CHAPTER 16
After lunch, Martin Spencer sought out his counterpart.
“Sergeant Burnham,” he addressed, “I need to talk to you. Would you like a drink while we do?”
Burnham looked a bit tense and replied, “Uh, probably, yes, thanks, please.”
Martin held up the plastic containers he already had. “Pineapple rum punch.”
“Oh, damn, thank you, Sergeant.”
“No worries. For this talk, let’s be Martin and Andrew.”
“Drew is fine. Marty?”
Oh, God, no. He shook his head. “No, just Martin, thank you.”
“Hooah. What are we talking about?”
“You can guess. Let’s find a quiet spot past the scientists, away from people. We’ll go through CQ and grab some folding chairs.”
“Thanks.”
With drinks in hand, chairs oriented to view the goings-on and ensure they were private, Martin led into the discussion diplomatically.
“So, the LT gave us a rundown on your displacement, justifiable freakout, meeting with the natives, diplomacy and adoption, including loss of Army property and the ‘female diplomacy.’”
“Ah, Serg…Martin, I specifically did not advise any of that.”
He put on an office smile. “That’s fine. There’s no proceedings here. This is professional, but it’s not necessarily official. As we told Lieutenant Cole, there are things that our present-day Army does not need to know, and must not find out about. But we need to know, understand?”
“Yeah. Got it.” The man seemed quite a bit relieved.
“Okay, so I need a no-shit rundown from you on several things, most important is who wants to go home and who might want to stay, other than Lozano, who’s made it pretty obvious.”
“Can do.” Burnham nodded, and tried to stroke his now shaven beard.
“But first of all, tell me how you got Dobie.”
“My German shepherd? I was eight, he was hanging around and I started feeding him, and then he sort of followed me into the house. We checked with the local vet and animal control, no one could trace or ID him. After about six weeks, my father decided we should adopt him and get him shots and such. That’s pretty much what I wrote for my ISOPREP file.”
“Yup, that’s why I asked. So you are you, which we assumed, but by the letter of the reg we have to make sure.”
“Okay. So I’m me. And you want to know about—”
Martin smiled and pointed. “We’ll get to that in a bit. How’s the drink?”
“Oh,” the man replied, looked at his hand, and took a swig. “Fucking delicious,” he admitted. “Cold, sweet, alcoholic. It’s been almost six years since I had one.”
“You’re welcome. We managed mead and wine and the Cog…Bykos can make liquor, once we met up.”
Burnham nodded. “Yeah, there’s that fermented thing here, but nothing like this.” He held up the container, then took another drink.
“Good. So, what did you say to the LT about his plan?”
The man sighed heavily. “I said we should keep our distance and maybe be trading partners or such. Try to impress them with some technology, and gradually move in as equals.”
Good. “Makes sense. What did you have in mind?”
The man shrugged and sounded awkward. “Yeah, that was the problem. Other than hunting with rifles, or things like lighters and flashlights that weren’t going to last long, there wasn’t much to offer. But he just wanted to get straight into being part of the group in case of predators, or hostile natives, and to have some sort of lodgings.”
“Understood. And when he wanted to trade women for this?”
“I said it was a really bad idea. And I triple-checked with Noirot that she was willing. She was. Insisted the guy had to brush his teeth, and he did, things like that. She helped plan it.”
Probably felt she had no choice other than terms.
“Okay. So, that is the first thing that no one discusses back home, at all, except with specifically designated therapists who they’ll assign. But do not mention it to any US Army personnel. There are several reasons for this.”
“I understand.”
And Martin felt a fuck of a lot better the senior NCO hadn’t endorsed the idea. It should have been stopped somehow, but he wasn’t going to judge that. He had no idea who’d said what, or the context. And God help him for thinking there was a context to this. But there was, and even Caswell had said so.
“So which of your people are reliable for going home, and who’s going to flake out? Other than Lozano.”
Burnham winced. “Yeah, he bothers me. I’ve never seen him with a native girl over age sixteen. The main one he’s with now was twelve when they got together.”
“Christ.”
“Yeah. I mean, they are more mature younger than we are, but still, under sixteen is under sixteen.”
