Theogony 1: Janissaries (4 page)

The question and answer session that followed lasted for
over two hours. The president had expected as much. Hell, he had lots of
questions of his own that still hadn’t been answered.

“In national news this evening, the White House has
announced that the U.S. is planning a major new effort to go back to the moon,”
read KIRO’s anchorwoman, Anna St. Cloud. “In a joint press conference,
President Bill Jacobs and Secretary of Energy Jim Banks announced that the
United States was embarking on a radical new program to establish a permanent
base on the moon by the year 2025. This effort represents a complete
realignment of both NASA’s mission and budget.”

The camera cut to the president standing at a podium. “Not
since the space race has any nation thought so boldly or planned so far ahead
for the future of the human race,” said the president. “The nation and the
world at large need a clean and renewable source of energy for the next
millennium.
Helium-3 fusion power is that source
. The helium that we
need exists in abundant amounts on the moon, all that is needed is for humanity
to go up and harvest it. I call upon all of our partners and allies, and any other
nation that is interested, to join us in this mission to the moon. This is not just
for the U.S., but the world!”

The picture returned to Anna St. Cloud. “The announcement
that the U.S. was going to lead an expedition to the moon was surprising to
most experts, who believe that the United States already has enough obligations
on its budget,” reported St. Cloud, “The president dismissed these criticisms
by stating that such a program would create a tremendous number of well-paying
jobs that would stimulate the economy and would lead to an economic boom. After
the announcement, India, Britain and Canada all expressed their interest in
participating in the project.”

“Not everyone, however, was in favor of this plan. The
Russians, in particular have already expressed concerns. Deputy Foreign
Minister Sergei Baczynska had this to say.”

The camera changed to the deputy foreign minister, who was
walking out of a State Department building. “The problem of a new space race is
real and could directly affect the interests of all of our countries. We are
witnessing America and its allies talking about taking all of the resources
from the moon, resources that belong to all of humanity, not just the capitalist
nations. Our new cosmodrome in Vostochny will be finished next year, and we
will immediately begin using it to stake our claim to the moon’s resources.”

“In local news,” said Bob Brant, the station’s new
co-anchor, “the Department of Defense announced today that it is going to host
two new Centers of Excellence in the Seattle/Tacoma area. Citing the need to
develop new tactics and employment doctrine, the army will be hosting the Center
of Excellence for Special Forces Operations at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, and
the air force will be hosting the Center of Excellence for Joint Fighter
Operations there, as well. The missions for both of these centers will be to
analyze operations from the recently concluded Sino-American War and prepare
for conflicts in the future. It is expected that the bases will also host a
variety of foreign nationals that will be coming to participate.”

“In other news…”

Colonel Tokugawa Daisuke, the commander of the Japanese
Special Forces Group, looked up from the paperwork on his desk as the commander
of his 1st Company, 3rd Platoon reported. The 3rd Platoon was responsible for special
forces operations in mountainous terrain. “Thank you for coming so quickly,”
the colonel said. “The Americans are starting a new special forces center of excellence,
and you have been directed by the Defense Agency to provide someone to send to
it immediately.”

“Hai!” said Second Lieutenant Akiyama Jiro. “I am sure that
the colonel realizes we are already short-handed and that losing another member
for this project will put us even further behind. Am I permitted to know what we
are losing him for?”

Colonel Tokugawa looked to his operations officer,
Lieutenant Colonel Suzuki, who looked at his notes. “The directive says that
the Americans are starting some sort of organization to develop new methods of
training and employing special operations troops. They are looking for a quote,
‘free thinker,’ from our unit to come and help out. The Defense Agency has
given this the highest priority for manning and transportation. He is to report
for duty in Seattle, Washington on October 8th, so we do not have much time to
get him there.”

“So,” asked Colonel Tokugawa, “do you have someone that we
can use for this requisition?”

“A free thinker? Oh, I know
just
the person, Colonel
Tokugawa,” laughed Akiyama. “Not only will it give them the free thinker that
they are looking for, but also it will get him several thousand miles away from
me
!”

