Around a hot mouthful, he mumbled, “You know, I think Caswell and Barker deserve a medal for emotionally supporting their soldiers and maintaining our nutrition. I miss a lot of things, but this food is delicious. It’s like being in a foreign country. Different, but great.”
“Thank you, sir.” “Thanks.”
He tossed a bit of skin with meat still attached to the bank. The cat wasn’t visible, but definitely lurking around. The creature understood that people offered food. He knew where to hang out to get it. He’d even come into camp a few times at night or early morning and picked around the woodpile for rodents and bugs. Sean wasn’t sure where he hid anymore. The leaves were getting sparse from fall, and the weeds along the bank were getting thin from being walked on.
They needed more fat, though. The marrow pot tasted good now, and he was seriously considering animal brains. Fauna around here was quite lean. They’d had rabbit, and rabbit could kill you from lack of fat, eventually. The birds were wiry and tough. They needed fatty fish, or something with a hump, like a yak or camel. Both passed through occasionally.
Sean said, “Tomorrow we’re back on the wall. Far side of the stream, about thirty feet out. We’ll work on closing it after, and on towers as we go. Any excavated dirt or rock goes into the corners,” he pointed. “And keep an eye out for any infiltrators. How are batteries holding up?”
Alexander said, “Double As are fine, sir, we just have to keep swapping them around.”
“Okay. As to response against intruders, we probably want to start with spotlighting them. What’s that big light you brought, Spencer?”
“Nitecore TM Thirty-Six. Eighteen hundred lumens on a four-inch reflector, sir. I could signal satellites in orbit. They’ll think they’re seeing a sunrise.”
Spencer jogged to the truck and came back with the light. He offered it for inspection.
Sean looked at it. It was machined black aluminum.
“Are those cooling vanes?”
“Yes, not decoration. The circuitry gets hot. It’ll throw a Broadway spotlight over them at a kilometer.”
That was hilarious. “Yeah, that first. And if you decide you need to shoot, don’t, unless you decide again. If you do shoot, shoot to kill. Not to try to scare. We’re not thunder and lightning. We’re death. Hooah?”
Several “Hooah” came back.
“Put me on watch at oh two hundred to oh four hundred. If they do try anything, that’s when it’ll be. I’ll take that shift the next three nights.”
Alexander said, “Got it, sir. I’ll adjust accordingly.”
“Cool. Thanks again for the great food and support, and the hot sponge bath. I’m for rack ops, as Sergeant Spencer calls it.”
Ramon Ortiz liked evening watch. It was dark, but not yet midnight. The air was still, crisp and clean. Having one other person was just enough company to make it tolerable, without feeling human presence. It was as alone as he cared for, and he found it refreshing.
It was even more so after a hot wash. A bitch bath with an ammo can of hot water wasn’t the same as a shower, but it was a fuck of a lot better than splashing in the stream. Every third day was enough to keep the stink and grime off, and it meant staying relatively warm while dressing afterward.
And God, he needed to bathe regularly. Milking goats. Brushing goats. Butchering animals. Then the meat had to be hung and aged, and the milk aged for butter. It was a lot of work, but damn, it was good to have butter and milk. Hopefully they’d have cheese next year. Caswell had ideas.
Caswell was in the other turret, and still inscrutable. She was educated, but didn’t want to talk. Some of it was political, except she talked to Dalton on occasion. Dalton was insanely religious in his opinion, but she was Lutheran, though not particularly observant, but she did pray. A vegetarian feminist Lutheran in a military police field. It took all types. Ortiz was Catholic, and he saw her on Sundays when he stood together with the others for prayer.
He wasn’t going to force her to talk. She wasn’t evasive or insubordinate. She just didn’t talk much. He was probably glad for that. She had made comments about “machismo” that she probably thought were egalitarian, but had a distinctly negative snark about Hispanic culture. She’d probably accuse him of “patriarchy” or some other crap, then criticize the same Lutheran church she claimed to belong to, and the Catholic Church, for supporting traditional values. So he enjoyed the silence, and figured it was mutual.
