"All right you Micronians, we will be linking up with the Air Force's 56th Squadron," said Lieutenant Colonel Lupon Kravshera. It was a warm summer day, and we were all standing at the parade ground, with the colonel, Major Yoon, and the senior battalion staff facing us. "Our mission is to conducting forward observation operations for the squadron. We will find cardboard targets, signal them to the Air Force pilots, and let them unleash their hell. The bombing range is at the bottom of the Atlas Mountains, near the Sahara Desert. This will be a nighttime drill, so cancel your evening plans. We will leave as soon as possible. Try to avoid getting blown up."
I could swear that Kravshera was looking straight at me.
"Let's move out," said the colonel.
And so we did.
The VHT-1 Spartas hovertanks were all loaded onto flatbed trailers pulled by tractors. We hovertank drivers boarded large trucks. The Army convoy then left through the base's cargo gate, where trucks rolled in to bring essential supplies.
"At least we're getting some excitement," said Lieutenant Michael Meyers.
"I prefer this over the enemy giving us excitement," I said.
We all knew that the enemy was in orbit around Earth, waiting for the next opportunity to attack.
A few hours later, we arrived at the site. Already, soldiers were setting up tents under the supervision of sergeants. The sun had set, and the lavender sky is fading into black, with the shadow of the Atlas Mountains looming in the west. These giant lights were turned on, providing illumination to the rising camp. Major Yoon stood in the center, with Master Sergeant Tomas Cabon at his side.
"This here will be the ground command post," he said. "Colonel Kravshera is up in the AWACS with the staff of the 56th squadron. Old tanks have been set up in the bombing range. The squadron captains in our battalion will receive maps."
The other officers and I went inside the officers' tent. It was even smaller than the Quonset hut in where we had been sleeping back on base. An aide handed up maps. I recall my military map reading lessons back in boot camp. I can see the contours representing the Atlas Mountains as they sloped down into the Sahara Desert.
A few minutes later we were summoned outside.
"We are ready to go," said Major Yoon. "All teams move out."
And so we did. I put on my arming doublet. It was not exactly comfortable, since there was still plenty of latent Sahara heat early in the evening. Up above us, the stars are clearly revealed; I could see the band of the Milky Way.
I got into my VHT-1 Spartas, flipping the switches to start the engine. We then moved out to the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. We all switched to battloid mode.
"Okay, team," said Lieutenant Jack Emerson. "We'd better use night-vision systems."
I had the night-vision system on. It made everything look green.
"The 56th Squadron is approaching," I heard Colonel Kravshera say over the radio. "All ground forces, be sure to mark the targets. And remember, this is a live fire exercise."
"We copy," said Jack. "Everyone move out and look for targets."
I can see the outline of the hills, and the main ridge of the Atlas Mountains in the distance.
"We have a target confirmed," I heard over the radio.
"Copy," said another voice.
I looked and saw something streak from the sky. I then heard a thud and saw a cloud of smoke.
"Keep alert, guys," said Jack.
I looked and saw this tracked vehicle with a turret- it was a tank.
"I've got a target," I said. "I am marking the target." Our battloids were equipped with a homing laser that we would use to mark the targets.
"We see the target," said this female voice. "We are going in."
Less that a minute later, the tank was blown up with ordnance from the VF-11 Thunderbolts. Debris from the tank rained down on us. I heard some more explosions in the distance.
And so we repeated this with the other targets for about an hour. It was different actually being here instead of just operating the simulators back on base.
We got a message from Colonel Kravshera about two hours after starting the exercise. "We are done," he said. "Ground units, pack things up and return to base."
"We copy," replied Jack.
"We've done a good job," said Executive Sergeant Rebekah Avital. "Now who will volunteer for washing the hovertanks?"
And so we all took down and packed the tents, loaded the equipment into trucks and the hovertanks onto the flatbed trailers, and returned to base way after midnight.
The next day, Jack spoke to me and Mike.
"I've invited some pilots from the Air Force 56th Squadron over to our O-club on Friday," he said.
"Interesting," I said.
"I figured that we might as well meet them in person and down a few drinks and onion rings," said Jack. "And we're not on duty next weekend, so none of you guys do anything to piss off the colonel."
Ooooooooo
After doing some personal errands like depositing my paycheck at the base's credit union, I got dressed in my Class "C" uniform- a white short-sleeved shirt and dress pants and dress shoes and garrison cap- and went to the O-club.
