CHAPTER 24
Rich Dalton woke up drooling. On the half-frozen ground. In the weeds.
It wasn’t drool, it was stinky, greasy, lumpy vomit.
Another heave caught him, but it was just acid, rasping the back of his throat.
He got to hands and knees, feeling very nauseous and disoriented.
The crap?
Cryder arrived at a run, slapped a patch on his neck.
“Poison,” he explained. “In the food.”
Munoz had poisoned them.
“I was worried about him spitting in it or not washing his hands.”
“He’s gone, along with Lozano.”
“Fuck, I thought Munoz was all in to get home and try to sue.”
He looked around. Captain Elliott was functional. He was on his knees, talking to Cryder who squatted in front of him, nodding. Dr. Sheridan staggered over with a bottle with some sort of fluid. She said something and offered it, and the two leaders took a swig each. She headed his way.
Sheridan stood in front of him. “Best we can come up with on a guess,” she said. “This should counter the poison somewhat and clear your guts.”
He nodded, accepted the bottle, took a gulp, and it was orange-flavored goo.
It was soothing as it went down.
Cole stumbled over from where he’d collapsed. There was used food on his face, down his uniform, and on his right hand.
Rubbing his neck with the other hand, he said, “Lozano probably reminded him about young pussy and no need for Army discipline. He was always a mouthy fucker.”
Rich commented, “Yeah, well, let’s get them.”
Elliott said, “Without accusing anyone of anything, it’s even more impossible for any of the displacees to be trusted at this point. We don’t have time for long discussions, chases, whatever. I’ve asked Cryder to tighten the wards. If you try to leave, you will be stunned. If that happens, you get an invisible fence collar. After that, detention tent. I’m sorry, and I know it shouldn’t be necessary, but I can’t take any risks with the safety of the rest.”
“I understand,” Cole replied. “At the same time, that’s going to be even worse for morale.”
“You’re going home—starting home at least—in four weeks. That’s your morale. I wish I could offer more. It’s going to be a long road to recovery.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cryder held up a tablet and said, “Got them. Only option is hard stun, await for Arnet, then we can retrieve.”
Rich asked, “Why not retrieve now?” His voice was still gravelly.
“Can’t leave the camp insecure. Can’t entrust a vehicle to non-Bykos without escort.”
“I see.” The caste system put the displacees at the bottom, but the other Americans weren’t much higher.
Cole’s smirk was one he wanted to punch, if he wasn’t an officer. Then he reconsidered. The man at least understood there was more than one hierarchy here, and it wasn’t personal.
He didn’t want to ask how much more fucked up things were going to get, because he knew they probably would.
In the meantime, Captain Elliott ordered, “Everyone shower and clean up, see Doc for a quick check, stay near the firepit for accountability. Dalton, you and I stand armed guard and swap off with Arnet if a shower seems feasible. Dr. Sheridan, can you assist?”
Rich replied, “Hooah, sir.” It was good to have a decisive officer giving intelligent orders. He jogged over to Cryder, took the lump the man handed him, and transformed it into the heavy stun setting. He and Elliott stood across from each other, well outside the firepit, watching each other and the recoverees, now detainees.
Sheridan held a weapon and split the circle in three, giving them better coverage.
“Keisuke, you’re first, then by rank. Clean up quick and get back.”
“Yes, sir.” The man nodded and ran.
Cryder was armed with something larger and heavier than before, and obvious armor with a helmet now. He took up position as well. He was talking into his helmet, presumably to Arnet. Though it could be programming for the system.
When the man paused, he asked, “Cryder, can you explain what happened?” He wasn’t sure it was a good time, but figured the Byko would evade the question if need be.
Cryder replied, “Munoz put something toxic in the food. Don’t know if it’s some native plant, if he found a way to program the dispenser, or took something from the science station.”
Sheridan said, “We don’t have anything on hand that would do that. But…we did get the dispenser adapted to take our requests for food.”
Cryder’s helmeted head shifted, as if he were cocking it to one side and nodding.
“I see. If it wasn’t given a hard limit, it’s quite flexible. I’ll fix that.”
Yeah, Rich remembered that. Apparently, the kitchen wasn’t limited to just edible stuff.
Cole offered, “He was pretty good with laptops back on post way back. Cleaning out malware, updates, whatever. It wouldn’t surprise me if he learned how to pull a file.”
Cryder said, “Not a file. I can think of several ways to do it that wouldn’t trigger any warnings. Fixing that now.” He swiped at his tablet. “You’ll be limited to video and audio, and will have no access for material selection. You’ll need to request your meal options. I’ve set some standards for after hours so you’ll have limited variety.”
