We Have Met the Enemy Segue: A Primitive Transmission
Professor Ormsby was still awake when I finally got to the compartment we shared.He looked up from the bottom bunk as I folded mine down. He was nice enough to wait till I sat down on our chair and removed my boots. Red sand fell out of the boots and Professor Ormsby hit a switch on the wall. Suction whisked the sand into slots where the walls met the floor. I wasn't spacer enough yet to call them bulkheads and decks.
"You are unwounded, Tyson?" Ormsby asked.
"Your meal ticket is indeed intact , sir. Have no fear!" I got my boots off and went to the top bunk, pulling myself up onto it. The professor was quiet a moment. Then he asked, "Are you all right?"
"You just asked me if I was wounded and I answered," I said rubbing my eyes.
"I know. I'm not asking whether your thick hide is intact. I'm asking if you are all right?"
"... Yes sir. Thank you. I made it through that search and rescue on the Artemis, and I was all right," I said a little peeved.
"Are you? Seeing those poor people put through a fourth dimensional ringer. I wonder. I'm sorry my present has such things to show you, Tyson. You've been grateful to me and a good companion," Ormsby said.
"... we left the Kingdom of the Golden Vale for the Badlands and proceeded on foot. Well I did," I began.
"Didn't they give you a lifter belt?"
"Yeah. As I said though I did the march on foot mostly. I tried the belt and I did that part of the march on my face." There was a small 'heh' from below.
"Did you find Dr. Rappanock?" Ormsby asked.
"We did not. We found a squad of Martian regulars who cut big furrows in the landscape with their disintegrators trying to kill us. There was no defector. They probably picked him up. If it was a trap ... they would have sent a company at least." The Polar Martians would regard capturing a Special Forces team as a rare prize. These guys had no idea what we were and were simply trying to kill us.
"Why do you think the Big Brain wanted you on this mission? ... You obviously know nothing of combat. No offense," the learned man said.
"None taken. At a guess ... we'd seen what could happen to a ship that traversed a wormhole when we tried to rescue the Artemis crew. So we could ask this Rappanock questions about turning people into abstract art and know if he was bullshitting us. Not all of the crew was cleared for knowing that," I answered.
I told Ormsby how we'd made the retreat with boulders sometimes exploding around us, otherwise in silence. We shot back when we could find some cover but the cover didn't last long. The disintegrators made sounds like corn popping (though louder) as they made molehills out of mountains. Rocket shells sort of went pfft. They were very quiet. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. POP! POPOPOPP! Like that for miles. Kilometers. People didn't know from miles anymore.
Right before the operation, Tornado gave me a present. "I think you called it a 'dry-by'," he said. I spent a moment looking at a firearm, remarkably compact and folded up into an even more remarkable pocket sized package, and then said, "You're thinking of a drive-by. It was when criminals would drive by their target and spray them with bullets."
Tornado nodded and showed me how the sub-machinegun unfolded, how to load the clips. He seemed surprised at my clumsiness. Of course, everyone from my time was a gun expert and part time pistolero. The weapon folded into something the size of a couple of paperbacks. Sorry, people didn't know what paperbacks were either.
I had kept that weapon in my back pocket, literally. Tornado told me I was a Specialist on this trek. In other words, everyone knew I wasn't there to fight, and not to take it out and maybe hit one of our own. I could agree with that policy. As a sign of the direness of out present straits Tornado told me to take it out now, load it and point it towards the enemy. I did so. I was pretty sure by now they thought everyone from the XXIst century was a gunslinger. I could see why, given some of the films of 'my' time. I was really sorry to disillusion them.
Previously, the only outstanding talent I demonstrated was popping cherries into my mouth and spitting the stems out tied in a knot. It went over well when we were sharing cocktails off duty. None of the crew saw that trick before, it was lost to history, as were whisky sours which I also schooled them on. Tornado nearly dislocated his jaw, trying to knot the cherry stems all night.
"I loaded up and waited for the Polar bores to show themselves. I didn't have to wait long. Tornado gave me the nod and I let loose. Everyone made sure they were behind me, but were polite about it. The machine pistol made a Godawful racket. The racket was worse by the echoes from the rocks around us. The Polars flipped out. Disintegrators went off everywhere. But none near me. I kept shooting and the clip went dry really fast, a couple seconds. I loaded another fast (I'd been practicing that at least). This time I tried firing bursts, waiting a few moments between them, to keep up the shooting longer."
And we ran our asses off. Ginny, the comm-tech was monitoring the Martian channels and she said our pursuers were screaming for support, that they were pinned down by some secret weapon! The Earthmen had a secret weapon. I kept shooting, mostly for show. It was quite a show. While the Polars kept their big heads down we made it across a couple ridges and to the Golden Vale Border. We got air cover after that and the pursuit lost interest. We didn't lose anyone."
"That's the best part," Professor Ormsby said. "I suppose Sergeant ... Tornado is quite pleased with you."
"He's making some more SMGs and ammunition in the shop now ... but he isn't exactly pleased. He's a little pissed. When we were thinking we were checking out -he asked me for the trick to tying a knot in a cherry stem," I said snerking a little.
"... so what was the trick?" Ormsby finally snapped. He also possessed a swollen jaw from trying the trick
"I have no idea. I can't tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue. I can show you how to palm a knotted cherry stem and stick it in your mouth with no one the wiser."