There were cicadas here, different from the U.S., and some sort of grasshopper buzzing away. The night was disrupted by winds soughing in rustling leaf and stem, cracking from tree limbs, chuckles from the stream, and occasional herbivore sounds punctuated by even rarer wolves or lions. He’d seen a bear once, too.
The stars were beautiful but cold. He’d once dreamed of being an astronaut. He was further from that than he’d ever been in his life. He’d be lucky to ever get fifty feet above the surface now. Or unlucky, rather.
Sometimes he wished they were closer to the river. Fish, plants and more timber were just down the slope. But the trees were dark enough to be creepy, and they didn’t know what the spring floods brought. Field of fire and high ground were good. Besides, they could always move again. They had nothing but time.
“What do you think, Caswell?” He spoke softly because they didn’t need much to be heard.
“I took a look through night vision. There’s a few antelope east. No predators tonight, probably because it’s waning quarter moon and cloudy.”
“Makes sense. Do you hear the wind?”
“Yes. Probably seasonal. I don’t see anything that would indicate a storm.”
“Getting chilly, though.”
“Maybe. I’m fine.”
“I’m a lizard. I actually liked Iraq.”
“What about A-stan?”
“I’ll never find out now, will I? I’d been in country about a month. Not as hot as Iraq, but good enough.”
She whispered, “Wait, I have movement.”
“Where?”
“Uphill, quiet.”
She turned very cautiously in the turret, and leaned up look over the side plate. He did, too.
She whispered, “Middle of the wall. The two scrub trees in the ditch. People.”
“Yeah, I see them. Those are Urushu.” He saw vague outlines. He could grab NVG, but she already had them, so he kept quiet and let her do it.
She said, “Or want us to think they are, but yes, robes and kilts with half leggings, not tunics.”
“Are they standing?”
She said, “I think they can hear us, and want to be seen.”
“Let me try something. I’ll flip my phone open for a bit of glow, outboard on this side.”
“Go ahead.”
He dug under his armor into his pants pocket, eased out the phone and flipped it. It wasn’t much light, but here, it had nothing to compete with.
“They see you,” she said.
“Response?”
“Arms out. They’re hoping we see them.”
“Am I justified in lighting them? As in, illumination?”
“I don’t know. They may have enemies.”
“Are there only three?”
She said, “Yes. Spears, small rolls. Hunting party at best. And none of the Urushu groups have offered anything but hospitality.”
“Try to wave them to the open side,” he advised. Ordered, he guessed, since he outranked her.
“Are we waking the rest?”
“Not yet. Gun is live, though,” he said, reaching to check by feel, with a careful unlatching of the top cover, then reclosing. That ammo would rip those bodies to bloody bits if he did fire.
She said, “Okay, they’re coming carefully around the wall. Moving quietly but hands visible and not hiding.”
“I see them.”
“They’re heading for the cooking fire.”
“Yup.” The embers were low, but gave enough light to see by with the almost complete darkness
elsewhere. The three of them moved into the log circle, flipped open their hide rolls, and lay down.
“I think they want rest and shelter,” he said.
“Could be they’re being chased. The LT can decide what to do later.”
“Yeah. They’re down and quiet.”
He made sure to watch them regularly, and keep an eye out for movement. They didn’t seem to be fully asleep. Nervous about something, obviously, but was it the troops or the Neoliths? He also watched for any other elements outside the palisade, or animals. He found himself tracing patterns in the condensing dew atop the vehicle roof.
These did make a handy central redoubt and watch tower. He was fourteen feet up, and could look right over the wall in every direction, except where the tepee blocked it. He constantly imagined what it would have been like to be on foot patrol when the shift happened, or to be separated from others. What if it took a bunk room with four people? Or just a field shower with him alone?
