Disclaimer: I do not own this and make no money.
Rating: NC17
Summary: Ricky finds Carteret again, then while out on patrol...and yes I did knick the last bit from Strike back...it works well and Ricky, like Porter would have def. behaved in this way.
Thank you Jen, for being my Beta.
The Road 13
"Sapper Deeming!" Ricky heard his name bellowed across the parade ground. He halted, threw his head back and groaned in complaint. "Bloody buggering shit, what now?"
"Collect your gear boy and then get yourself down to the west gate. Now, Sapper, move your useless Geordie arse. The bleedin' malcontents won't wait for you lad!" The sergeant's bark was a lot worse than his bite. In general, the man was good natured, a veteran of the Burma Campaign who like most there just wanted to see out his time and go home.
"Yes sarge, going now, sarge," he answered, turned and jogged back to the barracks to collect his pack and radio gear, the bolt action Lee-Enfield banging against his side as he ran.
Because of the Emergency status, all servicemen on duty carried weapons. When he had first arrived in Kuala Lumpur three months before, he had been uncomfortable carrying his rifle all the time. Now it was practically an extension of his arm, part of him. Not that it was for much longer. He had two weeks to go then he was on his way back to Blighty. A month after that and he was out, his time as a soldier of the Queen was over. He'd be back on Civi Street, and a whole new life beckoned...
Since the visit to the temple and his fierce retaliation to the leftenant's unwanted advances, Ricky hadn't been surprised to get every shitty task that Army life offered. Every stinking latrine emptying, kitchen refuse dumping, stone painting duty fell to Sapper Deeming. The positive side of this was that his fellow squaddies assumed that he'd turned down the Nancy officer, hence the punishment. He just smiled and went along with it.
It was strange. Suddenly he was one of them, his time was ending and now he stopped being the loner. When he got a leave pass, he went with them to the bars and brothels, got his tattoo and the Clap. He also acquired a reputation on these trips. In a fight, Ricky was your man, he had your back. But never play him at poker, he had an unreadable face. He smiled, scowled, looked blank, curious, frightened, but rarely did it reflect what was happening in his brain, just the smirk when he won. His new mates soon understood, always have Deeming on your side.
Then came the night he crossed Carteret for the second time.
"Yea little chickie, ya can luv me for as long as ya want…" Ricky swung the pretty young Chinese bar girl about to the music. He wasn't sure if it was still technically dancing, as she was hooking her leg around his waist and gluing her mouth to his, so he thought it was probably foreplay. He levered her away, pulling a slightly comical, reproving face. "But not on the dance floor."
"You a nice big boy, you feel nice and big." She squirmed against him, grinding herself on his thigh, obviously intent on her work.
"Private, let's go somewhere that's private." He nuzzled her throat and gripped her waist. She slid sinuously down him and tugged at his belt, pulling him away from the sweaty bodies jiving around them, out of the bar and up a flight of stairs. Ricky tried to remember if he had any money to pay the girl.
On the landing, they stopped and she launched herself on him again, rubbing her small palm up and down the crotch of his trousers, admiringly. "You real nice big boy, Ricky baby."
"Oh, yea, I'm very big boy, an' I'm gonna fuck the pretty little arse off ya, pet." He laughed, shoving open a door.
And was confronted by the sight of leftenant Arnold Carteret buggering a boy who looked no older that twelve, the child was crying.
"Oh, for fuck's sake…shut the bloody door!" Then Carteret saw who it was. The look on the officer's face was almost amused. "Well Rick…you and…your little…friend care…to join us?" he called between vicious thrusts.
"You bastard." was all Ricky said as he slammed the door and fell back against the wall. His mind reeled wildly. He stared at the young girl trying to unfasten his trousers.
How old was she?
He grabbed her hands and held them at her sides. "Go home, go back to ya mam and dad, where ya belong." Disgust and anger at his so-called superior officer, and himself, cut him deep. Pushing her away from him, and heading back down the rickety stairs, he didn't stop till the stitch in his side wouldn't let him run any more.
"OK, there are reports of MNLA terrorists in the river basin, so we're off to help mop 'em up. Captain Mason is red leader, and Leftenant Jason, blue. I'm green. Red will be taking the trail to the east. Blue, the southern trail. We will be west and coming round to the river." Carteret paused, consulted his watch and continued, sounding slightly bored. "Sergeant, keep the men in tight formation." He noted sapper Deeming's presence, but did not acknowledge him.
"All right ladies, no one goes off the path, ya wanna take a piss, ya wait till we all break. And keep those beady little mincers peeled. Understood?" It wasn't really a question, but everyone grunted a 'yes, sarge' back.
Four hours later, they were deep on a rainforest trail. The rainy season was due to start any day and the air was heavy, damp, moisture dripping from the broad leaves above them.
It was like breathing in steam, Ricky thought. He tried not to let Carteret bother him, but jeez, it was bloody hard. There was nothing he could do, who would believe a plebe like him? Officers stuck together, he'd be the one chucked out with a dishonourable discharge. Fucking Carteret would get off Scot-free like nothing had happened. What's more, he'd have his revenge on Ricky.
Carteret couldn't lose.
Corporal Hope bent low, raising his hand to stop the small line of men, he hissed. "Movement three o'clock." And pointed to one side. All froze and followed the motion.
A small figure darted across their path, firing wildly. Everyone threw themselves to the ground. Seconds ticked by, grunts and groans issued from a couple of the men.
"Sound off. Anyone hurt?" Sergeant Stanford called. Every man called his name softly, adding OK, to show they were not injured.
"Deeming, get on the blower, let red leader know we met resistance," Carteret yelled.
Suddenly a series of cracking pinging sounds and bullets started to hurtle their way again. Ricky rolled off the path and into the trees, pulling the radio from his back as he went. He'd just set the hefty pack upright when he felt eyes on him, glancing up, expecting to see one of the patrol, he found himself looking down the narrow barrel of a mark two Sten gun. It was nestled in the small hands of a young Malay boy, no more than twelve.
The same boy he had seen in Carteret's room.
Ricky sat back on his heels. The kid looked petrified, but he was a petrified kid with a machine gun, and it was pointing at him. Ricky swallowed hard; there was no way he was shooting this kid, no way at all. He held up his hands, letting his weapon slide to the ground. "'T's OK son, just step back and run, shit...Melangkah mundur...dan menjalankan." He spoke the Malay words slowly, praying he'd gotten them right; his lessons had been fairly rudimentary. But the boy just looked at him.
"Get the fuck out of the way, Deeming!" Carteret's voice rang out over the sound of intermittent firing, the screech of terrified monkeys and squawking of the birds.
"He's just a kid, it's OK." Ricky shouted back. He started to stand, the boy looked doubtful. "It's OK, honest, put the gun down and run, it'll be OK. We're not here to hurt you, just build roads." He saw the boy start to relax, dip his head and a smile began to form as he let go of the gun.
The sudden thwack in the air in front of him dazed Ricky, he felt a burning in his shoulder, his knees buckled just at the same time as the boy was thrown backwards by the force of the of the bullets that hit him.
When he woke in the hospital, Ricky learned he was on his way home. The report said that Sapper Deeming had tackled a terrorist single handed, but was wounded; his commanding officer, Leftenant Carteret killed the said terrorist, thus saving the sapper's life. Ricky got to take home a medal for bravery, second class, and a hatred of Arnold Carteret that burned him