"The Reunion"
Episode 203 – Anesthesia
D-Minus 8 Days
"Sometimes I'd like to think that Jonnie Rico knew what exactly to do when he got the message from T'Phai, then I put myself in his shoes and I know, there's no way to know what to do. You can only go off of your gut instincts."
- Dr. Robert "Paperboy" Higgins, from: The Roughneck Chronicles
EARTH
Charlie Zim looked out the window of the office in his personal home in Honolulu. He was overlooking the ocean and the sun was just rising. He let out a long sigh and turned away. He squeezed his eyes shut and held them. They burned from lack of sleep and he felt the tears well up as he held them shut. His body was beginning to feel fatigue; he'd been without sleep now for three days. But once you were an MI, you were always an MI. Which was part of the problem he was facing now.
As it stood, the Mobile Infantry was at about half its strength, maybe less, the reports could never be held as completely accurately because of how often officers fudged them. If you were short on supplies or men, you could always misreport for a while then play catch up slowly, or if you were over, misreport and keep it hidden from everyone's prying eyes. Either was the trend for the day. Too many officers were undermanned and undersupplied on the far off planets, so they would report everything as okay in order to avoid more paper work than anyone wanted to deal with. Grunts hated paperwork; it took away from sack time, which is what it was doing to Zim right now.
The other officers, the lucky ones who got away with more, misreported in order to maintain the level they were at. You never knew when the call would come up and a sergeant or private would be transferred to fill a vacancy some where in another part of the galaxy, and if you reported your squad as normal, but still had an extra stashed in there, when that call came up, you weren't left short handed. The logistics left after the war were somewhat muffled. It seemed that Sanchez had tried to keep the MI at their numbers, but it was impossible.
After the war, the resources needed to maintain the MI at the number it had reached, three hundred thousand, give or take, were just not present. The Earth had been stripped clean during the war; the Bugs had destroyed so much. The terraforming of Venus was stepped up and completed four years sooner than expected, giving the Earth a food resource. Birthing licenses were issued to anyone who met the criteria (i.e. no genetic defects, no history of chronic diseases, no history of mental problems, etc), that way the gene pool and population pool was refurbished. Cloning was allowed for a short time (from the DNA of the dead), but after a riot at the London plants, the experiment was halted, all fully grown clones were introduced into society, while the rest were destroyed, becoming a horrible black eye for SICON.
The other major problem facing the MI was the amount of section eights issued. No one could have guessed the sort of problems that would arise later on, but at least some of them were expected, but the rest were horrible. Suicides jumped through the roof, along with crimes. It turns out that spending one to two years fighting giant insects across countless systems can have a negative effect on people. Who would have guessed? The amount of murders climbed .002% in the years immediately following the war, which meant seven murders every week; that was more than tolerated. Martial law was instituted for two months until everything was under control, but still, the Mobile Infantry lost numbers. The fleet seemed to have been able to squeak by losing only a sixth of their numbers. That seemed to be the way things went.
Zim opened his eyes to see the papers in front of him. He looked at them in disgust and stood up. He stretched his body out and felt his back pop in numerous places. He turned around and walked out of the office into the hall and popped his knuckles. He entered the kitchen and saw that it was just six o'clock. He pulled the coffee pot out to find he had sucked it dry and forgot to refill it. He slammed it down and grunted; he was getting testy in his old age, little patience for the little things.
Storming through the house in the early morning hours seemed to be one of his favorite past times now. In the past few days, Zim had been going from room to room trying to take care of business, trying to take care of things that needed taken care of. Sure, Miriam had aides who could do most of it, and by all accounts, should be doing them, but Zim didn't trust them, not with what he was handling, it was too important.
After the war, the MI was broken. It was only a shadow of its former self. It now controlled more territory with even fewer troopers than before. It was actually quite amazing. The deployment had actually done a good job for peacetime. A single MI could easily stop a dozen bugs with the right equipment, and the numbers of MI on the colonies proved that to be true. The problem came from the total number of MI left. At little over one hundred thousand, the MI could not hope to retain control of a planet against an invading bug army, not by any means. This in turn led to prove the fault in Sanchez's reasoning. While he did what he had to, there were other measures he could have taken to help keep the MI from crumbling like it had. The main point to be noticed is that SICON had grown complacent and arrogant in its victory over the bugs, and now it was looking to come back and bite them on the tail.