There was constant shuffling in the tent, and from the hooch where the women slept. Only Alexander was down there now. She had been in okay shape when they arrived. She was hot now, and it wasn’t just the isolation. She had a wicked ass.
Caswell was muy hot, but she just wouldn’t do anything. He wasn’t sure if she was a lesbian, sexless, or just had some psychological thing going. She was distant. She had a terrible, pushy personality and all that crap with it. Despite that, he’d nail her, given the chance. Alexander was flaky, but would at least talk.
Goddam, he wanted some pussy. The year limit made sense. It was a deployment length. But after that, they needed some native chicas.
The shuffling sound changed. LT was coming out, and Oglesby.
LT came up underneath, and he ducked down.
“Sir, three of the Urushu appeared a while ago, south in the ditch. We used signs to direct them in to the fire circle. They’re sleeping there. We think they may be seeking refuge.”
Elliott sprung awake and ran his hand over his eyes.
“Damn. Okay. No trouble? And only three?”
“Three only, no sign of anyone else. Do you want to wake anyone?”
“No, we’ll talk in the morning, if they want to sleep.”
CHAPTER 15
Martin Spencer crawled out into the rising sun. He hoped they could eventually weave a lighter tent. It was warm, if dank and bitter smelling. But it was dark. He blinked and slitted his eyes, letting them adjust. It was like coming out of a cave.
Alexander was on the steps of the HQ truck, leaning forward with her PT jacket unzipped enough to show cleavage. She’d just raised the flag.
There were three Paleos in camp, and Oglesby and the LT were talking to them.
Alexander saw his expression, and said, “They arrived late, we invited them in, they bedded down out here. They’re from the village we started with. It’s trashed, converted to Neolithic. Many of the men were killed, most of the rest driven off. The chief is dead. The women are captives of the Neo men. I gather they were short of their own women.”
“Or just wanted extras.”
She shook her head. “I never understood that. Most men can’t handle one woman.”
I’d enjoy handling you, he thought. They weren’t going home, she was a good match for him, and from her comments he gathered she wasn’t very inhibited in bed. And fixed, so no more kids. She was a bit older, but still firm.
Goddammit, he wanted his off day to hurry up and get here.
“So what are we doing?” he asked. He recognized one of the Urushu from the hunting trip he’d been on, those weeks past. It seemed forever.
“Screw it, I gotta drain out first.” He ran for the latrine area. It was foggy and chill, and the grass on either side of the trod trail was thick with crystalline dew verging on hoarfrost.
Then he went back for his toothbrush. Doc was right.
By then, everyone had gathered around for breakfast and to hear the story. Barker was up top on Number Nine. Caswell was cooking alone, and had a cooler full of apples and other fruit, and some roasted something or other. He took an apple and a piece of meat and approached slowly.
Oglesby had extensive notes and had gotten pretty good with their language. His head swiveled back and forth between Elliott and the Paleos.
Elliott said, “I don’t want to throw them out. Do they have relatives in another village they can live with?”
Oglesby said, “They do. But they want to rescue their families.”
“That’s a much tougher question I can’t answer right now. Tell them I’ll have to consult with our spirits and my shaman.”
There was animated, serious talking in reply.
Oglesby said, “I’m not quite getting their response. In the past, they’ve said we should find new spirits. This time, they’re saying they’ve talked to our spirits. I think they mean that no worthy spirits would refuse.”
“That’s possible, but I have to discuss it first. If they have someone they can be safe with, they should. If not, they can stay near here, but they’ll need to camp across the stream, and I’ll need them to work.”
The translation came back, “They offer to work their entire lives for you, as a great chief, if you will bring their families.”
Spencer realized this was serious. He looked at Elliott, who took a deep breath.
“It’s very flattering, but I have to talk to the spirits first. If they’d like to hunt something for us, we’ll make sure they stay fed. But it won’t affect the spirits. Only clean thoughts and prayers will help with that. Anything you want to add, Sergeant Spencer?”