Cole replied, “That’s decent of you, and I apologize for these circumstances.”
Cryder replied, “Your comprehension and acceptance are appreciated.”
Yeah. Still, this was messed up. They were supposed to recover these troops, and you’d think they’d be grateful.
Then Rich realized most of them were, and they each had their own struggle with life or God or both.
Cryder suddenly spoke into his communicator, and there was the sound of brush being smashed, faint and distant, but growing quickly. In a few moments the vehicle appeared, doing a very good off-road run. It slowed, cruised to the wards, and rolled in.
The occupants unassed in a hurry. Spencer had his .338. The rest had Byko weapons. They were loose and ready.
At once, Arnet asked, “Where are they?”
Cryder replied, “Still tracking. Approx two four five marks, six kilometers. They made good time.”
They were using modern English. Interesting. They were sharing the info.
Arnet ran to the other vehicle, ducked down, stood up, and he was an armored giant, too.
“I’m connected to system.”
Cryder said, “I’ll lead the retrieval. I’d like to take Sergeant Dalton and Lieutenant Devereaux for combat and medical support.”
Elliott said, “I agree and concur.”
Cryder nodded and pointed. “Thank you. Soldiers, let’s board.”
Rich took shotgun, Doc got in back. He still felt queasy, but water stayed down and he could jog a little.
Cryder’s helmet sectioned itself back almost like Iron Man’s. That movie would never be the same after this. Rich wondered what other capabilities it had.
The bumpy ride over lumpy terrain almost spilled more of his lunch. He sipped water and watched a fixed point ahead. Apparently these vehicles had plenty of speed off-road, if you didn’t care what the ride felt like. He estimated they were doing fifty. At least it was a short ride, barely three minutes. The differences between foot marches and vehicles were stark.
“We hold here,” Cryder announced. “They’re closer than a kilometer.”
They weren’t any farther than six kilometers from the base. If the men were smart, they’d have moved a lot farther, a lot faster. They obviously underestimated the Bykos’ tech abilities.
Cryder scanned an aerial view and marked on a screen. It was a route that kept terrain between the two men and the vehicle. They shouldn’t see anything, and as long as Cryder drove carefully, not hear anything, either.
With the vehicle max camouflaged, it wasn’t hard to get closer to the two escapees. Cryder took it slowly and followed terrain, to minimize brush noise. The engine was effectively silent. Munoz and Lozano apparently thought themselves safe for now, two ridges away, in a tree-ringed hollow. Cryder’s drone, or perhaps a directional mic, brought the audio in.
They were using the native language.
Rich exclaimed, “Crap, get Hamilton and Oglesby on the net.”
Cryder said, “That’s my intention.”
It took under a minute for him to contact Arnet, get the two, and get them listening.
Hamilton said, “It’s mostly idle chitchat about fucking women and how the hunting looks. They plan to head north from there to the river, then turn back east…they’re not sure about whether to go around the sword group’s camp, or quietly nearby. Lozano thinks he can make a sneak.”
Cryder looked over and said, “The drones have too limited payload capacity for recovery, but can be used to stun, or to drop small charges to herd them a bit.”
Since he was being asked, Rich said, “The former sounds better. I suspect they’d just dodge any fire and sprint.”
Doc agreed. “I concur. Seems minimally forceful, from what I know of your stunners.
“Can you just get in there and zap them? We can heave them aboard easily enough.”
“That seems optimal, unless there’s anything else you need.”
Doc shook his head.
Rich said, “No. I don’t think they’re going to reveal any treasure or anything.”
“Okay, down it goes.”
Seconds later, both men slumped into the terrain.
“Let’s move.” He reached for the door release.
Cryder raised a hand and said, “I can get closer.” He gunned the engine, however it was powered, and the vehicle lunged silently across the slope.
Even with its futuristic suspension, it was a rough ride, jolting them into the air and slamming them back down. Rich was glad the roof was open. He understood the hoods on the Byko uniforms served as helmets, and possibly the cap he wore did, but it would still be hell on the back and neck. It was bad enough as it was, his spine grinding into his tailbone, into the seat, then up and almost weightless for a moment, which sickened his abused stomach, then dropped it back down into his guts.
Just before Rich heaved again, Cryder pulled up about twenty meters from the two unconscious soldiers.
“Hell, that makes it a lot easier.” He meant the end of the maneuver, not the closeness to the scene.
“You’re welcome.”
Doc said, “We’ll get them. Do you have restraints?”
“Yes.”
