Carnifex. Part 32

7/2/468 AC, Quarters Number One, Isla Real, Balboa "Miss Lourdes," for McNamara had never quite gotten over calling her 'Miss Lourdes,' even when she'd become 'Senora Carrera,' " for t'e love of G.o.d, please tell t'e boss to call me forward. I just can' fockin' stand it no more. And I ain't got so many years left to me that I can afford to be here when t'e fightin's t'ere."

Rank and position are curious things. In any given military organization there are usually five or six people that run it. Sometimes it's the commander. Sometimes-and usually unfortunately, if so-it's the commander's wife. Sometimes, at the company or maniple level, it can be one lone sergeant, and not necessarily a senior one, in the training NCO slot.

In the case of the Legion Legion one of the true movers and shakers was one of the true movers and shakers was the the Sergeant Major, John McNamara. Part of this was that he had Carrera's ear. Much of it, though, was what the man was, himself. Sergeant Major, John McNamara. Part of this was that he had Carrera's ear. Much of it, though, was what the man was, himself.

Lourdes sighed. Patricio had asked her to be a shoulder for the sergeant major to cry on if-no, Patricio had said "when"-being left behind got to be too much for him. He must have told Xavier, too, for it was Jimenez who'd asked Lourdes to ask McNamara for lunch. He'd come, of course, and sounded like he'd been happy to. But he'd come with his craggy black face a mask of utter misery.

"What's the problem, John?" she asked. She avoided answering the question because one of the other things Pat had told her was, "I need him to stay here, to watch over the Legion's base and over you and the kids, too. I need him to keep watch out for Parilla. I need him here here."

It was McNamara's turn to sigh. Yes, sure as s.h.i.t the boss told Lourdes already that I Yes, sure as s.h.i.t the boss told Lourdes already that I can't can't come and play. come and play.

"It everyt'ing, Miss Lourdes. Jimenez don' need me here; his his legion, t'e Fourth, and his sergeant major can do just fine wit'out me. T'e Training Legion don' need me eit'er, with Martinez running t'ings. So I end up helpin' Parilla with t'e presidential campaign and...well...it just ain't me. It's dirty s.h.i.t, nasty, no place for a soldier to be." legion, t'e Fourth, and his sergeant major can do just fine wit'out me. T'e Training Legion don' need me eit'er, with Martinez running t'ings. So I end up helpin' Parilla with t'e presidential campaign and...well...it just ain't me. It's dirty s.h.i.t, nasty, no place for a soldier to be."

"And besides all t'at, Miss Lourdes, since t'e kids grew up and t'e wife pa.s.sed on I've had n.o.body to fight wit'. I'm bored bored."

"I don't think I can help, John. Patricio never has anyone do anything without a good reason. If he wants you, myself and Xavier here, it's for a purpose. I don't think we can buck him in this."

Artemisia Jimenez had only just caught sight of McNamara's vehicle as it pulled into Quarters Number One's driveway. She was too late to actually say say anything to the sergeant major. Still, she raced to put on gardening clothes and posted herself nearby so that when he emerged... anything to the sergeant major. Still, she raced to put on gardening clothes and posted herself nearby so that when he emerged...

"Why h.e.l.lo, Sergeant Major," she purred, looking up as he neared his auto. "If I'd known it was you visiting Lourdes, I'd have popped over."

Most women simply stood. Artemisia was fundamentally incapable of simply standing. Instead, like a fast action movie of a flowing plant, she blossomed blossomed onto her feet. onto her feet.

McNamara was not made of stone. Watching the sheer presence presence of Artemisia Jimenez blooming so closely would have taken the breath from any man. It did with him, as well. It did so, so completely, in fact, that McNamara simply bid her a nervous good day, got in his auto, and drove away. of Artemisia Jimenez blooming so closely would have taken the breath from any man. It did with him, as well. It did so, so completely, in fact, that McNamara simply bid her a nervous good day, got in his auto, and drove away.

