by C. R. Daems
"Those are the plainest uniform I've ever seen on combat soldiers," Herman said. "Don't even have name tags."
"I'm Jolie or Luan. I prefer Jolie. And that's because no Tasmanian has a rank. We're all equal and paid the same except for time in the unit."
"But I heard you say you were in charge," Herman said looking around the group for any comments.
"And it's permanent, which really sucks," I said glaring at the group.
"But then you have rank…" Herman was clearly at a loss for words.
"Normally, we are assigned based on our previous assignments. So, you could be a member of a squad on one assignment and the company commander on another. Doesn't matter, the pay is the same. The Ghost Platoon," I waved to the group, "that's our call sign—is the only permanently assigned unit."
"You have my head spinning," Herman said after a minute of silence.
"Don't feel bad. I've been with the Tasmanians for several years, and I still get confused. I still believe there is some Machiavellian secret to the madness that will be explained to me someday when I'm older. And I know they know it." I scowled and poked a finger at each man in turn.
Herman laughed. "I was told you were all crazy. How about some demonstrations?" he asked.
"Demonstrations but no matches," I said. "That would deteriorate into a competition which would serve no purpose."
"What's wrong with a little competition?" he grinned.
"I'll do one match, but only to demonstrate the difference between your training and ours," I said.
"Difference?" he asked. By now we had attracted at least half the people in the area.
"Yes, differences. Our groups operate in difference environments and therefore require techniques unique to those assignments. For example, you're not very likely to be crawling in mud and water infested with snakes and crocodiles or fighting on a mountain. And we can expect to be on two or three assignments a year, whereas you are unlikely to get one every couple of years."
Herman looked skeptically at me before speaking. "What kind of a match?"
"You're trained in knife fighting?" I asked. Herman couldn't stop a grin when he nodded.
"Good, select your best knife fighter and I'll select one of my brothers. Afterward, we can discuss the differences," I said trying not to smile, although I had no idea what commando knife training involved, but I was comfortable with ours. Herman looked around the bay, pointed to a tall wiry man, and waved for him to join us. I turned back to my group. "Alright, I need a volunteer." No one raised a hand or spoke or nodded. Herman's smile got bigger. "It's just a friendly match to show the commandos what I'm talking about," I said, trying to sound like I was pleading with them.
"You're our leader," Smitty said, playing along with me. "You show them."
Now all the commandos were grinning or smiling or snickering. I looked over at the wiry young man.
"He's more your size," I said looking back and forth between the wiry man and my group.
"What's wrong, Jolie? Need a mud pond to fight in." His eyes were sparkling with laughter.
"No, my brothers are doing what they usually do, taking every opportunity to embarrass their sister." I whined. "Alright," I said, snatching one of the practice knives out of Herman's hand and walking onto one of the fighting mats. Herman and the wiry man joined me a minute later, both grinning.
"Gunny, your fighter needs to get serious, otherwise he is going to whine that he wasn't ready when I beat him," I said, standing relaxed with my hands at my side. Herman's smile remained although not quite so wide after the rebuke. The wiry man laughed. "Gunny, has smiley ever been in a knife fight. Or just good fighting dummies." I wanted to make sure they weren't going to claim I tricked them afterward. Herman straightened up and put his hand between the two of us but looked to his sergeant. "Carl, you lose this fight, and I'll a make you wear a naval uniform for the rest of this tour."
"No, Gunny. I'll teach the little bitch a lesson," he snarled. I noticed money was being exchanged as the audience made a circle around us.
"You ready?" Herman asked, as he looked to Carl then me. I gave an almost imperceptible nod. He dropped his hand but hadn't managed to step back as I exploded into Carl, knocking him back several steps. Anger crossed his face as he prepared to attack me, but Herman stopped him with a hand.
