THE RECRUIT
By; Gerald A. Polley
A couple of days later he was in school when the base adjutant came
in. "Sorry to disturb you," he snapped, "but you've got to come
with me. No questions, please!"
A soldier with
him took Imal's wheel chair and they hurried across the base, entered a
heavily guarded building, and were brought into a room where the
security officer Imal had met at the hospital was waiting with a man
strapped in a chair and an interrogator standing by. The security
man spoke.
"This is Ivan," he explained, "he's
supposed to be Ukrainian, but come to find out he's Russian! A
little while ago someone at the fire brigade station next to his
warehouse saw him take an emergency key for safety bars. He
didn't think much of it, figured he needed to open some bars on the
warehouse. But then when we asked around if any keys were
missing, he checked and found that one had not been returned.
We've been having quite a lengthly chat with Ivan, here! It seems
the dead man's name was Igor. They were associates when The
Russians were occupying part of Georgia! Igor liked to play with
little girls and then cut them up. He thought the commander's
daughter would be an easy victim. But Ivan doesn't like the idea
of losing his head! So he's made us aware of something. Him
and his big friend are spies. It seems The Russians and one of
our neighbors don't like how successful we're being here. Our
synthetic gasoline and fuel oil, not to mention natural gas, is cutting
into their profits, and, their influence. They can't put pressure
on the European countries when we can supply them product cheaper than
they can pump it out of the ground! So they've decided to launch
a little attack on us and take over our territory, claiming we stole
Russian children and they've come to rescue them. He says this
attack is supposed to take place in six months or so."
"Ow!" Imal moaned. "Is there any chance all this is true?"
"A very big chance!" the security man answered. "As you are the
complaining individual we can take no action without your
consent. I think we ought to send this thing to the chopper
tomorrow!"
Imal shook his head. "You must
read more of your First Speakers most excellent stories," he
remarked. "My personal feelings on the matter are of no
concern. What is of concern is the safety of our people.
Our little friend, here, is going back to work! He is not going
to let his associates have any idea what's going on. He is going
to be giving them all kinds of useful information, information we want
them to have while we will be gathering every bit of information we can
on their little attack. Remember, the greatest defense is a swift
and powerful offense. I hope by the time we're ready to strike
I'll be in condition to help. But I would suggest my wife to be
plan the attack. If our friend here, cooperates, he gets a nice
comfortable place in a labor colony. If he doesn't I'll
personally cut off his head with a dull knife! I won't use the
chopper!"
The security man smiled and kicked the
prisoner's chair. "What do you think, Ivan?" he asked. "You ready
to be monitored twenty-four hours a day to let us know even when you
fart, to have us record every conversation you have with anyone?"
"He's not kidding!" the man muttered. "I can see it in his eyes!
He really would kill me like that! Yes, I'll cooperate!
Damn! You people are scary! That drug is bad enough!
But he's terrifying!"
Everyone laughed. "Get him
out of here!" the security guard snapped. "Set up monitoring.
Nobody comes near him that we don't know about it. He doesn't
talk to anybody that we don't have a recording."
"Yes sir!" the interrogator snapped, unstrapped the man, and dragged him out.
"Let's get you back to your classes," the adjutant snapped, "before people wonder what's going on."
"Just a minute," Imal put in. "How does one apply to your First
Speaker for a pardon? My wife's aide, Roseanne. I'd very
much like to better her circumstances. I think she's
deserving. She's been through some hard times with us, with you,
I think she's deserving of a second chance. I don't think it will
be appropriate for my wife to present it. Is there anybody that could?"
The adjutant stared at Imal for a few moments then snapped, "I'll have
the paperwork on its way this afternoon. I'll sign it and I'm sure
quite a few others will sign it."
Imal
nodded. Two days later just after they'd got home, an orderly
appeared with a letter and a package for Imal. Imal read the
letter, smiled, called operations, and asked if the Damon from the gate
could drop by. "Damn! What's the man's name? I've got
to get people's names!"
The officer on the
phone answered, "The ranking Damon on that gate, sir, during the day
shift is Richard Boone, one of the finest we have. There is no
problem, is there?"
"No," Imal answered, "no
problem." A few minutes later the Damon appeared. "Damon
Boone!" Imal explained, "Tomorrow morning when my wife's aide is taking
me to classes she will be violating regulations. I wish you to
take this package and when we pass by remedy the situation." The
Damon looked bewildered but snapped "Yes sir!"
The next morning as they were passing by the gate the Damon blocked
their way. "Soldier!" he snapped, "How dare you pass by my gate
in improper attire? I will not have it! Give me that cap
and jacket!"
Rosanne looked totally bewildered
but her training made her remove her cap and jacket and hand them to
the Damon. "Turn around!" the Damon snapped, "About face!"
Roseanne did so. The man handed him a new jacket and he helped Roseanne
don it. "About face!" the Damon snapped. Roseanne turned
around and the Damon buttoned the jacket. Then he was handed a
cap. Roseanne stared at it. There was no yellow stripe
around the brim. The Damon put it on her head and adjusted
it. "Your wallet!" the Damon snapped. Roseanne took out her
wallet and handed it to him, trembling. The Damon opened it, took
out her I.D. card, threw it on the ground, took another from his pocket
and inserted it, then held it out. "Is your identification in
order?" he snapped.
Roseanne took her wallet, still trembling. "It's white!" she muttered. "It's white!"
"Is it in order?" the Damon snapped.
Roseanne quickly scanned the card. "Roseanne Imal," she muttered,
"D One. D One." She closed the wallet and put it in her
pocket. "My identification is in order," she managed.
"Thank you Damon!"
"Carry on!" the Damon snapped. "And from now on be in proper attire when you pass by my post."
"Yes!" Roseanne answered. "Yes, sir! Thank you sir!" She
looked down at Imal who was grinning.
Everybody around her began applauding. "This improper
demonstration of emotion will end!" the Damon snapped, "Everyone return
to their duties!"
Roseanne put her hands back on the wheelchair. "Soldier!" the Damon snapped, "A private question?"
"Yes sir!" Roseanne managed.
"I have tickets for a live performance in town Friday night. Would you be available to attend with me?"
Roseanne looked up and smiled. "Yes, Richard!" she answered, "as
it was a private question I will answer as a private individual.
Excuse me!"
When they got to the school
the staff was waiting to give their regards. Roseanne thanked
them and hurried off. One of the teachers looked at Imal.
"I don't think there's much that officer's candidate school is going to
be able to teach you," she remarked. "I think you already know
how to be an officer!"
Everybody smiled and they
got busy. It was almost time for the pins to come out and Imal to
start using crutches, to add physical therapy to his schedule. He
didn't think the teacher was quite right. There were things he
needed to learn. He was just doing things from the heart, and he
had to learn to do them from his mind. But he'd learn. The
joy he saw on Roseanne's face made him want to learn, made him want to
learn very much!