Gray Panthers: Dixie (11 page)

Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie

4 November 2128

Staff Sergeant Coyle followed up from the rear, kicking and pushing his troops out of the shuttle. The moist, warm air felt almost heavy on his lungs after five days of dry, canned air. The lack of unwashed body odor and excrement was a nice bonus as well.

The troops were spread out in the grass waiting for instructions as Coyle joined them. The sun was warm on his neck and a breeze was blowing softly across the field. Coyle appreciated that the shuttle had placed them at the very end of the line, so they had an unobstructed view of the fields before them and the road that ran past them and up into the hills. He began to feel his adrenaline ebb after the anticlimactic landing. Some of the troops started to quietly bullshit among themselves. They were suited up in their optical deflection combat suits, making them invisible to the naked eye, so he could only view them with his spectrum ocular device.

“White, knock off that yakking and pay attention to your front, dammit,” Coyle chided. “Garcia, if you’re napping, I’m going to put my boot so far up your ass it’ll take a dentist to remove it!”

“Sorry, Staff Sergeant. My family were farmers, and I was just examining this strange grass. I wonder what they grow here?” Garcia answered sheepishly.

“I’ll be sure to ask someone when they plant you in the ground here, which is what will happen if you all don’t start paying attention to our front.”

“Blue Five Charlie, Blue Five Actual,” Lieutenant Wright, the leader of Blue Five Flight, radioed. Wright was responsible for the three squads that made up his flight.

“Blue Five Actual, Blue Five Charlie. Ready to receive,” Staff Sergeant Coyle answered.

“Blue Five Charlie, Blue Five Actual. Take your squad to the top of the military crest of the hill, where the road goes over it, and establish an observation post until relieved.”

“Blue Five Actual, Blue Five Charlie. Occupy hilltop, establish OP until relieved. Proceeding now. Blue Five Charlie out.”

“We got orders, gents. We’re going to picket the hilltop until relieved. Tanaka and Garcia, take point. I don’t expect any booby traps and our orders don’t say any different, so we’re going to use the road. Stay alert and move out.” Coyle rose and took a deep breath as he waited a moment for the troops to start their patrol toward the hill.

Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie

4 November 2128

The scouts were using the road to advance toward the south. Ordinarily, they would prefer to use stealth, but they didn’t want to spook their allies.

The first vehicle had two young female scouts; one manned the machine gun from the back as the other drove. The second vehicle now had only two scouts—one drove as the other manned the automatic grenade launcher. The third vehicle included a scout who drove, a scout who manned the automatic grenade launcher, and Sam. Scotty manned the laser in the fourth vehicle. Another scout drove the fifth vehicle while the last scout manned the heavy machine gun from behind.

The patrol reached the last of the hills that overlooked the field. They instinctively spread out so that the two vehicles with heavy machine guns filled both lanes of the road. The laser vehicle was between them, slightly back. The two vehicles with the grenade launchers established themselves roughly twenty feet back, ready to use plunging fire over their comrades if needed.

Sam got out of the vehicle and headed to the front to get a better picture of what was beyond the hills. She stood next to Scotty as he panned the laser left and right, copying the scouts who were manning the heavy machine guns.

“I don’t get it. With over a hundred shuttles down there, you would think there’d be someone outside as a sentry, or even just taking a piss,” she said as she peered through her binoculars.

“Sam, switch the binoculars to thermal and tell me what you see.” Scotty suggested as he continued sweeping the laser back and forth.

“Shit! There must be a thousand of them out there! Wish we had that type of technology. Now how do we make contact with them nice and friendly like?”

“You just did, ma’am,” a disembodied voice whispered into her ear. “My troops have your people surrounded. I am going to make myself visible in just a minute. Please have your people shut down their engines and safe their weapons,” Staff Sergeant Coyle instructed.

“Let’s shut everything down and safe the crew-served weapons, now,” Sam ordered, feeling disgusted at how easily she had allowed herself and her command to be surrounded.

The troops looked at her in confusion but immediately responded. They watched her, wondering what the next orders were going to be.

“We have made contact with friendly forces, and I don’t want to scare our new friends. They are going to show themselves to us now,” Sam told her disbelieving scouts.

Coyle seemed to materialize out of thin air. “My compliments, ma’am. I’m Staff Sergeant Coyle of the US Army, attached to the Gray Panthers Army from the planet Earth. I have been instructed to ask you to drive to the bottom of the hill and proceed until given further instruction.”

Sam shook his hand as others got out of their vehicles also to shake his hand. “Thank you, Sergeant. It’s good to see we have allies for what lies ahead.”

Coyle swept his hand from the front of his head to the back, giving the signal for the rest of the squad to appear to the scouts. Soon everyone was hugging, shaking hands, and pounding backs.

