Bite Me!

by David J. Wighton

  "So many men, so little time," she sarcasticated.

  "Precisely," he agreed. "And the tensions within the platoon that might arise if some men were left out."

  You're completely serious, aren't you? But Bean said nothing.

  "I saw your reactions the last time you were here. You were squirming; you were finding it difficult to breath normally. You wanted to go into the woods and have sex with every single one of them, but as you concluded, too many men, too little time."

  Bean pressed her internal mute button. Nothing good was ever achieved by pointing out how ridiculously wrong a superior officer's conclusion was.

  "You should not feel embarrassed by this, Lieutenant. The men and I see this all the time. The men in this platoon are strong, dangerous, and almost irresistible to most women."

  "The women throw themselves at their feet, do they?" Again, Bean was being sarcastic.

  "In fact, they do end up there."

  "Their mouths may say No, but their eyes say Yes."

  "You do understand. This is good."

  "And do you participate with your men in helping these women release their pent up desires?"

  "What kind of leader would I be otherwise?"

  Again, the captain was entirely serious.

  "And have you kept souvenirs of your successes in helping these poor desperate women?"

  "As a matter of fact, I have." Captain Nielsen went to a filing cabinet and pulled out a fist full of mementos of good times. "I have a number of different fabrics, different colours. Would you like to try some on?"

  "I'll stick with my khakis, Captain."

  "I sense that you remain cool to the idea. Perhaps it's because you are concerned that I might reveal your secret to others. It might hurt your career if others found out that you were unable to withstand the temptations offered by virile men such as us."

  "The thought had crossed my mind, Captain. You do after all collect souvenirs."

  "Then I propose the following arrangement. You and I will pretend to do a recon. When we are alone, I will give you something that would be damaging to my career if it were found in your possession. You will give me your khakis. Neither of us would want that transfer of souvenirs to become public."

  "And if I say to you one more time that I do not want to have sex with you, Captain?"

  "Your mouth says the words, but your eyes say differently."

  "And if I say again that I do not want to sex with you, Captain?"

  "You have a good reputation now, Lieutenant. You should ask yourself how sterling that reputation will be if important people back home heard that you went into the woods with every single man in this platoon. The men will back me up. You know they will."

  # # # # # # #

  "I have a better idea," Jak said to Big Momma.

  "What could be better than lethal whipping and castration? It keeps slaves docile for years."

  "It's just the timing that I suggest you reconsider."

  "What's wrong with the timing?"

  "What if more than these two people were involved? If you kill and castrate too soon, you'll never know if there were more. Six of your bosses have been killed. What if your slaves have spread word of that around your ranch and are planning an uprising? You have the opportunity right now to discover all of their dirty little secrets."

  # # # # # # # #

  Bean flew the captain's command copter so that she'd be able to choose the location of their date. She had a number of requirements for its location. For example, somewhere that had soft ground. The captain brought a brief case with him, his walkie-talkie, and a side arm in case they ran into potential problems. Bean knew what he meant by potential problems. She was the potential problem. Bean herself brought a pair of binoculars as any recon would require and wore her hiking boots, not her combat boots. She made sure the captain saw that she wasn't wearing a side arm. He'd relax a bit.

  The captain put the top sergeant in charge and gave him an estimated time of return. Bean flew for less than five minutes before circling for a landing. The captain pulled a sleeping bag out of the copter and followed Bean to the spot she had chosen – a small grassy meadow as a temporary bed. He put the sleeping bag on the grass.

  "Your secrets?" Bean asked.

  "In the copter."

  Bean stripped to her waist, but put her thumbs into the top of her fatigue pants before going further. "You go first," she stalled.

  The captain was more than willing.

  Bean turned her back on the captain so that she could take something out of her front right pocket and finished disrobing. When she felt the first touch of flesh on flesh, she turned and said, "I told you I did not want to have sex with you, Captain." Only then did her father's blade flash in the sunlight. She held the captain up while his blood spilled all over her and onto the soft grassy meadow.