If I were not more than twice her age, if I were no so old and seamed and gangly and outright ugly, Mac thought, Mac thought, I would never have left there. I would never have left there.

"s.h.i.t," Artemisia said aloud, watching the car drive off. "What did I do wrong? d.a.m.n, and he's so perfect perfect."

7/2/468 AC, Quarters Number Two, Isla Real Artemisia thought her uncle was possibly the second-most manly man she had ever seen. The first was...

"Uncle Xavier, could we ask Sergeant Major McNamara over to dinner? I saw him visiting Lourdes Carrera today and he looked extremely sad and lonely."

Jimenez was no fool. His niece's tastes in men had proven decidedly odd over the years. And she'd never shown the slightest interest in any of the young men who sniffed about the balconies so regularly. Jimenez folded his daily paper and put it aside.

After a sigh he said, "Arti, Mac's a fine man, but he's old enough to be your father...maybe your grandfather, if he was precocious."

Am I that that obvious? Or am I only that obvious to my older male relations? obvious? Or am I only that obvious to my older male relations?

"I don't care, Uncle. Ever since I saw him at the hippodrome, I've been fascinated."

"He's not rich, Arti, though I have no doubt that Patricio would fix that if he ever saw a reason to, or Mac asked. And he is is old, nearly sixty. There's no guarantee he could ever father children on you." old, nearly sixty. There's no guarantee he could ever father children on you."

Artemisia sniffed, pointedly. "Trust me, Uncle; women can tell. He could still father a score of children. Give him ten women and he could father two hundred. Uncle, the Sergeant Major is a man man."

Jimenez smiled at his niece. "Well...yes, I suppose he is. But what makes you think he might be, or even could be, interested in you?"

Artemisia didn't have to blossom for her uncle. A simply tilt of the head and half pirouette sufficed.

"Well," the legate conceded, pulling on one ear ruefully. "I suppose he could be at that."

Jimenez's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Young lady, you go hurting McNamara's feelings and you will find you are not too old, not too high and mighty, to find your old uncle pulling you over his knee and paddling you so that you cannot sit for a month."

Horrified, the niece shook her head. "Hurt him, Uncle? No...oh, nonono. I'm serious about this one. I intend to make him the happiest man in the world. Don't you see? He just... him, Uncle? No...oh, nonono. I'm serious about this one. I intend to make him the happiest man in the world. Don't you see? He just... smells smells right. He's the right one. I swear; I'll never hurt him." right. He's the right one. I swear; I'll never hurt him."

Still looking suspicious, Jimenez had to concede that Arti seemed sincere enough. "Very well then. You can hunt him, my little Diana. Though I foresee much wailing and gnashing of teeth from the Bachelor Officers' Quarters."

"Will you help, Xavier?"

"Brazen hussy. What is it with you and older men?"

"They're real men, Uncle Xavier, not boys. Besides, I was in love with you when I was a little girl and I guess that just typecast me for impossibly old men."

Slightly embarra.s.sed, Jimenez thought about that, his head bobbing from side to side. At length, he had to agree. G.o.d knows, he'd he'd been not nearly as much of a man at age twenty-five. been not nearly as much of a man at age twenty-five.

"Well...I suppose that my own sergeant major could use a little more advice...and perhaps I could, as well. And then there's the whole...well, never mind. I suppose I have been underutilizing this most impressive training a.s.set. Niece, please invite Sergeant Major McNamara, Sergeant Major Escobedo and his wife, and Legate Guttierez and his wife to dinner, next...mmm...let's say next Friday. Mess dress? Yes, that will give us an opportunity to show off your not unimpressive...a.s.sets and give you a chance to see just how impressive Sergeant Major Mac can be in full regalia."

With a yelp of joy-with her uncle on her side, poor McNamara didn't stand a chance-Artemisia launched herself to wrap her arms around Xavier and squeeze him tight enough to collapse lungs. After a moment she backed up and looked at him seriously.

