Desert Rose
Disclaimer: I don't own Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego, but the original characters I create are mine. This takes place in the Guns of October timeframe and is tied into the fanfic Every Clime and Place, I haven't forgotten it in the least. Characters from Guns of October and Every Clime and Place will make appearances. The Special Forces Regiment is divided into six groups (the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 7th, 9th, 19th and 24th, the last two of which are reserve or territorial units) with each group being divided into four Squadrons (A, B, D, and G) which consist each of four troops of twenty-one men apiece.
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: "Ivy, slow down, please, you're talking at thirty miles an hour." Jamie Lynch replied over the phone.
Ivy said, "I've just met this guy, he's staying at our house thanks to my Aunt May and he's amazing."
"Ivy, you sound like a school girl with a crush." Jamie replied, she was twenty two years, the same age as Ivy.
"Ouch, that hurt." Ivy replied, jokingly to her friend.
"Slow down and tell me about him." Jamie began.
"His name's Gene Locksley, from Orlando, Florida. He was wounded at Guadalcanal and my aunt had him discharged from the hospital to live with us." Ivy replied, "He's a nice guy, and kinda cute too..."
Jamie laughed lightly, she had rarely heard Ivy gossip this way about guys in general. "So have you heard anything from Ted lately?"
"He wrote me from Africa recently, but he says that he barely has time to sleep these days." Jamie began, referring to a former colleague, Ted Balfour, a twenty-three year old Englishman who was serving with Army Corps Africa in the 9th Special Forces, the active duty component of the United Systems Special Forces Regiment.
"This war's gotta end." Ivy said, "I'm sick of all these cloak and dagger operations that the Office of Strategic Services has our senior detectives do, I'm sick of Biohazard scares and shelter drills. And I'm sick of losing friends."
Jamie remembered losing fellow ACME detectives, Martin Gallatin, Gerard Fressan, and even Josha, though she wasn't particularly fond of the kid. She knew Gallatin and Fressan from a case she had in Europe when Ted had been sick with the flu. They had helped her track down the stolen copy of the Magna Carta. Gallatin and Fressan were both fighting in North Africa and were members of the 15th Light Infantry Division and had fought through the great disaster of 2142. Both had been killed before the relief had shown up to help them.
"Are you alright hon?" Chris Glen, her boyfriend asked.
"I'm fine, Chris, I just got off the phone with Ivy." Jamie replied, seeming a little under the weather, "We just talked about a few things."
The Australian grinned and said, "I know just how to cheer you up."
Chris swept her into his arms and kissed her, breaking away for air and then deepening the kiss. Jamie melted into his embrace and they cuddled on her apartment couch until they fell asleep.
"I love you Jamie." Chris said as he hugged her close to his side. She smiled and cuddled closer at his reply.
~ ~ ~ ~
North Africa, 2143: "Hey Ives, hand me that wrench." Lance Corporal Ted Balfour said from underneath the pinkie, what Special Forces soldiers called their heavily modified armored Land Rover 110s.
"Aye, here you go." Ives replied, he was a short, five foot Scot who was one of Mobility Troop's Marines.
"Thanks." Ted replied, and started tightening a couple bolts under the vehicle chassis. With the North Africa phase of Operation Counterpunch underway the Special Forces had been especially busy with raids, reconnaissance operations, road watches, and an assortment of other tasks.
Mobility Troop primarily operated heavily modified Land Rovers, ATVs, and motorbikes and conducted fast, behind the lines operations on vehicles. Archibald "Archie" Ives and Ted Balfour were members of this troop, belonging to D Squadron. Air Troop were the air assault and parachute unit, Mountain Troop were the mountaineers, and Boat Troop were divers and boaters.
A motorcycle kicked up a cloud of dust, spraying the vehicle with sand. "Bloody desert!" Ted complained.
"Ted, Archie!" said a familiar African accented voice. A short, stocky black man taller than Ives yet shorter than Ted's 5'7" kicked up the stand and pulled off his helmet and goggles, "Mission planning in fifteen minutes."
Edward Mgambe was from the Ivory Coast and a former member of the Cote d'Ivorie Division which had been decimated in 2142 in South America. He joined the Special Forces to avenge his lost friends and colleagues.
"Got it mate, but next time mind the dust you wanker!" Ted shouted from underneath the vehicle.
"It's the desert, what do you expect." Mgambe replied.
"A little more courtesy, like stop further away. You nearly got sand in the oil pan." Ted replied.
"Well your diploma just came for you." Mgambe said.
"Ow! Bloody hell! You made me hit my head!" Ted replied.
"For an educated Englishman you sure swear an awful lot." Ives replied.
"Oh piss off you illiterate Scot!" Ted replied as he crawled out from under the Land Rover and grabbed his khaki desert fatigue shirt and put it back on over his sand brown t-shirt.
"Georgetown University?" Mgambe asked, "I was at MIT when the war broke out and I left to join the fight against the Biohazard. What are you studying?"
"Literature." Ted replied, "With a minor degree in History, I just finished my final exam by mail last month. And I finally graduate."
"A literature student and you can't come up with better insults?" Mgambe laughed.
"Hey amigos, briefing in five!" Private Diego Gandoca shouted to the three soldiers at the Land Rover. He was a slim, fairly lean Costa Rican marathon runner who was an Olympic athlete. Selection had been easy for him.
Diego jumped into the Land Rover with Ives and Ted and Mgambe started up his motorbike as they drove off to the main hangar. 2nd Lieutenant James Closterman had taken one of the hangar's storage spaces and turned it into a briefing room with maps of the North African theater all over the walls, post it notes all around them, and various files lying about the room.
Sergeant First Class "Poet" Poole was the Squadron clerk, a very important position that kept the unit organized. He was a bespectacled Englishman of thirty-seven who had been serving with the Army since he was seventeen. "Sir, here's the brief."
"Alright, there's been quite a few complaints from the 15th Light Infantry and 1st Infantry about enemy artillery bombardments." Closterman began. He was a serious, intelligent Canadian with his blonde hair cut in a West Point flattop, "It's time we do something about it. Insertion?"
"I'd say vehicles sir." Mgambe said as Closterman pointed at him.
"How are we set for ordinance?" Closterman asked, indicating Ted.
"I'll go see what I can't go and dig up sir." Ted replied, "But we're gonna need small arms ammunition, .50 and 7.62 rounds, 40 mm grenades for the Mk.19 launchers and definitely Javelin rockets.
"Logistics." Closterman said.
"I'll help Ted with that, I also think that we should infiltrate at dusk, attack the artillery sites at Artie Alley and exfiltrate around dawn." Tashtego, a Hopi Indian from Flagstaff, Arizona began, "And for vehicles I'd say put out four motorbikes and three Land Rovers, that's all we'll need."
Eighteen men, a big raid for the troop, almost two-thirds of its strength employed on this operation apparently the Artie was a big problem rather than a complaint. "I'll lead you boys in, so put me on one of the bikes. Mgambe, you're my partner for this. Tashtego, you and Blitz go as the second scouting pair. Third scouting pair, Marini and Prideaux I'll let the rest of you sort out arrangements for vehicles. We leave tomorrow night."
"Oi, that's great! We've go' an op to pull, finally!" Private First Class "Blitz" Bollingbroke replied. His Cockney accent certainly was brought out in his speech.
"Bloody Cockneys." Ted replied.