  # # # # # # # #

  "What's the most likely time of day that Boss #15 could have met with Pililiani to arrange the water leak?" Jak asked.

  "Couldn't have been during the day. They have no reason to even see each other on most days. It had to be at night. After everybody is asleep."

  "Where does Boss #15 sleep?"

  "In the bunkhouse with all the other bosses."

  "And Pililiani?"

  "In the house, next to the kitchen. She's by herself there."

  "You must have bosses who would be willing to spy on Boss #15. Pick one. Tell him to listen for Boss #15 sneaking out of the bunkhouse. When he does, tell your spy to come and get you. The two of you will have to wait long enough for other slaves to come to the meeting. This way, you'll catch all of the plotters together."

  "I'll put Boss #1 onto it."

  "Not the top boss. Put #2 or #3 on it. They'll be hungrier for advancement and more likely to stay awake waiting for #15 to sneak out. This could take a few days. Perhaps more. It will depend on how often the plotters meet."

  # # # # # # #

  Bean didn't bother trying to bury the captain's body. The animals would take care of him and he was out of sight where he was. She used his clothes and a nearby pond to clean the blood off her body. The pond had been the key requirement for the kill site. She was lucky it had come up so quickly.

  But first, his secrets. The briefcase held the official orders for his platoon. She skimmed them.

  You will travel to ... select a remote location and remain hidden ... liaise with Jak and the Beanstalk ... enter into combat as necessary to recover one of Scandinavia's possessions ... highest ranking officer will assume command ... take care not to reveal your presence ... may employ full latitude of options in recovering the asset and in keeping your presence undiscovered ... if the asset cannot be acquired and discovery is imminent, you are to terminate the mission as instructed ... your involvement in subsidiary operations deemed important to the main mission is authorized under the conditions noted earlier ... report to headquarters at least once a month ... use antiquated broadcast communications only in emergencies ...

  Bean threw the captain's briefcase and his sodden clothes into the back of the copter. She couldn't do anything about the kill signs on the ground – the blood was a dead giveaway, but it was mostly hidden in the grass. In time, no sign of what happened here would remain except for some bones. She lifted off, found a spot to bury the captain's clothes, and found another spot to hide the copter. The hike back to camp took an hour.

  "Captain Nielsen has decided to report to home base earlier than his orders required, Sergeant," she announced as she walked into camp. "He said that we were close enough to thirty days now, and he'd get it out of the way before action was imminent."

  "OK, Bean."

  "I saw those orders, Sergeant. They stipulate that the highest ranking officer will assume command of the platoon when he's away, which means that I will take the captain's place until he returns. He didn't think that it would be more than a week. Let the men know, Sergeant."

  "Captain Nielsen gave you s
ome exercise?" the sergeant asked and winked.

  "The captain received no exercise and left me with a two hour hike instead. He wasn't too pleased with me. You might let the other men know why he was displeased. And let them know also that I don't take kindly to suggestions that orders banning short-term relationships between officers and enlisted men could be ignored. I can handle a twenty-mile forced march in the heat. You might let them know about that too."

  "Very good, Lieutenant."

  Back to the Table of Contents

  Chapter 29

  Thursday, June 27 – one day before the Safe Haven operation was scheduled to begin. It was thirty minutes before Melissa and Lucas would present the battle plan to the entire family and Lucas had just entered the battle command center in the Wilizy/America in response to a request from the general.

  "Lieutenant. Apologies for the rush request, but I have finished reviewing the battle operations plan and have two quick questions."

  "General."

  "I don't see anything here about the Save Haven courier. I expect that you'd want to ensure that he doesn't blunder into one of ranches once we've started the operation."

  "Correct, General. I'll be taking care of the courier personally on my way to the first battle tomorrow morning. His copter will be attacked by vandals."

  "You know where he'll be?"

  "Yes, General. Theo and I tracked his route. He'll be in Seattle staying at a condo on Mercer Island."

  "What if he's not there, Lieutenant?"

