DISCLAIMER: Mass Effect video game is the property of its respective owners and the author has no financial gain from it. Original Characters and story concept are mine though.
A/N: Here is the second part of Chapter 4. Hope you enjoy it.
My beta is still the one and the only Redentor
It was still early evening, but the sun was already setting. We were deployed in a small clearing by one of the Confederacy's transport shuttles, labelled as 'Fulcrum', which also doubled as a gunship. It was very similar in design to the Soviet Mi-24 'Hind', right down to the heavily armoured fuselage, 'double bubble' canopy and a crew compartment that could carry up to ten, fully kitted soldiers. Its rugged and raw interior was also reminiscent of the Red Army's approach – the crew cabin was completely empty apart from ammunition boxes and seats for the squad. Of course, Fulcrum was not a helicopter – it was a heavily armoured transport gunship powered by two anti-grav engines, which used directional thrusters to move through the air and (to a limited degree) in the vacuum. It was a perfect machine for hunting down the enemy's heavy weaponry and wheeled convoys, provided that user had an appreciable level of air superiority. Otherwise, Fulcrum became an easy target for dedicated fighter aircraft as it was relatively slow and could easily be outrun by the fighter's superior speed. The version that we flew now was utilized for covert insertion and as such it was stripped down to very basic armament.
Fulcrum hovered about ten meters or so above the ground and I was the first to leave the crew compartment. Transport gunship deployed two gravity wells, which allowed us to softly land on the ground. Our team wasted no time in securing the landing site, each of us taking a prearranged sector to observe for contacts. When all ten of us were safely down, the Fulcrum took off from the clearing and flew back to the nearest 'friendly' zone – I admired the pilot's skill, since he nearly scrapped the treetops as he flew as low as possible to avoid being pinned by the ladar.
I signalled with my hands for us to vacate the landing site. A hand held at the side, scooping in a forward motion. Not a word was spoken, as my squad disappeared into the dark tree line. Five minutes later and you wouldn't have been able to tell that someone had been there in the first place.
Instead of radios, we had subvocal receptors attached to our throats. When I whispered I could barely be heard by someone standing next to me, but my team's earpieces translated it into a normal voice.
"Freeman, you're on point. Espera and Hounslow, cover the rear. Fahri and Trang deploy the drones. Aberswythe – with me. The rest – maintain your intervals and proceed with caution. Wildcat is Oscar Mike to the next checkpoint, out." Wildcat was our callsign for this mission.
I needn't have bothered with the instructions as we went through all the tasks well ahead during our planning sessions. But the Confederacy military (and subsequently the Security Branch) adopted the policy that it's better to repeat the order ten times to make sure everyone understood rather than risk someone not knowing what to do in a critical moment. As they say, better to err on the side of caution.
Aberswythe and I had sat down at the holographic maps back at the base and placed rough checkpoints through which we'd be moving during our reconnaissance patrol. It was a difficult task, as we had to avoid the obvious routes – our enemy had access to the same topographic maps as we did, after all. Aberswythe advised that it would be better to try and move through the rough terrain and we did so.
When we were creeping through the woodland I was surprised how similar my situation was to one of Galtieri's memories. I shuddered in fear as I expected the signal flare to be fired and our patrol to come under fire from hidden enemies. No such thing happened of course, but I was still on edge when we bunkered down for the night at our first checkpoint. With Aberswythe's help I assigned the watch, pre-set fields of fire on our holographic map and assigned retreat lines and rally points in case we are ambushed by enemy in superior numbers. Afterwards I was so tired that I went to sleep immediately, as I had the last watch.
I woke up to someone shaking my shoulder. I turned around and saw through my night-vision filter the serious face of Gavin Freeman, our pathfinder and designated marksman.
"It's your watch, el-tee," he whispered and my earpiece turned his subvocals to the sound level of normal speech.
Yes, I was given the temporary rank of second lieutenant for the duration of the exercise. On the one hand, it gave me authority to command this squad, and Security Branch field agents were professionals – obeying the rank, not the man who held it was the supreme rule of the Tactical Squads. On the other hand, I felt like I was cheating fate – my skills were not up to the Security Branch standards yet. My opinion was that I had no right to be called lieutenant by these men and women.
