook my head in disgust. I had to put my identification next to a hundred credit chip for him to see the difference–I'm a boy and she's a girl."
"Okay, so why do you want to go to Lochpin?" another man shouted.
"Your secret's out!" I exclaimed with a big smile while throwing my arms wide.
"What secret?" the same man asked.
"The army general said he doesn't need Tasmanians. His troops can kick ass without the high and mighty Tasmanians. So, you guys are going to be partying all night and sleeping all day for however long it takes the army to settle the Moech. Can you imagine how hurt I felt when I wasn't invited? Like tattooing an 'X' through my Tasmanian badge tattoo." I imitated crying to the sound of clapping and hooting. I bowed.
* * *
The next day, we were delivered to a staging area a klick outside of Wynne City. There Battalion One was loaded into shuttles and flown to Mortone City while Battalion Two was flown to Nowice City. It took the South Moech military two trips to move Battalion One due
to a lack of sufficient troop shuttles. We were in the second wave. When we arrived, the general called for a meeting of his company and platoon leaders, which Mueller insisted I attend. The meeting included over thirty individuals of which only five were females: the general and his staff of four, five company, and twenty-three platoon commanders.
As the invited commanders milled around in small groups, three women approached me.
"Good morning, Tasmanian Luan," a tall redhead said as they neared. She wore lieutenant colonel rank, a silver oak cluster, and a Ranger's uniform. The other two wore army uniforms and had captain rank, two silver bars. "I'm Colonel Medina, Cathy, and the two captains are Betty Stone and Anna Marsh." She extended her hand, which I grasped in a firm handshake.
"I'm Jolie," I said shaking each of the captain's hands.
"Yes, Major Lloyd speaks of you often." She laughed and held up her hand to stop me from replying. "You're thought of highly by the Rangers who were fighting the Zinwe on Libian. I see you're a platoon leader. You've risen fast in the Tasmanians."
I laughed. "I lead a ten-man squad, but the company commander insists I attend, as I report directly to him."
"Shirley and Claire said you were leading a forty-man force when you saved their asses," Medina said, frowning. I couldn't help laughing, and it was my turn to hold up my hand.
"Sorry, Cathy. We have no rank, and we change positions based on need. At the time, I led a squad of ten. I called for help to attempt to free the Rangers. Consequently, when the platoon arrived, I was in charge." The three women stood silent trying to reconcile their chain of command structure with my explanation. I could see it wasn't working. "It comes down to the fact that no one wants to be in charge, so the idiot who has the most knowledge of the situation gets to be in charge. Don't try to make sense of it, Cathy. I've been here two years, and it still gives me a migraine."
"Attention," someone shouted, and everyone stood and braced to attention as the general and his staff entered the tent.
"At ease," he said with a hand-waving gesture. "I'm informed by the South Moech general in charge of this area that North Moech troops numbering three to four thousand invaded the neutral Moech Alley and broke through the South Moech defenses into South Moech territory. Two thousand are headed toward Nowice City, and two thousand are approximately five klicks from Mortone City." He paused for a gulp of water. "Since we are potentially outnumbered four-to-one, I plan to set up a perimeter three clicks from the city with the three army companies. The Rangers and the Tasmanians will be held in reserve," Colonel Delgado said. "We will set up Battalion One headquarters in this tent."
Mueller waved to me to follow him out of the tent. Medina followed me as I headed for the exit. "What do you think, Jolie?" she asked as we walked.
"That's why every half-sane Tasmanian doesn't want to be in charge and palms it off on still-wet-behind-the-ears me," I muttered. "Imagine having to make decisions that impact the lives of seven hundred men and women." I shuddered at the thought.
"You rushed into hundreds of Zinwe to save Rangers," Medina said, staring at me as she awaited the answer.
"I don't mind risking my life to save someone. I just don't like risking others' lives," I said. She nodded and waved good night as she headed toward the Rangers area.
"Well, any thoughts?" Mueller asked when we were all in his tent.
"I understand the colonel is reluctant to use the Tasmanians since this isn't our normal assignment. It would be rather suicidal for one hundred Tasmanians to try and sweep through two thousand North Moech troops. It's much more ‘an army against an opposing army’ type of engagement. But then holding us as a reserve unit isn't a typical Tasmanian assignment either," Russell said, frustration in his voice.
"What if the boys and I go for a walk to see if we can find some meaningful Tasmanian work," I said, feeling bored like the rest of my brothers.
"Where do you plan to walk?" Mueller asked. "The colonel might not like me sending out a Tasmanian squad when he's designated us as a reserve group," Mueller said, his eyes almost shut in thought.
"I thought I'd visit the headquarters tent and see what's happening before I made a decision," I said, hoping to get a look at the terrain and how the enemy was doing against the army.
