Matthew S. Williams's Blog, page 162

700th Post!

Yes, I know its a bit of an odd number. But I was still pleased and kind of blown away to find out that I was nearing this landmark recently. And I thought, what better excuse for a little retrospective and a chance to say thanks for the support? My my, where to begin? Well, how about the beginning? Since just the other day I was looking back at the first posts I’d made with this site, I think I’ll start there. Seems as good a place as any…

The very first thing I ever wrote on this site was a simple Hello World message. Nothing too flamboyant or special about that one, just the obligatory “how do you do?” It was my second post where I said the things that I wanted to say and really took the time to state what my mission was:

“I love science fiction, always have, always will.  But it’s the kind of science fiction that I love which I think is an important distinction. I’ve always subscribed to the idea that sci-fi comes in two varieties: classic and commercial.  The classical kind is the traditional variety that people take seriously… Commercial sci-fi, by contrast, is your basic stuff that owes much to the original masters but really didn’t follow in their footsteps.”

That’s still true of me. I still subscribe to the idea that the real science fiction is the kind that really makes you think and chooses to appeal to the highest possible standard. Might sound elitist, but given the sheer amount of pulp out there that does little more than entertain, I’d say I’m more of a hopeful optimist. I think people are capable of great genius when you give them a chance, and would like nothing better than to create something myself that appeals to the best in us – be it intellectual, moral, or metaphysical.

My first few reviews were really quite simple. I spoke of Frank Herbert – arguably my biggest inspiration – William Gibson, 1984 and Brave New World. I spoke of my own writing and posted some podcasts of Source’s earliest chapters (no longer available), and pasted some reviews my work had received. However, I was nowhere near as prolific as I am today. It was actually quite surprising to see that the first year of my site being operational could be summed up in just over a dozen posts. Especially when I am now at 700 and just over two and a half years into it!

In any case, I began doing movie reviews shortly thereafter, tackling such sci-fi greats as Blade Runner and the Alien franchise, and such guilty pleasures like Independence Day and Starship Troopers. This went on for some time, with me going back and forth between reviewing movies and great books, and once in a while dropping something in about a favorite miniseries, TV show, or something I happened to find inspiring.

And then something happened. Something which, I gotta admit, I didn’t even know was possible until it happened to me. I got freshly pressed. At the time, I was minding my own business, doing a post about Dystopian Literature, in honor of the fact that I just joined Writer’s Worth and our first project was an anthology of original, dystopian narratives. Feeling inspired by the fact that I was getting a chance to write within my favorite genre, I compiled a list of the most historically relevant and renowned examples I could think of.

That opened the floodgates! Having never exceeded a few dozen views in one day, you can imagine my surprised when I came home for lunch that day and discovered my views numbered in the high hundreds! I checked back as the afternoon progressed, only to see that it had reached into the thousands. By afternoon the following day, the torrent stopped and I was able to take stock of all that had happened. Roughly half my subscribership began following me in that one twenty-four hour period. I got more comments than I knew what to do with and more likes in that one day than the previous year! It felt nice, and I certainly learned something about how this thing called WordPress works!

Since that time, I won’t lie, I’ve been hoping to snag a second FP! No luck yet, but what can you do? Once was nice enough, and since it’s led to my current circulation amongst my fellow bloggers and the general internet-surfing public, I really can’t complain! Besides, several milestones have happened since then, so I shall not linger on this one event. Suffice it to say, as the days and weeks continued to pass, I found my traffic had increased exponentially from my pre-FP days. Not to the point of thousands, but higher than a hundred. That too was nice…

After finishing up the series of Dystopian posts, mainly to address examples other people poitned out and to cover examples of dystopic movies, I began to move onto other ideas. For instance, I had decided it was time to tackle themed-posts, like Cool Guns, Cool Ships, Giant Robots, and the like. These were mighty fun to do and provided endless suggestions from people who knew and liked the same franchises I did, and also saw these lists as an opportunity to stroll down memory lane.

I also got into serial novel work, as attested to by Crashlands over at Story Time, and posts dealing with futuristic concepts and news. I guess I’d grown a bit tired just talking concepts, books and movies at this point and really wanted to delve into the everday stuff that drives science fiction and the creative imagination that guides people’s writing. At the same time, I continued to pimp any and all work that I was doing with Writer’s Worth, which at this point had morphed into its current group name of Grim5Next, in honor of our first project!

Then came two significant developments, back to back. In June of 2012, I began working with a select group of members from Grim5Next on a new project idea. With the passing of Ray Bradbury and Venus’ transit in front of the sun, it seemed that some of us were bit by the inspiration bug. I can still remember how it all began, in the form of a conversation between my friend and fellow writer, Khaalidah, and myself:

Khaalidah: Four nerds verging on geeks live in my house, of which I am one. One of our nerdiest but fun conversations centered around the question “Would you rather go to space or the bottom of the ocean?” Hands down the answer was space.

I once dreamed that my son, now 21, would one day go to space and walk on Mars. He is no longer a child who dreams of space, although it still intrigues, and space seems a distant childhood dream of his. But even for myself, at the ripe old age of 41, the idea of going to space is a bright hope, even though I know it is unattainable and unrealistic. But, given the chance, I would go.

This post reminds me of the awesomeness of our great universe, of the chaotic randomness, of the beauty of this world and the things we have to be grateful for, and of how utterly minuscule we people really are in the grand scheme of things

Me: Okay, you need to write this down. I foresee you doing a story where a family does go into space. Ho boy, I smell another anthology here!

Khaalidah: An anthology about space, going to space or anything related sounds awesome. I vote for you to be the editor. What do we need to do to get started?”

That was the beginning of Yuva. In the days that followed, we two enlisted the help of many people: Goran, Jenna, William, and Melanie. Through much conversation, back and forth and debate, we determined the location of our story (Gliese 581g), the tone, the structure, and even began producing the first few installments. As time progressed, we were joined by more writers – Charles, Danielle and Cara – who wanted to contribute and began scooping up the later installments in the series.

The second development was the rash of face-eating and zombie-like behavior which seemed to break out throughout that summer. Feeling compelled to comment on the sort of hysteria which had set in, I wrote a post called “Bath Salts and the Zombie Apocalypse”. Much like my post on Dystopia, that one earned me quite a few views, thought it was not Freshly Pressed. I am thankful it wasn’t, as I began to feel a bit iffy about getting lots of traffic over a series of rather sick and tragic events. But I knew I had to comment since it was a relevant issue and I had something to say about it. I also swore I’d never publicize the names of the psychos responsible ever again, since I didn’t want to contribute to the buzz that so often surrounds twisted criminals.