"Bloody Geordies." Blitz remarked. He was so named because he was a motorcycle riding speed freak.
"It could be worse, you could be a bloody Kiwi or an Aussie." Ted replied.
"Oh God!" Staff Sergeant Simms remarked, he was a hulking six foot Marine from California that everyone called the Jolly Gyrene Giant or JG Simms for short, "Not another one of your crazy freaking which part of the British Commonwealth is the best debates?!"
"Actually we 'ere debating which part o' London is the best there, gov'ner." Blitz replied.
"Don't make me do the Henry Higgins My Fair Lady Thing with you Blitz." Simms replied, "And don't call me gov'ner again!"
"And what's wrong with Australians?" Corporal Lars Venkmann shouted from across the room. He was a former mechanical engineer at the age of thirty and was the biggest ladies man in the unit. He had joined the Special Forces at the age of twenty-eight.
Not one to back down Ted replied, "Oh that's easy, you're all a bunch of criminals from Britain, you're all sun burnt to the core, and Australian men are the biggest pigs on God's green earth."
"Oh that's nice, you Englishmen are a bunch of uptight, snobby, effete pricks that need Aussies to fight for you." Lars replied.
"What about the Commando units of World War II, they were a British unit." Ted replied.
"With one Australian at least to lead their sorry asses into battle." Lars replied.
"Shut up you two or this big pissed of Colonial's gonna repeat the Boston Massacre in reverse. The Englishman and the Australian get their asses kicked." Simms replied, good naturedly. He knew the pair were the best of friends but were just kidding around.
"Those morons are going at it again?" Gunnery Sergeant Mike Juarez remarked, he was one of the eight Marines in Mobility Troop, he was a short but heavily muscled fellow who was an avid weight lighter, "If I hear one more debate I'll put both of you on latrine duty for a month."
"Right Gunny, we're not gonna argue." Ted replied.
"Much anyway." Blitz pipped, "Mr. Georgetown big shot."
"I'm not gonna start parading my undergraduate degree like some bloody academic. That's a ton of pig's swallow." Ted replied.
"Why'd you go active before the war started anyway?" Sergeant "Tash" Tashtego asked as he joined the conversation, "Why didn't you stay with ACME?"
"Long story mate." Ted replied.
"It's always a woman isn't it?" Tashtego said. He was often seen as a source of wisdom in the unit, and was called the Chaplain Sergeant because of his approachability and native wisdom and calm.
"How'd you guess?" Ted replied, with only a hint of the angst within, he had to tell his good friend Tash everything now, "Could you do me a favor mate and take this for me."
He handed him an envelope, "If I fall on this op, or any operation, send it."
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: "Ted? Come in, please." Jamie said.
"I brought out the files on our current case. What do you think?" Ted replied, carrying his notebook brimming with loose sheets of paper under his arm, he also had a bag with two six inch subs and two sodas from Subway.
"I'm still trying to link why Carmen stole Major Koenig's telescopic sight out of all the Russian military memorabilia she could have stolen out of the Moscow Red Army History Museum to Capitaine Danjou's wooden hand...Aside from the obvious fact that their from soldiers."
"Defeated soldiers." Ted replied, "Danjou and Koenig have in common that they were bested by their foes. Though motive's gonna be difficult to determine.
Ted looked around at the pictures on her desk. He was glad that he had met and was privileged to know such a wonderful young woman. They had been assigned together two years ago, with Ted being the more senior detective of the pair by one year. Throughout the time he had fallen in love with this kindhearted young woman from the Midwestern United States. Ted was usually a shy, introverted Englishman who liked to work alone and initially resented being partnered up with another detective, but he found he didn't mind the partnership after their first couple cases.
"Those are my brothers." Jamie remarked, "The oldest one is starting his sophomore year at my old high school."
"Catholic high school?" Ted asked.
"Yeah. What about you?" Jamie asked.
"I was educated by Anglican Nuns until I was graduated early because I passed the ACME screening test." Ted replied, "And the Irish sisters were the strictest, I think they liked beating up on the Englishmen."
"Very funny." Jamie replied, "I think Jesuits are egalitarian."
"Not if their Scottish, Welsh, or Irish, they really don't like British school kids." Ted remarked.
"You're getting that persecuted Englishman complex again." Jamie laughed.
"Thanks for your sympathy." Ted replied wryly. Inside he was waiting for the moment to ask her out Saturday night; it was just a matter on how to work it into the conversation. He handed her one of the sandwiches, "Chicken Caesar wrap, just how you order it."
"Thanks Ted," Jamie said, smiling back, "You're always nice to me. Have you met my boyfriend, Chris Glen? You remind me of him so much."
Ted did his best to seem unaffected, "No I haven't, well I've got some other matters to attend to. See you at work tomorrow."
"See you Ted." Jamie replied.
Ted walked back to his room in the dorm where the ACME detectives that didn't live in San Francisco resided. He picked up the phone and called his Squadron Admin Officer, "Yes, this is Corporal Balfour, I'd like to transfer into the active Special Forces from the 19th Special Forces, Territorial."
The next morning, after breakfast, Ted sat at his desk, nursing his metal Territorial Special Forces coffee cup, which had the stamping of a skull wearing a green beret with a dagger vertically intersecting it, with a snake around it bearing the words Motivated, Dedicated, Lethal above it and the unit motto De Oppresso Liber below. It was a gift Jamie had given him on his 19th birthday, the day before he left to run the Territorial Selection.
"Hey Ted," Jamie beamed, taking her seat at the adjacent desk, "What's up?"
"There's something I've been meaning to say." Ted replied, "I've been thinking a lot about going active for quite some time."
Jamie knew that Ted was a reservist, or a territorial, and had for the last six months been in the 19th Special Forces Group. She didn't know he was leaving because he was in love with her. Still the thought of him leaving, the guy that other ACME detectives said was as solid as a rock and the perpetual nice guy, was like a physical blow.
"Why?" Jamie asked.
"Jamie, there's a war brewing about, the colonies are being consumed by it and it's only a matter of time before Earth gets its share. If I'm gonna take care of the people I love, I'm gonna have to do this." Ted replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: The thirty-five pounds of weight in the bergen (rucksack) on Ted's back made him grunt with exertion as he ran wearing full fatigues (t-shirt, olive drab trousers, shirt, boots, and jacket) through the spring sun of the Welsh countryside. He could feel his old sores and abrasions from the pack straps opening up and he was going again to the orderly shed to get them fixed up and keep going.
Ted knew that he had to stay this route. The Directing Staff, or the instructors, were waiting at the middle and end of this five mile run were gatekeepers and also safety observers to make sure candidates didn't injure themselves. Accidents still happened though. During a Winter Selection a lieutenant got lost in the snowy mountains and died.
"You gonna give up Balfour!?" Captain Day; or Captain Daybitch as the candidates called him because he was seen as the hard ass among the Directing Staff.
"No sir!" Balfour shouted defiantly, "I've got nowhere left to go!"
"Well then! Get the lead out if you want to pass this run!" Day shouted. Ted knew that he had two and a half more miles of this five mile field pack run to go and he knew he couldn't bear to be RTU'd (Returned to Unit) back to the Territorial Special Forces because he couldn't bear with what he left at ACME.
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: While on case in Britain, Zack and Ivy visited Stirling Lines, one of the areas where Special Forces Selection was run. They watched as several trucks pulled up and the exhausted Special Forces candidates staggered toward the medical shed for an examination and then to the mess hall for dinner and some brief hours of personal time and sleep.