“Sorry to cut this short, ma’am, but my lieutenant is getting anxious,” Coyle stated.

As he saluted Sam, the scouts climbed back into their vehicles. Coyle’s troops spontaneously presented arms with their beamers as the vehicles drove off.

“Okay, folks, we met our first ETs, and they weren’t green. Now try and stay sharp in case our next visitors aren’t as friendly.” Coyle disappeared for emphasis. His troops once again engaged their suits and took up positions to watch the approaches to the hill.

Arizona Space Ship Beater, in FTL space, heading for Earth

4 November 2128

Chief Short Blade sat in the commander’s seat on the bridge. Lieutenant Bronia Worchol, one of the Dart pilots who shared in the rotation, was having more trouble than normal and was spending most of her time in the head.

“Beater, what is ship’s status?” Short Blade inquired.

“Ship’s status is code one. No problems detected. No maintenance inspections due for three days. The life support filters will require the ninety-day inspection at that time.”

“Beater, what are the requirements to be an officer in the Gray Panthers?” Short Blade asked, as much to kill time as to satisfy his curiosity.

“The officer selection process is one of two methods. Previous officers may join the Gray Panthers at a rank selected by either Dan or the personnel section. The second process is for personnel to go through the Gray Panther Academy or through merit for select enlisted personnel.”

Short Blade’s interest picked up. “How common is it for enlisted personnel to be selected to be an officer?”

“Six enlisted personnel have been advanced to officer, including Captain James Young, marine detachment commander on board the Beater.”

“Beater, please review my experience and compare it to the officers currently in.”

“Your experience and special skills are comparable to at least two hundred officers in the Gray Panthers. There are six hundred enlisted personnel with skills and experience similar to yours. Does this information answer your question adequately, Short Blade?”

“Yes. I was hoping to maybe find a way to be an officer,” Short Blade answered dejectedly.

“Request for officer advancement is not difficult. You need to submit a request to your captain. He then forwards it with his recommendation to the admiral. The admiral will approve or disapprove the request.”

Short Blade mumbled as he scooted back into the captain’s seat.
I am as good as any of the young officers,
he thought.
I can navigate the ship with all the training I’ve had when we’ve been in FTL space. I could easy take the helm and steer anywhere I was told to go. I can fix anything that goes wrong on this ship, without Beater, if need be. I’m going to submit the request. What’s the worst that can happen?

Bronia entered the bridge and saw that Short Blade was deep in thought, since he would have jumped up to let her have the captain’s seat if he had noticed her return. She sat down in the pilot’s seat and did a course check, since she’d just spent almost sixty minutes in the head being sick. She was relieved to have the little guy as a backup.

Arizona Space Ship Grub, heading for League of Planets space

5 November 2128

Colonel Blade walked from his cabin uncertainly. His head felt like it was three times bigger, and his stomach felt like he had a pair of baby clockos fighting each other. He wanted to feel better just so he could kill Dan Daniels.

“Good afternoon, Colonel Blade. It’s a lovely day, is it not? I don’t blame you for sleeping in.” Dan smiled evilly as he held out a large cup of something that was offensive to the colonel’s nose.

“What is this? More poison to finish the job? I think I would welcome that. What was the poison you used on me?”

“I’m surprised, Colonel. It was your son’s favorite Earth drink. I guess he just has more stamina for such things. The cup you have now was recommended by Grub, the ship’s AI. That concoction should cure what is called a hangover.”

Blade downed the drink in a single gulp, avoiding the urge to puke. “Do not insult me, Dan Daniels. How often does my son drink this milk?”

“Your son drinks regularly with the others on his ship, when duty permits. He is respected by his fellow warriors and accepted as their equal.”

“That is good.” Blade sat and wondered if the room was starting to spin.

“Grub informed me that many of the ways to make your home world more habitable could be accomplished by having your people do the actual work. Do you agree with Grub that your people would appreciate learning new technical skills? That would include heavy machinery and flying, to just name a few,” Dan asked.

“They would be happy, but they would be suspicious. You offer too much for what seems too little in return. If they do not think you are trying to cheat them, they may think you are a fool to offer them so much for what they want.”

“How would you do it if you were me, Colonel Blade?”

“I would charge for the equipment they would need to do the work. Then let them demand a warranty on that equipment, since they will fear it breaking. They will want to keep the warships, even though they will belong to the League of Planets. You can just remind them that there will be no one to take it away from them!” Blade started to feel better as he concentrated on other things besides his hangover.

Outside New Mississippi, planet Dixie

5 November 2128

General Black was happy to be able to sit down and get human intelligence from on the ground. Old memories pushed themselves to the surface. The heavy canvas tent had the same smell of grass and mildew he remembered from when he was a young enlisted man, eighty years ago. The tent sides were up to let the breeze in and not make the tent so cavern-like.