Since that times, its been more of the same. Every day, I do my best to maintain the pace I’ve now set for myself, and am happy when plenty of people come by to see what I’ve written and tell me they are thankful that I post what I do. Naturally, I often complain that I should be getting paid to do this, but that’s just talk. No, this is something I’d gladly do for free, though ideally I would love it if it was a source of income so I could write indefinitely and not have to worry about money. My hope is one day that all of this culminates and I can write something truly meaninful and influential. That way, this site will represent a beginning to something truly big, and I’ll be able to share that with everyone who’s been here from the beginning.

Okay, that got a little mushy there towards the end. Suffice it to say, I’m very thankful for all that I’ve been able to do with this site thus far, and for being able to connect with all the people that I have. I hope very much to be able to write as many or more posts before I use up my allotted memory and either have to pay for an upgrade or move to another web address. Hopefully, the whole “getting paid to do this” thing will work itself out before then so I have the option of throwing money at the problem

Rest assured, I aint going nowhere anytime soon. So expect to see plenty of me around these parts. Peace out, and thanks to everyone for stopping by, then and now. Bless you all!

NASA Designing World’s First FTL

A few months ago, physicist Harold White shocked and stunned the world when he announced that he and his team at NASA were beginning work on the world’s first faster-than-light warp drive. Naturally, this produced a whole slew of questions, not the least of which was what model his team would be considering. After all, there have been countless theories put forth over the years as to how humanity could one day break the “light barrier”. Which theory White and his team would pursue was naturally the first on everybody’s mind.

Apparently, White’s proposed design will be a re-imagining of the Alcubierre Drive, a concept which has already been extensively popularized in science fiction and pop culture. Proposed by Miguel Alcubierre in 1994 in his seminal paper: “The Warp Drive: Hyper-Fast Travel Within General Relativity,” Alcubierre suggested a mechanism by which space-time could be “warped” both in front of and behind a spacecraft. After going over the equations in detail, White believed he found a way to make the theory work.

All of this began in October of last year, where White was preparing for a talk he was to give as part of the kickoff of the 100 Year Starship project in Orlando, Florida. While putting together his presentation on warp, he began toying with Alcubierre’s field equations, mainly out of curiosity. After making some adjustments, he came to the conclusion that something truly workable was there, and presented his findings this past October in Atlanta, where the 100 Year Starship project was meeting once again.

The equations and theory postulates that since space-time can be contracted and expanded, empty space behind a starship could be made to expand rapidly, pushing the craft in a forward direction. Passengers would perceive it as movement despite the complete lack of acceleration, and vast distances (i.e. light years) could be passed in a matter of days and weeks instead of decades. What’s more, this “warp drive” would allow for FTL while at the same time remaining consistent with Einstein’s theory of Relativity.

This has been a major hurdle for physicists looking for ways around the speed of light, since all previous theories required a cosmic model where Relativity – fundamental to our understanding of the universe – would not apply. At the same time, the physics described in the Alcubierre process sound like something directly out of Star Trek, something all sci-fi geeks are sure to notice! It begins with a spheroid object being placed between two regions of space-time (one expanding and one contracting), which in turn generates a “warp bubble” that moves space-time around the object, effectively repositioning it.

The end result is faster-than-light travel without the spheroid having to move with respect to its local frame of reference. In short, those aboard the object would notice the repositioning of their spacecraft, but would experience no “time dilation”, where their perception of time differs greatly from those in a different frame of reference. Or to put it another way, the Alcubierre drive could transport people from Earth to Mars and back again, and for all concerned (the passengers and people Earthside) there would be little difference in the amount of time experienced. None of this, “I’m a year older, but everybody I knew is dead!” stuff. You have to admit, that’s a real perk!

But of course, there are a lot of challenges ahead for White and his team. For example, in an interview with IO9, White said: “Remember, nothing locally exceeds the speed of light, but space can expand and contract at any speed. However, space-time is really stiff, so to create the expansion and contraction effect in a useful manner in order for us to reach interstellar destinations in reasonable time periods would require a lot of energy.” Luckily, his reworking of the equations has brought that requirement done somewhat, but the amounts required mean that a great deal of research and development is still needed.

Perhaps if we can find a way to work cold fusion in the mix, or build an anti-matter reactor. Maybe some hydrogen ramscoops and a Heisenberg compensator, then we’d be in business! Might we need some dilithium crystals too? I’ll call Jordie LaForge and tell him to get on it!

Pappa Zulu – Chapter 17

“Valor is stability, not of legs and arms, but of courage and the soul.”

-Michel de Montaigne

Every step produced its own slick, wet sounds. Just a few feet into the mouth, and already the ground was covered in trickled of rain water, mosses, and something grey Saunders couldn’t identify. She could only assume this was the vaunted “Whiskey shit” Whitman had mentioned.

The look on his face seemed to confirm as much. And he was right, it did smell like death. But worse, it confirmed that there some undead bastards were in here recently. And since the darkness just kept extending in front of them, that could only mean they had gone deeper…

The comm came on. “Viper One Actual to Viper One One, what’s your status over?”

Saunders cursed quietly and keyed the comm. This deep into the cave, they were still getting reception, although it was somewhat crackly. She had to answer.

“Viper One Actual, this is Viper One One. We are negative for contact, over.”

“Roger that, Viper One One. Proceed to rendezvous point and be ready to move to the next target, over.”

She quickly keyed the comm again. “Viper One Actual, request permission to recon. Target Alpha runs deeper than expected. Hostiles may be embedded, over.”

There was a pause. She anticipated another argument in the near future. “Viper One One, clarify, over.”

Saunders cursed a little louder. She looked around at her squad. “Hold here, I’m going back to get a better signal.”

They uttered affirmatives and held their positions, keeping the lights they had mounted on their rifles trained into the ongoing recess. Making her way back into the light, she was greeted by Majorca, sitting on a pile of stones and holding the detonator in his hand. She snapped out a salute to him and grabbed hold of the comm again. This time around, she promised herself, it would be by the book. And he had been quite clear on what he expected, should the need arise…

“Viper One Actual, this is Viper One One. Request face to face, over.”

His reply was quick and curt. “Viper One Actual, coming up.”

She waited and paced as the intervening moments passed. Eventually, she heard the tell-tale sound of brush rustling and twigs breaking as his footsteps approached. He emerged from the treeline a second later with Grayson in tow, and she snapped him a salute.

“Sir, thank you for coming.”

“At ease, Sergeant,” he said coolly. “So what’s the situation?”

“Target Alpha, sir. Our bait didn’t lure any Whiskeys to the mouth, but we’ve since determined that the cave runs deeper than previously expected. Possibly deep into the mountain, to an underground river or spring maybe. Wind coming from the inside has also been coming outward, which might explain why the mist dissipated as soon as we threw it in.”