“Okay, this is another subject that does not ever get mentioned to the Army.”
Burnham raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I know that. Honestly, I’d rather not talk about any of it. It’s all half nightmare, half POW.”
“Exactly. And we thought we had it bad.”
“How were the women and locals for you guys?”
Martin summarized. “We built a stockade and held sick call and trading parties. One of our people got blown by a native chick once, and I think two others had brief dalliances.”
“Really? You didn’t shack up?”
“We were discussing the idea of them coming to us, and us giving them requirements, and making us overlords of status. And that’s when the Bykos met up, so it all got put on hold. Then we got a recovery notice.”
“I don’t know if I’m jealous or…if you should be. We’ve been getting laid.”
“Yeah, we maintained discipline with the locals. I guess it depends on your command and outlook.”
Burnham nodded. “Fair enough. We’re in shit shape. Other than getting laid, we’ve got nothing.”
“So who wants to go home?”
“Oh…” The man considered a moment, then spoke. “Keisuke. Me. The LT. Both women almost definitely.”
“Good.”
“Maldonado probably does. Lozano doesn’t. Uhiara does. Munoz I’m not sure about. Hamilton does.”
Martin agreed, “Definitely. He was ecstatic when he met us.”
Next question.
“What were you doing for the tribe?”
Burnham explained, “Some hunting, but I’m not as good as others. Though better than Munoz. He sucks and paid for it.”
“How?”
“How, what? Oh, well, he rarely gets any pussy. Usually stuck with the single, unproven hunters. It’s a pretty serious penalty. Do badly enough times, and off you go to the barracks. Keisuke, Maldonado, Hamilton. They were finally letting Hamilton join back into hunting parties after additional training. Lozano has a knack for it, so does Uhiara.”
“I see. And you?”
“I showed them how to use hash marks to track things, including inventory of hides and such. I guess I’m an early bard? It got me my own hut and a serving girl, but she wasn’t a wife until last year.”
“Scribe. A good position for an NCO. And others?”
“The women help cook, prepare hides, straighten spear shafts, herd kids, trap fish, gather food. They’re decent at it, too.”
“And the LT?”
“Ah, he’s a gu-umma. Sort of a chief of our group under their chief. He gave pretty good advice on irrigation.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they’re starting to develop crops. I don’t think we know anything about the plants, but they dug shallows and he showed how to trench.”
Martin decided to conclude for now. “Alright,” he said. “That’s all good to know. We’ll talk again. Good to have you back.”
Burnham said, very seriously, “Thanks. We’re more grateful than you can know.”
“We have a pretty good idea. That’s why we’re here. And you’re welcome.”
Armand decided Jachike Uhiara was a good choice for debrief. The man seemed pretty chill, though certainly eager to get home. He found the sergeant by the fire, splitting wood.
“Sergeant Uhiara, would you like to take a break? I have some questions.”
“Sure, Doc,” the man agreed. He put the axe down and wiped his brow. “Is this Doc or LT stuff?”
“It’s ‘I’d like to know how you’re doing’ stuff, so some of each, and some of Armand.”
The man grinned agreeably. “Yes, sir. And I go by ‘Jake.’ What can I tell you?”
“Grab a drink and let’s sit over there.” He pointed at a pair of field chairs.
“Sounds good. The juices are great.”
“Yeah, even better than back home. They have amazing produce.”
“I thought these were faked for the field?”
“They fake the amazing stuff amazingly well, too,” he said with a chuckle.
Once the man had a large tumbler of strawberry juice, he asked, “Eager to get home?”
Uhiara nodded vigorously. “Yeah. This was even worse than Nigeria. I mean, we left there when I was five, but I remember enough. I guess there’s fewer AKs, but just as many diseases, parasites, less electricity…”
“We had an intel squid from the PI. Remote area. He made similar comments. So, you settled down here?”
Uhiara shrugged. “I’ve got a wife on…well, not paper. No kids. She had one stillborn. That was pretty rough.” He tensed a bit.
“Sorry to hear that. How do you feel about her?”
