The Recruit
By; Gerald A. Polley
Chapter 3
When Imal arrived at the gate the older Damon in charge looked at
him and smiled. "Stun rifle!" Imal managed as he gasped for air.
"What?" the Damon asked,
"Stun rifle," Imal repeated.
The man reached down by the door, pulled up a stun rifle, and handed it
to Imal. Imal stepped in front of the booth where he could get a
clear shot at the five recruits walking away. Then the weapon
popped five times. Imal was glad that it had six rounds.
But he hadn't needed a spare. All five recruits went down.
Imal handed the rifle to a startled guard beside him and hurried to the
fallen men. Kneeling beside one he ripped open his shirt.
The guard beside him began to scream "Suicide vests! Suicide
vests! Clear the area! Everybody out of here! Suicide
vests!"
Imal studied the vest then,
pushing his hand up under the bottom of it, felt until he found what he
wanted. With a quick motion he yanked it out and threw it some
distance away. Then he went to the next man. The Damon from
the gate was already working on one of the others. In a moment
he, too, threw away a detonating charge.
"I need a vehicle!" Imal screamed. "Need to go after the bus that dropped them."
"Coming!" someone screamed behind him. Imal threw away another
detonator. Already two other men were after the last two. A
vehicle rolled up. The Damon was beside Imal and dragging him to
his feet. He screamed to the driver "This recruit is operations
commander! Follow his instructions!" Imal was quickly in
the passenger seat. "Go!" he snapped. "That way! An
older vehicle, looks like one of your buses but I don't think it
is. We've got to locate it and disable it!"
The vehicle was rolling before Imal even finished speaking. He
thought it was going to tip over when it turned on the road. The
speed at which it passed the other vehicles frightened him a
little. He was used to riding in old, rickety trucks that
sometimes barely ran. This vehicle's engine was top of the line.
A soldier in the back handed him a
headset. "Death behind us!" he screamed. "They want to know
what's going on. Please advise them, operations commander."
Imal took the headset, managed to get it on, and asked "Do you hear me?"
"Yes sir!" a very pleasant voice answered.
"We're pursuing a vehicle," Imal explained, "that dropped off five men
wearing suicide vests. I do not think that was it's...THERE IT
IS! THERE IT IS!" he screamed, "Going the other way! It's
on the other side of the road."
With incredible
effort his vehicle slowed down a little then shot across the medium and
roared up the other side of the road to the blare of horns and
screaming voices. As the commotion continued behind him, Imal was
sure the Death vehicle behind them had done the same thing, and from
the slight bang he heard, he believed someone hadn't quite got out of
the way.
"He mustn't get back to the
base!" Imal screamed "Ram him! Knock him off the road! Do
whatever you have to do! Don't let him get back to the base!"
"Beg pardon, commander," came the pleasant voice behind him, "that's
our job, sir! Give us room!"
Instantly Imal's driver slowed down a little bit and pulled over.
A vehicle a little bit bigger than theirs and with a much bigger weapon
on the top rushed by. In moments it was beside the bus. A
moment later it and the bus were flying off the road. Somehow the
Death vehicle managed to stay upright, though it crashed through a
couple of sand barriers. The bus, however, hit one, flipped end
over end, hit another one, and started rolling over and over, finally
coming to rest on its roof. Imal could not believe the occupants
of the Death vehicle came flying out rushing to the bus! His
driver pulled over a safe distance away and they all piled out.
After a few minutes a tall, lanky man in a Republic uniform with black
stripes around his wrists, came over to them holding a handkerchief to
a cut on his face. "Driver's dead sir," he announced, "he wasn't
strapped in. Not much left of his head. That thing's a
nightmare! It's got six large mortars plus a large explosive
charge. If he'd got on the base and knew where to fire those
mortars, a lot of damage would be done. Good mission, sir!"
"Thank you!" Imal answered. "You'd better get that treated. Anybody else hurt?"
"Just a few scratches," the Warlock answered. "But I think we're gonna need a tow vehicle."
"On it's way," Imal's driver answered.
They all saluted and headed back to the camp. As they were
nearing it the driver spoke up. "Sir, if you ever need a driver I
would be honored. You've obviously got the luck, sir!"
Imal smiled. They got back to the gate. A Warlock was
there. He motioned to Imal. "Report, mister!" he snapped.
Imal explained what had happened as best he could. "Good report!"
the officer snapped. "I've got just a few questions. How
did you recognize that these were not recruits?"
Imal thought for a moment, then answered "They're too filled out,
sir. They've obviously been well fed for quite a while.
Look at the other recruits, even the ones that have been here
awhile. I've seen men wearing those things before they went to
use them. And the vehicle wasn't right. That big a vehicle more
people should've gotten off it."
"Where did you learn to use a stun gun?" the officer asked.
"Never actually handled one," Imal answered. "Held a mock up
once. That's how I knew how it worked."
"Good Lords!" the officer snapped, "You mean you took a weapon you'd
never actually fired before and made five good strikes?
Damn! This is almost bordering on a Happening! All
right! Well done! I think for security reasons we should
put you in more secure quarters. I think there's open rooms in
the officer's barracks. I'd just like to have you in
someplace a little bit more secure." He motioned over a
Damon. "Take care of it!" he ordered.
"Yes base adjutant!" the Damon snapped. Everybody exchanged salutes and Imal was led away.
"Would you mind a question?" he asked the Damon as he walked.
"Anything you need to know, sir," the Damon answered.
"The soldiers with the black cuffs. They're special operations,
right? Some of them are dying, right?"
The Damon stopped, turned and looked at Imal. "If they've got the
black cuffs, son," he answered, "they're all dying. Only The
Black Death have black cuffs. But don't ever show them any
special favor. They resent it. They're soldiers doing the
best they can with the time they have left."
"I understand," Imal answered, "thank you!"
They got his things and secured him in a very nice room. He was
just wondering about finding the mess hall and getting some supper when
there was a rap on his door. He opened it to find a very pleasant
looking young woman standing there. "My compliments, sir!" she
snapped. "The base commander would be very much pleased if you
would join her for supper! Would you follow me, sir?"
Bewildered, Imal followed her. As they walked he noticed she had
yellow cuffs on her uniform. The woman tried to pretend he hadn't
noticed, but muttered "Please don't ask!" Imal smiled and they
continued on. There was an area of the base that had what
appeared to be pleasant little houses. He was led into one.
The base commander sat at a diningroom table in a dress that was
definitely not military.
"Your guest, madame!" the young woman announced.
"Thanks so much, Rosanne!" the commander answered, "You are excused.
Please tell the cook to serve us and you too, have your supper."
"Yes, ma'am!" the young woman answered."
Imal tried to remember protocol and decided where the commander was in
civilian dress and they were in her quarters he should not
salute. "Thank you for inviting me!" he remarked."
"As you probably saved my butt," the commander answered, "I would've
been very out of place not greeting you! Do sit down!"
Imal smiled and did so.
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