R.P. Wollbaum's Blog

My reaction to current craziness

Wednesday, May 24, 2023

Like many in democratic English speaking countries, mine has become increasingly dominated by a certain demographic, or demographics, that use shame, intimidation, bullying, violence and threats of violence to force their narrow opinions on everyone else.

While many describe this as Marxism, I do not. I describe it as Bolshevism. While on the surface, these narrow minded self centred individuals and groups, espouse freedom of expression, gender etc. It is only concerning what ever the heck their agenda is. No one else is allowed to dispute anything they say and everyone else’s opinion is invalid, no matter the scientific evidence of it.

Now, when the Bolsheviks take on the Wealthy One Percenters, the media hails them as the saviours of the ninety nine percent of the rest of us from the horrible Capitalistic Oligarchs.

These self same Bolsheviks and their media allies, under the guise of sexual discrimination, are promoting the sexual preference of a population size of less than 0.5 percent of the population. So while it is absolutely apprehensible for the ninety nine percent of the population to put up with the alleged abuses of the Capitalistic Oligarchs, it is just fine for the ninety nine point five percent of us to have to put up with a sexual orientation that they do not agree with.

And, like these types of things tend to go, this agenda has gone from one of awareness to the absurd.

The most infamous of these absurdities is just becoming more absurd by the day. A biological male swimmer, in the bottom four hundred ranked male collage swimmers in the USA, declares they are now a female and is allowed to compete in the female swimming events as a female. Of course, because of major biological differences between male and female human beings, this self proclaimed female, dominates this sport.

A courageous biological female swimmer, using many of the same arguments that the Bolshevik promoters of this alternate sexual orientation use in her own defence, is not only protested against at a so called “progressive”, university in California, she is physically attacked and her life threatened. The perpetrators of these crimes were not even given a slap on the wrist, let alone suspended from attending the university or arrested.

Recent investigations of this biological male swimmer, have found even more bizarre behaviours of this individual.

This self proclaimed female, biological male individual, has a sexual relationship with a self proclaimed male, biological female individual. What????
So, let me get this correct. A biological male, is having a sexual relationship with a biological female? Does any one but me see something just a little bit strange going on here?

How about this for an explanation instead. A swimming program at a university not known for having any decent swimmers, encourages a male swimmer to self proclaim as a female. This brings this university much needed publicity for its swimming program attracting better candidates for its program. The university and the athletic programs are hailed by the resident Bolsheviks as being progressive and forward thinking. Oh, and by the way, all the money that this will bring with it.

The swimmer, gets all the publicity and oh, by the way, a lot of money. The Bolsheviks gain positive publicity and….you guessed it, a lot of money.

But this subject just gets better and better, the more an individual researches it. The vast numbers of Bolshevik Phycologists, promoting this agenda, are making suitcases full of money. Not only from the continuing and on going counselling sessions, but from the hormone blocking, replacement, and depressant, anti-depressant drugs they proscribe. Not to mention the multinational big Pharma companies that are making huge profits from these drugs.

How about all the plastic surgeons doing all of the gender altering surgeries. At roughly seventy thousand dollars per sugary, what is their incentive to not do these surgeries. To promote all the different alternatives to this drastic and none reversible surgical option.

It has reached the point, where the Bolshevik driven and run political systems, are taking the power of parents away from them, and allowing children fourteen years old, to begin taking not only the drug therapies, but surgical procedures as well. Some of these Bolshevik politicians are even wanting to lower this age below fourteen.

The Bolsheviks have gone so far as to stop, freedom of expression at institutions of higher learning. They use intimidation, threats of violence and violence against anyone who does not agree with them. Anyone providing actual facts contradicting their points of view, are called facsits, racists, deniers, wrong doers, and the best yet, making them feel bad by their comments.

This has led to mandatory, “educational” training for school councillors and teachers, where they are “trained” how to teach this subject to their underage students. Not both sides of the argument, just the pro side of it. This is leading some very confused underaged children to make some very horrendous and irreversible decisions that their parents either were bullied into or had no choice but to go along with these horrible decisions mandated by the Bolsheviks in control of their governments.

As more and more of these horrendous procedures are being done, the medical evidence is pilling up as to how dangerous these procedures are. How the surgeons and mental professional councillors are in many cases, not fully explaining these procedures and in many cases, not only by choice, but by government policy, not even giving even the slightest evidence that there are other, possibly better, alternatives.

If you have not yet noticed, I use the word Bolshevik a lot. I have my reasons. In my opinion, a Bolshevik is a radical, ideological driven individual or organization, that does not acknowledge the existence of any counter point to their arguments, no matter the factual evidence.

For example, I call both ardent Pro-life and Pro-choice activists, Bolsheviks. I call any hard core, fanatical religious individuals and organizations Bolsheviks.

Bolsheviks can be so called, “Right”, or “Left” wing extremists.

The Bolshevik current government in my country, were told by the courts that the rights guaranteed to citizens on the freedom of speech and expression, cannot be infringed on. However, nothing is said about stopping anyone from seeing what someone has expressed using their freedom of expression to express.

Chances are very good, that the Bolshevik derived algorithm will prevent this and other posts like it from being viewed by my fellow countrymen.

But hey, everyone in my country knows the the Federalist, Socialist, Democratic Party in power at the moment and “Das Fuerer” in charge of the party know what is best for us as we, the great unwashed have absolutely no idea on what is good for us.

Or should I say, the Chairman of the Party, and the Party as a Bolshevik institution, in conjunction with all it’s Bolshevik comrades around the world, is the sole authority on what is and what is not appropriate in our society no matter what the subject matter is.

Now, if you are going to comment, please address me as a Male. Or, you will hurt my feelings with your hate, gender, and racial slurs and I will have to ask the Bolsheviks in my end of the world to chastise you.

As Always
One Mans opinion

Time Flies

Wow, it has definitely been a while. Time flies when you’re having fun. So many things to do, so little time.

Just before the big COVID lock down, as part of my initial 5 year plan, I sold my long time rental property in the city. The timing was perfect, the market was ready for the type of property that I had, the price was bang on and it was gone in a week.

My son had been renting it for many years, the oil down turn had seen him become unemployed or under employed and I could no longer afford to carry the mortgage with no cash flow coming in. He moved in with me, everyone wins.

The lockdown hits, travel plans go out the window, somewhat. We have many, many great places to camp and visit in the Province of Alberta. Da Bus and I were not home much, except on weekends.

To keep ourselves busy, my son and I rekindled our model railroad interest. the back shop was slowly reorganized, a storage shed purchased and built, yard tractors and other non essential tools and equipment moved in. Many runs to the dump and Kajjij sales made for no longer required things.

Lighting upgraded from the Mickey Mouse two florescent fixtures to nine high wattage LED fixtures. Tables built, track laid and relaid and relaid. locomotives purchased, and blown up, the list goes on.

During that time, I also discovered a new hobby. 3D printing. That initially and still does consume much of my time.

So, where does that put the writing?

Slow…

Here has been what is happening. Zebra and Duncan are back from the editor and Zebra almost done. Gwen will be off to the editor in February. The plan is to release all of them within weeks of each other. That will be the end of the Wind Riders series, for the time being, depending on response to it.

Sometime in February, Bears Maul and Eagles Claw, book 8 and the final, Bears and Eagle novel will be released. Followed by a boxed edition of the eight novels, in Ebook format only.

A stand alone novel, Coker, has been written. No time table on that one yet.