He squinted and eyed her men who were just barely visible near the opening. “You ordered your men to recon the cave, Sergeant?”

She looked back in their direction and tried to think of a way that would make it all sound kosher. She had, but that didn’t necessarily equate to insubordination, not if she told it just right.

“Private Whitman confirmed the existence of Whiskey excrement in the opening, sir. I wanted to be sure so I went forward to inspect. The balance of first squad accompanied me to provide cover.”

He also saw Majorca, who was standing by his ordinance at attention. “The Private there was manning the munitions?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Just in case we needed to fall back in a hurry. It was never far from our minds that we might stir up whoever was within.”

Braun seemed to be processing everything she had just said, scanning it for any possible signs of disobedience or a breach of the ROE. Whether he was trying to find something or rule it out, she couldn’t tell. At this point, his thoughts were about as alien to her as the enemies.

“I understand,” he said finally. When he looked back at her, his eyes were still cold, but his words were much more amenable. “It’s a good plan, Sergeant. Guess your two for two.”

Her eyebrows raised themselves involuntarily. She wasn’t expecting that.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, hesitantly. “Shall we continue?”

Braun drew a breath and seemed to think that one over too. He eventually nodded. “Fourth Squad will come up to cover the entrance. You’re squad will proceed inside and…” He stopped and turned to Grayson. “Sergeant, what’s the platoon’s store of cee-four look like?”

“A good five pounds, as of our last inventory, sir.”

“Good, get to the supply truck and obtain all of it, double-time back here.” The Sergeant issued a loud affirmative and proceeded off in a hurry. Braun turned back to Saunders. “If it proves deeper than fifty meters, you’re to lay explosives and seal the entrance, copy?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.” She grabbed a hold of her comm and signaled Mill. “Corporal, pull the men out, we’re standing by on a shipment of Charlie Four for the cave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came his voice, which almost audible even without the comm. He and the others emerged from the darkness a second later and joined Majorca. All looked suddenly impressed to learn that they would be participating in a demolitions run. For most, it would be the first time. Saunders counted herself amongst them and was kind of excited herself. The chance to blow the crap out of something and possibly kill a whole lot of bad guys in the process. Kind of cool really…

Her and Braun stood there quietly for a moment and waited. Eventually, a small smile cracked on his face and he spoke again.

“Good job bringing this to my attention, Sergeant. A lesser NCO would have reported no contact and moved on. We might have overlooked something if that were the case.”

“Thank you, sir. That was my concern too, sir.”

His smile grew a little larger, though it looked both pained and awkward. They spent another few moments in silence, and to Saunders, they were the longest in history.

I think I liked it better when he was chewing me out, she thought. That too had been painfully awkward, but at least it had been short and sweet. No incredibly awkward pauses to speak of…

*                    *                    *

The deeper they went, the worse it got. Not only was the floor getting slicker, the soft, sucking muck seemed to be getting thicker. Every time Saunders put her boot in it, it was an effort to get it out again. The sucking noises coming from those around her weren’t too nice either. In addition to being disgusting to hear, the noise of it was ruining any chance they had of making a stealthy approach.

But what they were approaching exactly, she couldn’t say. The farther they went, the deeper the cave seemed to go. Fifty meters was damn far when stretched out in the interior of a mountain, but it already felt like they had passed that mark and then some.

The illuminated circles of their flashlights darted this way and that over the surface of the walls. Much like the floor, they were small patches of moss, water trickling in small trickles from the roof, and some patches of what looked like niter and other deposits of minerals. One had to wonder how long the caves had been here, and who else might have wandered in before them…

“Jeezus, kill me!” Whitman protested. The stink was getting worse the deeper they went. But luckily, there was a noticeable wind current coming from below. One had to assume the stench would have been worse without it. And the way it was thickening the further in they went could only mean that they were looking at a wholesale infestation down here. She was sure they had passed fifty meters by now, but her feet kept issuing her forward…

“Sarge… is this far enough?” asked Jones. The tone of his voice told her he was desperate to turn back. She could even feel the same instinct at work inside her. Plant the C4 and run, dammit, it seemed to be saying. But at the moment, it was moving uphill against the more powerful urge to keep going and see what lay ahead.

“Yeah, this is about fifty meters,” she admitted. “Start planting. I’m going to look up ahead just a bit more.”

“Sarge, the LT was quite specific,” said Mill. She didn’t bother to look in his direction. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the next spot up ahead. She shone her flashlight on it and noted that the cave dropped a few feet and curved. But there was definitely an opening in the rock, another turn leading even deeper. It almost looked like there was light coming from the other side as well.

“There’s something through there,” she said. “Might be where they’re hiding.”

Mill grunted something to the others and came to her side. “Sergeant. The LT was clear on what he wanted us to do. Prep the demos, and then get topside. The longer we linger down here, the more likely we’re gonna get sacked.”

She sighed. She knew he was right. But dammit if the suspense wasn’t killing her. Was she seeing things, or was there honestly and truly some light up ahead? What could that mean, if there was? Was there an underground river, as Mill had suggested, one which ran up through another cave network, and was letting outside light in? And if so, where did it all run? Was there an underground lagoon in here, and could that be where the shitters were spending their time now?

A thought occured just then. If there was some kind of recess below and multiple caves were running to it, then that meant they probably had more than one route to the surface. Or was this there only means of access? Would blowing this trap all of them below, or would it simply mean they’d need to find another way out?

If she could just get to within a few dozen meters of them, she was sure she would be able to hear the telltale moans and groans. Then at least they would be sure. Whiskeys were far more resourceful than most people gave them credit for. Given enough time, they could find their way through solid walls. Who was to say they couldn’t find their way through solid rock?

“Sarge, did you hear me?”

“How long til they’re ready?” she asked, indicating Whitman and Majorca who were setting the charges while Jones stood watch with his shotgun.

“Two minutes, tops,” he said. “We got to check to make sure the radio detonator will work at his depth, but otherwise, won’t be long.”

She looked ahead again and grit her teeth. “Two minutes? Just enough time to peek around one more corner.”

“Saaaarge,” said Mill, his own teeth on edge.

“We want to confirm the existence of the enemy as best we can, don’t we? Besides, if there’s a recess up ahead, those charges could lead to a whole section of this mountain collapsing. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

He grunted. “Is that an order, ma’am?”

She smiled. “Would I do that to you?”

He did not smile back. “Alright, fine. But if anyone asks, I did this under duress.”

“So noted,” Saunders replied, slapping him on the shoulder and turning to the others. “Grunts. Finish up here and run your tests. We’re going on ahead to scope it out. Be back in one mike.”

Skylon: The Future of Commercial Aerospace Flight?