Zim was busy trying to go through discharge papers of those who were still physically and mentally competent to return to service. Once an MI, always an MI. The numbers who were discharged, still alive and mentally and physically competent did little to help. Sure the numbers jumped 3%, but that wasn't enough. Zim was trying to see where he could bend the rules on it. Missing both legs? No problem, the MI has plenty for you. Paralyzed? Maybe a new brain jack. There were several possibilities that would boost the numbers an additional 15%, but the money and resources were not allocated. That was another job he had taken on. He'd assigned himself the budget. He knew where he could cut corners and where he could fill in gaps, the things that a simple civilian wouldn't think of.
As it stood, Zim could maybe get 12%, not the 20% he wanted back when he wanted them back. That remaining 8% would be left up to the bureaucrats who thought they could fight the war from behind a desk. The fleet was in fine shape, maybe a little rearranging, and some dry dock for several ships, but it would suffice for now.
Rearranging the MI was his biggest problem. To keep control, a squad needed four to six members. To be a fully effective, well oiled machine that brought misery, death and destruction down on any enemy of the human race, it needed double that. A MI out of boot is ready to become part of the team with little or no problems. The MI were trained to mesh together, just like an added extension to allow the whole work even better. But at four men per squad, they were tested to meet that. The catch up needed put a remarkable strain on both trooper and equipment. Now, troopers had to play catch up for the lack of both. But, Sanchez had tried, and he had managed to keep some dignity in the Mobile Infantry. But that was for peace times, and the times were quickly changing. Or at least that's the way things looked.
There had been no official word on any particular bug movements, just the skirmishes on all the planets, all of which were quickly subdued and controlled. But now the psychics were jumping up and down, saying that the brains were contacting them, letting them know they're coming. The psych department was a mess, especially with Carl gone. And Carl was the biggest upset. The Y Pres had tracked him as far as Tophet, where he made another jump, but then the trail mysteriously disappeared. Whatever he was doing, it was making a lot of people nervous. His going AWOL made a lot of generals mad, and now they were shouting at Miriam about it. The council was even getting into the fray now. It was a circus looking from the outside in and Zim had the privilege of being on both sides of it.
Politicians had this big thing about thinking they could run the war from behind a desk. But what senator had ever won a war? SICON had made sure that it could win, and proved that it would. The biggest problem over the recent events was how the council panicked. They wanted to bring all forces home from the outer planets, try and protect only Earth. The idea was preposterous of course, but they thought they knew everything. The most intriguing fact was that none of the council was a citizen. The council was formed to give the civilians a 'voice' while all it really did was make them shut up. Sometimes it would try and over step its bounds and pull something but it would quickly be put back by the Sky Marshal and generals.
Things were getting testy at Headquarters though, quickly too. It had only been three days since Miriam broke word to the Civilian Council and the Council of Officers but already they were moving. Zim was busy rearranging while everyone else could take care of their own problems; he wanted to make sure that the grunts had a fighting chance. Everyone was moving to make sure the news didn't get out. Maybe this was really happening, but galactic panic would not help matters at all. Hopefully it was a false alarm that would wake everyone up to the realization that there may be more out there. Something worse than the bugs. That idea scared him more than anything. The Bugs had almost succeeded in their plan, but failed at the last moment.
Zim retreated to his bedroom. He was determined to get some coffee, and he sure didn't want to make it. He needed some exercise. He dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and put on a pair of running shoes. Even as old as he was, he could still beat some greenies. He tied his shoes tight over his socks and did a few more stretches before leaving the room. The hallway was bright now as the sun had risen into the sky. It was still hovering above the waterline but it was up. The air outside was cool a brisk, the perfect time for a three mile jog. Both ways. He ran down the driveway and onto the street and decided he would take the long way to get more out of his trip.