The Gunny took a step closer to Carl and scanned him from head to foot. He had a red mark on his neck across the carotid artery, a line from his clavicle to just below his heart, a blotch of red over the heart area, and a line across his right femoral artery. "My god, did any one film that?" Herman asked, shaking his head and then looking to me.
"You train with matches and determine the winner by who demonstrates a potentially killing or disabling cut, even if it would take minutes for the opponent to bleed out. Our matches are life and death clashes that last only seconds," I said as I handed his knife back to him. "Carl, I apologize for the insult. I wanted you mad so you would take the fight seriously."
"Why?" Herman asked. I assumed he wanted to know why we trained like that.
"We don't want our opponent calling for help or delaying us from moving on to the next opponent. If we just cut an artery, he could alert his buddies, could continue fighting for a minute or two, and troops could arrive in time to help him."
"Are you the best of your group?" Herman asked, looking over at my group who were collecting their winnings.
"No. Most if not all are better. They have longer legs, reach, and more body mass. It amuses them to let me fight and then imply, if a woman Tasmanian can do that imagine what the men can do."
Herman laughed. "It works."
The three-day trip was interesting as we shared stories, training, and our lives in our respective units. As usual, the most difficult part was the no rank, no medals, and no saluting. One night, I was invited to dine with the captain and his senior staff. I left them with cruiser-size headaches.
* * *
Our shuttle landed at Fort Lochay, and to my surprise, we were met by Colonel Medina.
"How?" I muttered.
"I was on Thor with you and your team, but they gave me quarters with the naval officers because I'm a colonel," Cathy said, and smiled. "You shook up the captain and the commando colonel's orderly, structured world. "No rank, medals, or position just doesn't fit in the military, and it makes for dull uniforms."
"Why are you here?" I asked.
"To support you in case it's necessary," she said. "Where are you planning to start?
"I thought I'd get a briefing from whoever considers this group a problem, and then go talk to my father before I decide." As usual, I had no idea, and hoped to get a better picture of the situation before I decided where to wander.
"I have Colonel Gardner, the senior officer on Surbaya, and his chief master sergeant waiting to brief you and your team," she said and waved us toward a single-story building. Inside, two men waited. The room was long and narrow, with a white board on one wall, which ran the length of the room, a podium at the front, and collapsible chairs in ten rows of five." Colonel Gardner, this is the Tasmanian team sent to investigate the situation. Tasmanian Luan is the team leader."
Gardner was a tall man with a thick head of white hair, a smooth oval face, and a muscular body that was slightly overweight. The chief master sergeant was average height, but his stocky body looked like solid muscle. The Colonel was silent for a long time while he scanned the group and stared at me. He didn't look impressed.
"Chief Masson, I'll let you brief the team," he said waving Cathy to the chairs in the front row. My team and I took seats at random with no one sitting next to someone.
"The rumors began well over three years ago. Back then, it was of men in black and gray military-like camouflaged uniforms running around in the High Country. That's what most southern Surbaya citizens call the mountainous country up north. Camouflaged clothing is normal during our hunting season, so no one gave it much notice. People began to take some notice
when the sightings increased and persisted outside the hunting season along with frequent gunfire. Over time, more and more men who went into the High Country failed to return. And last year, several women went missing. So, six months ago, the colonel sent an eight-man army squad to investigate. We lost communication with the squad after only three days, and when none of them returned over the next two weeks, the colonel had a six-man squad of Rangers dropped into the area of the army squad's last-known location. We lost communication with the Rangers two days later, and they haven't been heard since then. That was over two months ago. That's when we notified Delphi that we had a problem."
"Air reconnaissance?" I asked.
"Nothing suspicious," the chief said. "But that's not too surprising, as there are a lot of civilians in the High Country. So, unless the group was wandering around in uniforms of some sort or firing weapons at the shuttles…" He left the sentence hang.
"No civilian called for help?" I asked.
"A significant increase in crime but no reference to a militia or organized groups of armed men."
"Do you have a map depicting the reported crimes?" I asked.