“She’s nice enough. Warm in winter. But not what I wanted in a permanent relationship, you know? She can scrape hides, roast meat, find lots of stuff that’s edible if need be. But there’s just no way to have a conversation, and I have a wife back home. Did, at least.”
“You still should, and yeah, I treated a lot of people in our time. Displaced time. It was hard to even get basic notions across.”
“Exactly. I wish her well, and hope she finds someone else soon.”
“I wish it had been better for you.”
The man gave a very fatalistic shrug. “So do I. But honestly, this place isn’t Houston. It isn’t Nebraska. It isn’t even fucking Uyo. I confirmed last night I much prefer my steak from a store and well-aged, not fresh off a flint spear. I want to get home.”
He wasn’t quite sobbing, but looked very vulnerable.
Armand said, “Yeah. We know exactly how you feel. I spent two years with minimal field kit, watching people die, who I knew I could save with better gear and evac. And then there’s the excessively chewy goat…”
“We tenderize it by aging it, but we all got the shits a few times until we developed some gut flora, I guess.”
“Right. That will adapt back quickly.”
“Good. We leave in forty days? Like Christ in the wilderness?”
Ironic coincidence, he thought. “They have a fixed departure, yes. Forty-seven from our arrival. We’ll be moving and doing more processing. Then the Byko have to do theirs, which takes a couple of weeks, but their world is amazing, even if you only see the inside of their holding area. Then home and a couple more weeks before you get to see family.”
“And Angela, my real wife, is waiting?”
Armand reassured him, “As far as I know, yes. It’s been a few months only, and they came up with cover stories as best they could, once they understood this.”
The man closed his eyes and seemed to pray.
“Now I have to decide what to tell her.”
“Your best bet is nothing. It was a mission that went bad, but you were fine and unharmed and recovered, and can’t talk about it. OPSEC and COMSEC all in one.”
“Yes, but LT…I have cheated on her.” The man seemed distraught now.
That was a moral issue.
“I don’t see it that way. You had no expectation of going home. Now that you do, you’ve stopped. Certainly you should talk to Sergeant Dalton, who is very, very inspiring on matters of faith. And despite some…biased positions, Sergeant Caswell is also a good voice.”
The man nodded. “Thanks, LT. Anything else I can tell you?”
“Probably, but later is fine. We’ll have a list of specifics.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll get back to chores, then.”
“Sure.”
The man actually saluted, which Armand still struggled with. He’d been an NCO so long, being an officer would be new for a while. He returned the gesture and watched the man leave.
Daniel Oglesby had mid-shift CQ duty. Mostly, that was keeping the fire smoldering. Every few minutes he checked the dumbed-down Byko video screens under the awning for anything moving outside the perimeter. The system was trained to recognize most animals, and humans.
It had startled him the first time it spoke. It was an abbreviated AI, not holding human status like the patrons in the future. But it could handle several issues in a conversational fashion.
As he stuck his head under, it greeted him.
“Good evening, Sergeant Oglesby.”
“Evening. Any activity?”
“There are typical animal movements, not of concern, and no human presence outside the perimeter. Rain is possible at forty percent before dawn. Low will be approximately thirty-nine Fahrenheit.”
“Great. I’ll take a quick look.”
“If you wish to, but it’s not necessary.”
“That’s fine. I’m bored and watching animals can be interesting.”
“Do you like their movement patterns, or their individual poise?”
“Some of each. There are differences and similarities to human movement and activity.”
“Yes, that’s how I identify them, of course.”
“There’s a lot more wildlife here than in our time.”
“It is somewhat more than ours, but we do have extensive preserves.”
“We have some, and quite a bit of wilderness, but it stays that way by not visiting it.”
“That makes sense. Soldier Munoz appears to be awake and moving.”
“Thanks. I’ll check on him.”
The screen even helpfully tagged his tent on an aerial image.
Dan walked in that direction, saw the soldier in question, and asked, “Hey, Munoz. How are you doing?”
“Wired,” the man said. “I got to drinking coffee again. Now I can’t sleep. But I do have to piss.”
“Understood.” He stepped aside while the private quick-staggered to the latrine.
In three minutes, Munoz was back, still a little unsteady, groggy, and with deep, saggy eyes.
