Tasmanian SFG: Book III, Of One Mind, page 5
"Alright, scouts lead, alternate every half hour, Smitty and me at the end followed by the prisoners and the two women separated by fifty meters," I said. "Smitty, bring Daren; he can point the way and maybe save us some time." Smitty untethered him from the line and brought him over to me.
"Daren, you have been to the farm, right?" I asked. He nodded. "Good. How far and which direction?" He stood mute for several minutes. "Daren, you have nothing to gain by refusing to answer or lying, but much to lose. As far as I'm concerned, you are one of the killers and disposable if you are of no value, and no one is going to question one more dead man."
He turned a bit pale and pointed. "It's about a kilometer in that direction."
I nodded to Pete, who looked like he was the one who was ready to lead. He turned and began walking. Within five minutes, we were all on the move. An hour later, the scouts stopped, and Pete came back to me.
"The farm is about fifty meters ahead. Jafar and Cedric are scouting the area. It looks more like a rice paddy with several tents off to the side."
Twenty minutes later, Jafar appeared. "It's like a farm. Four persons are collecting mushroom-looking plants and taking them to a large tend where several more people are processing them. There are four guards patrolling the area and another eight wandering around. They have a large tent with beds, a mess tent, and a smaller tent."
I nodded and motioned for everyone to gather around. "Same procedure as before. Surround the camp and on my signal, Begin, shoot the guards, then the off-duty soldiers. On my second signal, Broadcast, Smitty will give the workers a chance to surrender." I had five snipers, including me, four to watch the prisoners, leaving an additional two for backup. At this distance, any Tasmanian could hit the target in the kill zone. I found a place with good cover and view and settled down to wait for my team to get in position. The area with the mushrooms did resemble a rice paddy, if not as neat. It appeared to be an area that flooded in the summer from the mountain runoff. Men and women with high waders were roaming the two-acre field, evaluating the plants and harvesting the ones that met their appraisal criteria. Those were brought back to the large tent, which from the sounds and electric lights had some kind of equipment. At present, four guards were sitting around a small fire, smoking and drinking. I could see a shadow in the other large tent, lit with only a small lamp. Probably the barracks. I decided to watch that tent. Ten minutes later, I had signals from my six team members and sent Begin. The four guards dropped almost simultaneously. Then the circle of men around the fire. No one exited the barracks or the processing tent, so I sent Stop.
"Attention, attention. You are surrounded by Tasmanians. Exit the tents without weapons and lay face-first on the ground, and you will be unharmed." Smitty's voice boomed in the night. When no one appeared, Smitty repeated the message, and I put several bullets through the top of each tent. As several of the workers appeared, Smitty repeated the message. Just then, several men exited the barrack at a run with rifles. I killed two before the other two stopped, dropped their rifles, and lay face down.
"Who's in charge?" I asked an hour later when we had our original eight prisoners and the two soldiers in the barracks under the watchful eyes of Cedric, Josh, and Art. The rest I had collected in the large processing tent, which had electric lights, several unknown machines, and two computers.
An older man with a full beard raised a hand. "I'm Doctor Viktor. We're not doing anything wrong," he protested.
"You would make a good example of what happens when you don't cooperate," I said as I took out my Jericho and raised it towards Viktor's chest.
"Wait!" he shouted. "We're collecting the red-top mushrooms…and processing them into medical compounds." He waved at a table that had a number of plastic bags. I walked over and picked up several of the bags.
"They are labeled 'U,' 'M,' and 'X.' Explain," I said. He hesitated for several minutes until I raised my Jericho.
He waved his hands to stop me. "'U' is for unprocessed. It needs further refining. It currently contains contaminates. 'M' is for medical grade. That has had the element removed, which makes it dangerous. And 'X' is ready for…selling."
"I need a better explanation," I said and had the tent cleared of everyone except the doctor, Isaac, Smitty, and me.