"No, but I could put one together for you," the chief said.
"You weren't sent here to analyze crime reports. You were sent here to catch the group who killed the troops I sent to investigate the increased crime. To do that you need to get your team up in the High Country and begin hunting them," the colonel shouted.
"Chief, I'd appreciate that information, and we'll need a ride to Harjar," I said, ignoring the colonel's glare.
"Where the hell is Harjar?" the colonel shouted.
"Harjar is in the High Country where you want my team and me to go," I said, keeping the amusement out of my voice.
"What's in Harjar," the colonel asked in frustration.
"A place to start." And my father, I added mentally.
* * *
"Are you planning to join us, Colonel?" I asked when Medina joined the shuttle that was taking us to Harjar.
"After watching the Tasmanian Qualification School, there is no way I want to tramp around the High Country with you and your team," Medina said while shaking her head. "I couldn't pass the first half of the first test, that two-hundred-kilometer walk in forty-eight hours much less the return hike—the test you claimed was the easiest part of the qualification school. No, I'd like to meet your father, get an idea what you are planning, and work out some way of communicating with you."
We landed in an open area less than a klick from my father's school and living quarters.
"That building," I said pointing to a squarish looking building with a sweeping red titled roof that turned upward like a hawk in flight and was similar to the Chinese architecture back on old Earth. As we approached the building, the six-meter cement wall enclosing the school could be seen along with the entrance: four massive red poles supporting a red shingled roof. It was a mirror image, if smaller, of the school's roof except this one had a three-meter long dragon along the roof's peak. The school's entrance looked into an open courtyard of thirty square meters of hard-packed clay and three steps onto a porch that led into the school's interior. The walls were white, which contrasted with the two massive red doors adorned with carved and painted animals: a snake, crane, monkey, dragon, and a tiger. My father stood just inside the entrance as if he had been expecting us, which I was sure he had when he heard the shuttle and saw it land.
I bowed to my father who bowed back, then I stepped forward and hugged him. I loved him, not just for saving my life, but for his tender care and the gift of his art. When I let go, he looked to those patiently waiting just outside the entrance.
"My daughter and I welcome you to the Gung Luan School of Self-defense," he said, surprising me and emphasizing it was my school as well as his.
"Master Luan, I'd like you to meet Colonel Medina, a Ranger in the Delphi Army, and my Tasmanian brothers," I said introducing each man in turn. When I had finished, he led us into the school's main room.
"What may I do for you, as you are obviously not on vacation?" he asked.
"No, Father. My team and I are here to find out all we can about a group of men who appear to be forming a militia and possibly the reason for the increase in crime in the High Country," I said. "And I think Colonel Medina would like to stay in the area while we investigate."
"Colonel, you are welcome to stay here if you wish," Luan said.
"Cathy, please. Yes, I'd like that, and if you don't mind, I’d like to find out more about the remarkable daughter you raised."
He smiled. "A precious gift from the orphanage who became my daughter and a master practitioner of Gung Luan." He paused for a long time while studying my team. "They call themselves the Libertao and dislike being under the USP, specifically their rules. They appear to be building an army capable of challenging the Surbaya army. That may be possible, but the Surbaya army is merely a small satellite of the Delphi army. In the meantime, they are growing off the hard-working citizens of Surbaya. Like the Iron Hand, they are imposing a tax on the businesses in the High Country and subjecting the locals to martial law."
"Do they tax you, Father?" I asked.
"Of course, Jolie," he said. "And require I teach their new hires, which they draft at will, including women, although I've never seen a woman in uniform."
"How often do they come to collect their tax?"
"Every month, more or less. In about a week from now."
"Excellent," I said. "Father, you're going to be sick and your daughter will substitute for you until you're well again. How many do they send?"
"Ten or so. More if they have new recruits to train."