“God, that’s good coffee,” he said. “And strong. And I’m out of practice. I’m almost hallucinating.”
“Want me to wake Doc?”
Munoz shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. You busy?”
Dan replied, “I can talk. I have to check monitors from time to time. The fire’s good, and it’s home. Have a seat.”
Munoz shook his head again. “I’m to pace. Twitchy if I’m still.”
“Hooah.”
Munoz was wiry skinny, in good health it seemed, and rambled around the fire ring, poking at the coals, squatting to pick up tiny sticks and toss them in, stretching his arms, and leaning in almost calisthenics.
When he spoke again, he asked, “Any of you guys get a settlement from the Army over this shit?”
“Sort of,” Dan nodded. “We’ve got lifetime top-notch medical. Extra points for being officially POWs. Bumped in rank for those who stayed in. I think everyone who got out was near pension age anyway, but got a chunk of bonus pay as well as back pay disguised as a special-duty assignment. That will be five years for you, with all the benefits. We’ve got free transport to meet up with each other periodically. We have our own specially cleared support staff. The general pulled some sort of string and we get hired as ‘consultants’ to talk about it to the science experts. We get a thousand a day for that, and first-class airfare and hotels.”
“Yeah, that’s not what I was thinking. Any of you get a lawyer?”
“No, why?”
He remembered this was the guy threatening to sue.
Munoz said, “Sounds like I should. I figure five years of fuckup is worth five hundred K. I’ll ask for a mil and settle.”
“Florian…is that your first name?”
“Flor.”
“Okay, Flor. How are you going to sue for something that never happened?”
“Never happened, bullshit. I’ll subpoena everyone.”
“You may want to run the idea past the captain or Sergeant Spencer, but—”
“Fuck them.”
“Okay, past Lieutenant Cole, then. But based on what I know of how much cover-up there’s been, that would probably just get you put straight into a loony bin. A very nice one, of course. But you’re not going to have a case.”
“I’ll find a way to have some sort of proof.”
“The Cog…Byko won’t let you take anything home. They’ll fabricate fresh uniforms”—he tugged at his own shirt—“and go through everything.”
Of course, Gina had smuggled some pictures home on a memory stick, and they’d had some fur and other material that proved their displacement. But that wasn’t needed this time and he wasn’t going to suggest it.
“So we get a ‘thank you, here’s a steak dinner,’ and that’s it?”
“It’s quite a bit more than that, but there’s nothing you’re going to be able to prove or claim.”
“Unless I get them to all go in.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’d mention that. It would probably get the Byko to lock you in their time if you were lucky. A very pretty prison, but their site is remote, and you’d never get away. Retirement watching movies and jerking off to high-class porn. And maybe some future chick wants to slum with a primitive.”
Actually, the Byko would make it reasonably comfortable, but he wanted to play that down. But Munoz was looking pissed.
Actually…
He tried another tack.
“You know, you may have a point, but the Army didn’t fuck this up. You need to talk to the Byko leadership.”
“Yeah? They have lawyers?”
“They must have something, and it was their screwup. They did make us comfortable and do what they could to get us back, instead of leaving us there. But maybe if you address it right, you could get something out of them. I’m sure they have gold or something else you can cash back home.”
Actually, did he want to consider suggesting they all ask for some benefits? On the other hand, he was happy enough with how things were. But…
“Yeah. Should I talk to their captain here? Cryder?”
“I’d wait until we get to their location, and talk to people there. These two guys are basically a cross between a fireteam and a rescue squad. They can’t make any political decisions on things like that.”
“Okay, cool. Thanks, Sergeant.”
“No problem.”
He checked the time.
“I’ll be swapping off with Dr. Sheridan in a bit. Are you going to keep pacing?”
The man squinted a bit.
“Yeah, I sort of lay down for three hours. I think that’s it for me. Hopefully I’ll get back on track in a few days.”
“We’ll have a few days.”
He saw Dr. Sheridan walking their way.
“Let me check in with her and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Hooah.”
Then Dan would go to his tent and text a lengthy AAR to the captain. This group was all fucked up, and it was understandable, but it was stuff that had to be dealt with.