"Today, everyone considers the red-top mushroom poisonous and worthless; however, my research indicated that native witch doctors several hundred years ago used the drug in ceremonies. I managed to get several red-top mushrooms and conducted experiments that confirmed the mushroom is poisonous if cooked or eaten raw. If processed and given in the right doses, it is a powerful hallucinogenic, very addictive, and produces an experience like no other drug. Unfortunately, over time, the processed drug destroys the brain. On the other hand, if a key element is removed, the processed material has the potential to cure several mental disorders."
"Why not take a few plants and grow them in a laboratory?" I asked. This seemed unnecessarily complicated and costly.
"We tried that, but somehow the water from the mountain and or the dirt contains something that cannot be duplicated elsewhere," Viktor said.
"So," I said, beginning to understand. "Whoever is funding this effort wants the 'X' powder to sell on the street, and for processing it, you get to keep the 'M' powder." He nodded. I took out my TCom and typed a message to Tang.
Tang, the farm is at position G9 on the local map we were given. The area is clear. Luan.
Two hours later, I was notified Tang and his platoon had been spotted. He walked into the farm five minutes later with his three men. "Good morning, Fox. I would like you to meet my squad leaders: Bernott, Vencel, and Cartell," Tang said, nodding to each man in turn. "This is our sister, Jolie the Fox. Leader of the infamous Ghost Platoon."
Bernott was in his late twenties, tall, and lean. His angler face had a trimmed mustache and a flirtish smile. I'd bet he was a lady's man. Vencel's square face was intense as he surveyed the area. He was of average height, muscular, and in his mid-twenties. Cartell's round face was smiling as he greeted me. "Good to finally meet you, sister. I can now put a face to all the stories."
Vencel's eyes now turned to appraise me. "I always imagined you different. But it explains the problems you have. You are easy to dismiss on first sight."
"Not a good date." Bernott smiled. "Be like playing with a Bouncing Betty."
"Well, Fox. Wallace is anxious to talk to you, so he sent me to free you of your current responsibilities," Tang said. "But before you run off, I would like to get some background on what the Ghost Platoon has been doing." I sat. Tang smiled and also sat followed by his team.
"I decided to interview the survivors…" I began, choosing to start at the beginning.
"So, you don't think the mountain men are the problem?" Tang asked when I finished.
"I don't know the history, but I wouldn't doubt that the locals share some of the blame. I would wager the last group of ten men went out with the intention of hunting the mountain men and killing any they found," I said.
"Vencel, I'll leave you to secure this area. Cartell, you can escort the prisoners and the two ladies to Colonel Narciz. Bernott, we will escort the Ghost Platoon to Wallace. I want to see how this story ends."
CHAPTER NINE
Planet: Greenlan, The Mountain Men
We left two hours later and traveled at a typical Tasmanian double time. Tang had estimated we were about six hours from Wallace's position but thought we could make it in four if we pushed hard. Naturally, the time flew by as I wasn't anxious to see Wallace. True to Tang's estimate, a little over four hours later, we reached a cluster of trees and a small tent. Wallace was standing outside the tent talking with his platoon leaders when we arrived. Wallace surprised me.
"Good, our ghost has arrived. I want all my platoon leaders inside," he said, ducking as he entered the small tent. I had expected a one-on-one talk, although Howard had conducted his reviews in public. The inside of the tent was bare, except for Wallace's backpack. "Luan, report."
I wasn't sure what Wallace wanted but thought it best to start at the beginning to keep everything in context. "I began by interviewing…" My briefing lasted two hours because of the number of questions.
"You believe the mountain men are innocent of the latest killings?" Wallace asked.
"All we have is the locals' side, and we know that is based on inaccurate hearsay and unsupported conjectures. I think we should hear their side."
"Alright, Luan, but don't take any unnecessary chances," Wallace said and stood, ending the meeting. I stayed as the others left.
"Sir, I'd like to apologize for not keeping you up to date. It was negligence on my part," I said, wanting to hear any bad news now rather than at some future time.
To my surprise, he laughed. "You know our unofficial motto, but do you know what it stands for?" he asked, now looking serious.
