Well, the muse is ‘kinda’ back under control… For now…
As always, unedited, etc…
Settling In
Fargo dialed up a bulb of coffee, and a high protein breakfast from the autochef as he tried to stretch his aching muscles, Damn, I’d forgotten how bad Fleet beds could be. I swear I’ve slept on softer rocks. Jiri came in smiling as usual and Fargo grumped, “Guess you slept well?”
Jiri laughed, “Of course, my captain. Nobody was shooting at me!”
The autochef spit out Fargo’s breakfast and bulb, and he carried them to a table off to the side, as Jiri selected his breakfast. Slumping down, Fargo winced as his back complained about the hard chair. He sighed, and juggled the bulb, waiting for it to cool. Reaching out cautiously, he sensed Colonel Zhu coming down the hall, and cocked his head toward the hall as Jiri started to say something.
The colonel came into the mess, saw them, and crossed to their table, “Morning gentlemen. What is your status?”
“All four sites are up and on line, Colonel. Insertion was done without any problems. There was a fairly large crowd at Feeder three, but they took no action. We have initiated video surveillance and I’ll be getting those downloads every twelve hours. Whom do you want us to pass them to?”
The colonel thought for a second, “Let me think on that. I’m not sure we necessarily need to let the administration know we’re doing that. It was also brought to my attention that your shuttle pilot didn’t use standard approaches when the modules were emplaced.”
Jiri interrupted, “Colonel, we weren’t told we had to use any particular approaches, and she used the most secure approaches to the sites. Not overflying populations, and minimizing any potential interactions with any flights.”
Zhu nodded curtly, “Makes sense. If there are any reactions or protests, notify me immediately, any time.”
They chorused, “Yes, sir.” And Zhu headed for the door.
Jiri mumbled, “Damn marionette…”
Fargo coughed to cover a smile, “Garrison folks are a little different.”
Jiri smiled wryly, “Give me the field and a real enemy anytime. Them I can deal with. Backstabbing and politics, not so much. It’s not in our genetic makeup to deal gently with those.”
Fargo coughed for real as he snorted coffee out his nose, “Damn Jiri… You said that with a straight face… Don’t do that to me.”
Jiri’s smile broadened, “We are what we are. Granted our reputation proceeds us, but that is who we are. Deity knows, we deserve it.”
WO Boykin and Senior Grayson walked in together, and Fargo marveled at the size difference. Greyson almost made two of Boykin, and their personalities couldn’t be much different. But, in the situation they were in, he was happy to have them both, and he knew they were both professionals. That was all that mattered.
Fargo waved them over, and they sat as soon as they’d gotten their breakfast. He turned to Boykin, “Well, you got caught out on the surveys. How did they colonel put it? It was brought to his attention that you didn’t use standard approaches when the modules were emplaced.”
Boykin shrugged, “So?”
“Jiri covered you nicely. Today is probably a good day to go make nice with the pilots here, and see what else you can find out.” Turning to Grayson, he said, “You getting settled in?”
Grayson nodded around a mouthful of food, holding up a finger. “Yes, sir. I’ll check out the facilities today. Got the spare stuff stashed in the shuttle for a quick react.” Plucking at his sleeve, he said, “These grays are pretty nice. You sure I won’t get in trouble?”
Jiri replied, “In accordance with GalPat Rule thirty-one, three-eighteen, blah, blah, you’re authorized indigenous uniform when temporarily additional duty to indigenous forces. Which we qualify as. Voila, greys. And yes, they are probably better than your issue ones.”
Fargo got up, “Time for morning reports. I’ll go collect those. Jiri will you follow-up with the colonel? WO, Senior, y’all are on your own.”
They all nodded, and Jiri got up, “Since the colonel is already here, I might as well go beard him now. You know where our office is, right?”
WO and Senior both nodded. As Jiri walked away, Grayson asked, “So if I’m in greys, why aren’t you, WO?”
Boykin laughed, “Well, if militias had combat shuttles, I would be, but since I’m flying the latest and greatest combat shuttle, it’s kinda hard to say I’m not GalPat.”
Grayson leaned over, “Have you seen their damn armor?”
Boykin nodded, looking quickly around. “Yeah.”
“It’s a helluva lot better than ours. And ours is supposedly the best in the universe. How the…”
Boykin interrupted him, “Gray Lady. They do testing for De Perez.”
“De Perez? But why in the back of beyond on a dirt ball like Rimworld?”
Boykin shook her head, “You really don’t pay attention, do you Grayson?”
“Huh?”
“Have you looked, I mean really looked at who is in this particular militia company?”
Grayson shrugged, “Little, old guys. And they all carry those funky antique knives.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
“What?”
“You ever hear of Ghorkas?”
“Yeah, the CSM in boot was one. Why?”
“You ever see any other ones?”
“Not really. Treated a few when I was with the Fleet.”
“Never did a ground pounder tour, did you?”
Grayson sighed, “Where are we going with this, WO?”
Boykin put her hands on the table and looked directly at him, saying softly, “Those little old men with the funky knives as you call them, have an average, average of over forty years of service, and an average rank of E-nine. You never see them anywhere but in combat outfits for the simple reason that they love to fight. And they smile when the do it.” She leaned back, “And that is why they’re here, and we’re here. And why they are doing testing for new armor. They have more combat…”
Grayson held up his hand, “So, what you’re telling me is I fucked up, right?”