"Very amusing. But ... you don't often win a fight -or a war by misdirection," Ormsby chuckled.
"Professor ... you obviously know nothing about war."
"You are unwounded, Tyson?" Ormsby asked.
"Your meal ticket is indeed intact , sir. Have no fear!" I got my boots off and went to the top bunk, pulling myself up onto it. The professor was quiet a moment. Then he asked, "Are you all right?"
"You just asked me if I was wounded and I answered," I said rubbing my eyes.
"I know. I'm not asking whether your thick hide is intact. I'm asking if you are all right?"
"... Yes sir. Thank you. I made it through that search and rescue on the Artemis, and I was all right," I said a little peeved.
"Are you? Seeing those poor people put through a fourth dimensional ringer. I wonder. I'm sorry my present has such things to show you, Tyson. You've been grateful to me and a good companion," Ormsby said.
"... we left the Kingdom of the Golden Vale for the Badlands and proceeded on foot. Well I did," I began.
"Didn't they give you a lifter belt?"
"Yeah. As I said though I did the march on foot mostly. I tried the belt and I did that part of the march on my face." There was a small 'heh' from below.
"Did you find Dr. Rappanock?" Ormsby asked.
"We did not. We found a squad of Martian regulars who cut big furrows in the landscape with their disintegrators trying to kill us. There was no defector. They probably picked him up. If it was a trap ... they would have sent a company at least." The Polar Martians would regard capturing a Special Forces team as a rare prize. These guys had no idea what we were and were simply trying to kill us.
"Why do you think the Big Brain wanted you on this mission? ... You obviously know nothing of combat. No offense," the learned man said.
"None taken. At a guess ... we'd seen what could happen to a ship that traversed a wormhole when we tried to rescue the Artemis crew. So we could ask this Rappanock questions about turning people into abstract art and know if he was bullshitting us. Not all of the crew was cleared for knowing that," I answered.
I told Ormsby how we'd made the retreat with boulders sometimes exploding around us, otherwise in silence. We shot back when we could find some cover but the cover didn't last long. The disintegrators made sounds like corn popping (though louder) as they made molehills out of mountains. Rocket shells sort of went pfft. They were very quiet. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. POP! POPOPOPP! Like that for miles. Kilometers. People didn't know from miles anymore.
Right before the operation, Tornado gave me a present. "I think you called it a 'dry-by'," he said. I spent a moment looking at a firearm, remarkably compact and folded up into an even more remarkable pocket sized package, and then said, "You're thinking of a drive-by. It was when criminals would drive by their target and spray them with bullets."
Tornado nodded and showed me how the sub-machinegun unfolded, how to load the clips. He seemed surprised at my clumsiness. Of course, everyone from my time was a gun expert and part time pistolero. The weapon folded into something the size of a couple of paperbacks. Sorry, people didn't know what paperbacks were either.
I had kept that weapon in my back pocket, literally. Tornado told me I was a Specialist on this trek. In other words, everyone knew I wasn't there to fight, and not to take it out and maybe hit one of our own. I could agree with that policy. As a sign of the direness of out present straits Tornado told me to take it out now, load it and point it towards the enemy. I did so. I was pretty sure by now they thought everyone from the XXIst century was a gunslinger. I could see why, given some of the films of 'my' time. I was really sorry to disillusion them.
Previously, the only outstanding talent I demonstrated was popping cherries into my mouth and spitting the stems out tied in a knot. It went over well when we were sharing cocktails off duty. None of the crew saw that trick before, it was lost to history, as were whisky sours which I also schooled them on. Tornado nearly dislocated his jaw, trying to knot the cherry stems all night.
"I loaded up and waited for the Polar bores to show themselves. I didn't have to wait long. Tornado gave me the nod and I let loose. Everyone made sure they were behind me, but were polite about it. The machine pistol made a Godawful racket. The racket was worse by the echoes from the rocks around us. The Polars flipped out. Disintegrators went off everywhere. But none near me. I kept shooting and the clip went dry really fast, a couple seconds. I loaded another fast (I'd been practicing that at least). This time I tried firing bursts, waiting a few moments between them, to keep up the shooting longer."
And we ran our asses off. Ginny, the comm-tech was monitoring the Martian channels and she said our pursuers were screaming for support, that they were pinned down by some secret weapon! The Earthmen had a secret weapon. I kept shooting, mostly for show. It was quite a show. While the Polars kept their big heads down we made it across a couple ridges and to the Golden Vale Border. We got air cover after that and the pursuit lost interest. We didn't lose anyone."
"That's the best part," Professor Ormsby said. "I suppose Sergeant ... Tornado is quite pleased with you."
"He's making some more SMGs and ammunition in the shop now ... but he isn't exactly pleased. He's a little pissed. When we were thinking we were checking out -he asked me for the trick to tying a knot in a cherry stem," I said snerking a little.
"... so what was the trick?" Ormsby finally snapped. He also possessed a swollen jaw from trying the trick
"I have no idea. I can't tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue. I can show you how to palm a knotted cherry stem and stick it in your mouth with no one the wiser."
"Very amusing. But ... you don't often win a fight -or a war by misdirection," Ormsby chuckled.
"Professor ... you obviously know nothing about war."
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