“You got another one of those letters for us,” Chief Mohamot said, smiling eagerly.
“The same. She still won’t take my job offer,” L. J. said, handing over the note.
The Chief read it quickly. “Can’t blame her for holding on to the job she has if it comes with perks like a get-out-of-rape-free card from our client,” he said, then his eyes got wide. “How’d she get privy to table talk about ’Mech MODs?”
“Good question. She knows the cook well. Maybe she pulled temp duty as a server.”
“Possible, sir, but I wonder if this isn’t too good to be true.”
“You don’t think Betty’s authentic?”
“Sir, I have to doubt everything I know about Betty because I know so little about her. I don’t know where she comes from. I don’t know who she likes, hates, has a bone to pick with. She’s a clean slate that gets written on, that I don’t know how to interpret. That’s what you pay me for, sir.”
The room suddenly got darker. L. J. glanced around, looking for the reason, when he realized that every monitor in the room had gone blank. “Net seems to be down,” Chief said. “I’ll give Network Disservices a holler.”
“Network Services,” someone shouted from down the hall, “is not responsible for what you are not seeing on your screens. The Net ain’t down, it’s gone. Gone on this whole stinking planet!”
The Chief stood. “I guess it starts now, sir.”
L. J. held his next staff meeting on the parade ground in front of his HQ. It was the best place to be until Network Services got a backup local Net online. It gave him a good view of his command as it went, like a kicked-over hornet’s nest, from ThreatCon Three to Four-plus. To an uninformed observer such as Santorini, it might look like frantic action going nowhere, but L. J. knew what every one of his men and women were doing, and provided the supervision that got them over the few rough spots.
For example, the Chief paraded his Intelligence staff in full combat gear in less than ten minutes. “You got any assignment for us? We got no data to mine, sir.”
“You have your backup databases on this pesthole?”
“Everything on Alkalurops is right here.” The Chief patted a small bulge in his battle gear. So did those behind him.
“Hold here. When we see how bad it is, I’ll let you know.”
“We got a cycle coming up the road,” someone bellowed from the front gate. “Appears unarmed. One man, no large packs.”
“Tell the guard to stop him, search him, and send him in here on foot,” L. J. told an Intelligence guy and sent him off in the ancient role of a runner. Two minutes later he returned with a small short-haired woman in shorts, sandals and a halter top.
“After the pat-down your guards gave me, I feel we ought to at least be engaged,” she growled. “I mean, where would I hide anything in this getup?”
“I apologize for their thoroughness. Our Net has been cut, and we are still trying to figure out what’s happening.”
“That’s why the mayor, my husband, sent me here,” the woman said, spreading her feet, resting hands on hips, and taking on the gravity of a formal representative. “Our Net’s down, too. We don’t know why, but we want you to know we didn’t do it. We suspect it had something to do with what happened down south.”
L. J. frowned. “What happened down south?”
“You don’t know?”
“Would you please tell me.” L. J. knew that the woman might soon be certified as his enemy. She had to know, too.
“Won’t do us any good if you only get his side of the story.” She quickly told him what the farmer and his boys had done. “Pretty much rendered them down to liquid fertilizer fit for, say, ten acres. Some started a bit on the fat side,” she finished.
“Thank you,” L. J. said. So it had started. “Specialist, escort this young woman from the post. She entered under a flag of truce. She leaves under regimental protection, understood?”
“Sir. This way, ma’am.”
“Eddie!” L. J. shouted.
“The move was started before the blackout. I’ve got the detachments coming up on backup shortwave radio. What are your orders, sir?”
Eddie Thomas had a tendency to coast on his family name. Then there were days like today when you realized being a merc was in the blood. “Have all forces commence immediate road movement. Use extreme caution. All units fall back on Dublin Town. Avoid city centers. Cross country if necessary.”
“I’ll get that out immediately, sir.”
“We have one chance,” L. J. said as Eddie double-timed off.
“What’s that, sir?” Mallary asked.
“The local opposition didn’t know what those damn farmers were going to do any more than we did.”
“I’m not sure the farmers knew what they were doing before they did it,” the Chief said. “Taking an autoscythe to unarmored people,” he finished with a slight shiver.
L. J.’s ’puter beeped and flashed red. He held it up. “I was under the impression the Net was down.”
“It is down when I want it down. There’s no reason for me to provide it to my enemies. When I want it up, it will be up.” Santorini’s voice came back at him, cold and dry and maybe a bit brittle and scared. “Are you aware, Major, of the disorder?”
“No, sir,” L. J. said, unwilling to admit he’d been talking with what now had to be considered the enemy.
“A dozen farmers attacked a Special Police patrol today. Unprovoked. Totally uncalled-for. They lured them into the farm country with a cry for help, then attacked them from hiding. They are now fleeing north, toward those troublemakers at Falkirk. I want them stopped. I want the lot of them hanging from the nearest pole, along with anyone who helps them.” Santorini was shouting now. L. J. held his ’puter at arm’s length. Everyone around him heard the orders.
“Sir,” L. J. said softly, holding the ’puter closer only when the man fell silent, “I am not in a position to immediately comply with your orders.”
L. J. got the ’puter back at arm’s length just as Santorini shouted, “And why not?!”
“Based on the worsening conditions, I began a concentration of my battalion so I would be in a position to immediately respond if you were to issue future orders. At the moment my platoons are scattered and in transit.”
“You are again telling me you will not follow my orders!”
“I am informing you that I cannot at this time launch the operation you request. The situation is in flux at the moment, and the opposition’s action is temporally inside our decision cycle, sir,” L. J. said, recording his reply for the competency hearing he was sure to face.
“Then I will do it with my own Special Police. If it is not beyond your competency, Major, please inform me when your command is once again able to function in accordance with the contractual commitments signed by your regimental commander.”
L. J.’s ’puter clicked off, and his access to the Net vanished with his client’s call.
Art whistled. “Better get my dress uniform pressed.”
“Better get your head on straight or you won’t be alive to wear it,” L. J. snapped. “All of you. Forget peacetime drill, forget the candy-assed garrison shit. This is no sim. The worst that can happen to you is not an umpire bawling you out. Now you can end up very dead. Understood? Now it’s real!”
Art and Mallary looked on the pale side. So did a lot of the troops standing close at hand. The Sergeant Major and the Chief exchanged a look, let tight hints of smiles cross their lips, then turned to him, came to attention with a soft snap, and saluted. “Yes, sir,” they said.
There are moments that a commander will treasure forever.
Assuming they live the week out.
“Sergeant Major, Chief, see that the word gets to the troops here in camp. Mallary, get that word out to the troops in transit. This is no longer a Sunday picnic.”
“Sir,” and those with orders were gone. L. J. looked at Art. “So, XO, how fast can we concentrate the battalion and move it to the mouth of the Gleann Mor Valley?”