As he ran, Zim continued to go over the math of rearrangement and redeployment. The hardest thing would be getting all of the troops moved around in time; otherwise, SICON would be caught with its paints around its ankles. There were 23000 squads scattered around the galaxy. That had been the number when the war had ended, but peacetime cuts and redeployment had been the cause in the number of available troops. Divide the available troops up into the squads, make squads their full size and you're left with less half of that number. Then from that, Zim had to figure out how and where to redeploy those squads around the galaxy. The fleet needed seven thousand squads available to maintain a remote readiness, which left another two thousand available for the garrisons on the two hundred bases and colonies scattered around the galaxy, not to mention that at any given time, twenty percent of the MI were on R&R, which dropped the number even more. What Zim was left with was an under prepared mess to defend the human race.
The deal was simple though, the only option was for Zim to rearrange in that manner, the only problem was for SICON to get all the orders taken care of, not counting new recruits and discharges because of the completion of terms, and they needed two months to get everything the way it's supposed to be. But SICON didn't have two months, not with what the psychics were saying. They had two weeks. And two weeks was not enough time to get everything taken care of if you went through the proper channels. Going over the authorization part was the only choice they really had. That way all Zim had to do was put the people where he wanted them and tell who needed to to make it so. But he needed a day or two to work that part out.
Zim ran the whole way to the beach and was there before he'd realized it. The sun was up now and shinning down bright. The water sparkled like a thousand pieces of glass shattered and spread out. He ran onto the sand and decided that he would take the long way to his favorite café next to one of the piers. He ran by several surfers who were making their way into the water. He passed by a couple who had spent the night on the beach and were watching the sun and ocean. He reached the café to find it open and to see the owner setting out table settings. He walked under the small pavilion, which is all the café really was, and went to the counter. The waiter walked out from the kitchen and saw Zim and smiled.
Zim ventured to the café enough for the waiter to know him by name, while Zim still didn't know his. It wasn't that he'd never heard it; he just couldn't remember how to pronounce it. The waiter stepped up to Zim who was about six inches taller. He had dark long hair that covered his thin dark face.
"How are you this morning friend?" Zim asked looking around. The place would be busy by 7:30 until midnight.
"I'm good Citizen Zim. Would you like something to eat?" He asked leaning against the bad.
"No, just coffee." Zim replied standing back up straight. He caught sight of two transports entering the atmosphere and flying low across the ocean, spraying water out behind them. The screeched by and flew towards HQ. He couldn't see them land but he heard it. He turned back to the counter and saw his coffee waiting for him and a smiling Peloponnesian. "How much?" he asked reaching into his pocket.
"For you, free my friend. On the house. I just hope you remember your friend here?" He said with a smile.
Zim was taken back by the comment. It left him confused and startled, enough so that his mouth must have been left open.
"Do not worry," He said running his fingers across his lips. "I have lived and watched SICON on this island; I know a secret when I hear one. It seems when some people get a little bit of alcohol in them, they want to talk about everything they know. Some of it turns out to be interesting."
Zim just nodded. "Yeah." He began to walk away but turned back and smiled. "Can't forget the man who gives the best coffee on the planet." And he turned back around and walked onto the beach.
He was stuck on the problem of getting the MI's numbers back to what they were before the end of the war. Casualties were a constant, but they had been able to retain a steady level of troopers. Around three hundred thousand or so, but now, at the one hundred thousand mark, they were bucking for help.
The sun was warm against Zim's face as he watched the wave's crash against the shore. He loved the area. Everything was so peaceful and serene, it was paradise. He finished his coffee and threw the cup into the bin next to the sidewalk as he left the beach. He did a few quick stretches before he started running again. The exercise was great, but he still had work that he needed to finish.
Before the Bug War, SICON had stipulations in place that would help keep people from joining, but keep the numbers at a steady level. Everyone figured that two hundred thousand, give or take, was a good number for the MI during peace time, and those were full squads. On paper, the numbers and deployment schemes that were in place should have worked, but the increase of area spread them thin. After OPC, enlistment jumped to a new height. People wanted to join because it was fashionable, the propaganda was working. But after the battle for Earth and having the ugly face of war thrust upon them and they didn't like it. They didn't like it enough in fact that enlistment after the war dropped, despite easier tests and more rewards.