They saw Ted wander by. His eyes were glassy and sunken from all the exertion he had put through from the five-mile pack run, the twenty-five minute or better three mile run in boots and fatigues, and all the pull- ups, pushups, bar dips, situps, and other exercises that he had done that day.
He grinned at them tiredly when he saw them in the camp as he walked with his bergen still on his back, leaning forward to ease off a bit of weight. In the moonlight as well as the artificial light, they could see Selection's toll on the men enduring her.
"He's lost weight." Ivy observed.
"They all have." Zack replied, indicating a soldier whose uniform fit in a baggy way on his frame, "It's like a procession of the walking dead."
"And the hardest nine weeks of your life." Ted replied, his Selection still had three weeks to run, "They've already weeded out fifty-eight percent of the class."
Ted still had his pack on and hunched forward noticeably because of the weight. He picked up his canteen from his belt and took a long slug of water. "I'm doing this to keep all of you at ACME safe. A man hath no greater love than to lay his life down for his friends."
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: "You really must have cared for her if you were willing to go through Selection again instead of waiting to be called up like most Territorial SF guys do." Tashtego began.
"I did." Ted replied. If Territorials wanted to go into the active duty Special Forces Groups they had to go through the active duty Selection. The Territorial version wasn't easy in itself, it took a special type of soldier to get through Territorial SF Selection but many of the active duty guys liked to call the Territorials bootleg troopers. If Earth had an emergency that required activation all Territorials would be activated and the Territorial Special Forces would all be activated, put through an intensive schooling and conditioning phase, and integrated into the active units.
Ted hefted a box of 40mm grenades into the back of one of the Land Rovers, the designated cargo vehicle as he spoke, "I love her enough to let her choose her path, and they looked so happy together I just couldn't interfere. So I had to leave."
The ammunition was being loaded into the vehicles and the vehicles themselves were being checked for any last minute problems. The North African sun was due to set in half an hour.
"Ted, sorry about your lass back in America," Ives said, "But know we're there for you."
"Thanks mate, I really appreciate it." Ted replied.
"Besides, if you die I'd love to get my hands on those new lighter and stronger paratrooper boots you bought last week." Ives replied.
"You're out of my will you wanker." Ted laughed, "And any rate, you're feet are too damned small."
"Bollocks mate," Archie Ives replied, "You know we have the same shoe sizes."
"I know I was kidding." Ted replied.
"Bon voyage!" Kowalski, a Polish trooper in Air Troop, shouted, "We'll take care of your gear for you here and your girlfriends back home."
Simms shot him a finger, "Laugh it up Pollock!"
"I will! For once the Slavs have the last laugh!" Kowalski shouted. A bunch of Air Troop guys were humming the melody to a funeral dirge as they wandered among the Land Rovers.
"Any parting words." Sergeant Major Jason Vecchio, the Squadron Sergeant Major of D Squadron, said. The Proof of Life videos were always done before operations, troops going on ops always gave their two cents to a video camera.
"Staff Sergeant Rodney Simms, US Marine Corps. Sarah, honey, be sure you tuck the kids in tonight and tell them not to forget their old man loves them."
"Aw, isn't 'hat swee' Big Daddy Simms...." Blitz began, "Private First Class Bobby "Blitz" Bollingbroke, US Army. I just did Selection and now at nineteen years old I'm goin' out 'o kick some arse!"
"If you call me Big Daddy Simms one more time I'm shoving that camera up where the sun don't shine!"
"Sergeant Tashtego, US Army. I am the Great Spirit's Revenge." Tashtego said with his trademark serene Indian grin.
"You might as well believe in the tooth fairy!" Ives shot in, "His Great Spirit's Ronald McDonald and his two chief exercises are eating and drinking."
"Hah hah Ives, the shorty who likes to hit on women twice his height!" Tashtego kidded back.
"Lance Corporal Archibald Ives, USMC, pay nay any attention to that big hulking redskin over there. I'm short, but I'm good looking, fun and available."
"Gunnery Sergeant Miguel Juarez, USMC. I've about had it with those crazy Brits in the Squadron." Juarez said with a grin.
"Gunny! I resent you saying I'm a Brit!" Ives shouted.
"Corporal Lars Venkmann, US Army. Don't mind the bloody Marines around me. They're great bullet sponges."
"HEY!" came the collective shout from the Marines in the unit.
"Did I say that aloud?" Lars replied.
"Yes you did." Mgambe began, "Lance Corporal Edward Mgambe, US Army. I wish good fortune upon my family on the Ivory Coast."
"How touching, and sickening." Lars shot in.
"Lance Corporal Ted Balfour, US Army. For Henry! England! And Saint George!" Ted replied.
"Not to mention Detective Lynch!" Diego blurted. The kid had served a brief tour with ACME uniformed services before going into the Special Forces and was a slight acquaintance of Ted's.
"Oh shut your trap Diego!" Ted shouted.
"Private Diego Gandoca. I'm nineteen, Costa Rican, good looking and single. What more could a woman want?"
"Probably some facial hair." Ted replied.
At this, the others roared with laughter as Diego fired back, "Probably you need a girlfriend. I do know a few senioritas in my village who'd love to have an educated Englishman with a degree from Georgetown."
"Burn in hell you wanker!" Ted shot back, smiling.
"2nd Lieutenant James Closterman, US Army. Mobility Troop Commander, though sometimes I feel like I run a three ringed circus with these clowns."
"You do sir!" Lars replied, snapping off a smart salute after coming to attention. The others were rolling up in laughter.
"Private First Class Franz Drache, US Army. I'm a hell of a driver on the auto bahn in Germany."
"A hell of a terrible driver that is!" Warrant Officer Poole shouted to the slim bodied blonde haired German.
"Go screw yourself Poole." Drache replied.
"Warrant Officer Joseph Seth Utterson, US Army." Utterson replied, his clipped British accent obvious.
"Otherwise known as El Supremo!" Corporal Haste Lanyon, patrol medic, remarked.
"Tell me why you left medical school again. Oh, doing your patriotic duty to the military. You bloody wanker." Utterson replied.
"Corporal Haste Lanyon, US Marines, pay no attention to that ungodly drunk earlier." Lanyon replied. He was a fellow in his late twenties with longish brown hair, long sideburns and a goatee, he looked more a punk rocker than a medic. He had quit medical school to serve his nation when the Biohazard hit Earth in 2141.
"You're his drinking buddy dude." Said a longish haired fellow wearing a peace symbol on his dog tags.
"Shut up you bleeing Yank hippie do gooder!" Lanyon replied.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that dude, you gotta be totally mellow and with the flow, you know." The man replied, "Lance Corporal Stoney Brown, US Army. I'm from Encino California, I'm mellow, personable and from the 82nd Airborne Division."
"Shut up you bloody stoner! And you're not mellow when you're handling machineguns or rockets." Lanyon shot back, with a slightly sour expression.
The camera panned around to another man, "Lance Corporal David Morgan, US Army. Stoney's my best friend, sadly, but other than that I do say that the 82nd is the best unit in the Army."
"Hell no!" a loud Slavic voice sounded, "Lance Corporal Linkovich Chumovsky, US Army. The 101st Airborne Division all the way baby!!!"
"I do believe that the best unit is the 1st Air Cavalry." A voice sounded.