And yes, Cal’s Quest is still in the works. I just need to re-read Part One and the half of Part Two that has been written to get my head back in that space to finish it off.

I also need to update this site, migrate my first five books from Create Space to my new distributors, order new copies of all my work to sell myself and more wonderful things like that.

So this latest lock down is actually helping me. Normally at this time of year, I would be headed on a 3000km trip south to get warm. Oh well, the furnace works well and there is no shortage of Natural Gas where I live. Plus the bonus of the eastern side of the Rocky Mountains, which, at this time of year, look so close you could walk there in an hour or so.

As always, keep warm, play safe.

R.P. Wollbaum

Finally Back

So, I’m back. Where was I? No where special, just decided to stop writing for a while. Not that I didn’t have any ideas. far from it, I had to many. The decision was made to refocus, finish one project before starting another.

In Bears and Eagles, I go from the 19th century to the 21st century. With the Windriders, I’m going from 21st century Earth to who nows when some where else. In Cal’s Quest, I’m in an alternate reality. I am also writing a spy thriller type thing. Kind of hard to keep jumping around all the time in different genres, characters and worlds.

Then add, editing, re-writes, never ending copy edits, organizing book formatting and covers, publishing etc. In order to cover the most bases that I can, I publish threw 2 sources. One source is e-book focused, the other, does both print and e-book. Both companies cover the same sources and sources that are unique to the company. this adds another level of work as I don’t want to double up on submitting to resellers from different sources.

On a positive note, the eighth and final novel in the Bears and Eagles saga is nearing publication. A final round of proof edit, adding title, copywrite and table of contents will be finished soon. Then off for formatting for print and e-book and lastly book cover.

Stay tuned for title and cover reveal.

R.P.

Life is complicated

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Barney

Life can be, shall we say, interesting at times. No more so than when a person is thrust into a situation where they have little control over what is happening around them. For me, that is an especially hard task, as anyone who knows me well, knows I like being in control of my life.

Being dropped into a situation where I was 8 times zones away from home, in familiar but different surroundings. Barely understanding a language, that in the past I was fairly competent understanding, in a similar, but different culture. Surrounded by people I knew, yet did not.

I like exploring new things, discovering how other people live. I am inquisitive and want to learn, yet nothing is more frustrating than not being able to communicate that. The people I was with, understood that and were very patient with me, for which I am grateful for. I spent a lot of time, just looking around and listening and soon, between my broken German and their less than perfect English, we were able to carry on meaningful conversations, as both my German and their English became better with use.

Sure, there was the old, get the stupid Canadian drunk game played. That is, until they were reminded of the last time that game was played and that the stupid Canadian can still hold his own, even after all these years. Not that I drink a lot these days, honor must be upheld though.

Then something very strange occurred. I can be a little dense sometimes and it was not until I was back home that those events really hit me. Now I find myself revaluating my life and what is important to me.

I, like most guys, whether they admit it or not, have problems relating with women. I, in particular, suffer from, ‘foot in the mouth’ syndrome at times. Things come out of my mouth in the wrong way at the wrong time.

For instance, the to me, innocent statement:

“How long do you stay open?” To a female bar owner, can be mistaken for something else. Which it did and which I had to rapidly try and explain, that I was not hitting on her, just interested in how long she was open for business, which turned out to be 12 hours a day, seven days a week. I thought my old work schedule was tough.

Also, because of past issues in my life, I have trust issues with women. Yes ladies, women can and do hurt men badly at times. We might hide that fact, never the less, for me it was, and is, still an issue. An issue that I am trying to overcome every day.

Add in the fact, that for the first few days of my visit, I was forced to relive memories that have been slowly fading. I understood their reasoning. That did not lesson what those memories mean to me, or how I feel about them.

So, into this mess of emotions, past memories and fantastic reminisces about old times, came the first person to impact me.

Just newly graduated from high school, with all the exuberance and tribulation of the young about to experience true freedom for the first time. Into the small parking courtyard riding a well used Yamaha motorcycle, her presence lit up the yard. Her grandparents doted on her, she has them wrapped around her little finger. The more I listened to this incredible young lady, the more impressed I became. For, you see, she reminded me of me at that age.

Outside, the devil may care jokester. The person that could make everyone laugh. The person that pushed everything to the limit. But inside, the person that cares for those around them. The parallels were amazing.

I was the guy, who on cold and icy days, instead of riding the mile or so home in a nice warm buss, would grab hold of the buss bumper and let the buss slide me home.

I was the guy who saved all of his hard earned cash and bought one of the first skate boards produced. Yes kiddies, we had skate boards back then. Then promptly obtained a serious case of road rash, boarding down the steepest hill I could find.

The guy who thought slalom racing boring. Who preferred going straight down the men’s downhill course at Lake Louise ski resort, taking the fewest turns possible.

Despite the fact that I only had a learners permit, the guy who’s buddy let him drag race his high powered ’64 Chev in every important, that means for cash folks, street race.

The guy who drag raced a 1970 Charger RT for six miles down a city street late at night in his ’69 GTO, and won.

Later in life, wining outright four stages of a performance rally against the best rally drivers in North America. Including the fully funded Audi Quattro driven by the eventual series winner. On snow covered gravel back roads driving a rear wheel drive, ten-year-old Toyota Celica. On the edge of loosing control at all times. At one point the rear wheels in the ditch, going completely sideways, heading for what appeared to be a very large boulder that was coming right at the drivers door. Somehow surviving that unscathed and laughing. Then at the end of the stage, having made up the two minutes of separation between cars to the car in front me, crossing the finish line with inches between our bumpers and cursing the guy in front for not driving faster.

Then, as things tend to occur, life happened. Became more complicated. More busy. More boring.

This young girl reminded me of who I am.

Next came another amazing lady. A woman who not only runs her own business, but is a single mom as well. She runs the bar, and is the chef, so add the shopping for and prepping the food to the long day.

I had heard about this incredible woman. On top of the bar, she has horses and helps out in an animal shelter. Labor intensive endeavours on their own. I had, however, never met her and did not put two and two together until later that fateful day.

I was taken to yet another bar/restaurant and reintroduced to people I had met many years before. Answering yet again, questions and receiving condolences. This establishment was different than most of the other places we had been in. It was similar to one of our own sports bars and as the uncomfortable conversation became more in German as they remised about old days, I shut it off and watched the big screen, where, you guessed it, a car race was going on.

My concentration on the race was disturbed by a tap on the shoulder. It was the owner and she asked me if I still had my horses. To which I replied and she walked away. Later, outside having a smoke with the ex-police officer I knew from the old days, she came up and asked if she could talk with me. Knowing of her love of animals, I half jokingly asked the ex-police officer to hang around and be referee. She then started walking away, then turned around and gave me the come with me signal and bundled me into her car and drove away. Into what turned out to be a tree lined dirt track. Visions of old gangster and spy movies came into my brain as she stopped in a secluded clearing and got out. Sure enough, there was a couple of guys hanging about and I lagged behind, preparing to go down fighting. Well, as much as an old out of shape guy can anyway.

This is where the cultural and language thing became apparent. You see, this woman has the only three horses in the area and these guys had just come to look at them. Well, they call them horses.

The first was a white mare. She was smaller than an Arabian or Quarter Horse, but well muscled and very docile. I was allowed to walk up to her and I ran a gentle hand down her flank and back, to let her know I was no threat. Next came her two-year-old colt. Nice little guy and not as skittish as I thought he would be. Meanwhile, the woman had continued on and came up to a more normal, to me, sized horse. She looked back to see if I was still behind her and her eyes went a little wide as she saw me running my hands along the colt and he just standing there.