“I have new tasking from the Special Warfare Command staff!”

Colonel Lee Woo-jin, the commander of the South Korean 707th
Special Mission Battalion, looked up with irritation from the report he was
reading as his operations officer, Lieutenant Colonel Kim Ji-hu came to
attention in front of his desk. “What are they doing to us now?” Colonel Lee
asked in a voice full of annoyance.

“The tasking says that the Americans are standing up a new
agency to develop innovative methods of training and employing special
operations troops,” replied Lieutenant Colonel Kim. “They have asked for
Sergeant Park Ji-woo to attend it as South Korea’s representative, and the army
chief of staff has said that we are to send her there, ‘with all speed.’ We do
not have much time to get her there; she is supposed to report for duty in
Seattle, Washington on October 8th.”

“Knowing her, she is not going to be very happy to go to a
staff duty tour,” laughed Colonel Lee. “You’ll need to find someone very brave
to tell her of her new orders, or perhaps do it over the phone. I, for one,
wouldn’t want to tell her that to her face.”

“It is funny that you should say that, sir,” Lieutenant
Colonel Kim said with a smile of his own. “Apparently, the Americans know her
as well, because they said to tell her that ‘Night Train said it’s all right.’”

“I just heard from the Air Vice-Marshal of Oman,” said Wing
Commander Alfred Chappell, “and they
are
sending Flight Lieutenant Ken
Smith back to us.” Wing Commander Chappell was the commanding officer of No. 41
Squadron, the Royal Air Force’s (RAF) Test and Evaluation Squadron.

“Let me get this straight,” replied Group Captain Malcolm MacCall,
the commander of RAF Coningsby. “We sent Flight Lieutenant Smith to the Omani
Air Force to help them learn how to fly the Eurofighter Typhoon, and while he
is there, he did
what
?”

“I believe he violated the Minimum Operational Safe Altitude
(MOSA) and did a couple of touch and go’s on the roof of the Omani Officers’
Club at their air base in Mussanah,” answered Wing Commander Chappell.
“Apparently the Air Vice-Marshal was throwing a wedding party for his daughter
at the time and one of the ceiling tiles fell down, hit his wine glass and covered
his uniform in it. He was quite annoyed when I spoke to him.”

“What kind of pilot is he?” asked Group Captain MacCall.

“He’s quite good,” replied Wing Commander Chappell, “or he
wouldn’t have been picked to go there. His ability to do a touch and go on the officers’
club roof demonstrates his outstanding flying skills. Unfortunately, he goes bloody
bonkers like this sometimes and does things without thinking.”

“Would you say he is an ‘out of the box’ thinker?” asked
Group Captain MacCall.

“Oh, absolutely!” answered Wing Commander Chappell.

“Then I have just the place for him…”

“Where the hell does all of this crap keep coming from?”
asked Lieutenant Colonel Shigeru, the commanding officer of the 501st
Tactical
Reconnaissance Squadron, as he picked up a piece of paper from his desk.

His executive officer looked at the paper. “Is that another
one of the haikus that seem to be popping up everywhere?” he asked.

“Yes, damn it. I am getting tired of them,” replied the CO.

“I believe they come from Captain Imagawa Sadayo,” said the
XO. “He had an ancestor that was a samurai poet, and he thinks that he is that
person reincarnated.”

“Hmm,” pondered the CO, looking for a piece of paper on his
desk. Finding it, he asked, “Would you say that he is a ‘free thinker’ that
does things ‘outside the box?’”

“Only if I was feeling particularly charitable,” replied the
XO. “I have several other things that I normally call him, especially when he
is writing this nonsense instead of studying his RF-4’s operational performance
manuals like he ought to be.”

“Good,” said the CO. “The chief of staff has asked for a
volunteer, and I think Captain Imagawa would be perfect for the position.
Besides, we cannot afford to lose anyone else.”