"Oh shut up Jew!" Link replied.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." The bespectacled Jewish soldier grinned, good naturedly, he knew Link was kidding, "Private First Class Adam Whitehurst, US Army, 1st Air Cavalry. American soccer to the World Cup!"
"No, Italian soccer!" shouted another man, "Lance Corporal Mario Enrico Marini, USMC, Italian soccer shall take the world cup."
"Not if French Soccer gets them first. Louis Prideaux, USMC. Avignon, France."
"Frenchmen can't fight!" Drache shouted.
Ted got into the driver's seat of his Land Rover; he was lead vehicle, behind the two motorbike scouts in front and in close contact with the two motorbike flankers as they drove in a loose formation out of the FOB (Forward Operating Base) to enemy lines. Ives was in the passenger seat as navigator with Lars manning the twin fifty caliber machineguns in the back and Lanyon manning the MG-70 light machinegun facing aft as well as handling the ammunition.
Ted started whistling the melody to Desert Rose as he started his vehicle up. Behind him Gandoca was driving the command vehicle that had Simms sitting in it, relaying intelligence that Closterman would find to the other members of the unit via two way radios. Rounding that vehicle out were Whitehurst and Link.
Stoney, Dave, Gunny, and Drache had the last Land Rover. Gunny said, "Great I've got the stoner and his best friend and a living auto accident. Honey, please cash my life insurance policy right now."
The vehicles headed in a phalanx out into the North African desert to take the war to the enemy who was weakening steadily in Africa.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chris tucked Jamie into her bed, removing her sneakers and pulling her blankets up to her neck. He kissed her forehead and she smiled serenely as he walked off, turning the lights off and closing the door. As he walked out of her apartment he noticed a framed picture of four soldiers clustered around a modified Land Rover 110 painted desert tan. One of them he recognized as Ted Balfour the other three he didn't. He did read the message written under it, "Jamie, Cheers from the desert. Ted. G Squadron, October 11, 2141."
He remembered the date was when Josha had been killed at El Mechili with the 91st Armored Division. He didn't particularly like Josha, thinking him immature and obsessive, despite his great intelligence. But he did know that Ted had befriended the kid despite that and helped him cope with his unrequited affections for Ivy. He also knew, from one of the few letters home from Ted that Jamie let him see, that Ted had seen his friend die that day.
"Why would any sane man want to have a job like that?" Chris asked, "I guess I'll never know."
Truth was, Chris felt a little jealous of how often Jamie received letters from Ted that she never shared with him unless she'd already read them. He understood that it was her own business, but he always felt like Ted was a rival of some sort, that he had feelings for Jamie but was too much of a gentleman to interfere with her happiness.
Little did he know how right he was, as he walked out of the apartment, straight into Ivy's path. "Sorry Ivy, I didn't mean to run into you luv." Chris replied.
"Shouldn't you be calling Jamie that?" Ivy joked.
"It's just an Australian expression, we say that to any women that are close friends. (AN: Not entirely sure about that one)." Chris replied, he seemed a little under the weather about the fact that Jamie had quite a few of Ted's snapshots from Africa and Europe around her apartment and only a few of him.
He told Ivy about the pictures and saw an uncharacteristic feminine grin coming from the normal workaholic he knew, "Don't worry about it. Jamie's just a good friend of Ted's. He sends us pictures from where he is all the time."
Ivy deliberately avoided telling Chris how she'd guessed the real reason Ted decided to leave the Territorial SF and ACME. She respected Ted's privacy too much to do that.
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: Ivy watched as Ted drank down his water thirstily. She could see his compass hanging off his webbing and noticed a small wallet sized photograph taped tightly to the underside. She could see a picture of a woman with short, chestnut brown hair, rich brown eyes and a light tan complexion. It was Jamie's picture.
It all came together that one instant. Ted's recent brooding mood, the decision he made to leave ACME and become an active duty SF trooper, the picture taped under his compass. He was in love with her best friend and it was hurting him that she didn't share his feelings. It hurt him so badly that he had to flee to an active combat unit to deal with the grief.
Zack noticed it too, because as Ted walked away he said, "Why didn't he tell her?"
"She's seeing Chris, Zack, maybe he didn't want to interfere with her happiness. That's just like Ted, putting others before himself." Ivy replied.
"Yeah, I guess that's why he looks like his soul's been drained away." Zack replied.
"Running around with all that gear will do it too Zack." Ivy replied, knowing that Ted was suffering some serious hurt.
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: "Ivy," Zack said, he had been nearby when she and Chris had talked, "Don't you think Ted should tell her how he feels?"
"That's up to Ted to decide." Ivy replied.
"I know that." Zack replied, "I'm eighteen but I'm not stupid Ive."
"I know little bro," Ivy replied, rumpling his blonde hair, "But I know its Ted's decision."
"Does he really think running away is the right solution? That doesn't sound like the Ted that I remember. You know the Ted who would run through a burning building to save a friend in a heartbeat." Zack replied, "He should tell her he loves her."
"You know how much Ted values his friendships, if he lost her friendship because he failed in love it would really kill him." Ivy replied.
"It killed Josha for sure." Zack replied, "I mean, he ran into the Army with Gallatin, Pilgrim, and that whole gang because...."
Zack stopped because he saw tears starting to form in Ivy's green eyes, one of the rare times he ever saw his tough big sis ever break down. Josha had written a letter that he trusted to Ted's care when they'd shipped out to North Africa together. The letter told Ivy everything he felt about her, that he was too shy to tell her how he felt, and was afraid she'd reject him.
While Ivy wasn't in love with Josha, just a friend, it still hurt to know he was dead. He got along well with Ted because they suffered the same problem of unrequited and unspoken love. The only difference was that Josha died in battle before he could say anything.
"Maybe we should tell her." Zack said, "Let her know Ted's fallen for her."
"And ruin his friendship with her, he'd hate us forever." Ivy replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: Ted held the Stingray Mk. II Paratrooper Carbine with one hand and the steering wheel of the Land Rover with the other. The world looked green through the NOD (Night Observation Device) he wore on his face. They were coming up on the enemy energy orb projection battery pretty fast. Without a sound, Mgambe and Closterman indicated that they were ready to lead the Land Rovers in.
Ted floored the gas pedal as they drove into the enemy encampment where ogres loaded energy orbs and Gollums directed fire. Suddenly ribbons of tracers and 40mm grenades exploded into their midst. A 40mm bomb landed in a pile of energy orbs, exploding and flashing the sky light as day.
In the light Ted could see two Gollums running at the Land Rover with a portable energy orb projector. He fired his carbine on full auto and raked them with a long burst of gunfire. He could hear the twin fifties firing steadily as Lars tore a cluster of ogres apart.
He could see Simms' Land Rover putting a pair of 40mm grenades into a technical (civilian vehicles the Gollums modify for raids similar to this against human forces). The modified Toyota pick up truck exploded in a flash. He saw Whitehurst shooting 40mm grenades in rapid succession at enemy artillery pieces, clusters of enemy troops and piles of ammo.
Just as quickly as they came, the raiders drove off into the desert leaving fifty seven dead enemy and times two wounded in their drive by shooting. Two more occurred during the night leaving a total of 200 zombies, ogres, and Gollums dead on the desert sands.
~ ~ ~ ~
To be continued: Please be patient, I've got a million ideas in my head I'm trying to sort out. Please R&R.
