Tasmanian SFG: Book III, Of One Mind, page 6
"I think their objective is to get rid of you so they can keep their operations a secret," I said, thinking about what I had discovered. "It's a criminal organization and potentially worth a fortune."
Moray nodded. "Makes sense. The flatlanders don't like us but have never hunted us."
"I have a solution, Moray," I said. "If you will let us pass over to the other side, we will eliminate the mushroom hunters and clear you of all the crimes you have been accused."
Moray sat silently for a long time, looking at me and then off into the distance. "You are Delphi army soldiers. Your commander will be following orders," he paused while staring into my eyes, "to capture or eliminate us."
"We are Delphi army, Moray, but not robots," I said and gave a laugh. "As my seniors are fond of saying, Jolie sometimes follows orders. We were sent here to solve a problem, not to kill mountain men. That may be some of the flatlanders' expectations, but not ours. Let me talk to my commander."
Moray nodded, almost reluctantly. I opened my TCom and typed while letting Moray see the screen.
Wallace, there is another group of red-top mushroom criminals in the valley on the other side of this mountain. The mountain Men will allow you to pass to engage them. I gave my word we are not after them but rather the criminals harvesting the mushrooms. The mountain men are victims of those criminals and local prejudices. Luan.
"You called him by his name," Moray said, appearing confused.
"We are equal in rank," I said, ignoring a long and confusing explanation. "He just has the leadership role for this mission. For this mission, I lead an independent platoon." It wouldn't hurt if he thought I had more authority than I did or wanted, truth be told. Before he could respond, my TCom buzzed.
Luan, thank Moray and tell him he has my word we will pass in peace. Wallace.
I turned the screen so Moray could see it. He nodded. Two hours later, an agreement had been reached, and the Tasmanians began climbing toward the top where Moray, a group of mountain men, and I waited. Wallace joined us with Tang, Sills, and Peters.
"Mr. Moray, I thank you for allowing us safe passage across the mountain," Wallace said after introducing the platoon leaders. "As Luan has pointed out, we want the men responsible for the killings, and that is the criminals harvesting the mushrooms, not you or your people."
Moray spent the next hour drawing a map of the area and the location where the mushrooms grew, where he thought the mercenaries had troops, and a route Wallace could follow to get back to Colonel Narciz's camp.
"If you don't mind, we will rest here until it's dark. Wouldn't want to give the mercenaries notice of our coming," Wallace said. Moray nodded as the platoon leaders began collecting their squads. "Luan, are you joining us?"
"Since my platoon has already destroyed one farm and its defenders, I thought we would let you have this one," I said, then added, "I'd like to stay here. The mercenaries wounded several mountain men and their family members trying to claim this range. My platoon has three individuals with medical specialties. If Moray doesn't mind, I thought we would look them over and see if we can help, and I would like to monitor the youth the flatlanders wounded."
"We would appreciate that," Moray said, looking to Wallace.
"All right," Wallace said. "Any suggestions?"
"The idiots in the foothills collected each night for a hot meal and were relieved each morning. We killed the group in the morning before their relief arrived and their replacements when they arrived. The farm will also have troops guarding the camp. I gave them an opportunity to surrender after we had killed most of the guards. The survivors were very talkative."
"That's good information. We will leave around midnight and see if they are as careless as the foothill's group," Wallace said and headed for his platoon leaders. As he did, Smitty and my team arrived.
"Moray, this is Smitty, my second in command, and the rest of my team," I said, waving toward the group. Moray looked confused.
"This group took out the entire mercenary group?" Moray asked in disbelief.
"Yep. We are called the Ghost Platoon," Smitty said with a broad smile. "Where to, Boss?"
I couldn't help a smile. They all looked like cats that just caught a mouse. "Isaac, Van, and I are going to visit anyone that feels in need of a medic." I looked to Moray. "Each Tasmanian has a specialty, since we are special forces and are frequently far from army support. Three of us are trained as medics and have extensive medical training. So, if any of your people have questions or would like us to consult, we would be glad to help."
To my surprise, Moray led us back into the tunnel and to his homestead. There, we visited each home and consulted on injuries and infections. In total, we treated twenty individuals. I checked in with the wounded youth and found his fever down, two and one-half degrees, to thirty-eight Celsius. Those with no medical expertise spent the time entertaining the men with stories of our training and assignments. Early the next morning, I received a text from Wallace.
Luan, the mercenaries used the same procedure as those you encountered. They are dead, and we are moving on to the farm. Wallace.
Thinking it would take Wallace several days to secure the farm and three or four to reach Colonel Narciz's camp, we stayed three additional days before making our way off the mountain.
CHAPTER TEN
Planet: Greenlan, Can't Please Everyone
We took our time descending the mountain to avoid injuries as I thought it would take Wallace at least a couple more days. He had also acquired prisoners at the mushroom farm. When we entered the command center camp, Narciz stood hands on his hips, glaring in my direction.