People seem to be patriotic as long as it suits their interests, but as soon as it no longer does, they could care less. The trick to getting people in where they were needed was to trick them but again, the war had foiled even that. The longevity of the war had caused many people to question what they were told, despite the proof that at least half of it was always true. The Bug was no match for SICON, but only barely. The problem was solved easily during the Battle for Earth by instituting a draft, which was probably what Zim was going to have to convince Miriam of doing. The problem there was enforcing it. Sure, tell the people they had to report for duty, but what then? After the war, if people didn't want to join and didn't want to fight, many probably wouldn't.
Zim rounded the corner and began to run up the driveway to his house. He had another problem nagging at the back of his mind too. He needed to know what to do about the Roughnecks. SICON would want them on the front lines, and Rico would gladly take them there, no problem, that's why he was doing what he was doing now; rampaging through the galaxy destroying that which wanted to do nothing more than kill his family and friends.
He entered his house to find it cool. During his run, Zim had found that the temperature rose quickly and the humidity only amplified that. He went to his room, undressed and got into the shower.
Zim knew that T'Phai had contacted Miriam about Jonnie and gotten the information on where to find him. Now Zim needed to do the same. He needed to know if Jonnie wanted all of the original Roughnecks back, or if he wanted him to just transfer good people in. The only thing Zim knew for sure was whether or not he wanted the rest of Roughnecks; Zim was going to be back.
EN ROUTE TO TOPHET
Major Jonnie Rico had awoken that morning to the sound of someone banging on his door. Or at least that's what he had thought at first. He hated being woke up on his off days. Though he knew that he never really had 'off days', just days where he could maybe sleep a little longer than usual. The banging had continued even after he had screamed for the visitor to go away. When he finally sat up to see who it was he realized what it was. A water pipe had busted on the deck above him and the repair crews had to fix it immediately or the entire deck would lose its entire water supply. And that's how the bad day had begun.
He had went to the mess hall on his own, it was on the deck above his quarters so he got to see all the water and the leak and that's how he figured out what the banging had been. There was an inch and a half of water on the deck itself with tools floating around in it. It had actually been kind of funny. The mechanics were having to jump around and splash to get what they needed. Rico had thought of helping but he was in a sour mood already and hungry, he knew they'd probably refuse his help and he knew for sure that they could fix it on their own.
The mess hall was a mess too. It turns out that the cooks were the ones who had started the leak in the first place. Rico later discovered that one of the cooks was trying to make some Tophetti dish and caught half the kitchen on fire. He was trying to put it out with water but the pressure ended up rupturing the pipe in the hall way, and to make matters worse, the kitchen was out which meant, very little food.
Rico was able to scrounge around in the back (being a major has the kind of perks that allow you to do that) and find some stuff to make himself a couple of sandwiches. He'd eaten alone most of the time, but today he found Murphy sitting by himself in the back corner next to a window staring off into nothing. Rico sat down in front of him and he immediately stood up.
"Sir, Major Sir." He had said coming to full attention.
"At ease private. Sit back down." Murphy did as he was told then went back to staring out of the window. Rico took a bite of his sandwich and looked out the window. "What you looking at soldier?"
"Oh, um, just looking, sir." Murphy had replied quietly. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"
"Of course." Rico said taking another bite. "Want a sandwich?"
"Sir, no thank you sir." Murphy looked around then at Rico. "Sir, what happened at Armstrong? I can't believe that that's what it was like during the war sir, that was incredible, that many bugs. I mean, I remember being a kid on Earth and seeing the vids and everything, all those bugs. But I had thought that some of it was doctored after the war, you know, because of all the released information on propaganda."
"No, those vids were true." Rico took another bite and swallowed. "I was there, and what happened at Armstrong was nothing. That was a skirmish for us ten years ago." He finished off his first sandwich and began eating the second. "You see, the point of propaganda is to get you to believe what we want you to believe, what happened was that people were forced not to believe it when three hundred bugs would come crashing through their back yard followed by a squad of MI, or vice versa."
"But, it just seemed impossible." Murphy said looking down at the table. "I was scared. With the clean up missions that we had to do on Eden and Lilat, those were easy, not as many bugs—"
"That's why they were clean up missions." Rico interrupted finishing his second sandwich and starting his third, he had been kind of disappointed because he only had one left after that...
"Yes sir, I know, that's what I was getting at, if those were clean up missions, and this was a clean up mission, why was their such a difference in sizes? How could INTEL underestimate their size?"