Disclaimer: I don't own Where on Earth is Carmen Sandiego, but the original characters I create are mine. This takes place in the Guns of October timeframe and is tied into the fanfic Every Clime and Place, I haven't forgotten it in the least. Characters from Guns of October and Every Clime and Place will make appearances. The Special Forces Regiment is divided into six groups (the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 7th, 9th, 19th and 24th, the last two of which are reserve or territorial units) with each group being divided into four Squadrons (A, B, D, and G) which consist each of four troops of twenty-one men apiece.
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: "Ivy, slow down, please, you're talking at thirty miles an hour." Jamie Lynch replied over the phone.
Ivy said, "I've just met this guy, he's staying at our house thanks to my Aunt May and he's amazing."
"Ivy, you sound like a school girl with a crush." Jamie replied, she was twenty two years, the same age as Ivy.
"Ouch, that hurt." Ivy replied, jokingly to her friend.
"Slow down and tell me about him." Jamie began.
"His name's Gene Locksley, from Orlando, Florida. He was wounded at Guadalcanal and my aunt had him discharged from the hospital to live with us." Ivy replied, "He's a nice guy, and kinda cute too..."
Jamie laughed lightly, she had rarely heard Ivy gossip this way about guys in general. "So have you heard anything from Ted lately?"
"He wrote me from Africa recently, but he says that he barely has time to sleep these days." Jamie began, referring to a former colleague, Ted Balfour, a twenty-three year old Englishman who was serving with Army Corps Africa in the 9th Special Forces, the active duty component of the United Systems Special Forces Regiment.
"This war's gotta end." Ivy said, "I'm sick of all these cloak and dagger operations that the Office of Strategic Services has our senior detectives do, I'm sick of Biohazard scares and shelter drills. And I'm sick of losing friends."
Jamie remembered losing fellow ACME detectives, Martin Gallatin, Gerard Fressan, and even Josha, though she wasn't particularly fond of the kid. She knew Gallatin and Fressan from a case she had in Europe when Ted had been sick with the flu. They had helped her track down the stolen copy of the Magna Carta. Gallatin and Fressan were both fighting in North Africa and were members of the 15th Light Infantry Division and had fought through the great disaster of 2142. Both had been killed before the relief had shown up to help them.
"Are you alright hon?" Chris Glen, her boyfriend asked.
"I'm fine, Chris, I just got off the phone with Ivy." Jamie replied, seeming a little under the weather, "We just talked about a few things."
The Australian grinned and said, "I know just how to cheer you up."
Chris swept her into his arms and kissed her, breaking away for air and then deepening the kiss. Jamie melted into his embrace and they cuddled on her apartment couch until they fell asleep.
"I love you Jamie." Chris said as he hugged her close to his side. She smiled and cuddled closer at his reply.
~ ~ ~ ~
North Africa, 2143: "Hey Ives, hand me that wrench." Lance Corporal Ted Balfour said from underneath the pinkie, what Special Forces soldiers called their heavily modified armored Land Rover 110s.
"Aye, here you go." Ives replied, he was a short, five foot Scot who was one of Mobility Troop's Marines.
"Thanks." Ted replied, and started tightening a couple bolts under the vehicle chassis. With the North Africa phase of Operation Counterpunch underway the Special Forces had been especially busy with raids, reconnaissance operations, road watches, and an assortment of other tasks.
Mobility Troop primarily operated heavily modified Land Rovers, ATVs, and motorbikes and conducted fast, behind the lines operations on vehicles. Archibald "Archie" Ives and Ted Balfour were members of this troop, belonging to D Squadron. Air Troop were the air assault and parachute unit, Mountain Troop were the mountaineers, and Boat Troop were divers and boaters.
A motorcycle kicked up a cloud of dust, spraying the vehicle with sand. "Bloody desert!" Ted complained.
"Ted, Archie!" said a familiar African accented voice. A short, stocky black man taller than Ives yet shorter than Ted's 5'7" kicked up the stand and pulled off his helmet and goggles, "Mission planning in fifteen minutes."
Edward Mgambe was from the Ivory Coast and a former member of the Cote d'Ivorie Division which had been decimated in 2142 in South America. He joined the Special Forces to avenge his lost friends and colleagues.
"Got it mate, but next time mind the dust you wanker!" Ted shouted from underneath the vehicle.
"It's the desert, what do you expect." Mgambe replied.
"A little more courtesy, like stop further away. You nearly got sand in the oil pan." Ted replied.
"Well your diploma just came for you." Mgambe said.
"Ow! Bloody hell! You made me hit my head!" Ted replied.
"For an educated Englishman you sure swear an awful lot." Ives replied.
"Oh piss off you illiterate Scot!" Ted replied as he crawled out from under the Land Rover and grabbed his khaki desert fatigue shirt and put it back on over his sand brown t-shirt.
"Georgetown University?" Mgambe asked, "I was at MIT when the war broke out and I left to join the fight against the Biohazard. What are you studying?"
"Literature." Ted replied, "With a minor degree in History, I just finished my final exam by mail last month. And I finally graduate."
"A literature student and you can't come up with better insults?" Mgambe laughed.
"Hey amigos, briefing in five!" Private Diego Gandoca shouted to the three soldiers at the Land Rover. He was a slim, fairly lean Costa Rican marathon runner who was an Olympic athlete. Selection had been easy for him.
Diego jumped into the Land Rover with Ives and Ted and Mgambe started up his motorbike as they drove off to the main hangar. 2nd Lieutenant James Closterman had taken one of the hangar's storage spaces and turned it into a briefing room with maps of the North African theater all over the walls, post it notes all around them, and various files lying about the room.
Sergeant First Class "Poet" Poole was the Squadron clerk, a very important position that kept the unit organized. He was a bespectacled Englishman of thirty-seven who had been serving with the Army since he was seventeen. "Sir, here's the brief."
"Alright, there's been quite a few complaints from the 15th Light Infantry and 1st Infantry about enemy artillery bombardments." Closterman began. He was a serious, intelligent Canadian with his blonde hair cut in a West Point flattop, "It's time we do something about it. Insertion?"
"I'd say vehicles sir." Mgambe said as Closterman pointed at him.
"How are we set for ordinance?" Closterman asked, indicating Ted.
"I'll go see what I can't go and dig up sir." Ted replied, "But we're gonna need small arms ammunition, .50 and 7.62 rounds, 40 mm grenades for the Mk.19 launchers and definitely Javelin rockets.
"Logistics." Closterman said.
"I'll help Ted with that, I also think that we should infiltrate at dusk, attack the artillery sites at Artie Alley and exfiltrate around dawn." Tashtego, a Hopi Indian from Flagstaff, Arizona began, "And for vehicles I'd say put out four motorbikes and three Land Rovers, that's all we'll need."
Eighteen men, a big raid for the troop, almost two-thirds of its strength employed on this operation apparently the Artie was a big problem rather than a complaint. "I'll lead you boys in, so put me on one of the bikes. Mgambe, you're my partner for this. Tashtego, you and Blitz go as the second scouting pair. Third scouting pair, Marini and Prideaux I'll let the rest of you sort out arrangements for vehicles. We leave tomorrow night."
"Oi, that's great! We've go' an op to pull, finally!" Private First Class "Blitz" Bollingbroke replied. His Cockney accent certainly was brought out in his speech.
"Bloody Cockneys." Ted replied.
"Bloody Geordies." Blitz remarked. He was so named because he was a motorcycle riding speed freak.