"Thanks, Gav. Try and catch some shut-eye. We're Oscar Mike in two hours."
Freeman mumbled something that my earpiece couldn't catch and lay down in the spot that I just vacated. We slept in our Interceptor armour, as they had a passive sleep-mode – armour pumped up the back padding partially, providing an illusion of a mattress. It couldn't compare to the comfort of a real bed or even a hammock, but it was better than sleeping on the hard, cold ground.
I shared the last watch with Salmia Fahri, a very pretty and very shy girl. If she were from my Earth, I'd say she was Arabic, but with the hodgepodge of cultures and universes in the Confederacy it was really hard to say where she came from. Not that it really mattered to me – Fahri was a professional military engineer who was responsible for maintenance of our weaponry and drones in the field and she was very good at what she did.
I nodded at Specialist Fahri and stepped carefully as not to disturb Gunnery Sergeant Polyakov and Specialist Dessalines who slept by the bush. We quickly climbed the designated tree and took observation post that was placed in its crown. We used our wrist-comps to scan the nearest area and connected them to squad's network to maintain drone cover. Even with our night-vision filters it was impossible to see further than thirty-forty meters, as it was still pitch black dark so we had to depend on our drones, which silently patrolled the area.
"Hey, el-tee?" I heard Salmia's voice in my earpiece.
"What is it, Specialist?" I asked her quietly, expecting that she found something on her monitor and was ready to raise an alert.
"I…" she stammered and tried once again "It's just… you see…"
By now I knew it had nothing to do with our watch duties. I found it cute that she was so shy that she couldn't find a way to express herself. I decided to lighten the mood a little, hoping that it will make her relax.
"If you're trying to admit that you're madly in love with me, Specialist Fahri, now is not the best time for that." I tried to make my whisper sound deadpan.
Her body shook a little, which I took as a sign that she was laughing quietly. I decided to prod her a little more. It wasn't professional by any stretch, but I desperately needed to unwind. I was really starting to feel the burden of responsibility on this patrol.
"Also, please be advised that I do not slap women on the ass to indicate that they've done a good job, unless you specifically request it, of course." I said quietly, referring to the rumour that went about the base.
She turned toward me for a moment and flashed me a grateful smile, which I managed to catch as her helmet visor was partially open. I may not be the best or the brightest officer in the Security Branch, but I knew how to put people at ease.
"I know that, el-tee. I started that rumour, you know?" She whispered back. "It's just that I think we might come from the same Earth."
I was surprised, but not so much. It stands to reason that I wasn't the first person to be taken out from my universe. It was nice to meet someone from my timeline, but now we didn't have time to discuss it in depth. Although, I definitely planned to speak very sternly with Specialist Fahri about that one rumour she spread about our Earth.
"We'll talk about it after the exercise, Specialist. Now stay sharp." She nodded at that and returned to scanning her wrist-comp.
Our wrist-comps could operate in a stealth mode – the orange glow would not appear around the arm and it could only be observed through the helmet visors on certain frequencies. It was very convenient for the Security Branch Tactical Squads, as it allowed you to keep track of your allies in darkness, while the lack of visible light kept you hidden from the enemy. Of course, if you were extremely unlucky and the enemy used the same viewing frequency for their wrist-comps they had no problem finding you, but that went both ways. In any case, the Security Branch Tactical Manual advised exercise caution when using wrist-comps or holo-tablets in the field, even in the stealth mode.
The two hour watch passed sooner than I thought it would. At first light I gave the order to gather our bearings and move out toward the next checkpoint. We passed through the dense foliage, scanning the horizon, while our drone operators – Specialist Salmia Fahri and PFC Thomas Binh Trang – covered their respective sectors. We moved in a staggered column with Corporal Gavin Freeman on point. I moved behind him with one of our medical specialists – Marcus Hounslow, who also had heavy anti-tank weapon with him. Then Aberswythe, who was overseeing the back of the column. Behind him went Corporal Steven Kowalski with his light machinegun and our second medical officer – Specialist Jean-Pierre Dessalines, MD – who carried with him additional ammunition for LMG. Behind them went PFC Trang who had his drones spread behind our small column with Sergeant Mariah Polyakov, the electronic warfare specialist who kept an eye on her holo-tablet at all times, monitoring the radio and electronic data traffic. Last in the formation was second automatic rifleman PFC Kyle Espera, who protected the rear.