Rico began to laugh loudly at the last statement that had come from Murphy. Rico knew the kid was brave and strong, but this was something new. He was naive too. "Private, why did you join the Mobile Infantry?"
Murphy had been taken back by the question. "Sir?"
"Why did you join the Mobile Infantry son?" Rico asked again with a mouthful of ham, bread and lettuce.
"Well sir, I guess, the adventure." He'd said after a moment of silent thought.
Rico smiled. "You believed the propaganda."
"Sir?"
"It's the same basic thing when I joined. After OPC, just about everyone wanted to join because it looked easy, it looked fun. Think about it, who wouldn't want to see Pluto and the other planets? And while you're at it, kill some mindless insects that wanted to kill you, though they never really mentioned that last part. The war was made to look fashionable, easy, no problem. But the truth was slightly different. You see, at least fifty percent of the propaganda that SICON issued was the truth, sometimes it was wholly truthful, but it never went below being half the truth."
"Is that why you joined sir?" Murphy asked curiously. He had sounded like a young kid when he'd asked, and looked like one too.
Rico had been caught off guard by the question as he was in the middle of biting into the last of his third sandwich. He finished it off and thought while he chewed. He knew why he'd joined, and what he'd put down for his reason for joining at the recruitment office, both happened to be completely different. He'd joined for Carmen; he'd have done anything to have been near her. He had to admit that the reason for him staying with the MI was different now and had changed as he'd matured and risen through the ranks. But the underlying truth was that he'd stayed because of what had happened between him and Dizzy.
He finished chewing and swallowed. He had looked Murphy directly in the eye and told him the truth: "I joined because I was in love private." He started on his fourth and final sandwich.
"Sir?" Murphy had been stunned.
"I was in love with a girl who was joining the service because she wanted to fly. She knew who I was but that was about it. I was a shy, arrogant rich kid and it got me into trouble. But in the end, it made me a better person. I'm happy about what I've done. No regrets."
"You didn't believe the propaganda?"
"Well, it wasn't that I didn't believe it, most people did, it was that it wasn't the reason I joined." Rico finished his sandwich and smiled. "I got paper work to fill out private, and you have suits to check off. I want all suits ready for our arrival at Tophet."
"Yes, sir." Murphy had stood up with Rico but left before him. Rico had lingered for a drink and to collect his thoughts. He'd forgotten about the banging outside but realized that had stopped. He stared out the window and watched the starlines for a moment and had his thoughts strayed to Carmen.
Murphy had inadvertently brought up the past and it was hurting a little. He'd buried himself so deep into the job that he'd forgotten what was on the outside. He couldn't even really remember the last time he'd been to Earth. Two maybe three years, he wasn't sure.
He'd only stayed in the mess hall a few more minutes before he'd finally left. He wanted to really take a shower, but when he'd returned to his quarters he realized that the water for the whole ship was losing water and was going on a water conservation plan, at least he'd showered the previous day and he didn't work up much a sweat or smell. Then after sitting down to read the reports they'd received the previous day he'd received a summons to the bridge.
Now he was standing in front of Captain O'Hare on the bridge of the Threshold. He was a stern man with a light heart and knack for proving to be a merciless foe in a battle and that was how he was able to survive the War and keep his ship intact. And now he was still doing what he loved most; piloting his ship through the stars.
"Jonnie," He said not turning away from the report. "I have this ship running at maximum. The stress is beginning to show. I need a reason to keep her at this pace, other wise, I'm reducing speed."
"How long will it put us behind?" Jonnie asked still standing at full attention. While he out ranked the Captain, in title at least, the Threshold was still his ship, he would show him the respect he deserved, both from his history and status aboard the ship. Michael had been the only one to get his ship out intact from the original invasion of a world identified only as Planet P and was the first in to return on the second invasion.
"A day and a half, giving us another two days until we get there." He finally looked up from his reports. "Now, what's the reason?"
"I can't honestly give you one Mike." Jonnie said looking down. He hated not having an answer for his friend. They'd been through a lot in the years they've been exterminating the bugs, and they'd had to trust each other on a lot.
