The Reaper Plague (4 page)

Markis sat back slowly. “Dear God. No, we
don’t. Okay, you sold me. Until then, do whatever you must to keep
that from happening. If you have to sedate them until it’s
built…whatever it takes.”

“
What I’d really like to do
is try to dialyze them and take the nano out.”

“
And then what?” Markis
asked.

Cassandra, with a growing smile, replied,
“There’s an old saying. If you want to destroy an enemy, make him
your friend.”

Even at six in the morning the day looked to
be heading toward hot. It was breezy with a hint of dust when
Master Sergeant Jill Repeth marched up to the scratch Military
Police platoon drawn up in formation in front of their
hastily-erected barracks on Butts Army Airfield, Fort Carson,
Colorado.
Time to play the role again
. Her uniform was
impeccable, her eight-point cap starched to cut paper, and she
radiated a palpable intensity, an eagerness that translated into a
sense of urgency obvious to everyone there.

Thus it was all the more surprising when the
pudgy Army staff sergeant standing in charge merely gave her a
casual nod and kept chatting with the front ranks.

While of course enlisted ranks do not salute
each other outside of certain formal cases, she at least expected
an acknowledgment, perhaps a “what can I do for you?” Her mental
respect-o-meter, a little rusty from working in special operations
for so long, abruptly jolted to life in her head.

“
Staff Sergeant.” Her voice
was sharp.

He turned around to face her, an insincere
smile on his face. His name tag read
Grusky
. “Yes,
sergeant?”

“
That’s
Master
Sergeant
,” she ground out. “I know you’re not a Marine, so I’ll
overlook that error just this once. Now call this rabble to
attention and turn it over to me properly.”

She heard some mumbles and a chuckle from the
rear rank. Grusky stared at her for a moment, evaluating. Finally
he said, his voice deceptively casual, “I don’t see how I can do
that.”

Repeth stared at him in turn, shocked by his
indiscipline but determined not to show it. She took a long
side-step to the right so she could see the platoon, a formation of
some forty personnel, four out of five male, all wearing MP
armbands, their only uniformity. None were above the rank of
Sergeant E-5 or the equivalent. She could see a few Navy and Air
Force uniforms, with the rest about an even mix between Marines and
Army. She glanced to her right, where fifty yards away she could
see another platoon of troops – if one could call them that – in
navy blue that was almost black.
Homeland Security…most of them
probably former Security Service. Great.

Finally she addressed Grusky’s statement in a
glasscutter voice. “Really? Why?”

“
The way I hear it, you’re
a deserter.” Muted laughter from some of the troops in formation,
with an unsettled undertone. Others looked uncomfortable, glancing
to the side or down at their boots.

She clasped her hands behind her back. “So,
Grusky,” she said conversationally, keeping her eyes on the troops,
“the Marine Corps and the President of the United States are
idiots.” Her head swiveled toward him, a turret. “Right?”

The man looked uneasy for the first time. “Of
course not, Sergeant.”

“
Master
Sergeant.”
Her eyes bored into him.

He licked lips grown suddenly dry. “Master
Sergeant,” he finally repeated.

As if to a small child, “So you think the
President and the
Corps
are fools.” This repetition brought
some muttering from the Marines in formation.

“
Not generally, no,” he
answered more confidently.

“
But you
must
,” she
said with false brittle brightness. “After all, the Corps granted
me this rank based on my fourteen years of experience and
demonstrated fitness to hold it. When I left my unit the Unionists
were in power and I never took an oath to those
pigs
. When I
escaped from a Unie prison camp I had already been stripped of my
rank and status. I was a civilian. In fact, I was declared an enemy
of a state that does not even exist anymore. There is no more
‘United Governments of North America’. There is only the
United
States of America
, God bless her. ”

This elicited more rumbling from the troops,
and a few cheers. “At ease!” called one of the squad leaders,
bringing back quiet.

She plowed onward. “But recently the United
States Marine Corps, at the
personal
direction of the
President of the United States, saw fit to fully pardon and
reinstate me. So,” she raised her voice, making a parade-ground
left face and thrusting her nose to within an inch of his, “you
must
think those two sacred institutions have
somehow
been hoodwinked.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “
Obviously
they
couldn’t have
actually
meant to put me in charge, because a
disgrace to the uniform like
you
has decided he’s
smarter
than they are
. Right?”

Grusky gobbled, then snapped to attention and
faced left toward the troops. “Platoon, atten-shun!” He performed a
creditable about-face and stood waiting, obviously expecting her to
step in front of him and formally take charge.

Instead, she stalked through the ranks,
looking them up and down. There were some dirty and wrinkled
uniforms, accoutrements out of place or incorrectly worn, cables –
loose threads – hanging from pockets or button-holes, untucked
laces – in short, a shoddy group with just a few standouts who
cared about their appearance.

Finishing her once-over, she marched back up
to face Grusky, who saluted sharply, proper military ceremony for
giving and taking charge. She paused a moment, just enough to
emphasize her displeasure, then returned the salute. He moved out
to take his place to the formation's right, facing her.

She drew a deep breath and pitched her voice
to project. “I am Master Sergeant Repeth, United States Marine
Corps. I am sure you all think I am a hardass by now, and you are
correct. You people look like shit, and as long as you people look
like shit you will act like shit and you will
be
shit on my
shit list. The sooner you get your sorry act together, the sooner
you will get
off
my shit list. Until then, until you earn
your way
off
my shit list, it is my explicit and stated
intention to
kick
your sorry asses until you start looking
and acting like United States military personnel and not a
miscellaneous collection of confused and worthless ragbags.”