I was glad that I could work with these people – each of them knew what to do and in the event that we took casualties we always had other specialists ready to step in and take over duties. I couldn't have asked for a better team and according to Sergeant Major Aberswythe and Captain Galtieri, they were the best in the battalion if not the whole brigade. Obviously, other officers and NCOs claimed the same about their own squad so it got pretty diluted, but nobody could deny their overall competence.
It took us a few hours to reach our second checkpoint where Corporal Gavin Freeman, our pathfinder signalled us to stop with a raised fist and then he put his left hand on his right wrist – signalling enemy contact. We didn't need any vocal commands to scatter from our marching order and form a scattered 'Vee' around his position. As it turns out, the second checkpoint was defended by a small strongpoint with three enemy soldiers. They had a few sandbags and H-Barriers in place, but we did not detect any drones patrolling the area. After short exchange with Aberswythe we decided that it would take too long to circumvent the strongpoint, but we didn't want them to alert the rest of the enemy forces and signal where to find our patrol, either.
Aberswythe put forward a simple, yet effective plan to have Gunnery Sergeant Polyakov, our electronic warfare specialist, put out an electromagnetic interference blanket over the near vicinity, which would scramble the strongpoint's comms. We would then have our designated marksmen take the enemy soldiers down with well-aimed shots. If they fail to do so, then our automatic riflemen, Corporal Kowalski and PFC Espera would cover the strongpoint with suppressing fire.
For the duration of the exercise we were equipped with special ammunition, which shot at high speed and even heated up to high temperature, like normal plasma-coilgun beads would do. But when the super-heated beads reached a suit's energy field they would dissipate completely without harming the operator. The training beads would force the suit into full lockdown instead, which would last for three hours. Suits that were put on lockdown would send a distress signal to the unit overseeing the training, which would then covertly collect downed soldiers without interrupting the ongoing exercise. It was a system that initially sounded very complicated to me in theory, but I discovered it worked very well in practice.
Freeman took to the ground with his rifle, careful not to move too suddenly or too overtly. He settled himself, breathing in and out rhythmically to calm his heartbeat. Polyakov sat behind a tree to hide the possible glow from her tablet, taking in the readings from the airborne drones. Wind speed and direction, distance, the specifics of the rifle in question. She could use the systems provided to calculate the passage of the bullet as near to 100 percent accuracy as it was possible to go. She tapped a few buttons, interfacing with the optics mounted on Freeman's rifle. With an almost imperceptible buzz and whir, it readjusted itself. Freeman aimed, and slowly pressed the trigger down.
The plan went off without the need for the intervention of the automatic rifleman. Gunnery Sergeant Polyakov and Specialist Fahri both acquired information off the incapacitated soldier's writs-comps and associated electronics. We learned from them about the disposition of their patrols and any large concentrations of units. I might have called our mission to an end then and there, but my lessons with Galtieri and the other trainers had taught me better than that. 'Security Branch field agents must always go above and beyond the call of duty to ensure victory before the battle even begins' – it was the motto I learned. I called my subordinates for a quick meeting, after we secured the information and cleared the strongpoint.
"We've done what we set out to do here, but we will stay in the combat zone for the duration of the military operation." I said quietly to gathered operators. I saw Aberswythe giving me a knowing smile and a small nod.
"Fahri and Trang – make copies of the info we got here. Send traffic out to our command via two separate secure channels. Aberswythe and Freeman – adjust our checkpoints; set alternative routes based on the new Intel. Polyakov – maintain the illusion of the radio traffic in the strongpoint until we are gone. The rest of you – gather what you can from here. OpFor will only figure out that we took down this place in an hour at best and it will take them about forty minutes to adjust their patrol schedules. That's the time we have to strike decisive blows against the main force. Any questions?"
Nobody spoke, all of them looking at me expectantly. I could see that their morale was high thanks to our first victory together, and they were eager to continue.
"Alright. We're Oscar Mike in five. On the double people!"