"It could be worse, you could be a bloody Kiwi or an Aussie." Ted replied.
"Oh God!" Staff Sergeant Simms remarked, he was a hulking six foot Marine from California that everyone called the Jolly Gyrene Giant or JG Simms for short, "Not another one of your crazy freaking which part of the British Commonwealth is the best debates?!"
"Actually we 'ere debating which part o' London is the best there, gov'ner." Blitz replied.
"Don't make me do the Henry Higgins My Fair Lady Thing with you Blitz." Simms replied, "And don't call me gov'ner again!"
"And what's wrong with Australians?" Corporal Lars Venkmann shouted from across the room. He was a former mechanical engineer at the age of thirty and was the biggest ladies man in the unit. He had joined the Special Forces at the age of twenty-eight.
Not one to back down Ted replied, "Oh that's easy, you're all a bunch of criminals from Britain, you're all sun burnt to the core, and Australian men are the biggest pigs on God's green earth."
"Oh that's nice, you Englishmen are a bunch of uptight, snobby, effete pricks that need Aussies to fight for you." Lars replied.
"What about the Commando units of World War II, they were a British unit." Ted replied.
"With one Australian at least to lead their sorry asses into battle." Lars replied.
"Shut up you two or this big pissed of Colonial's gonna repeat the Boston Massacre in reverse. The Englishman and the Australian get their asses kicked." Simms replied, good naturedly. He knew the pair were the best of friends but were just kidding around.
"Those morons are going at it again?" Gunnery Sergeant Mike Juarez remarked, he was one of the eight Marines in Mobility Troop, he was a short but heavily muscled fellow who was an avid weight lighter, "If I hear one more debate I'll put both of you on latrine duty for a month."
"Right Gunny, we're not gonna argue." Ted replied.
"Much anyway." Blitz pipped, "Mr. Georgetown big shot."
"I'm not gonna start parading my undergraduate degree like some bloody academic. That's a ton of pig's swallow." Ted replied.
"Why'd you go active before the war started anyway?" Sergeant "Tash" Tashtego asked as he joined the conversation, "Why didn't you stay with ACME?"
"Long story mate." Ted replied.
"It's always a woman isn't it?" Tashtego said. He was often seen as a source of wisdom in the unit, and was called the Chaplain Sergeant because of his approachability and native wisdom and calm.
"How'd you guess?" Ted replied, with only a hint of the angst within, he had to tell his good friend Tash everything now, "Could you do me a favor mate and take this for me."
He handed him an envelope, "If I fall on this op, or any operation, send it."
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: "Ted? Come in, please." Jamie said.
"I brought out the files on our current case. What do you think?" Ted replied, carrying his notebook brimming with loose sheets of paper under his arm, he also had a bag with two six inch subs and two sodas from Subway.
"I'm still trying to link why Carmen stole Major Koenig's telescopic sight out of all the Russian military memorabilia she could have stolen out of the Moscow Red Army History Museum to Capitaine Danjou's wooden hand...Aside from the obvious fact that their from soldiers."
"Defeated soldiers." Ted replied, "Danjou and Koenig have in common that they were bested by their foes. Though motive's gonna be difficult to determine.
Ted looked around at the pictures on her desk. He was glad that he had met and was privileged to know such a wonderful young woman. They had been assigned together two years ago, with Ted being the more senior detective of the pair by one year. Throughout the time he had fallen in love with this kindhearted young woman from the Midwestern United States. Ted was usually a shy, introverted Englishman who liked to work alone and initially resented being partnered up with another detective, but he found he didn't mind the partnership after their first couple cases.
"Those are my brothers." Jamie remarked, "The oldest one is starting his sophomore year at my old high school."
"Catholic high school?" Ted asked.
"Yeah. What about you?" Jamie asked.
"I was educated by Anglican Nuns until I was graduated early because I passed the ACME screening test." Ted replied, "And the Irish sisters were the strictest, I think they liked beating up on the Englishmen."
"Very funny." Jamie replied, "I think Jesuits are egalitarian."
"Not if their Scottish, Welsh, or Irish, they really don't like British school kids." Ted remarked.
"You're getting that persecuted Englishman complex again." Jamie laughed.
"Thanks for your sympathy." Ted replied wryly. Inside he was waiting for the moment to ask her out Saturday night; it was just a matter on how to work it into the conversation. He handed her one of the sandwiches, "Chicken Caesar wrap, just how you order it."
"Thanks Ted," Jamie said, smiling back, "You're always nice to me. Have you met my boyfriend, Chris Glen? You remind me of him so much."
Ted did his best to seem unaffected, "No I haven't, well I've got some other matters to attend to. See you at work tomorrow."
"See you Ted." Jamie replied.
Ted walked back to his room in the dorm where the ACME detectives that didn't live in San Francisco resided. He picked up the phone and called his Squadron Admin Officer, "Yes, this is Corporal Balfour, I'd like to transfer into the active Special Forces from the 19th Special Forces, Territorial."
The next morning, after breakfast, Ted sat at his desk, nursing his metal Territorial Special Forces coffee cup, which had the stamping of a skull wearing a green beret with a dagger vertically intersecting it, with a snake around it bearing the words Motivated, Dedicated, Lethal above it and the unit motto De Oppresso Liber below. It was a gift Jamie had given him on his 19th birthday, the day before he left to run the Territorial Selection.
"Hey Ted," Jamie beamed, taking her seat at the adjacent desk, "What's up?"
"There's something I've been meaning to say." Ted replied, "I've been thinking a lot about going active for quite some time."
Jamie knew that Ted was a reservist, or a territorial, and had for the last six months been in the 19th Special Forces Group. She didn't know he was leaving because he was in love with her. Still the thought of him leaving, the guy that other ACME detectives said was as solid as a rock and the perpetual nice guy, was like a physical blow.
"Why?" Jamie asked.
"Jamie, there's a war brewing about, the colonies are being consumed by it and it's only a matter of time before Earth gets its share. If I'm gonna take care of the people I love, I'm gonna have to do this." Ted replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: The thirty-five pounds of weight in the bergen (rucksack) on Ted's back made him grunt with exertion as he ran wearing full fatigues (t-shirt, olive drab trousers, shirt, boots, and jacket) through the spring sun of the Welsh countryside. He could feel his old sores and abrasions from the pack straps opening up and he was going again to the orderly shed to get them fixed up and keep going.
Ted knew that he had to stay this route. The Directing Staff, or the instructors, were waiting at the middle and end of this five mile run were gatekeepers and also safety observers to make sure candidates didn't injure themselves. Accidents still happened though. During a Winter Selection a lieutenant got lost in the snowy mountains and died.
"You gonna give up Balfour!?" Captain Day; or Captain Daybitch as the candidates called him because he was seen as the hard ass among the Directing Staff.
"No sir!" Balfour shouted defiantly, "I've got nowhere left to go!"
"Well then! Get the lead out if you want to pass this run!" Day shouted. Ted knew that he had two and a half more miles of this five mile field pack run to go and he knew he couldn't bear to be RTU'd (Returned to Unit) back to the Territorial Special Forces because he couldn't bear with what he left at ACME.
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: While on case in Britain, Zack and Ivy visited Stirling Lines, one of the areas where Special Forces Selection was run. They watched as several trucks pulled up and the exhausted Special Forces candidates staggered toward the medical shed for an examination and then to the mess hall for dinner and some brief hours of personal time and sleep.