"Jonnie, in the four years we've been doing this, I've trusted every hunch you've had, and they usually turned out right. But they've never run the risk of costing me my ship. And now, I'm running that risk. The engines are over heating and the hull has buckled in several places. If we're not careful we're going to fly apart. This is an old ship and it can't handle the speeds for this amount of time."
"I wish I could give you an answer Mike, I really do. But I don't know what's going on except that my best friend is missing, bug resurgences have been occurring all over SICON territory and what ever is going on, is beyond you and me."
Mike studied Rico hard for a moment then with a sigh, dropped his head. "I've read some of the reports. I don't like it either, but what good are we going to be if we blow up?"
Rico swallowed hard and tried to think of what he could say. The Captain was right; if they kept going, they were going to run the risk of flying the ship apart. Rico opened his mouth to begin speaking when the comm. officer spoke up.
"Sir, we have a priority message from Earth." He said turning around holding the ear piece against his head. "The security code matches that of Sky Marshal Redwing-Zim."
Michael looked at Jonnie with a raised eyebrow. "Saved by the bell?"
Rico shrugged his shoulders and stepped back. "Put it through." Michael said. The screen flickered for a moment and the face that appeared was not the soft face of the Sky Marshal, but the hard cold face of her husband. "Citizen Zim." He said flatly, he wasn't too sure what he was really supposed to say.
"That's Sergeant Zim." He replied flatly. Rico's ears picked up at the sound of Zim using his old rank. The old battle axe had come out of retirement. What was going on? "Captain, I have a priority message for Major Rico, if you could please patch me into him. It's urgent."
"Well, you're in luck, the Major and I were just having a discussion." Michael said, nodding towards Rico. Jonnie stepped up by the chair and smiled. The smile was not returned and he quickly dropped it and returned Zim's hard stare.
"This conversation is classified Major, is there a more secure location for us to speak?" Zim asked looking at him. Rico could tell the old man was a little uneasy about something.
"You can use my office Major." Michael said thumbing behind him. The captain's bridge office on a ship directly behind his chair, it's basically a closet with a desk and two chairs. It's meant for the captain to be able to review reports, battle plans, course plans, conduct conferences, or do anything that he needs or wants to do without the prying eyes of the bridge crew.
Rico quickly entered the office and sat behind the desk. The face of his old drill instructor quickly came up after he'd punched in his command codes. He was looking hard. "Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir." Zim said flatly. "You know the saying, 'once an MI, always an MI'. Things are not looking good from our perspective."
"I've noticed." Jonnie sat back in the chair. "I've been going over the reports that the Sky Marshal sends me, and I still don't know what to think. We were cleaning bugs off of Armstrong Prime and its moons, and there we were encountering a large number of bugs. This is hopefully just coordination between brains."
"That's what we're hoping. Look, I know T'Phai contacted you (don't know about what), and I know that you know about Carl-"
Rico interrupted at the mention of his best friend. "What's with Carl anyway? What's the whole story?"
"I wish I knew. It started two months ago, it seems that he just woke up and decided to take a ship. We don't know where he's going or why, but he's gone, and the course seems erratic, some of the psychics say he's gone crazy, too much time with the bugs. And now, on top of him missing, all his little cohorts are harassing us about an invasion of our space, if they're right, we're just now finding out."
"Two months Charlie?" Rico yelled this time. His best friend was missing for two months and he had only recently heard about it, and that made him angrier than anything else. "Why has he been gone two months with no trace of him?"
"Look Jonnie, I'm not calling to talk to you about Carl, we have bigger problems!" Zim let the words linger in the air a moment. "Priorities! Right now, I am sitting in my house attempting to rearrange our deployment; we are not prepared for any kind of large scale attack like the one that the psychics are predicting. I need to know where you stand. Do you want your old squad, or do you want fresh troops?"
"Who's available?"
"Everyone, except Flores." Zim said the last part quietly "But I'm still going to talk to her." He knew some of the history, but not much, and what he did know is that Rico didn't like to talk about her.
"I keep who I have now right?" Rico asked ignoring the part about his ex-wife. Having lost a child in birth gave Dizzy the stamp of unstable on her papers. It seems that SICON doesn't really want anyone who lost a child bringing it into the world to be on the front lines trying to take life from someone, or something.