I walked up to the larger horse and she cautioned me that he was not exactly a friendly guy. His head, ears and eyes were covered by one of those bug net things, so it was hard to judged his mood, and I took her word for it. He was not quivering, twitching his ears or stomping a hoof as he came over to check me out. So I did what I was taught by my grandfather as a little guy and blew gently into his nostrils. Then I walked away.

I was then taken to some storage sheds and shown the hay, feed and tack, when I was not so gently shoved in the back and a nose was shoved under my arm pit. Here was this nasty beasty, begging for my attention. Nasty beasty, sure he was. He let me rub his ears and my hands down his legs. The lady could not believe it.

So, I explained to her with rudimentary German/English and a lot of gestures, how big my horses were. How I have been around horses most of my life and how my grandfather had been a horse breeder. Yes, I am not an expert, I do know my way around horses though. She showed me the rest of the property and back to the bar we went.

Then the once again unsuccessful get the Canadian drunk game with the ex-cop and the German friends started talking among themselves again. I saw the lady owner behind the bar doing paper work, the bar was shut down at that point, we were the only people there by then. I grabbed my beer and sat across from her at the bar and promptly stuck my foot in my mouth as mentioned earlier. It all worked out however.

What nobody knew was, that when we went to the home I was staying in, I sat in my room and let the memories, long supressed return. I had not even looked at a horse for four years, let alone touch one. The smells, the soft silky skin. The ripple of the skin as a hand runs down a back. The soft rumble of a contented horse as its rubbed behind an ear.

For me, a horse and I are a team. The horse relies on me to keep him safe and well looked after. When we are riding, especially where I used to ride, the horse is relying on my intelligence to keep him from harm and I am relying on his better sense of hearing and smell, to alert me of possible danger.

A deep bound is made between a horse and a rider. Especially the one I had with mine. He was only three when we became friends. He was young, inexperienced and very intelligent. Which made him very flighty and skittish. He was never a novice rider’s horse and you definitely never fell asleep riding him. We spent many days together in the back woods of the Rockies, in all weathers and all conditions. Sometimes in a group with other riders, mostly alone.

He was my best friend and I miss him dearly.

Back home again, a final great weight has been removed from my shoulders. I am walking up right, head up, no longer slouching around. I am no longer driving around town like a timid mouse. I find myself making plans for the future. Not simply existing. A promise made to myself to do nothing for five years is falling away rapidly. Changes are coming.

All because of two incredible women, from a far away country, whom I had never met.

Anna and Elka, you have no idea of the impact you made on me by simply being yourselves.

Bears Maul Update

We are cautiously excited as Bears Maul, Bears and Eagles, book five, is now in the book cover and interior design phase of production.

This edition of the Bears and Eagles series, moves into the turbulent 1960’s and ‘70s era, where anything military is frowned upon. Not only facing possible destruction serving on UN peacekeeping missions in remote areas of the world, but from within by scheming relatives.

We are also pleased to announce the decision to send to editing Cals Quest Part One. Followers of this page will have read some initial draft work on Cals Quest and Part One has been finished and work on Part Two begun.

The German translation of Bears and Eagles is nearing completion. Once completed, a new cover for it and a matching new cover for the original English version will be generated.

It was decided that the ending of the Bears and Eagles series was far to long for one book and we are working hard to find a workable solution to that issue. For my loyal female readers, yes, a woman will be commanding and will be the main character for a fair portion of one part and other women take prominent roles throughout.

Finally. I am looking for five courageous individuals. In exchange for an honest opinion and positive critical feedback, I will provide a copy of a preliminary manuscript I am working on. It is a spin off of a couple of characters introduced in the final Bears and Eagles novel. Sort of, kind of, maybe, I’m not sure yet.

To make it even more confusing for you, it takes place on a planet in a galaxy far, far away. If anyone is interested, just message or email me and I’ll provide more details.

Ice Age

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One of the things I like to do as an author is to try and get my facts straight. Even in a piece of fantasy work. If I am asking myself questions on a particular subject, then surely a reader somewhere will be asking the same question.

Such as, how long is a generation? How many generations since the ice started to retreat?

That led me to Ice Age research. Interesting fact. Scientists conclude that we are still in the latest Ice Age. This science is much older and more researched than the current global warming research.

The Glacial advance stopped around 25,000 years ago in the latest Ice Age. At that point virtually all of Canada was under an ice sheet up to two kilometres thick in places. The ice started its steady retreat until the 1300’s when a Little Ice Age occurred and the ice advanced again. The latest Glacial advance lasted until the early 1800’s, when the ice began to retreat once again. During that time the Thames River, in the UK, routinely froze over.

The causes of Glacial advance are many. Sun Spot activity, the Earths elliptical orbit around the sun, the slight wobble of the Earths rotation, volcanic activity and El Niño in the right combination are the biggest contributors to climate change. Simple physics can also explain how fast ice retreats. The greater the surface of ice free land and ocean, the more solar radiation will heat up the land and water. It has also been shown that the ice comes a lot faster than it goes away.

So, I try to put things into perspective. With the right circumstances and life choices, I may live to be a hundred years old in this day and age. During the height of the last Glacial event, 25,000 years ago, the area where I am writing this was under two kilometers of ice. That means, 250 of my life times ago, my ancestors were huddling together somewhere in the Caucasus area, operating as a hunter gatherer society. Maybe.

My life expectancy would be around 30 years. Maybe, depending on how fast I was and how available game and edible plants were.

What could cause another Glacial event? Something as simple as some delusional world leader launching a nuclear attack on another country. The resulting dust and smoke from the explosions and massive fires would block out the radiation coming from the sun leading to snow not melting and a cooling escalation. Even without that type of event. Scientists have been studying the Suns patterns for centuries. The next low solar radiation cycle is predicted to occur in 2050.

So, for me, the worry for my descendants is not global warming. It is global cooling. People in my end of the world know what it’s like to be cold. To only have five hours of sunlight per day in the winter, to only have four months of natural heat a year. We will be coming the rest of you in warmer climates. We will have no choice.

At least a billion of us will be coming. Get ready, because the ice comes a whole lot faster than it goes away.

Amazon Kindle Select Program

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Kindle Select

 

My discussion today revolves around the Kindle Select program. This is a program that gives readers access to a large number of titles for a monthly fee. Kindle pushes authors rather heavily to become involved in this program. A lot of Indie writers do, I am not one of them. The reasons why will be revealed shortly.

The other day, I picked up an e-book by a new Indie writer for my Kobo. I needed a break from life’s realities, rewriting Bears Maul for the umpteenth time and working on Wind Riders 4.0. This book looked like it would be right up my alley, sci fi fantasy and a release into another time and place. Also, the price was right. Free.

So, the book was full of new writer’s mistakes, but if a read is decent, I usually overlook those kinds of things in a hurry. I read a famous alternate reality authors, quick peak, that was written worse than this new authors was. This book was more of a teaser book I thought. A lot of Indie writers will write a short book, put it up for free and hope for some decent reviews, while at the same time generating interest for the next book in the series. This little book was only 80 pages long, just under a two hour read for me. But it left me wanting more of this authors world and his characters. I looked on Kobo, but could not find more books by this author. A second book was available on Kindle.

