SWNOVELS Fractured Earth: Chapter 7
Dan trudged toward the sound of yelling. Around him, the seventeen remaining recruits were stacking Orakh bodies under Abe’s supervision. The work was dull, sweaty, and occasionally messy when a body would twitch a little too much and have to be re-killed. He wasn’t one to pull rank, but the good thing about being the boss was that nobody asked you to contribute to the crap work, so long as you didn’t volunteer. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched the soldiers stack the bodies. Right now, that was something he was okay with.
“What do you mean you only have one-third of the requested supplies!” William thundered, verbally abusing some poor clerk from the militia. “We just fought off a quarter of the toads in this swamp; we’re sure as hell going to need more than this! Hell, with the amount of fuel you brought, we’ll only be able to fight two to three more times, tops.”
“Y’all can take what we’ve got, or we can just leave it here,” a man holding a battered-looking deer hunting rifle replied while shrugging. “This is what headquarters sent us out with. If it’s too little, take it up with them.”
“Do you see how many bodies they’re stacking over there?” William’s face was growing an unhealthy shade of purple-red. “Last I checked, we just killed something like 700 to 1000 of those things, all because you boys cocked things up and let us get surrounded! I need to talk to whoever is in charge of the provisions. We need to get this fixed up, or this unit isn’t going anywhere.”
“Go ahead and do that,” the soldier cradled his rifle under an arm as he lit a cigarette. “Just lemme know whether you want what’s on the boats. The boys’ll want a break, if you’re gonna turn it all down in a hissy fit.” He hooked a thumb toward where another four soldiers were struggling to unload a crate onto the island while another two stood guard behind them.
“We’ll want all of it,” Dan stepped between William and the insolent militia soldier. “That said, what’s under the tarp? Sure looks like there are some supplies piled up in the back of your boat that didn’t make it into the accounting.”
The soldier glanced at the back of his boat uncomfortably. The cheap metal hung noticeably lower in the water near the engine where a tarp covered a fairly decent-sized pile of something. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Dermot!” He shouted at one of the soldiers standing guard while Dan watched on impassively. “Looks like we accidentally didn’t prep all of the shipment for offloading.”
Dermot, a shorter man with scraggly black hair, looked back in confusion before noticing Dan and William. Immediately, his eyes shot to the tarp in the back of the boat, drawing a smile from Dan. Nervously, Dermot walked over to the tarp and pulled it back, revealing a handful of gas canisters and a pair of ammunition boxes. Dan nodded at him and turned back to the militia member with the hunting rifle.
“What is your name, young man?” William was fuming again, the metal of the suit framing his face as he screamed at the soldier. “This was clearly intentional. I will let your superior officer know that you were attempting to deprive soldiers in the line of duty of the tools that we’ll need to win this godawful fight!”
“James Smith,” the man replied smoothly, taking a pull from his cigarette. “Tell the boss lady whatever you want. She ain’t the one out here risking her neck to play pony express to a buncha thugs with some toys.”
“Well, Mr. Smith,” William’s chest was barely a foot from the man as he screamed down at him. “These ‘thugs’ are busy doing the actual work of fighting while you’re off playing soldier. We both know that you’re going to brag about all the Orakh you’ve killed when you get back to town in order to get some trim, but we also both know that you’re nothing but a glorified errand boy!”
“You, my friend, need a shrink,” the militia soldier replied, putting his cigarette out on William’s armor. He turned back to the rest of the militia team, cupping his free hand over his mouth while still clutching his rifle. “Alright, boyos. Break time’s over. Time to get back to camp before the boss lady sends us to bed without our suppers.”
William’s face was completely blank as he tried to process what had just happened. He reached for the militia soldier as the man began to walk away, only for Jennifer to step in from the side and push down the wrist of his armor.
“It wouldn’t accomplish anything.” Her voice lacked its usual warm and joking tone. “Even if he did try to short us on supplies, all we can do is contact the base camp and see what the holdup is.”
They didn’t speak for a moment as the militia’s engine drowned out anything they might say. Then William turned to Dan, his eyes sparking.
“Give me the radio, Thrush,” the older man could barely choke the words out through gritted teeth. “I need to call up your major and give her a piece of my mind. Between letting us get overextended, then not keeping us in supply, I want to know what kind of three-ring circus they’re running over there.”
“Sure,” Dan handed the walkie talkie over to William. “Just don’t embarrass yourself by ranting about James Smith.”
“I damn well will complain about that insolent son of a bitch,” William spat out, delicately picking up the radio in the giant gauntlet of his armor. “Not only was he incredibly rude, he tried to short us on supplies when the load was already far too light.”