Behold the Skylon! The Mach 5 hypersonic aerospace ship that is the future of commercial flight. Well, that’s the hope anyway, and if a British company known as Reaction Engines Limited get’s its way, it very well could be…

For some time now, hypersonic commercial flight has been batted around as an idea. And with billionaire Richard Branson promising commercial space flight to the world, it seemed like only a matter of time before aerospace flights became the norm. As it turns out, we may be closer than anyone previously thought, thanks to a heralded breakthrough by Reaction Engines.

In a recent statement, the British company claimed they have made “the biggest breakthrough in aerospace propulsion technology since the invention of the jet engine.” In the past, hypersonic flight has been hampered by the problem of propulsion, since at speeds beyond Mach 2, a jet engine has trouble getting the oxygen needed for combustion. Attempts to remedy this have already been made, such as with the SR-71 Blackbird which managed to reach speeds in excess of Mach 3. But for high-altitude and aerospace craft, where Mach 5 and above are essential, the problem remains, as does the issue of the amount of heat generated.

Reaction Engines claims it has solved the problem with a design that could allow a vehicle to take off, reach orbit using a combination of an air-breathing engine and rocket, then return to Earth. The secret is cooling the air as it enters the hypersonic SABRE engine. The air-breathing engine will accelerate a vehicle to about Mach 5.5, according to the company, after which a liquid oxygen tank will supply a rocket engine for the portion of the flight in space. But unlike current space vehicles, there will only be one stage involved for the entire flight thanks to the boost from the SABRE design.

In the same press release, RE claims the “pre-cooler technology is designed to cool the incoming airstream from over 1,000 Celsius to minus 150 Celsius in less than 1/100th of a second, without blocking with frost.” The company further claims to have conducting 100 test runs of the new engine’s cooling system and believes they can begin production of a prototype by 2015. The European Space Agency also says it has evaluated the design and is in negotiations to support further development.

To put it in terms every jetsetter and international traveler can understand, their proposed aerospace craft – known as the Skylon – will allow a passenger to enjoy breakfast in New York City and then lunch in Tokyo. And with a few years and plenty of investment, not just from the ESA, but NASA and the RSA as well, Skylons could be ferrying people all over the world in a matter of hours.

Source: Wired.com

The Hobbit Spoof

Hope you’re all having a great and relaxing Sunday. And just to liven things up, here’s a bunch of rapping dwarves entering Bilbo Baggin’s home! Courtesy of The Hillywood Show, Lil’ John, LMFAO, and Peter Jackson’s forgiving lawyers

Curiosity Rover’s First X-Ray Analysis of Martian Soil

A bit of retro news from the Curiosity front here. Roughly one month ago, before the big announcement about “earthshaking news” was made, there was some other news regarding Curiosity’s ongoing soil analyses. And given all the attention that was dedicated to the possibility of organic molecules, this is one news story that might have been overlooked.

Put simply, Curiosity performed tests that were previously impossible on Mars, using an x-ray scanner that was roughly the size of shoebox in order to conduct detailed analyses of Martian soil. The purpose, of course, was to determine what kinds of minerals it contains and how its soils first came into being.

The device in question, called CheMin, takes a sample of sand – just a thimbleful – and shakes it 2,000 times a second, all the while bombarding it with x-rays. The rays then penetrate the grains, and the way in which they diffract can tell scientists about their constituent atoms. The results are then scanned to see just what kind of mineral composition it has (take a look up top to see the results rendered in stunning technicolor!)

Up until now, this technique has been impossible simply because the equipment needed to carry out such operations were far too large and clunky to fit on a rover. But thanks to NASA engineers, the device in question was shrunk down exponentially in size and even boasts improved electronics, ensuring it is both portable and energy-efficient.

As a result, the Curiosity rover has made some very interesting discoveries. For starters, Curiosity has determined that the soils in the area are extremely similar to those found around the Mauna Kea shield volcano in Hawaii. In fact, it’s identified crystalline feldspar, pyroxenes, and olivine – all of which are common to the soil here on Earth.

Yes, not exactly earthshaking news is it? But it’s interesting nonetheless, and let’s us know once again that Mars and Earth have plenty in common.

Source: Wired.com

Pappa Zulu – Chapter 16

“Nobody ever defended anything successfully, there is only attack and attack and attack some more”

-George S. Patton

The river went on by in a loud torrent. The recent rainfall had raised the water level noticeably, and wherever it went downhill the water gushed pretty heavily. Good way to mask their footsteps, if of course any Whiskeys were in the area.

Thus far, they had encountered none, but that was to be expected along the roadway. No traffic came through Santa Fe National Park anymore, it was said. Hence, any Whiskeys who waited by the roadside, expecting a meal to drive by, had surely moved on or died long ago.

The motorcade had parked a hundred meters back and they moving on ahead, squad by squad, onto the mountain path. A thin layer of gravel lined the ground. At one time hikers would have come through here, people on a daytime sojourn, hoping to make their way to the top of Cerrito Colorado for the view. Today, a different kind of hike was taking place. Four armed squads heading uphill in search of embedded creatures.

Up front, Mill and Jones took the lead, the one with his SAW and the other his combat shotgun. Saunders held the middle spot, Whitman at her side and Majorca holding up the rear. Just a few meters behind them, Tate was heading up the path with 2nd Squad. The rest fell in behind them, with the LT leading up with third and monitoring their progress as they neared the suspected location of the mountain’s caves.

The path arched to the left up ahead and Saunders called for a stop. She produced her map from her pocket and noted the spots they had selected on the map. The creek that was coming down the hill had paralleled them thus far, but now proceeded on a direct route up the southern slope. She noted that three of the caves indicated were mighty close to it. The path veered and re-intercepted them at intervals, but the path of the creek shot past them in a much more direct line. A simple thought occurred…

“What’s the word, Sarge?” asked Mill. She raised the map to him and pointed to the spot that concerned her.

“If we follow the creek, we might just shave some time off the first set of our objectives here.”

He spied where she was indicating and hummed thoughtfully. “LT was of the opinion that we should stick to the path.”

“LT might be wrong here,” she said. “Sending four squads on one path seems a bit excessive. And given all the caves we got to check, might be better to split up, handle more terrain that way.”

Mill nodded, though she could tell he didn’t like the idea much. But she was the Sarge, and one didn’t argue with the boss publicly.

Confirming her plan, she keyed the comm and called for the LT. “Viper One Actual, this is Viper One One, interrogative, over.”

The reply was prompt. “Viper One Actual here, go ahead.”

“Viper One, we’ve reached the first fork and are requesting permission to follow the creek bed to objectives Alpha, Charlie and Romeo.”

The next reply was not so prompt. “Viper One One, that’s a negative, over. We proceed along the path to the first objective.”

“Viper One, the creek bed presents a more direct path. And I think the water will conceal our approach better.”