* * * * *

“Well, if nothing else,” said Calvin, “it looks like we have
an interesting group.” He looked out the window overlooking the hangar floor,
where the platoon was congregating for their first meeting. The Department of
Defense had given them a hangar on the McChord side of Joint Base Lewis-McChord
to use as the base of operations for both the platoon and the squadron. The
platoon would be using it for their headquarters and assembly point when it
wasn’t training in the Snoqualmie Mountains around Ryan’s house. The squadron
would also be using it to fly the four F-18s that had been provided for
squadron integration and training. He saw that the hangar’s doors had been shut
for security reasons. The closed-circuit cameras that had been recently
installed would help with that, too.

The majority of the platoon was made up of the members of the
Alpha Rifle Company, 2nd Battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment, which Calvin
had commanded during the war. Looking down on the 34 members of his platoon,
Calvin could see that about 1/3 of them were new, including eight or nine that
were obviously foreigners. Most of these wore uniforms similar to the Rangers’,
including a couple that even had similar tan berets. Several of them were
obviously NOT American, though, including one soldier who was dressed in black
with a black balaclava over his face. Unlike the others, the soldier in black
also had two swords strapped to his back.

“That’s something you don’t see every day,” noted Calvin
with a laugh. “Who is the ninja?”

Calvin’s new XO, First Lieutenant Paul ‘Night’ Train, looked
up from the technical manual he was reading on the Ranger Anti-tank Weapons
System. Night hadn’t come up through the Rangers and was trying to learn
everything he could about the Rangers’ equipment. “Is he wearing black with a
face mask on?” The XO’s voice was low and gruff due to an injury to his voice
box he had suffered earlier in his career. Calvin thought he sounded a bit like
the old actor Clint Eastwood that he had seen on a few late night movies. When
Night turned his head just right, you could still see the mark that the garrote
left on the side of his throat.

“Yeah,” said Calvin. “How did you know? He looks like the
bad ninja from the ‘G.I. Joe’ movies.”

“You mean the good ninja,” replied Night.

“What?” asked Calvin.

“It’s counter-intuitive,” explained the XO. “In the ‘G.I.
Joe’ movies, the bad ninja ‘Storm Shadow’ wore white, while the good one, ‘Snake
Eyes,’ wore black. It’s the opposite of every other movie where the good guys
wear white. I knew we were getting someone from the Japanese Special Forces
Group, and they normally wear balaclavas to protect their identities. I think only
their commanding officers can authorize them
not
to wear them.”

“Hmm,” said Calvin, “I don’t know that I want to do that. I
kind of like him that way. It’s cool to have a ninja on the team.” He looked
back out the window and saw another person that wasn’t in uniform. “It looks
like the airlines must have lost one guy’s luggage, as there’s one person out
there in civilian clothes.”

“That’s probably our resident spy from the CIA,” the XO
said, coming over to the window and looking out. “Yep, that’s him,” he said.
“That’s ‘Mr. Jones.’ I doubt that’s the name his parents gave him, but he’s
been using it a long time. I’ve met him a couple of times. He’s a former SEAL
and Delta operative, and now a full time member of the CIA’s Special Activities
Division. They’re the guys that do all of the completely ‘deniable’ missions.
Most of the time, they work in groups of six…Mr. Jones is so good that he’s
often sent out alone.”

“Who is he spying on?” asked Calvin. “Us or them?”

“Hmph, probably a bit of both,” replied Night with a chuckle.
“Anything that we see or do will probably be reported, along with information
on the platoon itself, especially now that we have foreigners with us. I don’t
think it can be helped. Spying is what they do.” Seeing Calvin still looking
down at the troops, a thought came to him. “You haven’t seen our final manning
list yet, have you?” asked the XO.

“No, I haven’t,” said Calvin, shaking his head. “I was on
the east coast last week working out some manning issues for the squadron. I
don’t know where most of the new folks are from.”

“Let me give you a quick brief then,” said Night, looking at
a note that he pulled from his wallet. “In addition to the Rangers that you
already know, we also now have a trooper from the Marines’ Special Ops Command,
a medic from the Green Berets, and the CIA spy as representatives from the U.S.”
He stuck the note back in his wallet.