"Good idea, Luan. We might be able to convince the colonel it's a good idea and get his permission to have your unit out in the field," Mueller said to nodding heads from everyone. I smiled when I saw Colonel Medina heading towards the headquarters tent. She was probably as frustrated as the Tasmanians. We met about halfway there.
"Well…" she paused, uncertain as to his title and rank.
"Commander Mueller or just Kurt, Colonel."
"Cathy. Well, Kurt, are you as bored as I am?" Medina asked as we entered the tent. As we did, Colonel Delgado looked up from the map he was studying.
"That didn't take long," Delgado said with a twitch of his lip. "I'm not releasing your units until I understand the capability and intent of the North Moech commander."
"I understand, Colonel. I was just interested in knowing what's going on," Mueller said, and Medina nodded agreement.
"You're both welcome to stay," the colonel said and returned to looking at his map. In the front of the room stood a large stand with three maps taped to it. As I got closer, I saw the one on the left was of North Moech, the one on the right of South Moech, and the third map, which sat in the middle, showed the entire continent. An army private and a corporal each wearing a communication headset were in the process of sticking pins with white flags with the numbers 1, 2, and 3 on the South Moech map, designating the position of Companies One, Two, and Three. Several inches above the white flags were twenty green flags spread out in a line. Since there were twenty green flags, I assumed each stood for a unit of one hundred North Moech troops. Apparently the two forces had not yet engaged.
Two hours later, the corporals began moving the green flags as contact was being reported. As I watched, more and more green troops, a thousand judging by the number of green flags, were being catapulted against Company Two, which was in the center of the defensive line. From all appearances, the north was attempting to penetrate the USP defensive line by throwing all its strength against one section. But that didn't make sense, as when they broke through the defensive line, they would have two companies on their flanks. Unless… I pondered, the remaining one thousand North Moech troops split and attacked our exposed flanks… or just kept coming into Mortone City. The colonel appeared to agree with my thinking.
"Colonel Medina, I want two Ranger platoons guarding the flanks of companies one and three. Commander Mueller, I'd like your units backing up each of the three companies."
Mueller and Medina raced out of the tent toward their respective tents.
"We have been designated the last line of defense," Mueller said as he slid to a halt inside the tent. "It appears the North Moech army is making an all-out push to break our army's defensive position. Their focus right now is on company two in the middle of the line, but they have one thousand troops in reserve that could choose to flow around the defensive line as it tightens to stop the attack against company two. If they did, they could choose to attack the flanking companies one and three or choose to continue on into the city, leaving their one thousand troops in the center to distract our army." He paused, giving each man time to digest the situation. "Simons, you're behind company one; Phelps, company two; and Russell, company three." As the three platoon leaders collected their stuff and we're getting ready to leave, Mueller turned towards me without saying a word.
"I'd like to look around," I said as my mind processed what the enemy was contemplating. I knew my ten-man squad was not going to make a difference, but scouting the area may discover a weakness we could exploit.
"You want to look around while the rest of us take on impossible odds?" Mueller's voice was an angry growl.
"It's your choice, Mueller," Simons said. "But I would let her. She's one of the fou
r Sentinels. I would imagine she would rather stay and fight than go look around, but she knows that is why we gave her a team. Her looking around has made a significant difference on each of her three assignments. We're wolves, Mueller. She's a fox-wolf mix."
As the three platoon leaders left the tent, Mueller stood staring at me like I was some kind of new species. Eventually, he spoke, "If the Tasmanians are unique, it's because we trust each other. Our unofficial motto is, Et anima una–of one mind. Go look around, sister." He turned and left the tent. I opened my TCom, clicked on my Platoon icon, and typed.
Mueller's tent. Fox.
They arrived so quickly, they must have been standing around the tent waiting.
"What took you so long?" I said with a straight face but couldn't help a twitch of my lip. "Here is the situation…" I went on to explain what the enemy appeared to be planning, how the colonel was planning to position the Rangers and the Tasmanians, and that I had decided to look around, expecting objections over my decision not to stand with the Tasmanians for the upcoming battle. Silence greeted me, or was it et anima una?
"I want to sneak around the east side of the battle and head in the direction of Moech Alley. Strictly reconnaissance. Any suggestions?"
"Single file, like in Libian, trade the lead every twenty minutes and we do all the scouting and you take all the credit," Todd said, referring to Major Lloyd's assertion I wasn't a real Tasmanian.
"Sounds right," I said, also looking serious. "You wouldn't want your leader in the lead. She could get killed, and then where would you be? I'll tell you where: in charge!" I said and had to laugh at the horrified look Todd made. Then he laughed.
"That's a scary thought, Jolie," he said. He turned and began moving off with the other six in single file. Finally, Smitty and I joined the line. We were the only two who were never used as scouts, and this was no time for on-the-job training. We moved quickly until we were even with company three, at which time we slowed, knowing the enemy lurked somewhere ahead. Bulldog was in the lead when he raised a fist for us to stop.