I thought about it, Of One Mind, and decided it wasn’t as obvious as Always Faithful. Before I could continue, Wallace spoke.
"I think we all feel it in here," he tapped his chest, "but most would have trouble putting it into words. We are like a single organism, like a human person. Each of us contributes to the wellbeing of the organism in some way, like a liver, or kidney, or muscle, or… When that organism is attacked, we all come to its defense. Devils to Me is an example. A part of the organism is being threatened or attacked, so we all respond. It's the subconscious reason you rejected Willis and George. They would have been a cancer in the organism. We have found you contribute to the organism best when you are free of specific responsibilities. You and those who follow you are like antibodies, guarding us against foreign bodies. Today, you have stopped us from killing the mountain men for crimes they haven't committed." His face turned serious. "But with that freedom comes a responsibility to the organism to keep it aware of your activities in case you are needed elsewhere and to ensure you aren't mistakenly attacking the organism." A slight smile emerged. "Now go talk to the mountain men."
"Yes, sir," I said, and he frowned. "Commander."
He nodded. "Commander or Wallace or Sage but not sir. We are each equal as we are each integral to the success of the Tasmanians."
"Thank you, Commander," I said, feeling properly chastised. He was right. I was free to seek potential problems but was still part of the team. Not keeping in touch detached me from the team. I silently vowed to remember that as I sought out my platoon.
Seeing Smitty wave, I headed in his direction. "What's the situation?" I asked as I sat in the middle of my team.
"The command is in a line stretching a hundred meters long about twenty-five meters above us," Smitty said. "The mountain men, who number around forty, are about a hundred meters higher. Wallace and a man named Moray have agreed on a temporary cease fire awaiting news from the foothills concerning the recent killings. There have been no violations."
"That's comforting," I said. It would just take one trigger-happy idiot to ruin my day, not to mention my life. "I would like you covering me in case something goes wrong, but I'm afraid that could spook the mountain men into thinking we were planning something devious. So, relax while I try to get a one-on-one with this Moray guy." I rose and began climbing while trying to stay visible. When I saw several Tasmanians, I stopped and shouted.
"I'm Tasmanian Luan. I would like to meet with the man called Moray to discuss the current problem."
"There is nothing to discuss. None of you are going any further!" a gravelly voice shouted.
"You sound like Tasmanians, ready to die fighting," I shouted. "But we don't have families who will potentially be collateral damage. Tasmanians would never intentionally target women and children, but bullets and bombs are without ethics. Besides, I would imagine your women would join the fight if they thought you were losing." Silence followed my speech.
"How can we guarantee you wouldn't shoot Moray if he shows?" the same voice shouted.
"Easy. I come up to you, and you can determine a safe place to talk," I shouted, not sure I would be heard otherwise.
"You can come up, but only you," the voice shouted. I immediately began climbing. It took me twenty minutes to reach what appeared to be the mountain men's defensive line. When I did, a man in his twenties waved for me to join him. He stood next to what looked like a shack built into the mountain. As I neared, he opened the wooden door and stood staring at me. After a minute, he smiled while looking me up and down like a prized cow. I ignored him and entered the door into a well-lit cave. Four men sat on small benches around a rustic table. Ammo and guns were stacked on the opposite wall along with what I thought were bombs, protective gear, and night vision equipment. Obviously, they wanted me to know they were well-armed and fighting them would be costly.
"I'm Moray," a middle-aged man said. He looked like a grizzly bear with his full beard, bushy eyebrows, and unruly full head of brown hair. Even sitting, he was a large man with broad shoulders, thick neck, muscled arms, and fifteen centimeters taller than the tallest of the other three men.
"Hi, I'm Jolie," I said as I sat down on the spare bench uninvited. "Can I assume you speak for the mountain men?"
"Yes, and a woman…girl speaks for the mighty Tasmanians?" Moray snorted. I instantly thought of a hundred retorts, but I was here to save the idiots, not to incite them into a suicidal response.