The price was reasonable…Until I checked the page count. Are you kidding me? Almost $4 for a sixty-page e-book? At that price, mine are way to cheap. I should be charging $29 for mine!

Back to the Kindle Select program. For an author to participate, the author must give Amazon exclusive rights to the work for three months. I can’t even give it away to friends or for advertising campaigns, or review purposes, during that time frame.

Amazon takes a portion of the monthly dues paid by the readers and puts it in a pool to be shared among all the authors. In order to be eligible for a share of the pool, twenty pages of the authors work must be finished by the reader.

So, using the same Indie author from above, that author would be paid the exact same amount for his sixty-page effort as I would for my four hundred page plus work.

Not exactly fair is it? I tell you, I can and usually do bang out more than sixty pages a day in rough work, that is better formatted and put together at a rough stage than that particular author did for his finished, published work.

So, that is why you will not see any of my work in the Kindle Select program. Most of my readers come from outside the Kindle platform, I-books, Kobo and Scribed, then a very distant fourth Kindle. So why should I punish those readers to give Amazon exclusive rights to my work?

I may publish a sixty-page excerpt from Wind Riders 4.0 under a different name and ID number just for something to do. I’m at least two or three years away from publishing the whole thing anyway.

Wooly’s Two Bit Opinion

Sometimes, life gets in the way of creativity and such has been life for me lately. That being said, there is a lot going on here in North America and it is time for me to put my two bits worth in.

The other day I ran into a gentleman. He was about my age and we struck up a conversation. Like me, and most small town Western Canadians of our age group, he was opinionated and not all that politically correct. Naturally, the conversation swung to the political leaders of the two nations, one south and one north and all the hullabaloo about immigration and refugees.

I commented that when my ancestors came over here, they basically had to do it on their own. There were very few towns, let alone cities in Saskatchewan back then. Those people had to survive and survive they did, all on their own in a harsh and unforgiving environment.

The gentleman told me, his people had arrived in the same area at about the same time. Just east of what is now called Regina, in 1891. Now comes the kicker.

My people were Roman Catholic Germans from Ukraine. His people from Lebanon and Islamic.

So, to all you people spouting off about Islamists and how they are going to disrupt our way of life. This gentleman and his family have been living among you for over one hundred years, minding their own business, just like the rest of us. They lead happy, productive lives and are a great benefit to our country and its well being.

I would also like to point out, that less than fifteen percent of our population has UK or French ancestry. The rest of us come from somewhere else. Everyone, including the First Nations people, came here from someplace else.

How about the Irish refugees? The Russian refugees? The European refugees after the second world war? Have we not integrated into this Anglo/French Canadian society? The Asian refugees from Uganda? All of the hullabaloo over that. The Lebanese refugees in the eighties?

Sure, there were some bad eggs. But the list of European refugees deported is almost as long.

So, before you start slinging rocks, take a good hard look in the mirror. Where would you be if your ancestors had not been allowed to stay in Canada?

Just my opinion.

Windrider, 1.2

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The next morning they were sitting lined up at the bottom of a hill listening to the traffic go by and waiting for the other section to start.

As soon as they heard the explosions, they were flying over the hill. This time CT was waiting two hundred yards away as the smaller vehicles crested the hill and opened fire on first the biggest armoured vehicle they could find, then shifted to the transports carrying the food and other supplies. Duncan fired two grenades from the launcher mounted under the barrel of his rifle. He was surprised he hit something, as he had just fired in the general direction hoping just to cause some mayhem. Then as he started to fire the rifle, Bob swung the G-Wagon around and they were pelting back over the hill.

Ten of the armored vehicles chased after them. CT waited until they were at the bottom of the hill before he fired the main gun, taking all ten out with it before they had traveled halfway to him. The lighter vehicles didn’t even slow down going by him and as he was already facing in that direction, the Coyote was on the move chasing them as the last enemy vehicle blew up in a fire ball.

That night, Barb laid it on really thick. Because tomorrow would be the planetary troops turn.

“Incoming airborne,” CT reported over Duncan’s earphone. “It is our friends from the Guild.”

The small aircraft hovered and landed just outside the laager and the two men exited and walked into the defensive circle, their eyes darting everywhere taking in everything. They walked right up to Duncan.

“You have done well,” the Guild Master said. “Much better than expected.”

“We do our best,” Duncan said. “You have received our expenditures. Have you replenished them?”

“Yes,” the Guild Master said. “Madam Horshack has taken control of them and will transport them to your secret supply point.”

“Good, is that why you came all this way? To tell me of this?”

“No, not all,” the Guid Master said. “As a neutral observer, I am to conduct you to negotiations to end hostilities. You have been authorised by Madam Horshack to begin these negotiations on her behalf. Here is her written authorisation.”

He handed Duncan a sealed large brown envelope. Opening it Duncan quickly scanned the document and handed it to Katerina.

“When is the negotiation to begin?” Duncan asked.

“I and my assistant will leave immediately to confer with your opponents,” was the response. “You are both under a cease fire as of this moment.”

Then both men walked back to the aircraft and left, headed toward the enemy.

“CT,” Duncan said into his mike. “Little bird in position?” he started walking toward the Coyote. “Ya Dunc. The bad guys haven’t moved from last night’s camp spot.”

“Right, Jane, get bird two airborne and over to the cache location. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Roger Duncan, ETA about half an hour.”

“Everyone on peak awareness,” Duncan said. “Deploy all the remote sensors, full circle at max distance.”

Both Coyotes box like sensor boxes dropped the protective coverings and hydraulically rose to their full height. Small radar domes started revolving and the sensor mast on Jane’s Coyote rose up to its full height from its stowed position.

“Amanda, grab my lap top from the G-Wagon and bring it to CT’s wheels. Intelligence section to your posts, all other troops to perimeter guard after sensor deployment. Fire free if fired upon.”

Machine guns were removed from G-wagons and taken out ten meters from the laager, bi pods deployed and weapons belts fed into breaches. Once the remotes were deployed, the troopers came back and started digging two man rifle pits. One trooper from each troop keeping watch while the other two dug.

Duncan walked into the Coyote to find every monitor alive and consuls being manned and activated. The gunner had armed both the twenty millimetre cannon and the coaxial machine gun and was watching his thermal scanners, hands on the fire control system.

Katerina had followed Duncan into the Coyote and looked around her eyes wide. She had never seen all this equipment fully activated before, or the Wind Riders so determined, so focussed. Amanda yelled into the Coyote and Duncan motioned with his hand and she tossed his laptop bag to him. In mere seconds he had it plugged into a consul and looking around at all the monitors as he waited for it to boot up.

“Commander,” Duncan said. “Please man your position. If we require anything from you, you will be contacted.” Then he turned back to his monitors.

“CT, you up?”

“Ya Dunc, they transmit ,I’ve got ‘em.”

“Barb?”

“Monitoring the mercenaries Duncan.”

“Karen, you have my link yet?”

“Working on it Babe. They have multiple layers. Mom is working on a few, but we really need you.”

“Ya, in a bit, I have to handle something else first. Nancy, once I break this down, you keep an eye on this link.”

Katerina had not left yet and she was watching as Duncan’s hands were flying over his keyboard. His head pivoting between the portable computers screen and a monitor in front of him. Finally the main monitor showed her aunts board room with her full council around the table. The laptop was burning data across the screen and then finally stopped.

“Madam Horschak,” Duncan said. “I see you have your full council with you.”

“Mr. Kovaks,” Tanya said. “Why am I not surprised? You received the request then?”