Another pause. “Viper One One, hold your position. I’m coming up.”

Saunders released the comm and sighed. He was coming up. She knew what that meant. In military parlance, that meant he wasn’t about to get into an argument over an open comm and was coming to yell at her in person. She steeled herself for the confrontation she knew was coming and waited. True to his word, the LT came forward within a few seconds and called her aside.

They stepped to the creek bed, a few feet from the path and the rest of the troops, and began talking.

“What are you thinking here, Sergeant?”

She produced her map again and began pointing it out to him. “I’m thinking, sir, that if we approach from this vantage, we might have a better chance catching them unaware. If we divide our forces -”

“I meant,” he interrupted. “What are you doing suggesting a change to the ROE over an open comm like that? You don’t question an op in progress for everyone to hear, you know that.”

She lowered her head and cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“If you have a suggestion or an idea, you call me forward right away so we can discuss it. Otherwise it sounds like you’re commandeering the platoon and I’m letting you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sergeant, I’m serious,” he said, raising his voice just a little. She looked up at him and felt something burning in her face. Before she could stop herself, the words she didn’t want to say escaped from her mouth.

“I know that, sir. That’s why I’m agreeing with you, sir.”

Braun’s face similarly went hot. She could see from the way it flushed that he had a sudden excess of blood there. He, however, had better luck restraining himself and took a deep breath before saying anything more.

“Sergeant, if there’s something you want to discuss in private, we can do just that. But in the meantime, we’ve got a job to do.”

Don’t I know it, she thought. Standing straight, saying nothing, she let him finish this time. Sans interruption and sans challenge that might prolong things. Thankfully, his tone brightened and became more rational.

“The plan you mentioned, it’s not the worse I’ve heard. However, I do not think it’s wise to divide our forces at this time. What’s more, I want to come upon these caves from an indirect route so we can position troops in front of each of them, and move simultaneously once were all in position. If I send you and another squad up the creek while the rest of us loop behind, that wrecks our timing. Got it?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.” She knew he was under no obligation to explain all this her, the outline of the plan had already been made clear and in accordance with the regulations, her only duty was to obey. And yet, he seemed to feel the need to impress the importance for doing things way on her. That struck her as a bit strange. It also seemed strange that he had taken such offense to her request to alter the ROE.

But then again, going by the book was not exactly something they were known for.

There was nothing more to be said. Except of course for obvious:

“Is that all, sir?”

Braun raised his chin and looked down the length of his nose at her. “Dismissed.”

She turned and proceeded back to her squad. All were waiting and kept their thoughts to themselves. Twice in one day now, and she was starting to feel genuinely embarrassed. So much for keeping things on the DL and professional. Time to suck it up and get things back on track!

“Alright squad, we’re Oscar Mike.”

They proceeded up the path without further incident, or argument…

*               *               *

“Viper One Four in position,” came the call. The other squads reiterated their status for all to hear. All the caves on the southern slope were now accounted for and covered. As it turned out, only three had proven to be legit. The rest were either caved in or hadn’t been properly designated. Which left them one one squad in reserve. As it happened, that was the LT’s, and he was holding back to offer reinforcement, should the need arise.

Saunders keyed the mike to offer her report. “Viper One One, holding position.”

The LT took to the line a second later…

“All Squads, proceed with phase one.”

Saunders turned to Majorca. “You heard him, Private. Start laying the Claymores.”

“Right on,” he said, and opened his satchel to grab the first of four. Mill moved in to help him lay the wire and begin hooking them up. Whitman poked his head into the recess and sniffed around.

“Sure as shit, that’s Whiskey shit.” He took another long whiff just to be sure. “Yep, that’s definitely definitely Whiskey shit.”

“Yeah, nice Rainman imitation, Private,” said Saunders. Mill jumped in, surprisingly in Whitman’s defense.

“No, ma’am. He knows what he’s talking about. Back when our unit was retaking Santa Fe, we had a run in with some Whiskeys, were hiding out at the bottom of a stairwell. Place was loaded with their shit, real horror show.”

Saunders looked at him curiously. “Really?”

“Whole place was a shit hole,” confirmed Whitman.

From his spot watching their rear, Jones jumped in too. “And that wasn’t even the worst part. Tell her what happened next.”

She looked to Mill, who seemed to be the story master now. He continued to unspool wire and gave a shrug.

“Well, turns out they were laying in wait for somebody. One of the many indications we started getting that maybe they weren’t so dumb after all.”

“Mage was damn impressed too,” interrupted Jones.

“Hey, who’s telling the story?” Mill yelled to him. “Anyway, the Sarge -” he stopped short. Everyone in the squad looked suddenly embarrassed. “You know what? Doesn’t matter.”

Saunders forced a smile. T he subject of Dezba was still a touchy one. No one seemed to know where he was, whether he was reassigned, transferred or had been discharged. Beyond the mere fact that he had survived their exfil from LA, no one seemed to know a thing.

Majorca looked up from his work. The last of the Claymores was in place and the wires attached.

“All set,” he said. Saunders keyed her comm.

“Viper One Actual, this is Viper One One. We are good to go, over.”

“Roger that, Viper One One. Stand by for phase two, over.”

How about a little congratulations, she thought. The other squads were still busy prepping and her team managed to get their mines deployed and regail her with an interesting story. Well, half of one anyway.

Within minutes, the other squads reported in, all of them finished laying their mines and waited for the go for the next phase. Braun was sure to give it to them once the last report came to him.

“Roger that. All squads, begin phase two. Pop em and lock em!”

“Stand back,” Saunders ordered as she pulled the special canister grenade from her vest. The red ring around it indicated that it was a pheromone charge, not to be confused with smoke or her flashbangs. She pulled the pin and waited for the others to get clear and to the trees behind them. Knocking the spoon off, she gave it a good toss in the maw of the cave and ran to join them. The seal broke and began to emit a loud hiss, the mouth of the cave echoing and magnifying it forward.

Taking a spot by the others, Saunders crouched and waited, her SCAR propped against her shoulder and the sights leveled at the entrance. The cloud of pheromone vapor was barely visible, but for any Whiskey lurking within, it’s presence was anything but mistakable. Majorca held the detonator in his hand and flipped the safety up.

“C’mon…” he whispered. The others were huddled tight and stared down the length of their sites. The seconds passed, their eyes and ears attuned to the cave for the moans and groans they were sure would be coming.

Any second now…

Any second…

Saunders readjusted her hold on the weapon and was still waiting. Over the hill, they heard a loud thud. Not far away, someone had made contact. A signal came over the comms a second later.

“Viper One Two, reporting enemy contact.” A slight delay, then: “Six Whiskeys reported dead. No additional contact.”

Another blast followed. “Viper One Four, enemy contact. Multiple confirmed kills.”