This time we moved fast toward the next objective sacrificing the stealthy approach for speed. PFC Trang acquired confirmation from our command that they received the data package and were now moving the Quick Reaction Force out to strike against the highest concentration of enemy occupied areas, but they would wait for our signal. I knew that we only had a short window of opportunity to assault OpFor, so I ordered my patrol to pick up the pace. I was also aware that the information we received from our incapacitated 'enemies' could have been placed as misdirection, so I was adamant in my decision to double check the enemy positions before signalling for a full attack from our QRF.
Despite sacrificing stealth in favor of speed, we managed to successfully avoid all enemy patrols, largely thanks to our updated combat maps. We slipped under their observation network, bypassing all strongpoints and fields of fire, while moving stealthily toward the forested area on a hill that was overlooking one of the enemy Forward Operating Bases. When we reached the hill and set up overwatch in the foliage, I saw a large area covered by tents and prefabs. The OpFor FOB was well placed, with interlocking choke-points and artillery scattered about the area, which was quite a bright idea on their part – even if their self-propelled artillery pieces came under counter-battery fire they would have to be silenced separately, one by one. Unlike artillery in the 20th century, the Confederacy cannons did not have to be in close proximity to efficiently transfer firing coordinates and the Army used it to its advantage. It also seemed that the energy generators were similarly gathered in three different areas, to minimize the damage caused by either artillery bombardment or aerial assault. Their observation posts were all manned, but what astonished me was that the FOB did not seem to be in any state of vigilance. According to my and Aberswythe's calculations they must have already discovered that we silenced their small strongpoint. It meant that either it was all some elaborate trap, or the information pertaining to the assailed strongpoint had failed to reach the CO of the Forward Operating Base.
"What do you think, Sarge?" I asked Aberswythe quietly.
It was Gunnery Sergeant Polyakov who answered my question. She was lying a few meters away from me, furiously scanning her holo-tablet. It seemed like all radio traffic was coming and going from the FOB on open frequencies.
"Either they have a lunch break now or they haven't received new orders yet." Her accent was, believe it or not, American. With a Jewish-Christian first name, a Russian surname and a Yankee accent Sergeant Polyakov was the epitome of the Confederacy's cultural diversity. Of course, as their history differed from ours at many points in time, it might have been a normal occurrence.
"Their drones are not patrolling the area and all auto-turrets are offline. What the hell are these grunts thinking?" she was clearly upset and so was the rest of our patrol.
"Leave it be, Polyakov. The Army is not part of our chain of command." I said shortly. I paused for a moment and added with a vindictive smirk. "Don't worry Sergeant – I'm sure someone will get a good chewing for this clusterfuck."
I sighed. The decision was up to me – it would either make me or break me, but I had to choose now, while the FOB was still oblivious to our infiltration attempt. Even if it was some sort of elaborate trap concocted by the Opposing Force, I had no way to verify it. I made a quick decision and said quietly.
"Call in our QRF, Trang. Tell them to hit the FOBs with everything they've got. Advise that we're laser-painting targets for smart munitions and air support."
Aberswythe deployed our team into firing positions. We didn't have any indirect fire weaponry like mortars with us – External Affairs Bureau assigned them to reinforced platoons not squads – but some personnel were issued with barrel mounted grenade launchers for a little extra firepower. Gunnery Sergeant Polyakov and Sergeant Major Aberswythe to be specific. They could be used to harass and disorganise the enemy, giving our QRF chance to deliver some heavy blows. We'd have both automatic rifleman give flanking fire, while designated marksman – which meant Freeman – could take time to find and eliminate any troublesome personnel. Trang and Fahri would use their drones to paint targets for the artillery support, while Polyakov would keep the uplink open and transfer live data to our command centre.
It took exactly three minutes for the first fighter-bombers to make their presence known. We heard the supersonic boom of the approaching aircraft and we noticed first signs of commotion in the OpFor FOB. I gave short order to Aberswythe and Polyakov.
"Sergeants, fire for effect!" I didn't bother with whispering anymore.
Both sergeants aimed their grenade launchers up into the air, almost like the barrel of a mortar – we already had the distance calculated. The 40 mike-mike training rounds arced through the air toward the machine and exploded in smoke. The targeted generator went into immediate lockdown and overseeing AIs calculated that two other vehicles that were parked next to it took damage as well. Our automatic riflemen fired in sustained bursts in an effective attempt to suppress the grouped soldiers in the FOB, who belatedly tried to activate their automatic defences. It was all for naught as Gunnery Sergeant Polyakov had already hacked into their command system and disabled auto-turrets and drones.