Boykin smiled, holding her fingers about an eighth of an inch apart, “Just a little bit. There may be hope for you yet. Go on the net and look them up. You might learn something.”
Grayson nodded, “Will do, WO. As soon as I finish breakfast.”
“Good man. Now I have to go see a pilot about a schedule.”
***
Fargo sat down in front of the communications suite, made sure the data logger was on, and started calling the four sites.
Shanni at Feeder 4 noted they had seen evidence of at least one disturbance higher up on the mountain behind Coventry, but it didn’t appear to have fresh tracks in or near it. They had hooked the location, and would continue to monitor video. They had also dropped a Ferret near the location and their 2 man patrol was out for another 2 divs.
Feeder 3 reported in, with Daman identifying what appeared to be an observation post, watching the feeder and their operations. He squirted a vidcap, and Fargo pulled it up. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he said, “That looks almost like a sniper’s hide. Are you getting any transmissions from there?”
“Nothing in the RF band, we’ve got a patrol out, talking to mostly shopkeepers in the area.
When they get close, they’re going to launch a Ferret, and we’ll fly it up to the window, and see what we get.”
“Copy all, update at sixteen unless something happens between now and then. Good catch, guys.”
Horse reported in for Feeder two with no unusual activity, and very little movement around the site. Barun reported in for Feeder one, and due to their more remote location, their patrol had already been out and back. The closets village was over a mile away, and nobody had reacted to them at all.
Fargo wondered again about the feeder placement, Should have asked Mikhail about that. Their layout is entirely different than Hunter’s. Which reminds me, I need to get with Ivan and get the maps for the cross feeds, sub-feeder links, and links to the remote farms. Don’t want to have the warrant inadvertently flying into those. Maybe task her for some overflights of the outlying areas around the locations. Totally different feel than Hunter.
Jiri came in with a worried expression, “Are we running armed patrols?”
“Why?”
The colonel is apparently already getting complaints from the ‘natives’.”
Fargo picked up the mic, “Site three, base.”
“Go base.”
“Daman available?”
“Standby one.”
“Sites one, two, and four, listen up.” He heard double clicks from the other sites, and fidgeted as he waited for Daman, “Colonel pissed?”
“He wants to know what kind of patrols we’re running.”
Fargo scrubbed his hands over his face, “Well, apparently the locals have some kind of organization that is intent on making our job interesting.”
The radio squawked, “Daman for Fargo.”
Fargo keyed up, “Daman, give me a description of the patrols you’re running.”
“Standard two man patrols. In greys, sidearms and slung rifles.”
“So GalPat standard, right? Rifles slung down the back?”
“Correct, no overt show of force. Just introducing themselves to the shopkeepers. Vidcams on the lapels. Handing out the holocards of what we are here for.”
“Anybody doing anything different?”
Barun reported from site one, “Well, we’re not giving cards out. Only thing out here is animals and I don’t think they are sentient, much less able to read.”
That prompted a round of chuckles, and Fargo keyed up, “Thanks Daman. We’ll handle it from this end.” Fargo got up, “Well, lets go see how unhappy that makes the good colonel.”
Ten segs later, they were finally admitted to the colonel’s office, and he waved them in peremptorily, “Well?”
Fargo replied, “GalPat standard two man patrols. In greys, sidearms and rifles slung down the back. Strictly non-threatening. The patrols are introducing themselves to shopkeepers, and giving out these,” he handed the colonel one of the holocards.
The colonel tapped the card to activate it, watched it in silence, then looked up, “Non-threatening?”
Fargo reached out very tentatively, sensing worry on Colonel Zhu’s part, and the fact that he had already been called by the landholder he’d seen once before, Perez. “Non-threatening. No riot gear, no protective gear at all. Standard comms devices, lapel vidcams. So we have recordings of every interaction.”
“That’s not what is being reported.”
Fargo was getting frustrated, “Colonel Zhu, I need details to be able to see if we have an issue anywhere.”
Zhu reacted, “Well, I don’t have details. You people haven’t even been here a day, and already causing problems.”
Fargo sensed Zhu’s frustrations overlying his worries about who was doing what on the planet. It was obvious that Zhu wanted to have control, but he didn’t know who to try to control, much less what the underlying issues were. “Sir, if you get specifics, I’ll be more than happy to investigate them. But in the meantime, I plan on continuing random patrols, non-threatening, boots on the ground, which is well within the ROE we’ve agreed to.”
The colonel glared at him, “Dismissed. When I have more information, I’ll call you.”
Fargo and Jiri came to attention, executed precise about faces, and left the office. Fargo stalked back to their office waved Jiri in, and closed the door. “Well, that didn’t go well.”
Jiri slumped in a chair, “Not like we had a lot of options there. We are in compliance with the ROE, but something tells me we’re upsetting what is it they say, somebody’s cart?”
Distracted, Fargo said, “Apple cart. Don’t know why, but it’s an ancient English saying. My mother used that one a lot. Especially when people were unhappy.”
“What do we do?”
Fargo pulled up the manning list, “Double up on patrols, at least every other, or every third day. Randomize the schedule twenty-four/seven. Still should give the folks enough rest. Need to go find Boykin. I want her to do some more flying.”
Jiri nodded, “I’ll man the radios.”
Fargo got up and stalked out, getting the feeling that they might be in trouble. There was a lot more going on than was being admitted to. He reached out with his psi sense, deciding all was fair in love and war, and this sure as hell didn’t look like love.