  "Sir, he's there. I put a drone above the building. He arrived last night and his schedule gives him a full day of rest." Lucas had noticed that the general was, shall we say, grilling him. Formalities would have to be observed.

  "Fine. We know a personnel officer also has responsibilities in this area. He could blunder into the operation too. Name is Fred..."

  "Fred Brown, Sir. But that's an alias. His real name is Douglas Petunia, at least that's the name on the lease to his condo. I expect he'd want to keep that surname secret given that it's so easily remembered."

  "Petunia, you say?"

  "Sir. Yes, Sir. The courier stays at the personnel officer's condo on his off day. That's the reason I put the drone there in the first place. The Raging Gardeners had encountered him in their operations but had not determined his residence or his identity. Winnie encountered him when she and Marie were beginning their search for EmmaGee. I had an opportunity to TiTr him. I thought we might want to have a visit with him some time."

  "Is he going to blunder into our operation, Lieutenant?"

  "Not likely, Sir. His copter is currently in Minneapolis and is parked next to Safe Haven's main office. His copter has been there for several days."

  "You know this how?"

  "General, I put a tracker on his copter so that we'd be able to find him when we wanted him."

  "I see. And why are neither of these men mentioned in the battle plan?"

  "Neither is within the time parameters for the operation, Sir. Is the general unhappy with any lack of detail in the operation plan? Should I have included these references? I thought that they were outside the focus of our full forces. I have these two under personal observation."

  "No, Lieutenant. You didn't need to distract the focus of the main force. I had an interesting drone ..."

  "Yes, Sir. I received the report from TG's drone over Ranch #4 too. The blonde military woman who scouted the Saskatchewan base arrived at Ranch #4 yesterday morning and left yesterday evening on an easterly heading. I didn't want to divert any personnel to pursue her as we are stretched thin as it is for tomorrow's operation. We'll circulate her picture again in today's meeting and ask everybody to keep an eye out for her."

  "And the reason that we don't know where she came from or why she's here?"

  "We know she came from Scandinavia, Sir, but we don't know why. I could only conduct a short TiTr search. Her presence here is very sporadic. She shows up for a brief stop and then disappears. She travels all over the country, but we don't know why."

  "And you know this how?"

  "I placed a location drone in her copter. It provides very limited information, Sir."

  "Where is she now?"

  "Minneapolis, Sir. Would the general wish me to inform him of all my activities in more detail in the future? I thought that I had full latitude in how I conducted the operation."

  "You do, Lieutenant. You do. I was just curious. Carry on."

  Interesting. I thought I had him on the personnel officer, but he was right on top of it. He sure put me in my place. He surprised me with the Scandinavian connection. Why is a Scandinavian officer in North America? What is Safe Haven doing for Scandinavia? Or, what is Scandinavia doing for Safe Haven?

  # # # # # # # #

  Beanstalk spent the morning working the platoon hard. She needed them to recognize her as their commanding officer. She let them have a brief rest for lunch before introducing them to a form of hand-to-hand conduct that they obviously hadn't seen before. Each soldier had a chance to go one-on-one with her. Each man found himself on the ground facing a lethal hand poised to strike. That should take care of the credibility issue, Jak thought.

  # # # # # # # #

  The briefing for the upcoming battles went smoothly. Lucas described what was going to happen from one day to the next; Melissa gave them the blue print for each day's operation. They were essentially fighting the same battle seventeen times. Mac identified each person's role in the battle and went through each role in detail. Liset and EmmaGee were sitting in the front row, all eyes and ears, and in the case of EmmaGee, butterflied to capacity. Neither fully understood William's science weapons, but they did perk up when they heard that the wolves and Bob would be part of the battle.

  I wonder if they need riders, Liset mind-messaged.

  Who's Bob?

  An invisible dragon.

  What's a dragon?

  Tell you later.

  The only surprise came when Lucas threw a picture of the Scandinavian mystery woman up on the big screen and told the group that she had been seen at Ranch #4 yesterday. "Look closely. Has anybody seen this woman before?"