Meanwhile, we tried to take shots at OpFor soldiers below, but they hid in their strongpoints and bunkers and returned indirect fire. They were unable to fully locate us, since Polyakov had taken the time to scramble their comms, but they could pinpoint us on the hill due to visible tracer rounds from our light machineguns.
Both drone operators kept using their drones to paint targets, but they were losing them at staggering rate – the Confederate Army FOB might have been taken by surprise, but the soldiers were neither incompetent nor cowardly. I heard a short curse from Kowalski, and his suit went into a semi-lockdown. My HUD displayed a warning that he was shot through his arm and it was to be considered severed until the training exercise was concluded. As friendlies were already streaming in in force and the gunships were dropping our men at the edge of the clearing I decided it was time to move our patrol forward and join the attacking force. Not to mention the fact that we had just thumbed our noses at the FOB's artillery operators, who would no doubt be dialling in our position with some heavy ordinance.
I signalled Aberswythe to take the Wildcats forward.
"Let's get out of here Sergeant! They'll have this place lit up in no time!"
"Where to, el-tee?" Aberswythe responded evenly.
"Link up with friendlies to the North-East! I'm getting Kowalski!"
"Roger that, out." Hearing Aberswythe I cursed silently. I really needed to work on my communications discipline.
Our patrol bounded forwards by teams, keeping sustained fire on the OpFor. In the mean time I half-crawled, half-run toward the cursing Kowalski. I attached his light machinegun to the back of my Interceptor armour and grabbed his 'healthy' arm. I swung it around my neck and picked him up. Kowalski's suit was actively impeding his ability to walk, simulating semi-cauterized injury and pain, but it did not impede his ability to talk in the slightest. I took out my PDW and held it in my hand, whilst dragging the cursing automatic rifleman toward friendly troops.
"Friendlies coming through, South-South-West!" I heard Corporal Trang yell out loudly. We were running like mad toward the friendlies who were occupying the field near the FOB. I joined our comms with the rest of the friendly force. They were working on establishing a proper firing line as more and more gunships flew in, dropping soldiers and heavy equipment, which immediately advanced into the battle.
We dealt some heavy blows to the FOB during our initial assault, but it was far from over. I dropped Kowalski with some paramedics from other unit, marked him on my Pathfinder map so I could find him later, and motioned our squad to move forward.
Behind us, I heard the unmistakable squeal of mortar rounds soaring out of the clouds and blowing the ever-loving hell out of the hill we had been using as our overwatch position.
The time for the stealthy approach was definitely over, so we joined one of the assaulting units on their right flank and adjusted our tactics to theirs.
"This is 2nd Lieutenant Dubois, Wildcats patrol; covering your three o'clock. Where do you want us?"
I saw one of the armoured troops turn my way and indicate with his hand – 'move forward/fire and advance'.
"This is Major Vriedlander, 1st Assault Battalion, 122nd Sustainment Brigade. Take the right flank and put pressure on them. Heavies are on their way, lieutenant."
"Sustainment Brigade? What is the field kitchen doing here?" asked someone from my team. I recognized Espera – he had a very liberal approach to military conventions, which was one of the reasons he enlisted with Security Branch, not with the Army.
"Beats me," answered one of the Sustainment Brigade troopers. "Probably someone in command messed up the orders, as usual."
I decided to end this conversation before some inane debate started.
"You have your boots and your gun, soldier! You're good to go!" I said sharply.
Yes, gentlemen – have some Gunny Highway words of wisdom. 'Heartbreak Ridge' was a pretty good film as far as the '80s films go and Clint Eastwood in the starring role was just a cherry on top. Clint Eastwood is the Man. With a larger than life capital 'M'.
"Hey, is it the ass-slapping guy?" I heard someone from Assault Battalion ask incredulously.
Heavens, does everyone on this god-forsaken planet know of me? I looked at Specialist Fahri, but she just giggled. Perhaps it was her, who needed some ass-slapping – I thought grimly, but with a hint of amusement. This WAS pretty funny after all.