Saunders grumbled. Two for three, and they were still waiting. She turned to Whitman. “You’re sure that was Whiskey shit you smelt in there, Private?”

He lowered his M16 and shook his head. “Positive ma’am. I’d know that smell anywhere. Even their shit smells like death.”

Mill ventured a thought. “Could be the pheromone didn’t get far enough down the cave.”

“You saying I didn’t throw it far enough?” she asked.

Mill smiled raised his hands defensively. “No, ma’am. Maybe there was some wind blowing from the inside out.”

“Is that even possible?” asked Majorca.

“Who knows? Depending on how deep it goes, and if there’s an underground water source.” He shook his head, indeterminately. “Who knows how deep these caves even go?”

Saunders rotated her neck to release the kinks that were building up there. Somehow, this just didn’t seem right. Odds were, this cave simply wasn’t occupied. But if there was nothing to be found in there, then why the sinking feeling that they were missing something? And considering the likely consequences for the villagers, they couldn’t afford to leave a stone unturned.

“Gentlemen… that story you were telling earlier…”

Mill responded warily. “Yes?”

“How does it end?” She asked, though it sounded more like an order. Mill looked at the others even more warily, unsure of how to proceed here. A sensitive topic it was still, but his superior had asked him directly to provide closure on it.

“Uh, well, like we said, we were sitting in the stairwell and the Sarge gets this weird feeling. It’s like he’s got this sixth sense for Whiskeys and knows when they’re about to jump us, right? So he pops a flashbang and drops it into the stairwell, right down to the bottom. The thing goes boom and shakes up the entire lot of them down below. They get pissed and start running up the stairs at us, but we managed to get back to a covered spot and opened up on em big.”

“Fucking eh,” said Jones, holding his shotgun like it was his junk. “Blasted at least six of em myself with Big Bertha here!”

Whitman scoffed. “You were shitting your pants, you were so scared!”

Saunders ignored the back and forth that followed. Her eyes were fixed on the cave ahead of them and the small cloud that was coming out of it now. Maybe Mill was right. If it ran deep enough, there was no way the Whiskeys could sniff out their bait. And if they were far enough down the hole, there was only one to root them out.

A smile formed on her lips as a question of sudden and infinite merit crossed her mind.

WWDD? What would Dezba do?

“Gentlemen, prepare to move,” she ordered. “We’re going in.”

Pappa Zulu – Chapter 15

“The contour of the land is an aid to an army; sizing up opponents to determine victory, assessing dangers and distances, is the proper course of action for military leaders.”

-Sun Tzu

The dewy morning air was especially thick inside the treeline. As soon as they passed within the dark green envelope from the highway they had felt it. it was like walking into a wet towel, and kind of pleasant really. Very soon, they would trekking around on foot, and things were likely to get a little warm and uncomfortable under all their gear.

Saunders adjusted her straps and shifted in her seat. Something about the way she was sitting was agitating the bruise she had in her pelvis. She didn’t want to be thinking about that, for obvious reasons. They had a mission to do, and nothing that reminded her of the night before or the events of this morning could be welcomed into the mix.

And yet, she had to wonder why the LT had picked this morning of all days to broach the subject. No surprises there, they both knew that what they were doing was wrong, would get them in a shitload of trouble if it ever came out. Fraternizing between officers and NCO’s, especially ones under their command was inadvisable at the best of times. But in the thick of a war like this one, it was just plain stupid.

To be fair, they had known there was something there ever since LA. Something about the way she had stepped into his position and kept him and the squad safe long enough for their exfil. From that point onward, he had treated her different, special. She knew the moment she had stepped into Dezba’s spot and began commanding first squad that what he felt for her went beyond mere respect. It had been a bit frightening at first, knowing that the CO had a thing for her.

But she knew full well that she felt the same way. One did not simply go through hell together and not feel some kind of special attachment as a result. Perhaps it was just the fact that she was a woman and he was a man, and people needed a little tender distraction from fighting from time to time.

And it wasn’t like he could put in for a transfer for her either, there simply wasn’t the time or the luxury to bounce people around; not anymore. Fighting units had to stay cohesive and do the best they could with what they had. Losses and replacements were common enough without people being bounced around. Under those conditions, everyone knew it was best to just keep it in your pants and wait for a more… convenient time.

Still… why this morning of all times? Right before a mission seemed like nothing if not a bit crass, especially considering the nature of the evening they had had the night before. What they had went far beyond fucking in private places. Afterward, they had fallen asleep in each others’ arms, spent hours there together before Braun woke with a start and told her she had to get back to her bunk, and he back to his. It had been the wee hours of the morning at that point and she almost worried they would be found in the midst of creeping back, by her squadmates who were rising when it was still dark out to greet a mission day.

But then again, perhaps that’s why he’d done it. They were out on a mission now, sticking their necks out and walking headlong into a possible danger zone. No telling what they would find or whether or not they would all be making it back. Perhaps he wanted to resolve any “outstanding issues” before they went in, and felt that calling it quits on their little… whatever it was they had, was the best way to do that. No attachments, no worrying, no chance of making calls that could compromise the integrity or the safety of their platoon.

She could see the wisdom in that. But still, had he considered the impact it might have on her, the one who was going in first? She knew what this was and wasn’t about to cry over it, but it was not a good idea to send a grunt into the field with some heavy shit on their mind…

“Sergeant?” said Whitman. “Sarge? You with us?”

She snapped too and looked at the road ahead. They were coming up on the fork, and the path they had plotted into their nav map indicated that they needed to turn.

“Sorry,” she replied, grabbing the phone from the squawk box and calling to the convoy behind them. “Viper One Actual, this is Viper One One, we’re coming up on the first turn over.”

Braun’s voice came back. “Viper One One, this is Viper Actual. That’s affirmative, over.”

She noted the tone in his voice. Too gentle and courteous. She almost wanted to laugh. She also wanted to smack herself for getting so deep into her own navel after she had made it clear she wasn’t going to do just that. Grabbing hold of her SCAR, she checked the sights and the grenade launcher, just to keep her hands busy and her mind on the job. A little conversation seemed like it might be a good idea too.

“Any of you boys ever been spelunking before?” she asked. Whitman looked at her cautiously. Apparently, he was still concerned that the morning frost might still be on the grass. Tentatively, he answered as only he would.

“We talking just caves or do women’s privates count?”

She laughed, and then of course slapped his shoulder. The mood in the cabin immediately warmed and she felt happy for it. If circumstances permitted, she might have apologized just then for being so cold with them earlier. But that would have required that she explain, and that shit wasn’t happening!

Majorca jumped in from the rear. “Seriously though, any of your guys ever see that sci-fi movie where they shot those nukes down the holes?”