"Those prisoners were not mountain men. You were sent here to kill the murdering bastards," he shouted when we were still ten meters away. Before I could decide how I could politely point out he didn't know what he was talking about, he continued, "I guess it was too much to ask with a woman leading. The old Tasmanians would have killed the whole bunch and be on their way home by now." He spat on the ground toward me to prove how tough he was.
"You can tell my commander how pathetic the new Tasmanians are when he arrives. He should be here in a day or two," I said, deciding to ignore the idiot.
"Are you mocking me?" he screamed.
"I'm merely pointing out that any complaints against me need to go to my commander, unless you are attempting to provoke me into a fight," I said in a normal tone. "In that case, draw your weapon or attack me because you are delaying my team and me from a hot drink and a meal."
Narciz stared at me, and his hand rested on his multifunctional weapon. But before he could decide to challenge me, Pete spoke.
"Colonel, that furry little rabbit you are considering shooting is a seventy-kilo mountain lion. Whatever you decide, do it quick so we can get something to eat."
"I couldn't kill a woman. It wouldn't be right," he said as he turned and headed for the command tent.
"That was lucky," Smitty said, smiling. I turned to look at him, but before I could speak, he continued, "We would have been here days filling out paperwork and maybe an inquiry. It would be unthinkable, a small skinny girl killing a tall, muscular colonel in prime condition."
"I object. What a terrible thing calling me skinny," I said with a pouty face, then brightened into a smile. "I'm perfect."
"It's going to take a lot of food to get you to look the perfect woman," Van said. We laughed all the way to the mess tent.
Wallace arrived two days later with ten prisoners. I noticed Narciz didn't get into Wallace's face like he did with me.
"Well, Jolie, you prevented a potential disaster," Wallace said at a meeting with his platoon leaders. "The mountain men were being harassed by those they call the flatlanders and by the mushroom group. Consequently, when we came along, they felt threatened and weren't in a mood to talk. We took that as proof they were guilty of the recent killings. If you hadn't discovered the mushroom group, we would have killed a lot of innocent people and indirectly helped to introduce a dangerous illegal drug into society."
"How?" Tang asked, which I took to mean how did I know.
"The term mountain men to me meant men that like the freedom of the wild country and lived in the mountains," I said with a shrug. "If so, why were they roaming the more or less civilized foothills and killing people? I decided maybe the survivors could give me a clue. They convinced me someone was hiding something. They were, but they weren't mountain men."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bed Time Story
"Jolie, we hear you solved the mystery of the killings," someone shouted after we had returned from the morning breakfast. We had loaded yesterday evening for a three-day trip back to Delphi.
I performed my normal inspection of our bay as if to ensure no one was hiding in the bay to hear what I was going to say. It was part of the charade, as Wallace and the platoon leaders were boarded in the same bay.
"I had heard a rumor about some red-topped mushrooms growing only on Greenlan that gave a hallucination high like no other drug on the market today. I thought if I interviewed the survivors of the recent incidents, I might get a clue as to where I could find them. Turned out all they could do was piss and moan about men trying to kill them and their friends. But it did make me wonder why the men were shooting at these wimps and decided it was worth a look. We found the shooters, killed them and their replacements, but found no mushrooms. I gave my team hell for killing all of the shooters. How was I going to get any information out of dead men? I demanded we push on as they must be hiding something. My team whined the whole time about joining Commander Wallace and killing mountain men. I insisted we continue on. My mouth salivated over the thought of a wild-soaring mushroom high. I was excited when we found their base camp. We killed the guards, but I demanded we keep a few of the support staff alive. Someone had to know where the damn mushrooms grew. They didn't, and my team didn't let me kill them. We pressed on dragging our witless prisoners. I began to wonder whether chasing the mushrooms was such a good idea, when eureka, we found a mushroom farm. It was like a fantasy come true, and I was vibrating like a tuning fork. I could hardly wait for my team to kill the guards. At my insistence, they spared the staff that ran the farm. All for nothing. They had the gall to tell me the beautiful red-topped mushrooms were poisonous. They had to be processed to remove one of the lethal chemicals. I wanted them all shot, but my team refused. Then the boss man called. He was happy when I told him what we found. Did he reward me? No. He punished me by insisting I climb the fucking mountain." I stomped around the bay, glaring. "Do I look like a mountain goat? I could not imagine one thing I would want on the top of that mountain, but the boss is the boss. Then when I got to the top, what did he want? For me to go talk to the head man. The whole time I was tip-toeing up toward the top, I felt like one of those ducks at a shooting gallery, except the mountain men had real bullets. Furthermore, if one shot, the Tasmanians would return fire, and guess who would be in the middle. ME! I would look like a firing range target that had been hanging there for a week. I lost ten kilos and aged ten years on that hike. The chief mountain man told me there was another mushroom farm in the valley on the other side. I convinced the boss man I needed to stay at the top to protect his back. He agreed, which would have been a reason to celebrate, except for my team's whining. They wanted to accompany the other platoons. I couldn't stand the whining, so we left for civilization the next day. I was so happy to reach Colonel Narciz's command center that I did a little happy dance," I did another for effect. "I was in such a good mood I didn't cut off his ears when he played macho and screamed at me for not killing any mountain men." I bowed and received a long round of hoots and applause.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Planet Delphi: An Unscheduled Training Exercise
"Wallace was very impressed with your team's performance," Howard said when he met with me a week after we had returned. "He has recommended another year-in-grade bonus. He said you prevented the Tasmanians from participating in a major injustice. He also said your skit on the transport back to Delphi was a reward-winning performance. He liked that it downplayed you and your team's significant contribution."