“Do you trust them? I don’t,” Duncan said.

“Nor I. But the rules mandate we comply Duncan.”

“Mr. Minister of Agriculture. I think you will find your ear implant is no longer working. I have disabled it. Your link to the Guild is severed. Also, all communications into or out of that room have been disabled. Madam Horschak, I have summoned your security people and Informed them to arrest the minister. I recommend that no further discussions of any kind be done until he is removed.”

Six security men entered and removed the docile minister and when the door was closed Duncan began again.

“Have my supplies been delivered?”

“Yes Duncan, we are loading them in the warehouse right now.”

“Unload them, keep them there. Send the vehicles to the cache site empty. Have them enter the warehouse and stay for half an hour and then leave. I don’t really need them at this point. I recommend that you fully deploy right now and go comms dark. Shut everything down and keep it down. We will keep you updated from here. I will activate your systems when I need to and send you a message, then shut everything down again.”

“Agreed,” Tanya said. “Don’t agree to anything they propose. I don’t trust them.”

“Your wish is my command Madam Horshack. You have your comms back.”

“Commander I thought I told you to join your troops? Now get at it.”

Duncans fingers were flying across his key board again and after five minutes Karen came on the comm.

“Ok, I’ve got in hon,” she said.

“Right take over,” he said. “Then shut his computer down. All yours Nancy.”

He stuffed his laptop back in its bag, slung it across his shoulders and walked out of the Coyote. He headed over to his G-Wagon and stashed the computer once again, then took a look around at the perimeter. Everything seemed to be in order and he started waking over to Katerina’s position. Brett with his more powerful weapon was positioned in the middle and he as standing talking with Katerina.

“Commander, I realise you were curious and wanted to know what was going on,” Duncan said. “You already knew more than most of my troopers knew. As a commander of two troops, when I give an order to deploy, you follow it and report back to me when it is complete. If I need something from you, I will ask. Right now I have no time to discuss things with you. Ah, CT tells me the Guild is returning. As the planetary representative, you may join me.”

“The meeting has been set,” the Guild Master said. “I will give the Commander the coordinates for the meeting. You do not have the capability of that. You, one of your vehicles and its troops, will be the only ones to come within one mile of the meeting. You will leave your long range weapon behind Mr. Duncan. You will be allowed your side arm. Your vehicle will stop three hundred yards from the meeting place and you alone will come. The others will do likewise. The Guild member and his clients representative will be present for the meeting.”

“But the Commander is not allowed to accompany me?”

“No, she is not. In addition, I must remind you that there is a cease fire in effect. The first ones to violate that cease fire will be dealt with harshly. You have two hours to reach the meeting place.”

“Well then I guess we had better get moving then, Commander prepare your people and your vehicle,” Duncan said. Then he walked over to his G-wagon and put his rifle in the spring clip on the dash, pulled his mirrored aviation glasses off of the sun visor and stuck them in his breast pocket and took a small thin rectangular silver colored package off the map pocket storage area mounted on the door.

The Guild men were moving off in the direction of the meeting by that time and Duncan gave last minute instructions to Jane, who would be in command until he returned. As he walked, he opened the package he was carrying and put on the light weight Mylar jacket it contained making sure the shiny side was facing outward.

“Make sure we go no faster than thirty seven miles an hour when we reach the road,” Duncan said as he jumped into the middle rear seat. “I don’t want to be too early.”

The rear seat had more room and was more comfortable than the G-Wagons were and the ride was smoother and quieter. The fit and finishes were tighter and did not rattle as much. Brett had his weapon laying on his open window sill and he was actively scanning his side of the road as they drove. The trooper on Duncan’s left was doing the same.

“Where do you get these vehicles from,” Duncan said. “They are well made.”

“We make them here,” Katerina said. “They are very popular and are one of our major exports. The military models usually have ceramic bodies mounted on the same chassis. In this case, we just modified the interiors and added the gun mount on the roof. The suspension has been upgraded as has the tires. A few little upgrades in the interior for storage, but that is about the only difference between this one and the civilian one.”

“I see it has am internal combustion engine,” Duncan said. “I would have thought you would be using electric motors based on your advanced weapons systems.”

“This is a hybrid system Duncan. There are four electric motors, one for each wheel. The floor pan is basically a big storage battery. All the engine does is recharge the battery and run the electrical systems, especially when high performance is required. On a road such as this, we could easily do well over a hundred miles an hour with this load onboard. The engine is powered by a vegetable alcohol, oil mixture and we can run for about a week on one tank of fuel at the rate of speeds we have been doing with these operations.”

“So why are the enemy so reliant on fuel then?”

“They are using machines built on another planet,” Katarina said. “They are military purpose built only and are powered by the internal combustion engine alone. Most planets consider ours far to expensive to use for military purposes as the ceramic armor adds significantly to the price.”

“What else does your planet produce?”

“We are primarily an export based economy Duncan. We manufacture most of the consumer entertainment electronic devices everyone else uses. It is cheaper to manufacture them here as we have all the natural resources required. In addition, we have a very large agricultural impact. Most of the land is very suitable for grain crops or pasture lands. On the other side of the planet, there are very large forested areas that we harvest for wood, which is also exported. In fact the planet is named for the tree species that we harvest and replant. Oaken. It is a slow growing tree that produces very strong with tight fiber wood with beautiful wood grains. It is much sought after.”

“Sounds a lot like home,” Duncan said in German drawing a look from Brett.

“Once all this is over,” he said in English. “Maybe you can tell me more about Oaken and your people Kat.”

“It will be my pleasure Duncan,” she replied. “Our hosts seem to be early.”

An armed transport was parked at the site already with the Guilds aircraft parked beside it. Ten armed mercenaries were standing in front of it in a line and the two enemy commanders were talking with the Guildsmen. As they had been instructed, Duncan’s vehicle parked four hundred yards away from the other vehicles and everyone got out. Brett stood behind the vehicle, his weapon out of site, while the other three troopers stood in front weapons pointed at the ground.

“You see what I see?” Brett said in German.

“Ya,” Duncan replied in the same language. “One to the left prone about a hundred yards, the other crouched behind a bush the same distance to the right. You take the one on the left, I’ll handle the one on the right. But they fire first got it?”

Duncan put his sunglasses on and started walking toward the other men, who also started walking toward him.

“Good morning,” Duncan said saluting the two enemy commanders. “It is turning out to be a beautiful day.”

“We demand you accept this peace proposal,” the client’s commander said. Duncan ignored him.

“Your people fight hard commander,” he said. “Harder than we had imagined.”

“Why don’t you stand and fight instead of hitting and running then? You are clearly beating us. Stand and fight like real soldiers then.”

“Even though you have killed one of my people, you still out number us two thousand to one. Committing suicide is not in my job description Commander. I am authorised by my client to hear your peace proposal.”

The client haughtly outlined their proposal, which was almost the same as the previous one. The enemy would keep all the land they had taken. A number of Tanya’s people would be required as hostages. Absolutely no harm would come to Duncan’s people.

“Mr. Kovaks,” the Guild Master said. “The guild feels this is a good agreement. I should also point out that you have broken the spirit of this truce. Your man has one of your weapon systems pointed in our direction.”

Brett had his rifle laying across the roof of the scout vehicle, butt to his shoulder and eye at the scope.