But I had no time to ponder, as we once again bounded up by teams to slowly approach the first trenches of the FOB. The enemy fire was slowly withering away, due to our air superiority. I jumped behind the H-Barriers and made a beeline to the first strongpoint I could see. We stacked up with Dessalines by the door. I nodded and he kicked it down, entering the building in force.
We only saw two men lying on a pile of boxes in locked up suits of armour. One of them raised his hand and showed us a middle finger. I snickered at that and yelled out, "Clear!"
Before we could move further inside the base, one of the Navy cruisers materialized through a wormhole, its large form hovering above FOB, glistening with laser cannons and heavy plasma-coilguns. This was enough of an unspoken ultimatum for the troops still inside the FOB, and they started broadcasting the surrender message. All throughout the compound, OpFor troops laid down their weapons and knelt with their hands behind their heads.
The battle was finally over. I left the strongpoint and sat down on one of the sandbags, my previous nervousness catching up with me. Everything had happened too quickly for me to worry and I could only react and fall back to my training, but now I felt the full weight of the events of the past few hours. I took off my helmet with shaking hands and looked at the blue sky, outlining the cruiser far above.
Our training weapons didn't even have a fraction of power of the real thing. Had we used proper weaponry during this exercise, most of the base would have been burned to the ground. Had OpFor used real weapons, Kowalski would have lost his arm and maybe his life as well.
Christ Almighty, because of my own blunders and my inexperience I nearly had a man killed!
I heard someone approach me from behind and I turned around to see who it was. I saw the smiling face of Sergeant Major Aberswythe, which surprised me as the man was usually very serious. He patted me on the arm.
"You did well, son. I have no doubt that you are good enough to be an officer. Maker knows that some people got their commissions on shakier ground in the past."
"I don't know Sergeant. My decisions nearly got Kowalski killed."
Aberswythe shook his head at my self-flagellation.
"Bullshit, el-tee. Kowalski forgot to move his firing position after three bursts, as the regulations say. He got too caught up in the fight and caught a bullet himself. He will learn that lesson for the next time."
I smiled at him and stood up to shake his hand.
"Thank you Sergeant, for being here. We'd all be dead if not for you."
Aberswythe shook my hand and pointed at the waiting Wildcat patrol, saying, "Nonsense, you would have all done well. You still need to give a debriefing, el-tee."
The boys and girls were standing together, loudly recounting their battle from moments ago and suddenly I felt like I wasn't watching trained fighters at all, but a couple of unruly kindergarten children. Freeman produced two of his model air-cars from somewhere and was recreating the approach of two of the Fulcrum gunships, while Trang loudly corrected him on that.
Aberswythe and I marched together toward the standing Wildcats. To my relief, Kowalski was with them. Apparently when the exercise was concluded his suit was automatically unlocked and he was allowed to rejoin us. Thankfully I didn't have to go and look for him in this ruckus.
And what a ruckus it was. We had elements of our 213th Infiltration Brigade from the External Affairs Bureau as well as 49th Independent Orbital Assault Battalion, 15th Motor-Rifle Brigade and 4th Armored Battalion from the Confederate Army. You could also see grey-blue armours of Marine Detachment from cruiser CSS Ballistic, which did a wormhole jump at the end of the exercise and for some strange reason the assault battalions of the previously met 122nd Sustainment Brigade. The latter (jokingly called field kitchen, by Espera), as we correctly suspected, apparently received wrong marching orders – another sign of bureaucratic mess, typical for the Confederacy. And those were just units from our side of the exercise – OpFor had to reorganize and return their own detachments back to their deployment zones. It seemed like the war we played was just an organized chaos.
"Okay people, atten-shun! El-tee has a few words to say!" shouted Aberswythe sharply.
As if he had waved a magic wand, the whole squad stood at parade rest, ready to be debriefed. They still looked proud and satisfied, though. I cleared my throat and said.
"Thank you all for taking part in the Lightning Rod war games. I am proud to say that Wildcat patrol did their job, and continued well beyond our original mission parameters. You have all displayed exceptional skill, audacity and precision. Good work everyone!"
I looked at Kyle Espera and said.
"Espera, next time please keep your comments to yourself, or at least wait until we're no longer under fire. We all know that REMFs were not supposed to be there, but during the op it's not our problem."