Saunders had to search her mind. Anything pre-First Wave was a bit foggy, especially on the pop culture front. “That the one with the alien bugs, kept eating people?”

“Yep, that’s the one!”

Whitman nodded. “See, automatically, I can see the similarity to our current situation.”

“Whatever, point is, I think that should be our ROE here. No nukes, but just plug the holes up with plenty of explosives.”

“Well keep in mind we got a lot of caves to check. The LT…” she paused in mid-sentence, cleared her throat. “The Lieutenant needs to know we got enough munitions to hold us until we can get back to base.”

“Which means…” Jones interjected, “we gotta be sure a cave is occupied before we booby trap it.”

“Bingo,” she replied.

“Just count yourself lucky were not in the Pacific, circa 1940′s. Marines had to clear Japanese troops from caves on all those islands. Now there was serious shit.” It was Whitman who said it. Saunders looked at his cockeyed. “What? I read sometimes!”

“Bullshit, you watched that old war doc in the lounge!” said Majorca.

“Ah, fuck!”

“You aint ever touched a book in your life!”

Saunders began laughing again. It felt good, and it confirmed a basic rule. Were one to ever feel cut off and alienated from everyone else, there was still their squadmates to turn to. She was lucky in that regard, in that she commanded the respect and loyalty of them and could always turn to it in a pinch. It also removed any lingering doubts she had about going into a potential fight while she and the CO were not on the best of terms.

NaNoWriMo 2012: A Requiem

November is finally coming to an end and December is now upon us, which means the following things. It’s time to get the snow gear out, people who have grown mustaches for Movember can finally shave, and NaNoWriMo is officially over. For those who took part in it this year, my congratulations. For those who finished on time, my profound congratulations and respect. As for me, I started, stopped, and then started again. It seems this November I had a bout of temperamental inspiration which led to a weird outcome.

Originally, I wasn’t going to participate, seeing as how I had just finished work on my zombie apocalypse story known as Whiskey Delta. That took me at least a week into the month of November and I kind of felt burnt. Yet at the same time, I was rearing to go on production of the sequel and even got some encouragement to do so. Didn’t seem like a good time to take on another writing assignment. But then I was struck by an idea about the lives of future people who lived in an Arcology, a concept I’d been wanting to tackle for some time.

After coming up with a name – Etemenanki, the name of the Ziggarut that is believed to have inspired the Babel myth – I set to work. However, my passion soon faltered as I realized the idea was not well thought out, and the burden of having to write 2000 words a day sapped my inspiration further. I realized what I wanted to be writing was the sequel to Whiskey Delta – aka. Pappa Zulu – so I shut down Etemenanki and got to work on that instead.

But then I noticed that at NaNo website, you can easily change which story you’re working on by simply changing the title on your entry and resubmitting its basic data. Nowhere, except on the word count feature, does it keep track of the story itself. So I figured, what the hey? I changed the entry name to Pappa Zulu, and began submitting my chapter for it instead of chapters for Etemenanki, and the month of November proceeded. Granted, I lost a lot of time thanks to my starting and stopping, but at least I enjoyed it this way.

As of today, my final word count on Pappa Zulu is 27265 words in length, roughly half of what it needed to be to complete the challenge in time. Ah well, so sad. Better luck next year. By that time, I hope to have my act together on what I plan to write, to start on time, and not change my mind partway through. This is why they say not to change paddles in midstream, you know

Pappa Zulu – Chapter 14

“The worse the weather, the more you are required to be out in it.”

-Anonymous

They stood stock still, huddled in the courtyard with the droplets forming on the edge of their helmets. Despite the chill that was setting in, they all tried their best to stand at attention. Six across, with Tate, Rickson, and the four other Sergeants that made up 1st platoon stood, with the remainder of their grunts standing behind in formation.

To their front, Lieutenant Braun stood with his platoon Sergeant, a Mr. Grayson. Word around the campfire was that he was a transfer from HQ, a man who had cut his teeth as a drill Sergeant who was now serving in the ranks after the loss of the last one. He alone appeared undisturbed to be out in the rain. But then again, he never seemed to look anything other than borderline pissed, as any good Drill Sergeant always did.

“Morning 1st Platoon!” Braun shouted.

“Morning, sir!” they all replied at once.

“As you know, today we effect our first recon mission of the forest. It has long suspected that our enemy has been lurking behind the cover of the trees, not just at night, but in the daytime as well. No doubt this is because they are concerned about our increased presence in the northern countryside. And as you also know, up until now, our ROE has restricted us from entering the wooded areas of the countryside because it was feared our enemy would have the drop on us, and our air support would be ineffective. However, that’s now changed.”

He paced back and forth as he said this. The rain was forming in small pools around his feet which were kicked up as he walked briskly through them.

“This morning,” he continued. “While the lot of you were snug in your beds, I had a long chat with the Mage about our enemies disposition. I expressed my contempt for an enemy that chooses to hide in covered areas, feeding off of furry creatures and waiting us out while we do our thing. I shared my belief that the bastards, as clever as some think they are, are just a bunch of dumb monsters who plan to descend on the countryside and resume their feeding the moment our backs are turned. The Mage… agreed. As of now, the ROE is changed, and we’re going in. The enemy thinks he can hide from us and wait us out.” He stopped pacing and turned to deliver his next words. “Well, we’re about to strangle his options.”

The platoon all issued a loud Ho! in reply. Braun turned to Grayson.

“Platoon Sergeant?”

Grayson came to attention, snapping his boots together and standing with utmost rigidity.

“Yes, sir!”

“What’s the first rule of dealing with quarry who go to ground?”

“Leave no ground for them to go to, sir!”

Braun smiled and looked back to his grunts. “You hear that, troops?”

Another Ho! rang out. Saunders could feel the morale of the group rising. None were too happy about being caught in the surprise Autumn shower that was descending on them, especially given the hour of the day. But all this talk about killing and strangling was giving them all a great big hard on.

Braun himself seemed particularly fired up. She wondered if she had anything to do with that. She hoped the others took note of it too, thought not too much. She didn’t want to be getting back to her squad, only to find that they were all wondering who the hell had put the yahoo in their CO. Let them think he’d had a good sleep and a nice time the night before, and leave all other speculation aside…

She snapped back to attention when she saw Grayson moving forward with a map which Braun began to consult. Every Sergeant in the front line pulled their laminates and began listening in for the designated points.

“Our initial recon will take us in by Highway 518. Once we reach the designated turnoff, labelled on your maps as FR 437, we will proceed along the Chiquito River until it and the road forks in the interior. At which point, our platoon will park and begin deploying on foot to the base of Cerrito Colorado, where we will begin inspecting the caves there.”

A small murmur went up from the platoon. Clearly, the idea of proceeding through rain, muck and the brush to wind up spelunking for Whiskeys was not something they thought much of.