  EmmaGee's hand shot up in the air. The kids in Pre-School always had to put their hand in the air when they wanted to ask the teacher a question or answer a question. Lucas' home schooling experience didn't extend to raising hands. He was about to move on in the briefing when Reese messaged him. Lucas. EmmaGee has her hand up.

  So?

  In school, kids have to put their hands up if they want to say something. You should ask her what she wants.

  "EmmaGee. Did you want to say something?"

  Princess Freya stood up as she had been taught to do and said in a loud clear voice so that everybody could hear: "I know that lady in the picture. Her name is Jak. She was my mommy's servant."

  "Your mommy had a servant?" Lucas asked. He knew what a servant was – in theory at least. But he had never known anybody, or heard of anybody, who had a servant. The rest of the Wilizy were similarly ignorant.

  "My daddy had one too. His servant's name was James. My mommy and daddy didn't call them by their first names. They just called them Johnson."

  "Why would your parents have servants," Dreamer asked. "Were they rich or something?"

  "I don't know. My first mommy bossed people around a lot when she was alive. Mom told me that bossing people around is bad and I shouldn't do it. So I stopped."

  "What did your servants do?" Dreamer was pursuing the idea that people could be so rich that they'd hire servants to do... what?

  "James always worked outside, so I don't know. Jak worked inside. She'd clean, cook, and go shopping. I didn't like Jak. She was very bad once."

  "What did she do?"

  "I saw Jak and my daddy wrestling on a bed once and neither of them had any clothes on. She wasn't supposed to do that. Staff were supposed to wear their servant clothes the whole time they were in the house."

  # # # # #
# # #

  That Thursday night, at about 11 p.m., Ranch #4 was quiet and dark. Dawn comes early during the summer and slaves needed their sleep. Bosses did too, as all had to be up before dawn. There was no moon, so Boss #1 had to almost feel his was across the expanse of the short cropped meadow that served as a gathering place for slaves and bosses alike when they weren't in the fields. Boss #1 had heard the rustling of clothes and the soft pad-pad of feet as somebody left the bunkhouse. Bosses were not bred to be sensitive and thoughtful about disturbing the sleep of other bosses. Somebody was sneaking out and wanted that to be a secret.

  Boss #1 followed the prowling boss and was not surprised at his destination. When Big Momma lit the kerosene lamp in her bedroom, that faint light allowed Boss #1 to see where he wanted to go and he quickened his steps. His destination was the root cellar. It was the only place in that ranch where a slave from the house could meet with a boss from the bunkhouse in the dead of night and not be discovered.

  The steps down to the root cellar were dirt – not the kind of substance that would convey the sound of somebody approaching. Boss #1 felt for the padlock that should be on the hasp of that door. Starving slaves would loot that cellar if they had the chance. The padlock on that door was gone. The housekeeper was one of the few people on that ranch who was entrusted with the key. Nobody, not even the housekeeper, should be in the root cellar at this time of night. Not unless she was having a secret meeting with one of the bosses.

  Boss #1 turned the handle of the door to the root cellar and...

  # # # # # # # #

  Big Momma was padding down the winding staircase in the Big House as quickly as she could – one hand on the handrail, the other holding the lantern. She had gone to bed dressed for a quick departure. Her hair was tied in a bun and held in place under a linen scarf. A thin lavender veil covered her face. Nobody saw Big Momma's face without its makeup. Well, almost nobody. Pililiani had once seen her unadorned face. And now Pililiani would die with that knowledge unshared.

  Actually Pililiani had shared that knowledge with the housekeepers years and years ago. That ship had sailed. Let me re-word that. Poets have told us that Helen of Troy had a face that could launch a thousand ships. Big Momma's unmasked face could sink a thousand ships. So it would be more accurate to say – That ship had sunk.

  Big Momma was wearing a frilly housecoat that was out of place with the boots on her feet. Lacing them up was the cause for her delay in leaving the house. She didn't know where she'd be going on the ranch and who knew what she'd be stepping in. The thought of having to walk around the hog pens and chicken yards had caused her to shudder. No bare feet. Boots were essential.