The automatic rifleman stood at attention, "You've got it, el-tee."
I turned to Kowalski and decided to quote Aberswythe.
"Kowalski, you forgot to move your firing position after three bursts and the enemy was able to pinpoint your location and target it. You were wounded and our squad lost much needed firepower. It can't happen again. We cannot afford such losses."
Kowalski looked only slightly repentant, but he replied obediently.
"Won't happen again, el-tee."
"See that it doesn't," I conceded. There was one more thing to discuss, though.
I looked at Specialist Salmia Fahri and sighed, but I couldn't keep my face straight.
"Fahri, the rumours about me going around the camp slapping female bottoms must end. Else I might slap yours for good measure," I added with a mock-seriousness.
Whole squad laughed at that and the atmosphere visibly relaxed. Fahri looked suitably chastened.
"Roger that, el-tee."
I stood at attention and addressed the whole team.
"Alright everyone, we did one hell of a good job. I won't be keeping you here any longer, so go grab some chow and get your R&R. Wildcat patrol, dismissed!"
The squad scattered and went about their business. As the exercise was officially over now, I wanted to remove the lieutenant's chevrons from my collar and armour. I sought to enlist Aberswythe's help with that, as he was the one who presented me with the temporary rank, but he was nowhere to be found. I noticed a transport shuttle landing in the distance. It stopped at one of the concrete landing sites and two people left the cargo compartment. Both of them wore the grey fatigues of the Security Branch and I recognized Major Sharpe and Colonel van Koolwijk who arrived, as I presumed, to debrief me about my performance during the patrol. There was no sign of Galtieri, but I knew that he was with the staff, overseeing the redeployment of the units which took part in the exercise.
I met them halfway and gave a quick salute. Major Sharpe eyed me and said, "We've been observing your progress during exercise Lightning Rod and reviewed the footage from your squads helmet cameras. Your command of the Wildcat patrol was exemplary and you went above and beyond to fulfil your mission. While there were few minor hiccups, nothing of it was worth mentioning in the official report. Good work, lieutenant!"
"Thank you, sir. It means a lot coming from you," I admitted. "Where do I return my officer chevrons, sir? They were given to me by Sergeant Major Aberswythe, but I couldn't find him."
Sharpe and van Koolwijk exchanged quick glances and Patricia said.
"About that, lieutenant – we've had a lengthy discussion with General Anjou concerning your performance. Be advised that you have passed the standard military tests you took last week. For this reason it was decided that you will keep your current rank of 2nd Lieutenant for the duration of your training. You have repeatedly displayed skill and resourcefulness, a necessity for the responsibilities of rank, so congratulations on your promotion, lieutenant. Your actions will be reviewed further by a selected committee once the war games are concluded, and they will have the final say upon whether you'll keep your new rank or not."
Wow! I must admit that I did not expect that. It's been what – two weeks of training? Of course, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I just nodded and said.
"Thank you, sir, ma'am."
Sharpe added, "We understand that it is sudden and that it's not the proper procedure, but I am certain that you will prove us right."
He looked at the FOB where the Army soldiers and Security Branch agents were still cleaning up the detritus of our mock-battle. "You certainly have the military part of the training done to a T. I loath to admit it, but we've greatly abused the knowledge transfer procedure with you in the past two weeks. It certainly helped with speeding up your training, as we've managed to pass you at least ten months' worth of data, but we don't know how it might have effected your mental state. Because of that you are scheduled to meet with Dr. Koeckritz, so she could run a full mental examination and determine your health. You can take some time to rest and recuperate and in the next two hours you will take a shuttle to Interactive Dislocation Department's Alsmoor facility, near Port Helix. Leave your equipment here – it will be taken back to the armoury with the rest of our battalion."
He saluted me and I returned the honours.
"I will go now to review the performance of the elements of our brigade. After its done Colonel van Koolwijk will contact you to advise whether you will keep your new rank," Said Major Sharpe and he added after a moment of thought. "The Battalion is proud to have you, lieutenant. I know I am."
At this moment I felt like I could take on the world.
"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"
Sharpe left me and Patricia van Koolwijk just standing there in the middle of the field. She looked at me.