For the next two days, we arranged to have food delivered to the school and to get everyone standard student uniforms. On the third day, I announced that Master Luan had broken an arm and his daughter would be taking over his duties. My team members were explained as new members of the Libertao. Each morning, we went for our standard twenty kilometer run, which turned out to be interesting. The altitude in the High Country meant the oxygen was thinner and most were struggling with what was our normal run and subsequent exercises.
"Are you sure this is a twenty-kilo run," Smitty asked on our first day running in Harjar. "Feels like thirty."
"Slightly less, actually. But it's good practice, and it will give you a feel for what you can and cannot do," I said, not realizing the effect the altitude would have on individual members of my team. So, for the next few days, I tried to expose everyone to activities we might encounter: shooting, fighting, and staying up for twenty-four hours. I noticed a slight derogation in performance due to fatigue, but it was minor and was quickly compensated once we understood the potential problem. Six days later, ten Libertao showed up at the school while I was teaching a class of seven boys and two girls from Harjar.
"We are here to collect your monthly protection tax," said a Surbaya native of average height, in good physical condition but not overly muscular, with long scraggly hair over a scarred face. His face twisted in hate as he recognized I wasn't a Surbaya native. "Where's old man Luan?"
"Your protection isn't worth the money. He broke his arm while under your protection. That should entitle him to a refund," I said, frowning. The man moved closer to me.
"You get the payment, or you will have more than a broken arm," he said drawing a knife as he advanced on me. "On second thought, you're a new recruit," he said pointing the knife toward my face and sneered. Behind him, his men were smirking, grinning, or laughing. I grabbed his wrist as I drove a front kick into his groin. His knife slid into my hand as he doubled over in pain and lost control of his hand muscles. I used his knife to slash his throat. Now his men began drawing their weapons, but they were focused on me rather than on my team, who had their lasers out of their student uniforms. They dropped almost as one.
"Father, what do you think they will do now?" I asked thinking I already knew.
"When they find out their men were
killed, they will send a large force to Harjar for retribution," he said looking concerned.
"From what direction?"
My father pointed to the west. "Their camp is somewhere in that direction. I believe Harjar is the farthest eastern town currently under their control."
"Is there a road or path they will follow?" I asked.
"There is a road and a path. They will have to use the road if they are sending vehicles with troops, but the path is faster for small numbers. Vehicles would take up to eight hours. On the path, troops could be here in six," my father said looking up at nothing while deep in thought.
"Smitty, take a sniper and do something to the road to slow them down if they do send vehicles. I'll take the rest of the team and prepare a reception if the troops come via the path." I showed my father my TCom screen, which currently had a map of the local area.
"The road enters the town here, and the path enters there," he said pointing as he talked. "We are here." His eyes were sad as he continued. "They will come with many more troops than you have."
"I hope so. The idea is to whittle their numbers down to something manageable," I smiled and gave him a hug. "My brothers are the elite of the Delphi military, Father, and we will have surprise on our side."
Smitty took Bulldog and began a jog toward the road my father had indicated. I waved my hand over my head and began a double-time walk towards the path. Thinking we had at least a couple of hours before they got the word, it would be safe to travel two to three hours before arranging our ambush and drawing attention away from Harjar. I stopped two hours later to be safe and to give us time to prepare an ambush.
"It's heavily treed, so it will be easy to remain concealed, but the Libertao will also have plenty of cover after the ambush," Jafar said looking around.
"The ground slopes at about ten degrees over there." I pointed about fifty meters ahead. "We'll put five on the upslope and four on the downslope side. We'll also split the four snipers, and the two explosives specialties. The high side will begin the ambush. The low side will stay hidden until the Libertao are at least twenty-five steps up the slope. That will deprive the enemy from finding decent cover. While we're waiting, we can set up some explosive traps." I had no sooner finished delivering my plan of attack when Taipan, Spiderman, Peppermint, and Wolf joined me. I noticed Tarantula, Panther, Mamba, and Salamander walking down the path.