He crossed his arms and stepped forward in the same manner he had in their village. Then he pointed up.
“The Sun Lemur will need to hear as much as possible from us. Then, if we decide to help, he will need details from them. I don’t know if they grasp maps and large numbers.”
“Understood.” He turned back to Oglesby. “We hope to let them know something tonight.”
The Urushu were up and hunting within minutes. They didn’t seem to have much of a schedule, and these three men likely had little else to do at the moment.
Elliott asked him, “So, what do we do?”
“I don’t think we can do any fighting, sir.”
“I agree, but what are your reasons?”
He held up fingers to count. “We don’t know what happens if we kill a bunch of people. It’s not our fight. Stuff like this happens all the time, and we can’t police everyone. We didn’t cause the problem, so it’s not ours to fix. There might be a time we need to defend ourselves, and ammo is limited. Since we’re in diplomatic talks with both, perhaps we can help them come to some accord. If not, we tried.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to be the local gods, the local lords, or the local police.”
Dalton was nearby and said, “Sir, may I?”
“Go ahead.”
“If there is going to be violence, a little now may be better than a lot later. Both groups know we have neat stuff. They don’t know how neat, or how powerful. I’m not suggesting we start violence. But if there’s going to be some, we might want an object lesson.”
That was pretty astute. Dalton was not stupid, even if he did hold to archaic religious nuttery.
Elliott said, “Yup, that’s the other side of it. I think first we should try diplomacy. Then if we need to we can use nonviolent force to try to shake things up. Caswell, do you think the women are in any danger?”
“Other than being raped daily?” she asked. “I guess if that’s not considered danger, then no.” She looked pissed.
Martin opened his mouth, and closed it. It wasn’t his place to say anything. Yes, she was correct, but that was not the way to phrase it.
But what was?
Elliott paused himself, then said, “Yes, they are being held prisoner and presumably forced into being mates. What I’m asking is, will punitive action be taken against them if we try to rescue some?”
He speculated wh
ile talking. “Given that they seem to be chattel and the Urushu men were killed, but the women weren’t, they probably won’t be murdered. They’ll be considered subordinate. A lot like Afghan women.”
Dalton muttered, “Man, it hasn’t changed. And they still want the U.S. Army to fix things.”
Martin twitched an eyebrow and said, “And we’ll still screw it up, the Army way, no matter what course we follow.”
Elliott said, “I think we need to send our own embassy to see them. I’ll go, with Oglesby and Dalton.”
Caswell said, “I can do cultural assessment as well as tactical, sir, and I know how to deal delicately with the women. That’s what I was on this convoy for anyway.”
“Yeah, but I really want Dalton along for backup.”
“I can shoot expert. You’ve seen me take one of them hand to hand. Why do you need backup to be a man?”
Dalton muttered, “Well, thank you.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” she said. “You can’t do what I can. I can do most of what you can. If one of us is staying and one going, then it’s not a problem to swap, is it?”
Martin wanted to rage. He forced calm, and was going to point out her very nondiplomatic approach, when Elliott spoke.
“While we’re trying to be a family group here, this constitutes a military action. I will make the decision on who goes.”
Alexander came up and said, “You’ll need photos.”
“Good. I’ll take your camera.”
“Pardon me, sir, but no, you won’t. Do you know how to use it in IR? Switch to video? Disable flash?”
“No, but I’ll just take daytime shots. Or use my phone.”
“At what f-stop and shutter speed? What will you do as establishment? Can you annotate in a meaningful fashion?”
Elliott finally reached overload. “Okay, everyone back the goddamn fuck up and stop.”
He sat and stared at the fire for several moments, while plucking at a few stubborn blades of grass under the log that hadn’t been beaten down yet.
“Get working. Put debris into the corners so we can stomp it down. I need to think.”