“Sir,” Duncan said. “The trooper that was killed was from that scout troop. They were a man short and unfortunately, we have not had time to replace the dead trooper from the pool of local people available to us. It was necessary to put one of my people with this troop so that it could remain operational. Had you picked the other vehicle, this would not have been the case. You only specified that I could not bring my long range weapon, not my security detail.”

“I will once again remind you that breaking this cease fire agreement will be dealt with harshly,” the Guild Master said.

“I assure you sir, we will not be the ones breaking the agreement, but we will be the ones to punish those that do.”

Seeing the man to the left suddenly rise and point his weapon, Duncan turned so he was standing sideways to the man on the right and as he heard the shot coming from the left man, pulled his Sig Sauer from its holster with his right hand. The shot from the left reflected off the shiny Millar coating of his left shoulder as his left hand grabbed his right wrist and he levelled the pistol at the man at the right who’s shot missed him by inches blazing across his chest area. As he pulled the trigger for his first of two shots, Brett’s rifle fired three rapid shots. Both of Duncan’s shots hit his man squarely in the chest. The first shattering the ceramic armour, the second passing through the body and shattering the rear armor plating. As the man was flung to the ground, Duncan fired twice more, once to the chest, the last to the head, then he swung to cover the two enemy. The client had his pistol half drawn and stopped.

“Tell your people to stand down Commander,” Duncan said as the mercenaries began to run toward them. “Or they and you will be dead before they get in range.”

The mercenary commander yelled into his communicator for his people to stop, which they did.

“Now very carefully sir,” Duncan said pointing his pistol in the clients face. “Slowly remove your side arm and toss it behind me.” A red dot from Brett’s laser site lit up on the client’s chest armor.

A look of disgust was on the mercenary commander’s face and he turned to the Guild Master and plead his case.

While he was doing that, Duncan replaced the half empty clip with a full one and holstered the pistol. Then he gathered up the spent shell casings and put them in his pocket.

“I think you will find sir,” Duncan said to the Guild Master in a lull. “That those two men, are in fact the clients troops and I believe the Commander had no knowledge of this. As for myself, we did not break the ceasefire agreement, they did and we were only protecting ourselves. I intend to inform my client, that her enemy is still operating with dishonour and that in my opinion, any further negotiators with these people would be fruitless as they seem to be intent on breaking any and all agreements that they make. As they have in the past. Have a good day gentlemen.”

“You get all that CT?” Duncan said on his communicator as he walked back to his vehicle.

“Ya Dunc, it’s all recorded.”

“Ok, short burst it to headquarters. We should be back in half an hour. Get ready to move out. Have you isolated the Guilds surveillance frequencies yet?”

“Ready to start jamming when you give the word Dunc.”

“Not yet,” Duncan said as he was getting into the scout car. “Wait until after we start leaving for the next camp area. Home James and don’t spare the horse power this time.”

“That means, drive as fast as is safe to do so driver,” Brett said.

The next morning, Duncan and A troop were alone on the hill top overlooking the road. They were six hundred yards away from the road and in full view of it. The tail gate was down and Amanda had set up her spotting scope on it, but was sitting on the tail gate with her legs dangling. Bob and Scott were sitting on the hood and Duncan was standing behind it with his elbows on the roof and his binoculars to his eyes watching the approaching column.

Two of the scout vehicles pulled off to the side of the road twenty yards apart and observed them, while the other two slowed down and crept down the road, the observers with binoculars to their eyes scanning all around the area. Two armored troop carriers came up at a high rate of speed and as they came to a stop and dismounted the troops they had on board, the two scout vehicles took off to join the other two. The dismounted troopers quickly set up a defensive perimeter on both sides of the road and the turret mounts were constantly in motion scanning for movement.

“It took them long enough,” Bob said. “But they are finally acting like professionals.”

The advance guard was fully alert, weapons trained and turrets in constant motion. They were in a staggered formation and shifted position every three hindered yards or so. The main body was also on full alert and maintained a ten yard distance from each other instead of the close bunched up formation of earlier days. As the command group approached and Duncan saw he had been noticed by the enemy commander, he went to attention and saluted the Commander and was saluted in return. Then he grabbed his cup of luke warm coffee and joined Amanda at the rear of the vehicle leaning up against the back panel and watched the parade.

The rear guard and the rear scout troop passed by and five minutes later, the gaggle of unorganised local troops appeared. They were bunched together, no security was observed and troops instead of being inside the transports and protected, were riding on the tops, most with shirts off. Weapons not in view.

Duncan reached inside of the G-Wagon and pulled out his Tac-50 advanced sniper rifle. As he walked ten yards in front of the vehicle, he extended the bipod and the butt piece. Then he laid down and inserted the five round clip. When the command vehicle came up, he sighted on the body guard furthest away and shot him. Then moved quickly from man to man until all four of them were blown off the top by the high powered fifty calibre bullets. The last shot, he placed in the armour just to the side of the commander, blowing it and most of that side of the vehicle to pieces.

“That commander is what a real sharp shooter can do,” Duncan said into his radio. “Sleep well.”

Then he gathered up his spent shell casings and his rifle, stowed all the gear away and they sped off, leaving confusion behind them.

The next morning, all four sniper teams were deployed in different locations on both sides of the road. All of them were concealed and camouflaged and were at long range. This time they concentrated their fire on any officers or leaders they could spot in the gaggle of local troop vehicles. Twenty bodies were blown off transports in red misted clouds. The only warning the vehicles had that they were a target, was when the body was hit, followed by the loud sounds of the shots.

That night, the Voice was very sympathetic to the poor troopers. Making comments on how brave they were and how the paid professional troops that were supposed to be protecting them were failing in their duty. Right after promising them a special surprise for being so brave, all eight vehicles opened up with every weapon they possessed for a full minute from every direction. The dark night alive with tracer shells, laser bolts and explosions. Then everything stopped and all that was heard was the screams of the dying and the wounded.

“You guys have to see this,” CT said and the holographic projector on Katerina’s vehicle came alive.

Four large armored airborne troop transports landed, surrounding the warehouse that held their reserve supplies and as the troops came out, multiple barrelled weapons mounted on the transports started firing into the warehouse. While some troops set up a perimeter, others broke into the warehouse with satchels on their backs and a short time later, re-emerged without the satchels. Everyone reloaded into the transports, which took off and minutes later the warehouse exploded.

“Good thing there was only empty boxes in there,” Duncan said.

While the rest of the Wind Riders had been involved training, Janes troop had been using the new Coyotes to relocate all of their supplies to a different location, known only to the Wind Riders. While a few supplies had been lost, most of them were safe.

“What are you going to do now?” Katerina asked.

“Oh, we will make do somehow,” Duncan said. “Any idea who those guys were CT?”

“Locals from some place called Arial,” CT said. “They have also been funding the rebels.”

“What?” Katrina said. “But they are our closest trading partners and friends.”

“Apparently not,” Duncan said. “Include that in the nightly report CT, along with a request for the Guild to replace the lost supplies.”

“They will not reach here in time Duncan,” Katerina said.

“Maybe, then again maybe not. So this is the plan for tonight…”

Copyright, R.P. Wollbaum, 2016

Wind Riders 1.2 excerpt

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Once again, the next morning, Duncan waited until the four scout vehicles were a mile down the road before the five vehicles parked on the crest of the hill. This time the vehicles were parked facing the road. The girls started waving and blowing kisses right away this time but everyone was close to the doors of the vehicles except for the Coyote’s dismounts who were ranged in a fire line to each side of it. The turret was pointing in the general direction of the ten vehicles that were parked as a blocking force three hundred yards away. But otherwise everything appeared the same as the day before. Nobody was making any threating moves.