They saw Ted wander by. His eyes were glassy and sunken from all the exertion he had put through from the five-mile pack run, the twenty-five minute or better three mile run in boots and fatigues, and all the pull- ups, pushups, bar dips, situps, and other exercises that he had done that day.
He grinned at them tiredly when he saw them in the camp as he walked with his bergen still on his back, leaning forward to ease off a bit of weight. In the moonlight as well as the artificial light, they could see Selection's toll on the men enduring her.
"He's lost weight." Ivy observed.
"They all have." Zack replied, indicating a soldier whose uniform fit in a baggy way on his frame, "It's like a procession of the walking dead."
"And the hardest nine weeks of your life." Ted replied, his Selection still had three weeks to run, "They've already weeded out fifty-eight percent of the class."
Ted still had his pack on and hunched forward noticeably because of the weight. He picked up his canteen from his belt and took a long slug of water. "I'm doing this to keep all of you at ACME safe. A man hath no greater love than to lay his life down for his friends."
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: "You really must have cared for her if you were willing to go through Selection again instead of waiting to be called up like most Territorial SF guys do." Tashtego began.
"I did." Ted replied. If Territorials wanted to go into the active duty Special Forces Groups they had to go through the active duty Selection. The Territorial version wasn't easy in itself, it took a special type of soldier to get through Territorial SF Selection but many of the active duty guys liked to call the Territorials bootleg troopers. If Earth had an emergency that required activation all Territorials would be activated and the Territorial Special Forces would all be activated, put through an intensive schooling and conditioning phase, and integrated into the active units.
Ted hefted a box of 40mm grenades into the back of one of the Land Rovers, the designated cargo vehicle as he spoke, "I love her enough to let her choose her path, and they looked so happy together I just couldn't interfere. So I had to leave."
The ammunition was being loaded into the vehicles and the vehicles themselves were being checked for any last minute problems. The North African sun was due to set in half an hour.
"Ted, sorry about your lass back in America," Ives said, "But know we're there for you."
"Thanks mate, I really appreciate it." Ted replied.
"Besides, if you die I'd love to get my hands on those new lighter and stronger paratrooper boots you bought last week." Ives replied.
"You're out of my will you wanker." Ted laughed, "And any rate, you're feet are too damned small."
"Bollocks mate," Archie Ives replied, "You know we have the same shoe sizes."
"I know I was kidding." Ted replied.
"Bon voyage!" Kowalski, a Polish trooper in Air Troop, shouted, "We'll take care of your gear for you here and your girlfriends back home."
Simms shot him a finger, "Laugh it up Pollock!"
"I will! For once the Slavs have the last laugh!" Kowalski shouted. A bunch of Air Troop guys were humming the melody to a funeral dirge as they wandered among the Land Rovers.
"Any parting words." Sergeant Major Jason Vecchio, the Squadron Sergeant Major of D Squadron, said. The Proof of Life videos were always done before operations, troops going on ops always gave their two cents to a video camera.
"Staff Sergeant Rodney Simms, US Marine Corps. Sarah, honey, be sure you tuck the kids in tonight and tell them not to forget their old man loves them."
"Aw, isn't 'hat swee' Big Daddy Simms...." Blitz began, "Private First Class Bobby "Blitz" Bollingbroke, US Army. I just did Selection and now at nineteen years old I'm goin' out 'o kick some arse!"
"If you call me Big Daddy Simms one more time I'm shoving that camera up where the sun don't shine!"
"Sergeant Tashtego, US Army. I am the Great Spirit's Revenge." Tashtego said with his trademark serene Indian grin.
"You might as well believe in the tooth fairy!" Ives shot in, "His Great Spirit's Ronald McDonald and his two chief exercises are eating and drinking."
"Hah hah Ives, the shorty who likes to hit on women twice his height!" Tashtego kidded back.
"Lance Corporal Archibald Ives, USMC, pay nay any attention to that big hulking redskin over there. I'm short, but I'm good looking, fun and available."
"Gunnery Sergeant Miguel Juarez, USMC. I've about had it with those crazy Brits in the Squadron." Juarez said with a grin.
"Gunny! I resent you saying I'm a Brit!" Ives shouted.
"Corporal Lars Venkmann, US Army. Don't mind the bloody Marines around me. They're great bullet sponges."
"HEY!" came the collective shout from the Marines in the unit.
"Did I say that aloud?" Lars replied.
"Yes you did." Mgambe began, "Lance Corporal Edward Mgambe, US Army. I wish good fortune upon my family on the Ivory Coast."
"How touching, and sickening." Lars shot in.
"Lance Corporal Ted Balfour, US Army. For Henry! England! And Saint George!" Ted replied.
"Not to mention Detective Lynch!" Diego blurted. The kid had served a brief tour with ACME uniformed services before going into the Special Forces and was a slight acquaintance of Ted's.
"Oh shut your trap Diego!" Ted shouted.
"Private Diego Gandoca. I'm nineteen, Costa Rican, good looking and single. What more could a woman want?"
"Probably some facial hair." Ted replied.
At this, the others roared with laughter as Diego fired back, "Probably you need a girlfriend. I do know a few senioritas in my village who'd love to have an educated Englishman with a degree from Georgetown."
"Burn in hell you wanker!" Ted shot back, smiling.
"2nd Lieutenant James Closterman, US Army. Mobility Troop Commander, though sometimes I feel like I run a three ringed circus with these clowns."
"You do sir!" Lars replied, snapping off a smart salute after coming to attention. The others were rolling up in laughter.
"Private First Class Franz Drache, US Army. I'm a hell of a driver on the auto bahn in Germany."
"A hell of a terrible driver that is!" Warrant Officer Poole shouted to the slim bodied blonde haired German.
"Go screw yourself Poole." Drache replied.
"Warrant Officer Joseph Seth Utterson, US Army." Utterson replied, his clipped British accent obvious.
"Otherwise known as El Supremo!" Corporal Haste Lanyon, patrol medic, remarked.
"Tell me why you left medical school again. Oh, doing your patriotic duty to the military. You bloody wanker." Utterson replied.
"Corporal Haste Lanyon, US Marines, pay no attention to that ungodly drunk earlier." Lanyon replied. He was a fellow in his late twenties with longish brown hair, long sideburns and a goatee, he looked more a punk rocker than a medic. He had quit medical school to serve his nation when the Biohazard hit Earth in 2141.
"You're his drinking buddy dude." Said a longish haired fellow wearing a peace symbol on his dog tags.
"Shut up you bleeing Yank hippie do gooder!" Lanyon replied.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that dude, you gotta be totally mellow and with the flow, you know." The man replied, "Lance Corporal Stoney Brown, US Army. I'm from Encino California, I'm mellow, personable and from the 82nd Airborne Division."
"Shut up you bloody stoner! And you're not mellow when you're handling machineguns or rockets." Lanyon shot back, with a slightly sour expression.
The camera panned around to another man, "Lance Corporal David Morgan, US Army. Stoney's my best friend, sadly, but other than that I do say that the 82nd is the best unit in the Army."
"Hell no!" a loud Slavic voice sounded, "Lance Corporal Linkovich Chumovsky, US Army. The 101st Airborne Division all the way baby!!!"
"I do believe that the best unit is the 1st Air Cavalry." A voice sounded.