"Xavier," she said. "If you had not been my uncle, I would have gone after you. you."

Interlude

7/6/47 AC (Old Earth year 2106), Terra Nova, Balboa Colony The shuttles came down in broad daylight, the better to intimidate the population.

Belisario Carrera, watching from a jungle-shrouded perch overlooking the ciudad ciudad, counted them as they descended. Multiplying by twenty-four, he came up with a number of new opponents that set his teeth to grinding and his stomach to churning.

Still, there's no way to tell from here, Belisario thought, how many are actually aboard, what their equipment is like, or what kind of soldiers they are. Hmmm... how many are actually aboard, what their equipment is like, or what kind of soldiers they are. Hmmm...

"Pedro?" Belisario called, summoning a short, stocky and dark, loincloth-clad fighter.

"Si, jefe jefe?" Pedro asked when he had crawled up to his leader's observation post. He ma.s.saged a sore shoulder as he lay upon the ground, gift of a captured UN rifle with altogether too much kick.

"I want you to..." Belisario began and then stopped. Pedro was a cholo cholo, an indian, but he was also very nearly the brightest of Belisario's followers. He was among the bravest. If Belisario asked Pedro to go into town and spy, Pedro would certainly do it. But the risk?

I must risk it. I must risk him. him.

"Pedro," Belisario continued, "I need to know what we're facing. Can you go into town and look around for me?"

The cholo cholo didn't say much, ever. He didn't now, either, but just nodded and began to slither backwards. didn't say much, ever. He didn't now, either, but just nodded and began to slither backwards.

Belisario returned his attention to the town below and the parade of descending shuttles. So even here I cannot escape Earth and its corruption. Ah, well, at least here I can fight and have a chance. But I do wish that before I left I'd killed more slowly that UN b.a.s.t.a.r.d who wanted to trade me my own land for my daughter. So even here I cannot escape Earth and its corruption. Ah, well, at least here I can fight and have a chance. But I do wish that before I left I'd killed more slowly that UN b.a.s.t.a.r.d who wanted to trade me my own land for my daughter.

The ciudad ciudad wasn't really much of a wasn't really much of a ciudad. ciudad. Even Pedro, Even Pedro, cholo cholo or not, knew that. Only the stone church had any real presence, at least since Belisario and his men had attacked and burned to the ground the local UN offices. It wasn't difficult for Pedro to keep a smile off his face as he pa.s.sed the ruined UN compound. After all, there was a substantial group of uniformed men busily working to rebuild it. or not, knew that. Only the stone church had any real presence, at least since Belisario and his men had attacked and burned to the ground the local UN offices. It wasn't difficult for Pedro to keep a smile off his face as he pa.s.sed the ruined UN compound. After all, there was a substantial group of uniformed men busily working to rebuild it.

Looking carefully at the soldiers, Pedro engraved on his mind the image his eyes saw. Big, strong, tough looking. Red cloths wound around their heads. Cloths look pretty neat. Might get one. Keep rifles close by or slung across backs. Hotter than s.h.i.t and they Big, strong, tough looking. Red cloths wound around their heads. Cloths look pretty neat. Might get one. Keep rifles close by or slung across backs. Hotter than s.h.i.t and they still still haven't taken off shirts. I smell trouble. haven't taken off shirts. I smell trouble.

Pedro had his basic letters and numbers. He counted, in all, about one hundred and fifty before moving on.

I thought other f.u.c.king UN b.a.s.t.a.r.ds looked tough, he thought, a few hundred more yards down the street. He, like the civilians of the town, rapidly got out of the way of another group of soldiers, marching silently in three files and about fifty ranks, separated into five groups. he thought, a few hundred more yards down the street. He, like the civilians of the town, rapidly got out of the way of another group of soldiers, marching silently in three files and about fifty ranks, separated into five groups. They short s.h.i.ts, like me. Eyes different, though. Skin lighter. But little f.u.c.kers look They short s.h.i.ts, like me. Eyes different, though. Skin lighter. But little f.u.c.kers look mean mean. And them big f.u.c.king curved knives they carrying? Scary.