"You're the boss." Zim said. After a moment he spoke again. "Jonnie, can I ask what T'Phai spoke to you about, it seems that he's rustled a lot of feathers here at HQ and some people are mad, but they're keeping a tight lip on what he said."
"He got a message from Carl." Jonnie said plainly.
"What?" Zim was stunned and his face proved it. Jonnie knew it took a lot to surprise the old man, and this was one of them. "What's it say? Where is he?"
"I don't know, T'Phai says it needs my identification, I don't know what kind, but he says it's strange. I have Captain O'Hare getting us to Tophet under maximum speed, but the ship can't take much more of the stress."
"Things are moving very quickly, and they're moving quickly against us. You have pull in many areas's Jonnie; you'll be able to convince the Skinnies to do something we need them to do."
"And what's that?"
"We're drawing up the appropriate documents to make it legal, but we may need to institute a draft. Recruitment is down to its lowest, we're not doing very well."
"I'll see what I can do, but I don't think-" Zim cut him off.
"Just talk to them, talk to T'Phai, he'll understand. Jonnie, if we don't get ready, and get ready fast, this may be one of the shortest wars in galactic history." Jonnie got stuck on Zim's last statement. If anything, this was one of the longest wars in galactic history, or at least as far as Jonnie knew. It had started with OPC and it was still going on. This was just another chapter in the book.
"Like I said, I'll talk to them. No promises."
"I guess that's all I can ask for." There was an awkward silence that hung in the air for a few seconds. "I'll get the orders cut; we'll meet you where the fun begins." He saw Zim smile, which was a rare thing in itself, then the screen, was replaced by the SICON insignia then went black.
Jonnie stood and exited the small office. Michael looked at him from around the side and asked: "What's going on?"
"Everything is going to hell in a hand basket Mike. I don't know what we're going to do." Rico said quietly then left. He returned to his quarters and began to think to himself. No matter how hard he tried to think about something else, no matter how hard he tried at burying himself in reports or work, his thoughts kept drifting back to the quiet name Zim had spoken. He'd decided then that this was how the bad day would end. After a several attempts to stop it, Jonnie Rico cried.
LOVELL A-19
The Queen watched through her mind's eye as her transports slowed their advance. She was feeling him getting closer. He kept getting closer, some how he knew exactly where to go. He made her more nervous than anything else. She wasn't worried about their fleet, or their ground forces. Her mother had seen to the destruction of many of those. But he was as strong as she was in the mind, and he was the only thing that could stop her.
She had decided that if she were to take their first planet, she would do it with an overwhelming force. She already had transports being fueled for the journey, and she was deciding on which of her generals to send out to take care of it.
She turned around to see her favorite waiting for her. He was a brave one, smart too. He'd overseen the destruction of the fleets around the world they called Planet P, and was the only one of her generals to escape out of the four there. Her mother had planned for that planet to be the secondary base for the bug armies. But the Terrans had invaded once, been beaten back, then come back stronger and taken control.
[What do you want?] She asked him turning her back to him again. She was producing eggs at a far greater rate now. They were now coming out every fifteen seconds. While it was exhausting, she knew that she could take it for at least four years before needing to slow down. Her mother had seen that she was superior to her in many ways.
[Majesty, myself, and several others have grown distressed over you halting of the transports and of your increased anxiety. We merely fear for your safety.] He said, cowering down, leaving his weakest points open.
[Your concern is noted, and appreciated.] She said sharply. She did like him, but she had other problems on her mind. After a minute or two, he spoke again.
[May I inquire as to what has you so perplexed Majesty?]
[He's coming.] She replied coldly.
[My queen, he cannot possibly know our location. We have gone to incredible lengths to hide ourselves.]
[Yes, but nonetheless, he knows where we are, and he's coming.]
[What shall I do Majesty? Would you like transports readied to evacuate?]
[No, we will stay and wait. I do not know whether or not he's coming alone, or if he's coming en masse as they say, but our forces will be prepared, they will not take us.]
[Yes, my queen.] He said. He bowed his head and left her chamber. She was left to brood on her situation. The last thing she needed was for them to attack her here. She needed to make sure that he did not leave alive if he made it to the asteroid field. She would see to it.
"Master Sun said…
The Art of War: 1:01; Sunzi