Shortly, both men were trussed with futuristic cable ties, elastic enough to maintain blood circulation in the bound wrists and ankles, tight enough to hinder movement. Those were hooked to padeyes that extruded from the inside surface.
Doc examined them, seemed satisfied, and said, “Okay, back we go. I’m also wondering if we need to collar them all.”
Cryder replied with a shift of his head, “It might be a good idea, but I leave the social ramifications to you.”
Rich agreed, “Yeah, there is that. Definitely for these two. Possibly for anyone else if they mouth off at all.”
“I have the gear if you need it.”
Doc thumbed his chest. “I’ll suggest it to the captain.”
“I’ll support you, sir,” Rich agreed.
Martin Spencer shouted, “Listen up! Formation, right now!”
Yeah, this wasn’t going to be fun.
His own element was prompt. Most of the recoverees were reasonably fast. He noted Maldonado lagged last. It might be coincidence, but there was little trust left. The two scientists stood back, present but not in the military formation. The two prisoners were inside their awning.
He turned and saluted Elliott, and said, “Element present and ready for your comments, sir.”
Elliott saluted back with, “Thank you, First Sergeant.” He raised his voice. “Post.”
Cole marched forward and stood in front of his element as Burnham stood behind. Elliott took position behind their short squad.
Elliott started in directly.
“Company, at ease. We all know what happened and approximately how. The system has now been secured so that can’t happen again. That also means menu choices are limited. You’ll have to wait for anything you want that’s not handy, and you will not wake our Byko element because you’re hungry for ice cream. Clear?”
There was a chorus of “Hooah.”
“Additionally, and I hate that it comes to this, the recovered element is getting fitted with what are basically invisible fence collars.”
There were grumbles and outraged exclamations.
“At ease!” Martin reminded them.
Elliott resumed. “You’ll need permission to go anywhere or you get zapped. It’s a bullshit idea, but that’s where we are. We’re taking you home, and you will have to deal with it. My orders are to return you alive and as fit as possible, and that’s what happens until I pass you on to other authority. Got it?”
“Hooah.” It didn’t sound enthusiastic, just an acknowledgment.
“Thank you. Lieutenant Cole, please have your element line up over here when we break. Element, attention! Fall out.”
They definitely grumbled, and Cole did the right thing by stepping up first, followed by Burnham. They all acted as if these were a combination of dog collars, fetish slave collars, and actual slave collars, and that’s pretty much what they were.
Noirot looked concerned, and directly said, “I can’t handle anything tight around my throat.”
Arnet replied, “It will be loose and comfortable, you just won’t be able to remove it.”
“Thank you.” She sounded relieved. The collar was a stiff loop of cable that wouldn’t fit past the jaw, and merged back into itself when fastened. It was a plain hoop of dark olive that looked like plastic. Kita mumbled something, and Noirot shook her head. Martin gathered she wanted one, too.
No, kid, you really don’t.
Uhiara looked pissed to the point of being murderous, but his laserlike glare was directed toward the two prisoners detained in side-by-side awnings. He knew what had led to this.
Cryder personally walked over to the two-cell prison.
He held up the collars and said, “I can put these on you, or using slang I heard from Sergeant Spencer, I can beat you like a left-handed, redheaded stepchild, and put these on you. Which will it be?”
The man was wearing his uniform pants and a T-shirt, and was ripped. He was 6′6″ and probably 280 pounds, in a physique that looked like a recruiting poster.
Both nodded evenly without evident fear or anger, but they were compliant. Cryder opened the awnings in turn, snapped the rings around their necks, and closed back up.
Martin was glad to see they accepted this reality.
Cryder raised his voice. “Everyone pay attention for a moment, please.”
He waited a few seconds as people raised their heads, turned, or otherwise took note.
He then touched a control on his tablet and both prisoners dropped to the ground, shaking as if electrocuted, and making “Ahaaahaahaaa!” noises. The jolt stopped, they cautiously rolled to their knees, then back up. Now they looked pissed.
He spoke clearly to everyone. “That’s two on the scale from one to ten. Ten will put you in the box for organ failure. Not going to debate any instructions. I’ll just start zizzing people. Understood?”
There was a chorus of hooahs.
“Also, your phones are now limited to chain of command and entertainment, no talking to each other.”
Martin realized a demo had been necessary, though he wondered if that was a bit harsh. On the other hand, Munoz had poisoned him, and both deserted. A little zap was probably the low end of what a court-martial equivalent might do.
He just hoped no one fucked up to where they all had to be collared.
He’d reiterate to everyone that the Byko were gracious hosts but had no room for bullshit and no sentimentality at all. They were perfectly willing to kill to accomplish their goals. They’d even discussed it in council.