After three-hundred of the toughest looking men he had ever seen, Pedro breathed a small sigh of relief as he got close enough to see the next group, just emerging from the shuttles.

Hah, that more like it. Them look like Botswanan fellahs we kick s.h.i.t out of while back. Smell worse, though. Jesus, n.o.body tell dirty f.u.c.kers "Cleanliness next to G.o.dliness?" I mean, I know water tight on f.u.c.king transport ships but...ewwww. It ain't like you sweat any in deep freeze. Them nasty f.u.c.ks musta been stinky when board ship.

Then Pedro smelled something he had only ever smelt once before in his life. That time had been at Toc.u.men Airport, in Panama, on old Earth, as he had been about to board the aircraft that would take him to the United States to be shuttled up to the Amerigo Vespucci. Amerigo Vespucci. He didn't know what caused it. At first he thought it might be the helicopters roaring by overhead. He didn't know what caused it. At first he thought it might be the helicopters roaring by overhead.

But, no...them too far away...downwind, too.

A horn sounding behind him half scared Pedro out of his coppery skin. He turned quickly, and found himself staring into eyes that just emerged above a long, green painted, solid-looking slope. He looked above the eyes, looked further up to what appeared to be a pipe sticking out of a half a trash can stuck on front of the universe's biggest frying pan. Up; a machine gun mounted atop a flat roof, with a soldier nonchalantly resting one hand on the gun, while waving with the other for Pedro to clear away.

Oh, s.h.i.t; they got tanks.

Chapter Thirteen.

We could wait no more In the burning sands on the ride to Agadir.

Like the dogs of war For the future of this land on the ride to Agadir...-Mike Batt, Ride to Agadir

28/2/468 AC, Firebase Pedro de Lisaldo, Pashtia "Sayidi, it's not like they don't know we're coming for them," said Qabaash, in the confines of the conference room tent near the main command post for the Legion's expeditionary force. "And, to a considerable degree of certainty, when. We can choose the exact time and the place and even the manner, but we cannot choose the fact or the season. The Kibla Pa.s.s must be cleared; they know this. They will be waiting and they will be prepared."

"'Prepared' is possibly an understatement, boss," added Triste. "Even if what the FS Army has caught moving into the area represents ninety percent of everything that was sent up there by the Ikhwan Ikhwan, and it doesn't, that other theoretical ten percent is going to be a b.i.t.c.h, taken head on."

"What are we facing?" Carrera asked.

"A reinforced brigade," Triste answered. "I can't tell you exactly how how reinforced they might be. a.s.sume more than their fair share of heavy mortars, possibly even a few tanks, reinforced they might be. a.s.sume more than their fair share of heavy mortars, possibly even a few tanks, lots lots of RGLs...fair amount of anti-aircraft, guns and shoulder-fired guided missiles, both. That's all pretty concentrated on the best landing zones, too. Some of the guns are reported to be in caves that cover the LZs and which are a just plain b.i.t.c.h to see until it's too late. of RGLs...fair amount of anti-aircraft, guns and shoulder-fired guided missiles, both. That's all pretty concentrated on the best landing zones, too. Some of the guns are reported to be in caves that cover the LZs and which are a just plain b.i.t.c.h to see until it's too late.

"a.s.sume mines and b.o.o.by traps and major major improvised explosive devices. a.s.sume the sides and underbeds of the road through the pa.s.s are wired for sound"-milspeak for wired to explode-"and that most of the LZs will be mined and covered by direct and indirect fire." improvised explosive devices. a.s.sume the sides and underbeds of the road through the pa.s.s are wired for sound"-milspeak for wired to explode-"and that most of the LZs will be mined and covered by direct and indirect fire."

Miguel Lanza, head of the air ala ala, usually kept fairly quiet at these little brainstorming sessions. Today was different.