"I guess he forgot to mention that I tend to forget I'm part of the overall operation," I said.
"He did mention that you forget that the commander would like to be kept up to date on how much fun you are having." Howard smiled.
"He was very nice about it," I said, feeling a bit ashamed. "Howard, I would like to take my team on a training mission. I think it will last eight to ten days."
"Is this post-assignment leave?" he asked.
"No, it's training," I said.
"I can't believe the ten Tasmanians you have on your team need training. You have the cream of the Tasmanians in both experience and performance." Howard was now frowning.
"Just a little fine-tuning," I said.
"Alright, they will be excused duty for ten days."
* * *
I was surprised to see Colonel Medina sitting with Smitty at breakfast the following day. I collected scrambled eggs, sausage, roasted potatoes, toast, and coffee and joined them when Smitty waved at the two empty chairs.
"All right, Fox. What is this training exercise you have planned for tomorrow?' Smitty asked. "And why do we need training?"
"We got another year-in-grade, and I wanted to make sure that didn't cause us to slack off," I said, trying to look innocent as I began eating.
"How can you get extra time in grade?" Medina asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Tasmanians have no rank, so when an individual or team does something extraordinary, they get time-in-grade added to their record. It is effectively a pay raise, although there is only one pay scale; the amount varies according to the individual's time with the Tasmanians," Smitty clarified. Medina shook her head like a duck coming out of the water.
"That means a person on a squad could be earning more than a squad or platoon leader," she said, her forehead wrinkled in thought.
"Crazy, isn't it?" Smitty said, smiling. "Everyone on Jolie's team earns more than her."
"I make up for it by letting them do all the work," I quipped and gave a wry grin.
"I know I'll regret it, but can I come along on your training exercise?" Medina asked.
"Sure. You meet the qualification criteria," I said but would not elaborate further.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Planet Delphi: The Critique
My Ghost Platoon, Medina, and I sat in the Devils Club celebrating the end of my training exercise when Wallace, Howard, and Simons entered the club, collected empty chairs, and headed for our table.
"Will someone explain to us Jolie's training exercise?" Howard asked.
"Medina, I heard you volunteered to go along," Simon said. "Were you an observer?"
"No, Jolie would not allow me to go as an observer. I had to go as a participant," Medina said and gave a snort. "She said I met the qualification criteria but would not elaborate. I knew I would regret it, but I had to know what she had planned."
"Did you regret your decision?" Wallace asked, leaning forward. I noticed the volume in the club had dropped almost to silence.
"There was a time when I thought it one of my worst ideas. Times when I would have quit if I could have found someone to take me back to base. Times when I hated her and wanted to punch her. But no, I do not regret my decision." She raised her beer to her lips and took a few gulps. Now the room was silent, and everyone had moved closer to hear Medina speak. "She instructed us to bring rations, clothing, and gear for ten days, loaded us into a shuttle, and took us to the interrogation area. She then said, this is a pass/fail exercise, and waved for us to enter the area. Someone asked our objective, to which she said, that is for you to figure out." The Devils Club was so quiet you could hear Medina take a sip of her beer. "For three days, we wandered as a group, becoming more nervous each hour as we could not find anything out of the ordinary. Toward the end of the third day, Jolie turned up and announced, You failed the group exercise. For the next part, you are on your own. No talking or helping anyone. Then she disappeared before we could ask any questions." Medina stopped to order another beer before continuing. "Three more days wandering that damn mini jungle, and there was nothing to find. The third day I think I spent most of it cursing Jolie. She appeared toward the end of the third day and said, I want you to sit and meditate. When you have the answer, return to the starting point," and disappeared again." Medina took another sip of her beer and smiled. "I sat for a full day, unable to clear my mind enough to meditate. After about thirty hours, everything shut down from pure exhaustion. A few hours later, I saw the answer and returned to the starting point where, within a few hours, everyone appeared."
Wallace was first to speak. "What was the objective?" he asked, which was what everyone wanted to know.
"Jolie began by stating this was a pass/fail exercise. She had planted the idea we could fail. When the group could find nothing, she had said the group had failed, and now it was up to the individuals—reinforcing each of us could fail while others could pass. After three days, I was desperate and consumed with the thought of failing. I could think of nothing else and couldn't clear my mind. The lesson, the goal is the problem at hand. Thoughts of succeeding or failing are a major distraction. Worse yet, once the thought of failing takes root, it dominates all your thoughts," Medina said. "Jolie has a way of making her lessons unforgettable."
"It took me over three months to understand," I said. "A lesson I will never forget, and why I sit when given a problem. I sit to focus on the problem and how to approach it. That way, you give it your best effort, and in the end, that is all you can do."