The O-club looked pretty much the same as it did the last few times I was there. There were two sections- a restaurant section and a bar section. The restaurant section had a carpeted floor, while the bar section had a varnished hardwood floor. The food here was stuff like buffalo wings and onion rings and sandwiches. The food was not rationed like the officers' mess; officers can buy as much food as they can afford.
We were all sitting in the bar section. The centerpiece was a wood-paneled bar with a brass rail. Leather-covered barstools encircled the bar. The walls had Army recruitment posters and pictures of hovertanks and older veritech battle tanks. There were some small circular tables with seats, and there was a clear section of the floor for dancing, and near the floor there was some karaoke equipment with a beer-bellied karaoke jockey attending to the equipment. Jack ordered us some shots as well as onion rings and buffalo wings with blue cheese dressing.
"I wonder where they are," said First Lieutenant Isamu Shirogane, who commanded the 6th battalion's 17th troop.
His question was answered a few minutes later. Some more people came into the room; I noticed that they were wearing Air Force "C" uniforms.
One of them, a black lady with short hair, ordered some drinks. She then approached our table. I looked at her shoulders and noticed the two silver bars of a United Nations Air Force first lieutenant.
"Are you Lieutenant Emerson?" she asked Jack.
"That's right, Lieutenant Jack Emerson at your service," he said.
"First Lieutenant Nina Washington," she said. "Bravo flight leader for the Air Force's Tactical Armored Space Corps' 56th squadron, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Wong.
"It's great to meet you all in person," said Jack, leaning back. "And you can call me Jack, at least in the O-club. And are those drinks a thank-you gift for lighting up those targets?"
"All you did was mark a bunch of old tanks the Army had to get rid of anyway," she replied. "Now if you helped us actually destroy a couple of the enemy's war machines, then maybe I would buy you and your boys a drink."
"She's playing hard to get, Jack," said Mike.
Didn't they all, I thought.
Jack introduced the rest of us. Nina then introduced us to her group, a mix of men and women.
"I'm Shelby," said this lady with straight blond hair and eyes like blue topazes. I noted that she was little shorter than me. I made sure to take a longer look at her; she was a lady after all. "Third Lieutenant Shelby Porter of the 56th Squadron's Bravo Flight.
I introduced myself. "So you fly under Nina's command."
"Pretty much. She was placed in command of Bravo flight only a few months ago."
"And what do you pilots do? You must fly planes all day."
"Uh, no," answered Shelby. "I spend half of the time in the office, and the most of other half flying in the sims. Only occasionally do I actually fly the Thunderbolts."
"All, right you people," said the karaoke jockey, attracting my attention. "Let's get ready for some karaoke action! I will go first with this classic. Stage fright…"
And so the karaoke jockey started singing Lin Minmei's classic song.
"You know, maybe you should sign up," Mike said to me. "I heard there is this music style where you're from. Rugby, is it?"
"Reggae," I corrected him. "And I don't sing reggae."
"Too bad," said Mike.
About a few minutes later, the karaoke jockey was done with his song. "All right, Shelby is up next," he says.
Shelby Porter went up to the karaoke equipment and held a microphone. She started singing some pop song I sometimes heard on the radio.
And she was not singing that song well.
Glancing around, I saw a familiar-looking lady in a dress smiling at me. I looked into her eyes.
"I remember you," she said. "I helped with your recovery."
For a few seconds, my weeks of physical therapy to get back on duty surfaced. "You are Lieutenant Sharp, right?" I asked.
"Yes," she replies. "Melissa when I am off duty."
I reintroduced myself. "I've been so busy that I've forgotten about you."
"Our paths don't cross often," she said. "I can be found in the ladies' BOQ.
"Yeah, I saw that your BOQ is still standing. Our BOQ is still under construction so we men have to sleep in a Quonset. At least I know where to find you."
"May I buy you a drink?"
"I must be a real ladies man if you are buying me drinks," I mused.
"I outrank you. I am a first and you are a third," she said. "We take care of those with a lower pay grade."
She ordered this blue-colored shot from the bartender. I gulped it down.
I then heard the karaoke jockey mention Jack's name. Jack went up on the stage, holding the microphone.
And then he started singing this gangster rap song. I was listening, and he was good.
"Your friend?" asked Melissa.
"He's the captain of my hovertank troop," I said.
Jack was turning out to be a very good singer. His singing was enticing me to dance, as some of the Army and Air Force officers were already doing. He could have himself a career ins singing after his service obligation is finished.