“I don’t imagine there will be much in the way complaints, will there?” he said. “After all, we have the advantage over our enemy. Using suppressors, our night vision and extensive supply of fragmentation and HE mines, we will cordon off any hole that is currently being used by the Whiskeys and ensure that none can ever come out to trouble the good people of Taos, or any other northern community, ever again.”

The platoon began muttering noises of assent now. Blowing shit up and laying booby traps was definitely something they could get behind!

“Don’t get too enthused. This is just the first in a long series of patrols gentlemen… and ladies.” He nodded to Saunders as he said that. She smirked. Being the only girl in this boys outfit was still not something she enjoyed much. Thought it did come with its share of perks… She dared not think about that at the moment now.

Braun wasn’t quite done talking about her yet though.

“As usual, first sqaud will lead the convoy. The rest will follow, accompanied by fifth and sixth in the truck. Once we reach Cerrito Colorado, we will proceed by squads up the mountainside, fifth and sixth providing fire support as needed. Any questions?”

Rickson stamped his boot and raised his hand. Braun acknowledged him with a nod.

“Sir? How many mountains are in this park, sir?”

Braun’s expression turned a little dour. Apparently, there were quite a few.

“Four, that we have access too on this side. Once those are clear, we will no doubt receive new orders to redeploy to Angel Fire and Vegas on the other side to inspect other sites.”

“How many in total, sir?” Sergeant Lindsay of fifth squad asked.

“On the northern end… ten. On the southern end, at least two dozen.”

The platoon became awash in general cries of grievance. Saunders wanted to let out a good long sigh, but dared not. On the one hand, there was the natural fear that such gestures were insubordinate and unprofessional. But at the same time, she was too good a mood to be lamenting a heavy patrol schedule that would be taking them into the summer of next year. She was sure there was a little room left over for the fact that she also didn’t want to embarrass Braun publicly by expressing dismay while he issued the orders for the day.

Not that he would notice right now. Shutting up the platoon seemed to be his main concern. Luckily, Grayson was on hand to do it for him.

“Platoon! Shut your mouth and listen!”

Braun quietly thanked him. “Understand one thing, 1st Platoon. This war is not going to win itself, and if we intend to wipe out the enemy, we need to think long term. That means seeking them out and hitting them where they live. It means cutting off their supplies of food and their ability to spread their disease. And last of all, it means looking beyond protecting just ourselves and ensuring that others get the protection they need. The Mage has told me many times now that the real aim of this war is to ensure that we can put down roots, start growing food, and start having babies again, without fear that the Whiskeys will return to take it from us. In a numbers game, its all about ensuring that our numbers exceed their numbers. Otherwise, we’re right fucked!’

That seemed to have the desired effect. All heads in the platoon were once again held high, bearing the rain and the weight of their proposed duties quite well.

“Who knows?” he added. “We might just find that there are no Whiskeys hiding in the park. Might be that they really are on their last legs and dying out, as some of us suspected.”

Saunders heard Whitman’s voice somewhere behind her. She knew it was his, as few other people would be bold or stupid enough to start muttering “please, please, please” in formation. She couldn’t help but smile.

“We have our orders,” Braun said, finishing up. “Report to your squads and be ready to roll. We’re wheels up in fifteen mikes.”

Grayson called them to attention.

“Platoon… Atten-tion!” Three dozen heels slapped together with a dull thud. “Di-smissed!”

The formation broke and everyone began moving to their vehicles. Saunders began walking to her won when a voice called to her.

“Sergeant Saunders,” the gruff voice said. She turned to see Grayson at her side, his red face looking flushed from shouting at the top of his lungs. “The LT requests a word.”

Saunders stiffed a little but obliged. She knew better than to ask what it might be regarding. If it was in fact what she suspected, there was no way Braun would have told him anyhow. She made her way to his vehicle, parked in the front as quickly as possible and waited for him to finish talking to his driver and the grunts that would be riding with him.

“Sergeant,” he said, courteously when he saw her. She knew exactly what he was about to say now, braced herself for the delivery. It was a conversation that had been building for some time, and which they had already had a few times, come to think of it. Today would be nothing new.

“What can I do your for, Lieutenant?”

His face lost some of its joviality. He very quickly became all business. For the sake of anyone watching, he tried to look as non-conspiratorial as possible, though his voice was barely above the octave of a whisper. “I think it goes without saying that what happened… can’t happen again.”

“I understand, sir,” she said with a nod.

“And you know the reasons why, of course.” It was a statement, not a question. He knew damn well she knew, because as she knew, this was not the first time they had talked about it. And literally every grunt knew the rules and regs and why they were put into place in the first place. The only question she had on her mind was ‘why now?’

“Yes, sir,” was all she said though. “It’s not in keeping with the best traditions of conduct and is unbecoming of officers and NCOs.”

He cleared his throat and lowered his voice even further. “It’s more than just that -”

“I know that too, sir,” she said, interrupting. “Was there anything else?”

He straightened and nodded. “No, Sergeant. Carry on.”

She snapped him out a salute, firm and clear. She turned on her heel and proceeded back to her squad and their vehicle. Mill was already busy lubing and checking their gun and Whitman checking under the hood to make sure their fluids were topped up. The others were busy checking their guns, magazines and supplies of grenades. Just about all of them looked up with some interest as she approached.

“What’s the matter, Sarge?” Mill asked. “LT have some harsh words for you?”

“Ah, something like that,” she said with feigned casualness. She reached into the cab and pulled out her SCAR, began doing her routine check on it. “How’s the fifty?”

Mill cocked it one last time and pressed the trigger. The firing mechanism clicked loudly and cleanly. “Ship-shape ma’am. Shouldn’t give us any trouble today.”

“Good to hear. And how’s that engine coming, Private?”

Whitman looked up from underneath the hood and waved his hand. “Still needs a little work. We really should put in for a new fly-wheel when we get home. I was noticing a bit of trouble with the pick up. I also noticed we’ve been drifting to the left a little, probably should check the alignment as well.”

She slapped a magazine in her weapon and cocked it loudly. “Will she drive?” she asked coldly. Whitman’s eyes went a little bald and he backed up a step.

“Yes, ma’am. She’ll be fine for another few months. Just thinking long term, is all.”

Saunders nodded. “Good. We’re in the lead, as usual. Don’t want any fuck ups on the road.”

“No, ma’am,” he said, and carefully closed the hood. Without another word, he went to the drivers seat and hopped inside, doing his own weapon check before getting comfortable.

No one spoke to her again before they shipped out. And no one dared to ask if there was a problem, or worse, what her conversation with the LT was all about.

Clearly, the weather wasn’t the only thing that had turned cold suddenly.