“His name isn’t James Smith,” Jennifer intervened, her face still notably more wooden than usual. “The name came out too smoothly while he was in the middle of provoking you. None of the militia soldiers were actually using their names, other than that Dermot guy. But we don’t even know if that’s a first name, last name, or nickname. They were trying to avoid getting caught if we wised up to us shorting them on their supplies. I’d bet anything against James Smith being a real name.”
“Fine,” William sighed in dejection. “I’m still going to try and report him, even if it’s hard to pinpoint exactly who ‘he’ is.”
“Be my guest.” Dan spat on the ground. As even-keeled as he was, the constant foul-ups from the New Orleans Army were rapidly burning through his patience. He knew from Abe and William’s stories that even the best-organized armies had their share of mistakes and confusion, but so far everything about the clearing of the bayou left a bad taste in his mouth. If William wanted to chew someone out on his behalf to let off some steam, Dan was hardly going to rein him in.
He slumped as he inspected the three twisted wrecks that used to be powered armor. Especially not now that they suffered casualties, something they could have avoided entirely if the operation had proceeded as planned.
Dan wasn’t as close with the three dead soldiers as William and Abe were, but the entire situation reminded him of Brazil, and not in a good way. Soon. Soon, he’d be able to deploy to a combat zone with a fully trained team at his back and appropriate support from their employers. He was sick of good men and women that he was responsible for dying due to rookie mistakes.
“I don’t fucking care if Major Champlain is busy!” William shouting into the walkie talkie jolted Dan out of his woolgathering. “You need to get her right now, or we’re jumping in our goddamn boats and driving back to HQ right now. Then I’ll get her. We signed a contract with the Mayor that said we would be fully supported. I’m not sitting here to get in ‘glass half full or half empty’ debates with you, but our fuel tanks only have half as much as they’re supposed to in them!”
“But, Mr. Finch,” the man on the other end of the line began, only for William to cut him off again.
“But what?” he shouted into the radio. “But it was an ‘honest accident’ that you let our unit get overextended and ‘weren’t able to secure reinforcements in time?’ We lost two men and a woman because of that. Hell, I still haven’t seen the reinforcements we were promised almost an hour and a half ago!”
“Sir,” the voice from the radio squeaked nervously. “The other captains were unsure if the toads had completely retreated. They’ve been proceeding cautiously to avoid an ambush. I’m sure you under-”
“Oh I understand that their leadership failed both them and us!” William growled. “That means you, son. Where are the recon flights? Where are the helicopters bringing supplies and spotting for enemy movement? You own the skies, and we’re fighting absolutely blind.”
“One of the pilots had someone shoot shards of ice at him,” the man on the walkie talkie replied hesitantly. “The rest of them were reluctant to go out after that, and we didn’t want to push the issue.”
“I think you pushed the issue by letting us take on the brunt of the fighting!” William’s eyes were flashing again. “Then, when it was time to resupply us, you only sent about half of what we requested. Hell, your couriers even tried to steal some of our fuel and ammunition. Left a tarp draped over it and pretended they didn’t know any better.”
“Sir,” the officer quavered through the walkie talkie. “Those are serious accusations. We will certainly look into them, but given the gravity of your claims, an inquest will need to be formed.”
Dan sighed and snapped his fingers at William, motioning for the walkie talkie. If he let Finch have his way, he’d just keep yelling at some poor stooge for the next hour or two, and nothing would get accomplished. As satisfying as that would be, it wouldn’t get them anywhere.
He took the radio from a fuming Finch and spoke into it, his voice much calmer than he felt. “This is Daniel Thrush here. I am hereby declaring the Army of New Orleans in breach of their contract under clause IV(a)(3), negligent management and supply by a rightful officer. That means you can either put your General on the radio to dispute my charge, or we will stay put. Your army can handle the rest of this on their own, and we can go back to New Orleans for our payment, including losses and damages that come to about $180 million directly traceable to your office. I’m not a lawyer, but I seem to recall that those losses triple if I can show that they were caused by mismanagement, and I’m pretty sure I can.”
“What do you mean?”
Dan swore he could hear the man hyperventilating.
“You’ve been ordered to push forward! We’re less than 3 miles from the landing site, and your team are the only ones with the kind of armor we’ll need to breach the Orakh defenses without a bloodbath!”
“Then kindly shut the fuck up and put someone with more authority on the line!” Dan shouted into the radio, trying to ignore the looks of sympathy from Jennifer and William. “I’ve already lost three people for no reason because your command isn’t ready to run an operation of this size and complexity. I’m sitting right where I am until I have some assurance that you have someone other than the lunatics running the asylum.”