As the command vehicle went by, the commander glassed them and Duncan waved and smiled at him. Giving him a little salute. The commander just glared back at him. All the troops for the light vehicles casually made their way to their vehicles and got in them shutting the doors and the vehicles started up.

Everyone just sat there like that until the last squadron came abreast and everything changed and changed fast. In one smooth motion the Coyote’s turret rotated and started spitting twenty millimetre rounds into the blocking force, vehicles exploding in in flame and broken pieces of red tinged ceramic. A few of the rounds went straight through hitting vehicles in the column itself. The fifty caliber chain gun deployed at the same time, targeting the large armored vehicles providing security for the transports blowing them apart as the five light vehicles sprinted toward the column, the C-9’s spitting fire from the roof tops at any vehicle that crossed the sights.

Once they were within a hundred yards, Katerina’s roof mounted gun opened up on a tanker and it exploded after the second shot. Then the C-9’s shifted first to the remaining fuel tankers and then to the water tankers. Duncan fired a grenade into a square transport blowing it and the supplies in it up. Then he, like the other passenger gunners worked his C-8 over any vehicle he could see. By then they were turning broad side to the column and they raked everything that came into their path before turning again and sprinting back the way they had come. The whole time, the Coyotes dismounts had gone to one knee and were pouring round after round into anything that moved. Now they sprinted into the Coyote, it slammed the rear door shut and in a blast of diesel smoke and spinning tires it took off.

This time they didn’t stop their high speed run until they had gone five miles across country away from the column.

“All good Ghost, nobody is coming after us,” CT said over the tactical net.

“Ok, find us a place to pull over,” Duncan said.

“Gulf One, Alpha One, massive fireball.”

“Alpha One, Gulf One, copy massive fireball. Bravo has splashed Sierra. Party will start in sixty mikes.”

“Copy, Alpha One out.”

The vehicles started to slow and pull into their laager, except for Katerina’s which stopped right beside the Cougar. Katerina flung her door open and yanked the rear passenger door open and a figure fell out of the seat. Amanda was sprinting to the vehicle with her med kit and Karen was jumping out of the Coyote with hers. Carols medic joined them, gently pushing Katerina away.

“Captain! Get control of those troopers!” Duncan yelled pointing at Katerina’s crew. “Commander! Report now!”

He looked around, but all his people were doing their jobs, although glancing back to the action at times. Katerina jogged up to where he was and Carol took her troops farther away. As Duncan received Katerina’s salute he looked over her head and saw the medics stand up. Karen looked at him and shook her head. He waved her over.

“Ok Commander what happened?” Duncan asked.

“Sir, a beam came in through the rear window and wounded one of my troops sir.”

“Lieutenant?”

“Hit him right in the neck Ghost,” Karen said. “He was dead before he knew what hit him.”

Katerina was pure white and wavering.

“His name commander?” Duncan said softly.

She swallowed a couple of times, then got control of herself somewhat.

“Albert,” she said. “Albert Clowswitz.”

“Ok, thankyou Commander. Lieutenant, please escort the commander to her troop and inform them of the loss of their comrade.”

Amanda had draped a silver space blanket over Albert by the time Katerina had turned around, at least sparing her the sight of her dead trooper.

“CT, get me a link to headquarters stat,” Duncan said.

“Alpha One, Gulf One,” came over his head set.

“Gulf One, Alpha One, six, by six.”

“Alpha One. Major fireball. No casualties’. Proceeding to rendezvous.”

“Copy major fireball no casualties. Inform Papa Two One that Papa One Four is KIA.”

“Shit, copy Alpha One, Gulf One out.”

Karen, Amanda the other medic and Dave were putting Albert in a body bag by then. They hoisted it to four waiting troopers on top of the Coyote and passed it to them, where it was quickly lashed down.

“Brett can you handle driving that thing to the rendezvous? Amanda will go with you.”

“Ya, its not the first time I’ve seen a little blood and guts,” Brett said.

Duncan keyed Carols private channel. “Carol, put the rest of that crew in with the Coyote. You just became my new driver and bring Katerina with you.”

“I’ve got HQ ghost. CT said. Who do you want to talk with?”

“Madam Horshack,” Duncan said.

“Duncan, you have done wonderful work today,” Tanya said. “The mercenaries are reporting they lost half of their fuel and water supplies plus a hundred dead, two hundred wounded and the loss of a large amount of food supplies and vehicles. Well done.”

“Madam Horshack it is my sad duty to inform you that Albert Clowswitz was killed in action today mam.”

“Mam?” Duncan said after a prolonged silence. They were on the move by then and he thought they may have lost the link.

“Th..thankyou Mr.Kovaks. I will inform his family myself.”

“Mam, we will have to bury him in the field mam. We can’t take him with us. I will record the location and we can come get him later.”

“No, someone will come for him after the main column has passed Duncan. Is Katerina ok?”

“Yes Tanya she is fine. It was a lucky shot, it went right through the window. He was killed instantly.” Well it sounded good anyway, he thought.

“Thank you for telling me Duncan, take care.”

“Break it down CT,” Duncan said. Then he turned to Katerina in the back seat. She had her head against the door looking up at the ceiling. Scott mouthed that he would keep an eye on her and Duncan turned back to look out the front.

“The first one is always the worst,” Carol said so only Duncan could hear.

“They all hurt Carol, but ya the first one was the worst. Shit I didn’t even know that kids name.”

“My first was my best friend from high school,” Carol said. “Sometimes I think it’s better when we don’t know them.”

“Fuck!” Duncan said. “Lucky Goddamned shot threw the fucking window!” he slammed his rifle into its spring clip on the dash.

He looked back at Katerina again and she was quietly crying, trying not to let anyone see. Scott moved over and put his arm around her shoulder and she turned and buried her head in his chest and let it all out. She didn’t see that Scott was crying as well and the tears started in Duncan’s eyes.

“Fuck!” Carol said, wiping hers as she was trying to drive.

After half an hour of driving looking out the widow, Duncan turned back and saw Katerina doing the same with Scott now back on his side of the vehicle.

“It was a lucky shot,” Duncan said. “We were at high speed. Shit it could have happened to me just as easily. Sometimes shit happens Katerina.”

“He wasn’t killed instantly like you told my aunt Duncan,” she said. “It took him a couple of minutes to die. Maybe if I would have radioed it in, we could have saved him.”

“No love,” Carol said. “His main artery was severed, his airway was destroyed. We had no way to save him even if we could have stopped to try. He would have been in massive shock and wouldn’t have felt anything. He was probably brain dead already and what you saw was his body reacting, that’s all.”

“Remember what I said,” Duncan continued. “The mission always comes first. If we had stopped just then, we would have put more troopers in danger. We will be linking up with the others in a few minutes. They need to see you have your act together. Yes you feel like shit, so do I. But we can’t let them see that. They want to know everything will be alright. That you are still in control. We will bury him before dark tonight and celebrate his life tonight. Tomorrow we are back to work.”

They were waiting for them when they pulled in and joined the laager formation. The hole had been dug a hundred yards away from the formation and all the troopers were lined up and saluted the Coyote as it drove past.

“Go join your people Katerina,” Duncan said. “Have six of them bear the body to the grave.”

CT’s crew were already undoing the straps holding the body bag to the roof and others had placed three wide tow straps on the ground. They gently gathered the body as it was passed down and placed it on the tow straps and moved away.