"Oh shut up Jew!" Link replied.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." The bespectacled Jewish soldier grinned, good naturedly, he knew Link was kidding, "Private First Class Adam Whitehurst, US Army, 1st Air Cavalry. American soccer to the World Cup!"
"No, Italian soccer!" shouted another man, "Lance Corporal Mario Enrico Marini, USMC, Italian soccer shall take the world cup."
"Not if French Soccer gets them first. Louis Prideaux, USMC. Avignon, France."
"Frenchmen can't fight!" Drache shouted.
Ted got into the driver's seat of his Land Rover; he was lead vehicle, behind the two motorbike scouts in front and in close contact with the two motorbike flankers as they drove in a loose formation out of the FOB (Forward Operating Base) to enemy lines. Ives was in the passenger seat as navigator with Lars manning the twin fifty caliber machineguns in the back and Lanyon manning the MG-70 light machinegun facing aft as well as handling the ammunition.
Ted started whistling the melody to Desert Rose as he started his vehicle up. Behind him Gandoca was driving the command vehicle that had Simms sitting in it, relaying intelligence that Closterman would find to the other members of the unit via two way radios. Rounding that vehicle out were Whitehurst and Link.
Stoney, Dave, Gunny, and Drache had the last Land Rover. Gunny said, "Great I've got the stoner and his best friend and a living auto accident. Honey, please cash my life insurance policy right now."
The vehicles headed in a phalanx out into the North African desert to take the war to the enemy who was weakening steadily in Africa.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chris tucked Jamie into her bed, removing her sneakers and pulling her blankets up to her neck. He kissed her forehead and she smiled serenely as he walked off, turning the lights off and closing the door. As he walked out of her apartment he noticed a framed picture of four soldiers clustered around a modified Land Rover 110 painted desert tan. One of them he recognized as Ted Balfour the other three he didn't. He did read the message written under it, "Jamie, Cheers from the desert. Ted. G Squadron, October 11, 2141."
He remembered the date was when Josha had been killed at El Mechili with the 91st Armored Division. He didn't particularly like Josha, thinking him immature and obsessive, despite his great intelligence. But he did know that Ted had befriended the kid despite that and helped him cope with his unrequited affections for Ivy. He also knew, from one of the few letters home from Ted that Jamie let him see, that Ted had seen his friend die that day.
"Why would any sane man want to have a job like that?" Chris asked, "I guess I'll never know."
Truth was, Chris felt a little jealous of how often Jamie received letters from Ted that she never shared with him unless she'd already read them. He understood that it was her own business, but he always felt like Ted was a rival of some sort, that he had feelings for Jamie but was too much of a gentleman to interfere with her happiness.
Little did he know how right he was, as he walked out of the apartment, straight into Ivy's path. "Sorry Ivy, I didn't mean to run into you luv." Chris replied.
"Shouldn't you be calling Jamie that?" Ivy joked.
"It's just an Australian expression, we say that to any women that are close friends. (AN: Not entirely sure about that one)." Chris replied, he seemed a little under the weather about the fact that Jamie had quite a few of Ted's snapshots from Africa and Europe around her apartment and only a few of him.
He told Ivy about the pictures and saw an uncharacteristic feminine grin coming from the normal workaholic he knew, "Don't worry about it. Jamie's just a good friend of Ted's. He sends us pictures from where he is all the time."
Ivy deliberately avoided telling Chris how she'd guessed the real reason Ted decided to leave the Territorial SF and ACME. She respected Ted's privacy too much to do that.
~ ~ ~ ~
2140: Ivy watched as Ted drank down his water thirstily. She could see his compass hanging off his webbing and noticed a small wallet sized photograph taped tightly to the underside. She could see a picture of a woman with short, chestnut brown hair, rich brown eyes and a light tan complexion. It was Jamie's picture.
It all came together that one instant. Ted's recent brooding mood, the decision he made to leave ACME and become an active duty SF trooper, the picture taped under his compass. He was in love with her best friend and it was hurting him that she didn't share his feelings. It hurt him so badly that he had to flee to an active combat unit to deal with the grief.
Zack noticed it too, because as Ted walked away he said, "Why didn't he tell her?"
"She's seeing Chris, Zack, maybe he didn't want to interfere with her happiness. That's just like Ted, putting others before himself." Ivy replied.
"Yeah, I guess that's why he looks like his soul's been drained away." Zack replied.
"Running around with all that gear will do it too Zack." Ivy replied, knowing that Ted was suffering some serious hurt.
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: "Ivy," Zack said, he had been nearby when she and Chris had talked, "Don't you think Ted should tell her how he feels?"
"That's up to Ted to decide." Ivy replied.
"I know that." Zack replied, "I'm eighteen but I'm not stupid Ive."
"I know little bro," Ivy replied, rumpling his blonde hair, "But I know its Ted's decision."
"Does he really think running away is the right solution? That doesn't sound like the Ted that I remember. You know the Ted who would run through a burning building to save a friend in a heartbeat." Zack replied, "He should tell her he loves her."
"You know how much Ted values his friendships, if he lost her friendship because he failed in love it would really kill him." Ivy replied.
"It killed Josha for sure." Zack replied, "I mean, he ran into the Army with Gallatin, Pilgrim, and that whole gang because...."
Zack stopped because he saw tears starting to form in Ivy's green eyes, one of the rare times he ever saw his tough big sis ever break down. Josha had written a letter that he trusted to Ted's care when they'd shipped out to North Africa together. The letter told Ivy everything he felt about her, that he was too shy to tell her how he felt, and was afraid she'd reject him.
While Ivy wasn't in love with Josha, just a friend, it still hurt to know he was dead. He got along well with Ted because they suffered the same problem of unrequited and unspoken love. The only difference was that Josha died in battle before he could say anything.
"Maybe we should tell her." Zack said, "Let her know Ted's fallen for her."
"And ruin his friendship with her, he'd hate us forever." Ivy replied.
~ ~ ~ ~
2143: Ted held the Stingray Mk. II Paratrooper Carbine with one hand and the steering wheel of the Land Rover with the other. The world looked green through the NOD (Night Observation Device) he wore on his face. They were coming up on the enemy energy orb projection battery pretty fast. Without a sound, Mgambe and Closterman indicated that they were ready to lead the Land Rovers in.
Ted floored the gas pedal as they drove into the enemy encampment where ogres loaded energy orbs and Gollums directed fire. Suddenly ribbons of tracers and 40mm grenades exploded into their midst. A 40mm bomb landed in a pile of energy orbs, exploding and flashing the sky light as day.
In the light Ted could see two Gollums running at the Land Rover with a portable energy orb projector. He fired his carbine on full auto and raked them with a long burst of gunfire. He could hear the twin fifties firing steadily as Lars tore a cluster of ogres apart.
He could see Simms' Land Rover putting a pair of 40mm grenades into a technical (civilian vehicles the Gollums modify for raids similar to this against human forces). The modified Toyota pick up truck exploded in a flash. He saw Whitehurst shooting 40mm grenades in rapid succession at enemy artillery pieces, clusters of enemy troops and piles of ammo.
Just as quickly as they came, the raiders drove off into the desert leaving fifty seven dead enemy and times two wounded in their drive by shooting. Two more occurred during the night leaving a total of 200 zombies, ogres, and Gollums dead on the desert sands.
~ ~ ~ ~
To be continued: Please be patient, I've got a million ideas in my head I'm trying to sort out. Please R&R.