“We also have nine foreigners,” Night continued, looking out
the window. “I know most of them by sight or by reputation. This is a dangerous
group of men and women. We have two Brits, one from their Special Air Service
(SAS) and one from their Special Reconnaissance Regiment (SRR). Both are very
talented. The SAS trooper is the guy wearing the tan beret that is talking to
Master Chief O’Leary; the large Jamaican woman in the gray beret with them is
the SRR rep. The fourth member of that group is Petty Officer Conboy, our
commando diver from the Royal Australian Navy.”

“You’ve already seen the Japanese Special Forces soldier,”
he added, “and the short oriental woman standing next to him is Sergeant Park
Ji-woo, from the Republic of Korea’s 707th Special Mission Battalion. Don’t let
her size or her being female fool you. She is as tough as they come and is both
SCUBA and parachute qualified. I’ve trained with her, and she is one woman I
would
not
want to piss off.”

“Who are the two short, dark men on the left?” asked Calvin,
when it seemed like Night had become lost in thought.

“The one on the left is from Chile and is a combat air controller.
He will run the communications for the ground force and is trained in air
traffic control, fire support and demolitions, among other things.”

“Why does a forward air controller need demolitions training?”
inquired Calvin.

“If you need room for an airfield,” replied Night, “he can
make it for you by clearing out anything in the way. The man talking to him is
from India and is from their COBRA group, the Commando Battalion for Resolute
Action, or something like that. That group is a paramilitary unit of their
police force that exists to track down and eliminate communist rebels. They are
extremely well trained and equipped, including using the Carl Gustav weapon
that our Rangers use as their Ranger Anti-tank Weapon System.” He held up the
manual he had been reading.

“The final two members of the platoon are from our other
NATO allies,” he added. “The one on the left is from Germany’s Paratrooper
Battalion 263, which is their most decorated special operations unit. They have
been used as intervention forces all over the globe. The man talking to him in
the emerald green beret is from the Italian combat diver force. Like most of
the folks that are SCUBA qualified, they will be in Master Chief’s space force
and will be primarily responsible for operations in space or under water.”

“What about you?” Calvin asked his XO. “How did you get
here?”

“I’ve been in Delta a long time,” Night replied with a
far-off look in his eyes, “and I think that I’ve pretty much seen and done just
about everything that can be done in the service of our country. I’m here to
make sure that we come home with everyone that we can.”

“Me, too,” Calvin agreed. Looking out again, he saw that
Master Chief O’Leary was getting the platoon formed up. “Let’s go meet the
troops.” The two men walked down the stairs to the hangar floor, where Master Chief
called the platoon to attention and saluted.

The two officers marched up to the platoon’s senior enlisted
man, with the XO to the left of Calvin and a pace behind. Stopping in front of
Master Chief, Calvin and Night both saluted. “Sir, the platoon is formed and
ready for your inspection,” Master Chief O’Leary announced. He did a
double-take on seeing Calvin’s collar insignia. “Congratulations on O-4,” he
added. “When’s the operation?”

Calvin had been promoted to lieutenant commander while he
had been on the east coast the week before. He was close to being due for
promotion, anyway, and the decision had been made to advance him early, both in
recognition for his service during the war and to help give him the additional
authority required to command the two organizations. Master Chief was also
aware of the running joke among junior naval aviators that a lobotomy was
required upon pinning on the golden oak leaves of a lieutenant commander. After
being promoted to lieutenant commander, most officers went from being sane,
well-adjusted junior officers to being ‘hinges,’ where their heads could only
go up and down in agreement, as if on a hinge, any time a higher-ranked officer
told them to do something...regardless of how idiotic the tasking might be.

Ryan was generally not a fan of anyone that held the rank of
lieutenant commander or higher. He didn’t know if that would be the case with
Calvin, who had always been a pretty rational officer, but you never knew what officers
would be like once they pinned on O-4.