I took Melissa's hand. "Shall we?"
And so we started dancing. It felt so much like fun. And there were certain feelings coursing through me. I was feeling some pressure.
And then Jack was done singing.
"Great song, Jack," I said to him.
"Thanks," he replied.
"So you can sing too," Nina said to him.
"Yeah," replied Jack. "I like singing rap music. I wanted to be a rap star when I was a kid."
"Then why didn't you pursue your dream?"
"It's kind of hard to earn a living. Either you make millions of dollars, or you don't make enough to feed yourself. When I became an adult, the Army was the only choice I had to support myself. Don't get me wrong, I rather enjoy my position, but once I finish my obligation, I'll get a real job and have more free time to pursue rapping."
"You could have been a waiter," I said. "They can make a lot of money if they work at the right place."
"And why didn't you become a waiter?" asked Nina.
"Going around busing tables and having to take all those orders," I said.
"Well," said Melissa, "in the Army you do have to go around and take orders."
"I was commissioned as an officer, so I give orders too."
"Only when Mike and I are not available," said Jack. "And your authority over the troop is quite limited. Sure, you outrank Sergeant Avital, but she has more pull in the troop than you do. You won't get to order a buck private around unless someone like me or Avital assigns him to you." He glances at Melissa. "And who is your new friend here?"
"I helped him with his physical therapy," she said. "First Lieutenant Melissa Sharp, U.N. Air Force."
"I wonder what kind of therapy you offered," said Lieutenant Shirogane, winking his eye. Some of the other men chuckled.
"Yeah, Marvin Gaye sang a song about that, right?" said another officer.
We stayed at the O-club for a few more hours, and some of the other officers and guests sang karaoke.
"I will be leaving now," said Melissa.
"How about dinner at the officers' mess tomorrow?" I asked.
"The officers' mess?"
"I'm only a third lieutenant; we do not make that much."
And so she left the club. Not long afterward, I stepped outside.
"This could be the start of something," said Jack.
"We'll see," I said. "I've learned not to put all of the fish in one basket."
Ooooooo
I had dinner with Melissa Sharp in the officers' mess the next day, I could feel a residue of last night's party with the Air Force's 56th Squadron . The meal we had was macaroni and cheese and a side serving of steamed broccoli; the armed services usually served cheap, filling stuff for dinner.
It was strange referring to the midday meal as dinner, as the military uses the term "dinner" for the midday meal and "supper" for the evening meal.
"How do you like it in Morocco?" I asked.
"It's certainly different from home," answered Melissa, picking up some macaroni and cheese with her fork. "I've been off base with my co-workers; I visited Tangier and Casablanca. I never knew that there would be so much diversity. I was expecting everyone to be Arabic."
"There is a Spanish neighborhood in Tangier," I said. "Also Italians and Nigerians. There's a little restaurant in Tangier that has this Italian-Spanish-Lebanese fusion cuisine, and it's run by this Nigerian dude. My people and I went there a few weeks ago."
"I've heard there are Berber towns in the mountains that are open to tourists," said Melissa. "Maybe one day. What was it like in Jamaica?"
"During the summer, it was humid," I said. I briefly recalled my childhood in Jamaica, the waves crashing on the beach, the feel of the moisture in the air. "I liked it when it rained during the summer. I would just go out and let the rain fall on me."
"Must be a lot of exciting places there."
"There are clubs; they cater to the rich tourists from America and Europe, and you'd have to pay a lot. I don't think you could afford to visit Jamaica a lot on a first lieutenant's salary."
"Ah, but I have a pay bonus due to my specialty," said Melissa. "So I can probably take a vacation there once a year."
Oooooooo
It was a few days later when Jack made an announcement in the troop office.
"We'll get to earn some combat pay soon," said the troop captain. "We're being ordered to move out."
"What is the situation, sir?" asked Executive Sergeant Avital.
"The colonel will brief us once we get there. Avital, get everyone ready to go."
"Yes, sir."
And so we did.
Avital supervised the loading of our hovertanks onto flatbed trailers. I went to the truck that was transporting the battalion's officers, and Jack joined us a few minutes later.
Soon I felt the truck rumble as it left the base and headed to its assigned destination.
"Maybe this is a drill," said a black-haired lady under Lieutenant Shirogane's command.
I doubted that.
The trip took a few hours; I had taken a sip or two from my canteen.
"Thank the logistics company for getting us places," said Mike.