She began to pace, warming to her topic. “Now
some of you are thinking to yourselves, ‘MY uniform is pressed. MY
boots are impeccable. I’m just fine, thank you!’ But as far as I am
concerned, that’s a reprehensible and selfish attitude. ‘To those
whom much is given, much will be required.’ That means you will
look after your fellow troops, be they Army, Navy, Air Force or
Marines, male or female, gay or straight, Eden or normal, Christian
or Muslim or Buddhist or Jew or whatever other belief system they
hold because I don’t give one flying rat’s buttocks, you are all
the same now. You are the Fourth Platoon, First Military Police
Company, Second Joint Civil Operations Battalion, and I
own
your asses from now on, and I don’t like
my things
reflecting badly on me.”

Repeth passed to the side of the formation,
looking for any laughing, anyone who was bold or foolish enough to
try to make light of the situation. She saw no one, so she went
on.

“
Some of you might be
wondering why you don’t have an officer in command of this platoon.
I could rightly say it’s because you don’t deserve an officer, but
the truth is we don’t have enough. Until the academies and schools
start producing shiny new butterbars, we will have shortages
because many officers are tainted. They all had to join the
Unionist Party and swear allegiance to the Triumvirate, and now
they all have to be interviewed and vetted for readmission to the
real
United States military. So until such time as we obtain
one of those exalted personages,
I am in charge
. If you want
to get technical, the company commander, Captain LeBrun, is
dual-hatted as the platoon leader, but as far as you are concerned,
he might as well be on the moon, and I am your new goddess of war
for this mission.

She walked around the formation to stand in
front of them once again. Though they were already hanging on every
word, she thought she saw that declaration prompt even greater
attentiveness. “That’s what I said,
our mission
. We have one
week to get ready. We are taking back what’s ours – reclaiming
lawless territory in the United States. Between the nuclear strikes
and the alien plagues, there are large parts of our country that
have simply ceased to function. These zones are inhabited by
frightened and infected people. Some are sick with radiation
exposure. Some have contracted one or both of the Demon Plagues.
And some have just decided to build their own little bandit
kingdoms on the backs of ordinary citizens. Our mission will be to
set that right, and to secure the medics to inoculate everyone. We
will provide traditional Military Police functions, and we will
back up our
comrades
in Homeland Security –” she gestured
toward the other formation – “when they get in over their heads.”
This jab at their civilian counterparts brought suppressed
laughter.

“
But it won’t be fun,
people. It will be difficult, and it will be unpleasant. We will
have to coerce people, detain and arrest citizens, even shoot some
of them, and there will be deaths. I am going to do my damndest to
ensure none of those deaths is you or me.” She looked pointedly at
her watch. “You are released to breakfast. Assistant Platoon
Sergeant and squad leaders will report to my office at 0700 hours,
then all NCOs at 0715. Enjoy this little break, people, because
it’s the last one you’re going to have for a while.”

With that she turned the platoon back over to
Grusky and marched toward the mess hall.
It’s going to be one
long week.

Skull bolted upright. His head snapped left
and right searching for
her,
but she was gone. He lay on the
bed naked but for his Patek, which said he’d slept for two hours.
Nanosilk armor and boots lay jumbled in a corner and the hard
pieces of his rig lay scattered about the floor. His assault rifle
stood, propped against the wall, magazine still in it. Other than
these, the room was empty.

Quickly pulling on his jumpsuit and boots, he
grabbed the rifle and –
what now?
He banged a fist on the
place where the door should be and the second blow went through
empty space, the wall irising to let him through. He stared from
the opening across the main control room space, at the woman in the
chair.

“
What the hell did you do
to me?”

Somberly she forced a smile, not meeting his
eyes. “Shouldn’t I ask you the same question? It seemed like you
were the aggressor, and you did things to
me
.”

“
Did you drug me or…or
pheromone me or something like that?”

“
What, now I’m some kind of
space-succubus that seduces Earth’s most eligible bachelors?” A
weak laugh dribbled from her lips. “Yes, it was all part of my
elaborate plan, the way we ended up here. Couldn’t you
tell?”

“
Then what the hell
happened? I didn’t rape you.”

“
Didn’t you? Are you sure?
Methinks milord doth protest too much. And how should I know what
happened? Half of me was an alien until a month ago and the other
half was nearly a virgin, so I don’t have a lot of experience with
all this! You should be telling me! Aren’t you, like, fifty years
old or so?”

“
Like
, something
like
that,” he mocked. He walked over to sit down in the
other control seat, placing his rifle against the wall away from
her reach.

“
And if that wasn’t rape it
sure wasn’t making love,” she sneered, “not since I’m your hostage.
What should we call it? Sexual abuse of power?”

“
It wasn’t like that at
all!” he yelled. “It was good! It was good…” He trailed off, to his
own surprise caring what she thought, caring what anyone thought
for the first time in many years. “Wasn’t it good?” he asked,
uncharacteristically unsure.

She hung her head, her long dark straight
hair falling over her face, hiding her expression. Mumbled
something.

“
What!” he barked, fighting
anger and fear.
What am I afraid of? Rejection? Why do I give a
shit what she thinks?

“
I said I don’t know. It
wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t fair!” Her face broke through her
hanging hair, tears sticking strands to cheeks. “My mind said no
but my body overrode it. That’s not fair. It’s not me, and it’s
not…Meme.”

“
Welcome to the human
race.” Skull leaned forward, reaching tentatively toward her,
stopping with his hands inches from contact. His fingers furled to
fists. “I’m…” Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m sorry. I think…I
think both my mind and body wanted you, but I just don’t know why.”
Plaintive. “This really isn’t like me.” Skull looked down at his
right hand, opening and closing it convulsively. “I have no problem
killing those that need killing, but I feel…” Refused to articulate
the rest:
ashamed
.