"Jefe, there are half a dozen LZs within six or eight miles of the summit of the pa.s.s in which I could set down Qabaash' entire brigade in no more than three or four lifts. Every one of them is entirely unsuitable; I'd lose nearly every bird I tried to set down."

"Fine. What's not not unsuitable?" Carrera asked. unsuitable?" Carrera asked.

Qabaash raised an eyebrow at Triste, who proceeded to produce a photo and a large scale map and hand them over to Carrera. "This one might work, boss."

Carrera's face looked highly dubious. The photo showed a somewhat narrow ledge-no more than fifty meters in width-hunched against a series of cliffs with serrations in them. On the side away from the cliffs was a sheer drop.

"What's this good for? Maybe five or six birds landing at a time. It would take forever to get Qabaash' brigade on the ground."

"I think more like four birds at a time, jefe, jefe," Lanza corrected. "And the cross winds coming around that rock outcropping will be very difficult. But no; it won't take forever. a.s.sume we'll have to underload the helicopters some because of the thin air. Okay, so it takes d.a.m.ned near everything I have to get all of the Salah al Din brigade into the air at once. Call it one hundred and twenty choppers, anyway. At four per lift, or one per lift for the IM-62s, it will take just over an hour to get everyone in and out."

"But I can be moving on the pa.s.s on foot as soon as I have two companies landed," interjected Qabaash. "That's less than ten minutes..."

"Closer to five," Lanza corrected.

"Better still, closer to five minutes after the first chopper touches down and I am already on my way to the pa.s.s."

"And then what, Qabaash?" Carrera asked, frowning. "You've got two companies heading into a meatgrinder with at least a battalion dug in strongly strongly." He looked over the map and photo again. "And you've got two, count 'em, two two c.r.a.ppy trails from the landing zone to the objective." c.r.a.ppy trails from the landing zone to the objective."

"That's only if they all go towards the real landing zone," Lanza said. "I can buzz and false insert at every other good and even remotely possible LZ in the area. They'll never hear or see enough to know which is the real landing. I might lose a couple but...really...they don't have to commit to a landing, just to buzz the spot. The artillery can prep..."

"Not much artillery," interrupted Harrington, the logistician. "If you're moving all of Qabaash' boys at once there'll be nothing left to airlift guns and sh.e.l.ls into range. Only the multiple rocket launchers can range to the summit of the pa.s.s from where we can resupply by truck."

"Okay," Lanza conceded. "Have a little faith. With the MRLs, the Finches, aerially dropped guided bombs from the Nabakovs, and gunship support we can still put on a good show of prepping enough landing zones that they won't know where we're coming from. That means Qabaash will face at most..."

"A company," Qabaash finished. "And the day two companies of Salah al Din Salah al Din can't handle a company of can't handle a company of Ikhwan Ikhwan irregulars will be a cold, happy and batless day in h.e.l.l." He sounded very pleased at the prospect of demonstrating this point in the near future. irregulars will be a cold, happy and batless day in h.e.l.l." He sounded very pleased at the prospect of demonstrating this point in the near future.

Carrera held up his hand for silence. Immediately the other's shut up.

"We'll do it. As Qabaash and Lanza say. Terry?"

"Here, boss," piped in Terry Johnson, for the nonce commanding the Tercio de Cazadores. Tercio de Cazadores. His new rifle project was progressing under his a.s.sistant, another Volgan enticed away from the His new rifle project was progressing under his a.s.sistant, another Volgan enticed away from the Rodina. Rodina.

"I want you to start inserting teams all over the area within the next couple of days. In particular, get a platoon-a company if you think it needful and possible-into the area of the LZ...mmm, what should we call that LZ?"

"Let's call it 'Landing Zone Agadir,' Patricio," Qabaash supplied. "It was a small but lovely fight back on Old Earth, long ago."

"Agadir, then. Dan?"

"Yes, Pat?"