Calvin smiled at Ryan, “Thanks,” he said. “Post,” he
ordered, dropping his salute. Ryan dropped his salute, too and went to stand
behind the platoon.

“At ease!” Calvin commanded the platoon, who relaxed from
their positions of attention. “It’s good to see everyone made it here today, as
I know quite a few of you had to come a long way on short notice.” He paused,
taking in the entire platoon. “By a show of hands, how many of you think that
you are here today because the United States is standing up a new special forces
center of excellence?” About half of the Rangers raised their hands, along with
all of the newcomers, except Mr. Jones. No surprise there, Calvin thought.

Calvin moved toward the formation and lowered his voice.
“That’s not actually why you are here.” There were several murmurs that ran
through the platoon. Calvin heard at least two voices say, “Told you so; pay
up!” He smiled. “While that
is
part of it, there is actually a lot more
to it. Some of you are already aware that we were contacted by aliens from another
planet. For those of you that weren’t, about a month ago, three aliens asked
our president for help, because their communications link back to their home
planet stopped working. The mission of this platoon, along with some other
support personnel, is to go with the aliens out into space to find out why.”

Another murmur, a lot louder this time, ran through the
platoon as it dawned on most of them that they were about to become spacemen
and women. He raised his voice to regain their attention. “I will not, however,
take anyone with me that does not want to go. If there is anyone that wants to
drop out now, please come forward.” No one came forward; if anything, the
entire platoon swayed
away
from him. Calvin wasn’t surprised. He had
already found that the United States’ special forces troopers were the most ‘gung
ho’ soldiers he had ever met; he expected the other countries’ troops were as
well.

“In that case,” Calvin said, “welcome to the Terran Space
Force. As of right now, you are the entire force, but there will be other units
standing up before too long. You will notice that I said ‘Terran,’ not the
‘United States’ Space Force. The United States has opened up partnership in
this force to all of your countries, and they have accepted, which is why you
are here. You are now part of something that is greater than any of our
countries on its own. I want to be very clear, though. This information is
classified at the highest level, higher than any clearance you have ever had,
and all of you will be required to sign disclosure forms when we are done
talking today. Your former commanding officers don’t know anything about this;
only your presidents and prime ministers do.”

“I’m sure that all of you want to know where we are going
and what we’ll be doing there. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that, because no
one knows yet. The mission details are still being put together and, even when
they are finalized, there are going to be a lot of holes because we don’t know
what’s happened. We might get out there to find that the aliens have a bad
transmitter. The friendly aliens, the Psiclopes, think that this is unlikely,
though. What they believe has happened is that a different alien race has
destroyed one of their relays and is currently looking for us. Ladies and
gentlemen, these creatures are bad news. Imagine ten feet tall frogs that like to
eat their food, you, while you’re still alive. If we find any of them, we will
terminate them with extreme prejudice. Preferably from orbit; preferably with
nukes.

I don’t know what kind of combat we will have, if any. It
might be in space; it might be on land; it might be under water. We
will
be ready for all of these. All of us will become SEALS: Sea, Air, Land and
Space. There will be two squads. Master Chief O’Leary will command the first
squad, which will be primarily responsible for space and undersea operations,
while Master Sergeant Aaron Smith will be in charge of the second squad, which
will be the primary squad for operations on land. All of you, though, will be
qualified to go anywhere and do anything.”

There was a chorus of ‘hoo-ah’ and various other unit cheers
that the men and women used to express pleasure and indicate motivation.

Calvin looked back at his XO. “The first thing we need to do
is come up with a unit cheer.”

As he turned back to the platoon, he saw a hand go up. If he
remembered correctly, it was the German Special Forces paratrooper. Calvin
indicated that the soldier should speak, and when he did, his accent confirmed
his nationality. “Sir, if I may, our unit uses ‘Gluck ab’ when we greet each
other, which we use to mean, ‘happy landings.’ Due to the nature of our
mission, which may involve making landings on hostile planets, I believe that
‘gluck ab’ might be appropriate for us.”