We got off, and we were in this dry place; I figured we were at the northern edge of the Sahara Desert. Above us, the sky was soldiers set up tents under the supervision of Master Sergeant Cabon. It was hot, at least a hundred degrees, even with me spraying myself with water. I once again silently thanked the battalion's logistics company for bringing all the stuff we need to be able to function in the Sahara. In a few minutes, all the tents were set up, including the huge tent under where our Spartas hovertanks were parked.
"Sirs, the colonel will be briefing us," said Master Sergeant Cabon.
All of us, officers and enlistees, all gathered in a rectangular formation, except for those on watch. Colonel Kravshera faced us, with Major Yoon and Master Sergeant Cabon flanking him.
"If any of you thought this would be a drill, you will be disappointed," said the colonel. "The enemy has slipped through our air defenses and set up beachheads on the planet for further attacks. A Bedouin clan spotted the enemy on a plateau about seventy miles east of Abadia, Algeria. The Algerian government has requested assistance in driving the invaders from their land. We've been detailed to provide support for the mission. Once the enemy location is confirmed, we will attack. The Space Marines' 25th Spartas hovertank battalion will attack from the east, and we will attack from the northwest. We will await the command to move out and attack. Make sure the sand filters are installed."
And so we checked and rechecked everything out there in the desert, making sure all the ammo was loaded and that we had all the supplies that we needed. Supplies were important; I had that drilled into my head when I was in Officer Candidate School.
And then Colonel Kravshera announced that we would be moving out. Master Sergeant Cabon barked orders as we got into our suits and flipped the switches to activate the hovertanks.
And then we moved out, hovering over the sandscape.
"All right," said Kravshera. "Emerson, you and your troop have point. Shirogane, you will take flank."
We all moved in formation, heading towards the site of the enemy base. As we were heading there, I was thinking of the battle ahead. By now, the Ocean Patrol would have fired cruise missiles at the site. I hoped that by the time we got there, the enemy base would be a wreck and we would simply secure the area.
It was not to be.
"There is still fighting going on," said the colonel. "Stay alert, people!"
I could see smoke rising from the plateau straight ahead.
"Okay, team," said Jack. "I will go up there are spot the enemy positions. Avital, you will be at my side."
Jack ordered me to switch to guardian mode and prepare to fire on enemy position. "Copy," I replied to him. I pulled a lever and the hovertank switched to guardian mode. I saw some of the other hovertanks switch to guardian; it looks like a hovertank standing on two legs.
I saw Jack's and Sergeant Avital's hovertanks switch to battloid mode, resembling a suit of armor. They then went up the slope to the top of the plateau.
And I waited. My heart was racing. I knew what could happen to me, or Jack, or Sergeant Avital, or Colonel Kravshera.
"All right, I have the enemy sighted," said Jack. "Sending in the coordinates."
"Copy," I replied. I saw the coordinates on the main screen in my guardian's cockpit. I pressed some buttons and used the coordinates to aim the main cannon. I fired the main cannon. Jack relayed more coordinates, and I fired more and more shells.
"All right," said Colonel Kravshera. "Let's move in!"
I switched to battloid mode, and I leaped up the slope of the plateau using the battloid's powerful mechanical legs. I soon joined Jack and Sergeant Avital.
Even as the rest of the battalion was joining us, I could see the battle. The enemy suits of armor were already fighting with the Space Marines who had arrived first. I could see more wreckage of enemy positions that had been obliterated by us. The centerpiece of this battle was this alien ship, about the size of a big building. I could notice damage that was probably caused by missile strikes.
"Okay," said Jack. "Pick your targets and fire. Wing, Bakovic, make sure to watch for any enemy forces coming out of that ship."
And so we did. I saw two of the enemy armor go down. We continued to blast as many targets as we could. Move, aim, fire, and repeat. It was like a rhythm. We moved in closer, our eyes vigilant for any enemy stragglers.
"This sector is secure," I heard Lieutenant Shirogane say.
"There does not seem to be an enemy in sight," said Jack.
We all waited for about an hour. More reinforcements arrived.
"Okay, people," said Kravshera. "We can stand down now."
I looked at the enemy wreckage. Most of the enemy war machines were destroyed beyond recognition, their pieces scattered around this plateau-turned-battlefield like someone dumping a bunch of jigsaw pieces on a floor; I saw a few that were still in one piece.
I examined the wreckage of one of the enemy war machines.
There appeared to be a human being in what appeared to be the cockpit.
"You'd better see this," I said, transmitting the video feed from the battloid's camera.