"I'm glad you're moving upwards in the firm, lieutenant. You're a good soldier and a good man – perhaps a bit too good of a man to be an effective agent," She added with a smile.
"It's simple in combat ma'am – just find the enemy and shoot them up. But on an espionage mission it's different. The lines between right and wrong become blurry." I said, remembering when she told me about using my body to get Intel I need. I still wasn't comfortable with that.
We started walking toward the FOB, where the Pathfinder app showed my fatigues to be – the 3rd Battalion brought most of our equipment here, before we will be relocated back to Camp Bravo Two. I wanted to take a shower before I went to see Anneke at the IDD complex. After almost two days in the woods I felt dirty and smelly in my armour – thank god it was sealed tight, otherwise I'd be a walking biological hazard.
Patricia didn't seem to mind me being in the armour, as she hooked her arm with mine.
"So, you will be meeting your shrink in two hours, lieutenant. Have you got time to grab a cup of coffee with me?"
I looked at her and said with a smile.
"Do I grab some coffee with Patricia or with Colonel van Koolwijk, ma'am?"
"Does it matter, lieutenant?"
"It matters to me. Never confuse a person with a rank, ma'am."
She laughed at my obstinacy and finally answered, "Let's go for a coffee, Peter. You still have two hours before your shuttle leaves."
"Patricia it is. It would be my pleasure."
I went to get a quick shower and shave. It would be unseemly to visit the outside world in the uniform of Security Branch poorly groomed – one of the lessons I learned from Galtieri. External Affairs Bureau agents were always expected to be perfectly groomed and composed when dealing with civilians.
When I was done with the wash I grabbed some coffee from the field kitchens with Patricia – apparently the logistics part of the Sustainment Brigade decided to join us. Someone had to feed all these people after all and it might as well be this jet-propelled, guided NAAFI. We left the FOB once again and took a seat on one of the hills overlooking it. We sat there sipping our drinks, and in that moment everything felt good, and I had not a care in the world.
The Forward Operations Base was a hive of activity – officers were still working through their debriefings, command centre were having their AIs run an analysis of the whole operation, transport shuttles were coming and going and one of the corvettes had technical problem so repair service robots were mobbing it, looking for the failure in the system. The Corvette had to land in the field, so it looked like a beached whale with the naval servicemen and marines surrounding it like a pack of hungry wolves. We just had some light conversation about nothing in particular, when she said, "There is something I want to ask you, Peter," She looked serious.
"Sure, go ahead."
"I was told that during the briefing before the war games, you said that you don't care if you died when deployed."
I sighed inwardly; time for the heart to heart, eh?
"That's true." What was here for me? I didn't have any friends or family, just colleagues from work. I wanted to do the right thing for the Mass Effect Galaxy, but it was just my job. If I happened to die, nobody would care.
"It's a very dangerous attitude to take. You may take greater risks and that might alter the ultimate outcome of your mission."
"Isn't that how it always goes? Our choices affect the result – cause and effect."
"You know what I mean, Peter. We don't want you to die."
"Believe me – I don't want to die either, Patricia. I want to accomplish my mission with minimal loss of life. But if I happen to die, I will have no regrets and I doubt anyone would care."
"I would care, you know?"
"Come on, you barely know me," I said, waving my hand in dismissal. We had sex once – that didn't mean we were married. Still, she insisted.
"I stand by my word. You're a good man, Peter."
"I am who I am, and I do what I can. Don't worry; I will do my best not to die," I said, amused.
She snickered and said, "I guess that's the best I can hope for."
An alarm flashed on my wrist-comp. The shuttle was getting ready to leave and they were hailing me to come aboard. I gave Patricia a light peck on the lips and got up to walk to the shuttle. She grabbed my hand and said.
"Just promise me, you will talk to the IDD shrink."
I looked down at her exasperated and rolled my eyes.
"I promise I will talk to the shrink, that's why I'm going to Alsmoor in the first place. Now I really have to go, or I will be walking to Port Helix."
We exchanged quick goodbyes and I left her on the hillside.
END OF CHAPTER 4
A/N: Here is the Chapter 4. It had a bit more action to it as I really wanted to try my hand at writing the battle scenes. I sincerly hope that you enjoyed it.
Have a good one!
RosoMC