“General Black, Lieutenant Scholl and Captain Culpepper are here, as you ordered,” Master Sergeant Cross announced as he entered the tent with Scotty and Sam and handed the general some files, along with a cup of coffee. “I notified intel. They’re already beating feet to get here.”

“Please, come in and find yourself a seat,” Black said to Sam and Scotty as he checked the files he’d just received. “We have a few more folks to come in, and then we can get started.”

Sam studied the general and couldn’t help but think that he could remember the War Between the States. The general had to be about a hundred and was still spry. She took another look and noticed that his enlisted aide must have been seventy, and the other staff officers were almost all somewhere between those two ages. They each had the energy and enthusiasm of a young man. Looking at Scotty, she simply asked, “Gray Panthers?”

“Truth in advertising, honey. Over eighty percent of the Gray Panthers are seventy or older. Funny thing is, if you put them in swim suits and place a bag over their head, you’d guess they were eighteen to twenty-five.”

When the remaining officers arrived, Black didn’t mention their tardiness. He stood and expressed his sincere gratitude to Sam and Scotty for making the effort to get to them with their intel. He then relinquished the floor for them to begin.

Noticing Sam’s nervousness, Scotty stood and asked if anyone had a map of the city. The intel officer almost tripped in flipping a button, and a 3D map of the city seemed to float in the center of the tent.

“Thank you. In this part of the city I accompanied the scouts to a main thoroughfare into the city. From the very beginning, the city was built with a siege mentality because of how the population found itself here. Each compass direction has a main road through a wall surrounding the city that’s twenty feet high and four feet thick.

“We found the entry was open, but the Red Coats had set up a device that emitted a piercing sound. We thought it was some type of booby trap and destroyed it via crew-served weapons, as we were so close we were incapacitated by it. After we destroyed the device the civilian population started wobbling toward us—”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant,” the intel officer interrupted. “Why did they wobble?”

“The infected have limited mobility. They can’t run or move very fast. Their main form of movement is balancing from one foot to the other. That’s why we dubbed them ‘wobblers.’ To continue, the wobblers began to advance on us. One of the first to reach us was a small child. One of the scouts bent down on her knee to comfort the child, and the child tore the scout’s throat out with her teeth. Another scout had his throat torn out in a similar fashion by his pregnant wife when he couldn’t bring himself to shoot her. Later, we discovered the scouts’ bodies were gone.

“After that, we saw one of the missing scouts wobbling with the others, and Lieutenant Semmes went to investigate. He ordered the remaining scouts to stay back while he tried to go in and rescue the wobbling scout, but that scout tore the lieutenant’s throat out.

“The next day I observed a pair of shuttles arrive. The first was taken down by enemy fire. The second shuttle returned fire and was eventually able to pick up the survivors from the first shuttle. According to our information, the ship it returned to has not been heard from since.

“The Red Coats recently herded the civilians back into the city and reinstalled a device to keep them in the city.

“When we approached the city, the Red Coats did not initiate contact with us. We didn’t know they were there until the shuttle was shot down. We have no estimate of the number of civilians or Red Coats in the city.” Scotty stopped for a drink from his vest.

“Thank you for your input, Lieutenant Scholl. Captain Culpepper, do you have any relevant additional information?” Black asked, also aware that she was nervous.

“General Black, ladies and gentlemen. Lieutenant Scholl covered everything very well, I thought. I do suggest that when you retake the city, you go in by scaling the walls or via shuttles to the rooftops.

“The local population is dangerous, but I do not think they should be harmed. If they are interned in the city, it will save numerous headaches later. When the wobblers are discovered, they can be shoved into buildings to keep them out of the way.

“When the Red Coats have been defeated, then the wobblers can be safely addressed,” Sam recommended, realizing that she was no longer nervous.

“Thank you for your suggestions Captain Culpepper. Your tactical approach to this, I believe, is right on the money. I have a feeling in the future the Command and General Staff College will be teaching what we accomplish today. Hopefully, we will do what is best for the people of Dixie and history will show us in a good light.

“Captain Culpepper, you and Lieutenant Scholl are dismissed. You have our full gratitude and appreciation for sharing your experiences and recommendations.”

Scotty and Sam came to attention and then headed to the tent flap. Once outside they stopped to appreciate the sun on their face.

“I’d offer to buy you a cup of coffee, but no support personnel came in with the combat troops. No chow tent or supply tent. Not even a supply point for ammunition. I’d love to see the debrief when this operation is over,” Scotty noted as he tried to figure out where to go to scrounge some coffee.