"My platoon and I began by interviewing the five incidents which were the basis for Greenlan asking Delphi for help in ridding the wilderness of the mountain men—"
"They don't own the mountain. It's free land," the oldest of the four said.
"The flatlanders don't have the balls, and you Tasmanians ain't our fucking equal," the younger of the men snarled. I continued like they hadn't spoken.
"It turns out that some criminal organization has discovered the red-topped mushrooms have the potential to be the next designer drug and worth hundreds of millions of credits—"
"They're poisonous!" several said spontaneously. Again, I ignored the outburst.
"They created a camp where the mushrooms are growing, hired a staff to harvest and process the mushrooms, and sixty mercenaries to ensure no one discovered their operation. My team has shut down their operation. I believe they were responsible for the first four reported incidents. I think you were responsible for the fifth—"
"This land belongs to us, and you Tasmanians and the flatlanders ain't welcome here!" the youngest man shouted as he stood. Another man also stood and was leaning toward me. I slammed my hand on the table.
"SIT!" I shouted. "You're as jumpy as teenaged girls viewing a horror video." In the stunned silence, I continued. "As I was saying before your testosterone went viral, I believe a group of…flatlanders decided to take the law into their own hands and invaded the mountains with the intention of killing some of you in retaliation."
Moray waved the men to sit. "Yes. They shot first without provocation and seriously wounded a teenaged boy hunting frogs. He's very sick and may die."
I stood. "Let me see him," I said. "I'm a qualified field medic, and I can get whatever is necessary to help."
As Moray rose, one of the men shook his head. "You can't take her to our homestead."
Moray smiled. "She looks like a teenager, and we are acting like teenagers. If there is a chance she can help Erin, it's worth the risk." I followed him into a tunnel for what seemed like hours. There were no lights, but Moray carried a battery-driven lantern, which made shadows and gave me an eerie feeling that ghosts inhabited the tunnels. Eventually, he climbed a ladder which brought us out onto a flat plateau. Fifty meters in the distance, I could see a cove of trees dotted with log cabins spaced fifty to a hundred meters apart. We entered one.
"Morane, this is Jolie. She's a medic," Moray said softly. Her stern face relaxed as she crossed the room and opened a door. Inside, a youth lay on a cot, moaning. When I touched him, he was burning with fever. I peeled back his nightshirt to reveal his hip. It appeared to have been a bullet wound that had been enlarged to remove the bullet and then stitched close. I opened my TCom.
"Isaac, I have a bullet wound which has become seriously infected and is leaking a greenish puss," I said. "I need a ten-day antibacterial pack. When they call down to you, bring it up to them. They will deliver it to me."
Moray nodded his approval. He obviously wanted to keep this location a secret. Tucked away in a thick cover of trees and the houses constructed from logs made them near to impossible to see from the air.
The pack arrived three hours later. I immediately set up an IV, taped the pump to the youth's shoulder, set it to administer the drug every eight hours, and attached it to the IV. Next, I contacted Wallace.
Wallace, I'm safe. I plan to stay with the youth for the next twenty-four hours to ensure the antibacterial drugs are working. He was shot during the ten-man incident. Luan.
Morane brought me a coffee-like drink as I worked to clean and re-stitch the wound. When I sat back satisfied I had done as much as I could, Moray spoke.
"Thank you, Jolie. We have been having troubles with the flatlanders for years. But for the most part, they have been minor incidents. Shooting at us thinking we were a deer or bear or heaven only knows what. In truth, our clothing makes us hard to see and easy to confuse trigger-happy inexperienced hunters, but over the last year, the violence has escalated."
"That is because the mercenaries have been doing their best to place the blame on the mountain men," I said. "It doesn't help that the flatlanders have failed to substantiate the incidents and gave in to old prejudices."
"That also explains the increasing incidents we have been having this year with the group in the valley on the other side of this range. They have killed five of our group and wounded another six over the past month." Moray said. "We thought them flatlanders and feared for the lives of our families. Consequently, when you arrived, we thought the Tasmanians were hired by them."