Duncan had the Wind Riders form up in double file at attention and they saluted as the body being transported by six troopers holding the three tow straps walked by. Then they followed marching the slow step reserved for funerals.

They stopped opposite Katerina’s troops on the other side of the grave and stayed at attention as the body was slowly lowered into the grave and the tow straps tossed in after it. All of Katerina’s troops except her and her second in command, filled in the grave and then formed up in a line.

“We all knew Albert,” she said, her voice strong. “He was a good man, a funny man and a very brave one. Let us not make his scarifies in vain. Lord we ask you to give us strength so that we may carry on and defeat our enemies.”

“Squadron. Attention!” Duncan said. “Squadron will salute by squadron fire!”

All the Wind Riders raised their weapons and pointed them in the air. Then Duncan pulled his trigger and as the next trooper heard the one before him fire, they did as well and it sounded like a giant sheet of paper being ripped, as the rifles in sequence fired.

“Squadron order arms. Squadron dismissed.”

The Wind Riders moved away and left the planetary people to their own. After a few minutes, they came into the laager and grouped together. All of them were quiet, just sitting in their chairs looking at their feet or at the stars or anywhere but at each other. Duncan dug into the back of his G-Wagon and found a twenty four pack of Canadian beer and brought it and his chair over to them. He sat down, took out a beer and tossed it to the person across from him. It landed in his lap and startled him. Then Duncan started tossing beer cans one by one to the other six and finally one for himself and he popped the tab.

“We have a tradition,” he said and stood motioning the others to stand. “You have heard us say part of it before, now you will know what it means.”

He held his beer up. “To Albert,” he said and took a drink. He waited until everyone had taken at least a sip and held his can up again. “To absent comrades.” Then he drank the rest of the beer, crushed the can and tossed it to his feet.

Katerina was the first to follow his example and was soon followed by everyone else. Then Duncan passed out another can to everyone and sat down.

“Now I hear Albert was a bit of a smart ass,” Duncan said. “Why don’t you tell me some of what he used to do?”

Again, Katerina was the first to tell a story that got smiles and a couple of laughs. Then others starting talking and soon the whole group, including Duncan were laughing at the stunts Albert used to pull.

Then CT’s exterior speakers came alive again at the end of a French song and everyone went quiet.

“Hello my brave soldiers. This is the Voice again. My brave, brave boys. Once again you have been subjected to the cowardly enemy that refuses to stand and fight. They know my brave boys, they know they can never defeat you. That is why they run. That is why they pick on those paid thugs instead of you. Because they are afraid of you. Now I will play your song once again.”

Now that the soldiers knew what this was about, they all started to smile. For they knew the exact opposite was true. That the planetary soldiers were anything but professional and brave.

“Know my poor brave soldiers so far from home. Know that your girls and wives are waiting, just like the girl in the song. Waiting for their brave boys to come home to them again. The Supreme Commander is very proud of his brave boys and all the good work you are doing for him. Until tomorrow night my pretties, this is the Voice wishing you sweet dreams.” This time she ended it with some wet sounding kisses, before the feed cut back to the marshal music once again.

This time it was the planetary people that were laughing hard, especially when Barb made her way over to them and blew them all kisses.

“Hey you bum,” she said to Duncan. “Did you save some beer for me? That’s hard work you know.”

Duncan made a big show of digging out a beer and making like he was serving it up on a platter and bowing after she took it.

“Rightly so, my good man,” she said. “Absent comrades.” As she downed the beer and crushed the can, Duncan had another waiting for her.

The rest of the Wind Riders made their way over, forcing the circle of chairs to get wider. The beer was flowing freely and the stories getting wilder as more beer was flowing. Brett and Bob telling stories about Duncan back in the day, which got a lot of laughs.

“CT,” Duncan said quietly to CT who was sitting next to him. “I want you to take in the rest of Katerina’s crew tomorrow. I’ll put her in with my crew.”

“No sir,” Katerina said. She was sitting next to CT and had heard what he said. “With all do respect sir, my people and I function as a unit. We came in together and we fight together. As you said, the mission comes first and being a vehicle down could make a difference.”

“Very well Commander,” Duncan said. “I agree. Any volunteers to join the commander’s crew?”

“I’ll do it,” Brett said without hesitation. “Bobs been bitching about being cooped up in the big tin can with no windows anyway.”

“Well kid,” Bob said. “I forgot more about driving a G-Wagon than you will ever know.”

“Forgot being the operative word Oldman,” Brett said. And the verbal sparring between the two was on. The stories getting funnier each time one was told.

Duncan quietly got up and left while the attention was off of him. He knew somebody from his crew would bring his chair back.

“Duncan,” Katerina said before he had gone to far. “Thank you for that. My people needed it, so did I.”

“No problem Katerina. It’s part of the job description.”

“I’ll have someone from my crew clean up the mess in the vehicle so Brett doesn’t have to sit in it,” she said.

“Already handled,” Brett said as he walked by. He had Duncan’s chair in hand. “Just going to grab my gear. I’ll grab the ammo tomorrow. Not to be picky, but I like a little more fire power than you people have.”

“How can you people carry on like this?” she asked. “Like nothing has happened. A man just lost his life today.”

“And more will die tomorrow,” Duncan said. “Your man wasn’t the only one to die today. Kat, we are all soldiers. I have been for a long time, so have most of my squadron. When we put on these uniforms, we are dead men walking. It’s only a matter of time before our number will come up. I’d rather die like a man than cower like a mouse.”

“Live for today,” Karen said as she walked up. “For tomorrow we may die. Now if you don’t mind I would like to steal my husband for some after action sex. You should try it sometime Kat, they are really horny with all that pent up testosterone after a fight.”

Bret had his sleeping bag across one shoulder and weapons harness in the other hand as the couple walked away.

“Come over here Kat, I want to show you something.”

He took her over to the front passenger door and pointed.

“Two inches higher and it would have been Duncan laying in the ground beside your trooper.”

There was a scorch mark just below the window on the door.

“They were not just sitting there and taking it,” Brett said. “They were fighting back. If you look, you’ll see we all took some hits. Al has a burn on his arm. Like Duncan said Kat, it goes with the job description.”

“What is this ‘Kat’ business?” she asked.

“Oh, you just got tagged with a nick name,” Brett said. “Like Ghost or Voice. Besides, Katerina is such a large mouthful to say. Beautiful name that it is and all. Kat is much easier.”

“Why don’t you have one then?” she asked.

“Well Shit Head doesn’t sound right,” Brett said and they both laughed. “Come on, lets break the party up before it gets out of hand.”

“God Duncan, that was close today,” Karen said holding him close. “You almost got one through the window too and Al got hit in the arm.”

“Ya, those guys are tough alright,” Duncan said. “They were shooting back for sure. That’s what we get for being over confidant. I don’t think we will get closer than a hundred and fifty yards next time. Kats people are just going to have to make do. Tanya said we took out almost half of the mercenary’s fuel and water supply today. I think tomorrow, we will concentrate on the food supplies. Also, you people will hit them first and as soon as you engage, I’ll hit the middle.”

“You will be careful Duncan?”

“Hey you had a few shot your way as well,” he said, pointing to the scorch marks on the Coyote. “Sure they were long range, but your dismounts were in the open. These guys are pros Karen. We may out gun them, but they are not going down without a fight and tomorrow they will be waiting for us .”

Wind Riders 1.2 Copyright 2016 R.P. Wollbaum