Soldiers and Secrets

Chapter Two

Gant, E. Jon - Soldiers and Secrets [Avidbook, Alternative F/F, LGBT, Sic-Fi, Military, Action Adventure] Chapter Two

Damascus pulled the motorcycle to a halt outside the block of flats, cut the engine, stepped out of the machine. As she did, she glanced at the single-bedroom house tucked in behind it. She nodded.

Securing the motorcycle, she checked her watch, nodded, and walked down the side road towards the house. As she closed in, she saw someone standing by the door. Seeing her, the figure walked slowly towards her.

“Miss Damascus?”

“Yes.”

“Jeff Michaels. Letting agent. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you, too. Shall we take a look?”

“Follow me.”

Michaels unlocked the door, led the way in. “It has everything you specified. Single bedroom, minimal kitchen, no garden. May I ask..?”

“I’m a soldier. Going to Portsmouth. I don’t wish to stay on base unless it is absolutely necessary. Also, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.”

“Ah. Understood.”

“Any particular notice period you require if I leave?”

“A month will be sufficient.”

“Okay.”

Kitchen - small, enough for one.

Bedroom, bathroom, sitting room – all fine just for one.

She nodded. “Good enough. I’ll take it.”

“Excellent. How soon would you like to move in?”

“Now.”

The agent’s eyebrows shot up, he blinked twice, then tilted his head slightly to one side. “Okay. Here are the numbers for the comm set up…”

“I won’t be needing it. I’ll be using my own equipment.”

“Very well. Electricity and gas supply are by key…”

“Look, I’m sorry to sound impatient, but can we just get the paperwork completed?”

“Of course.”

Twenty minutes later, Damascus was alone in the flat, the keys in her pocket. She took the electronic diary from her pocket, checked the time of her appointment.

She nodded. Twenty-one hours to go.

Time to get herself a few home comforts. Like a bed. Bring the motorcycle up to the front door, get her possessions out of the panniers and top box. Find her computer, make the orders she needed.

It was all a go.

* * * *

Captain David Anthony lay back in the chair, breathing slowly and deeply, trying to relax. His closed eyes and air of apparent calm did much to give the impression he wanted to show - an in-control captain.

The funeral had stressed him out. While it was supposedly a family affair, Anthony had been invited because he was the soldier’s commanding officer.

Second Lieutenant Paul Williams had been an excellent soldier, destined to go a long way, when he had been killed in by a landmine.

Anthony shook his head. Mines! For God’s sake, the use of mines had been outlawed a very, very long time ago. It was only people like drug barons who were still using them to protect themselves and their properties from the forces of law and order.

Why?

His replacement was looking like a problem. Former captain. Good skill level, high marks in many subjects. In some ways, a good copy of Paul. Not better or worse, just different. He was hoping she would slot in quickly, finding her own place, not simply as a replacement. From her record, she looked tough enough to do just that.

But she was a demoted captain.

He hoped he was right, despite the demotion and the reason it was given. She must have been provoked really badly to put the soldier down like that, but if she had been insulted, then perhaps it was justifiable. He hoped her presence was not going to be a problem.

He hoped her sexuality was not going to be a problem.

* * * *

Angela White dismounted the bus, and walked the twenty yards to the main gate. She smiled.

“Hey.”

“Angela.” The young soldier smiled. “Man, it seems an age you’ve been away.”

“It’s only been a fortnight, Derek.”

“Any time I don’t see you is an age, you know that.”

She smiled. “Look, Derek. I’ve told you many times already. I like you. You’re a real nice guy, but you don’t do anything for me.”

“You do loads for me. You have done since the first time I saw you walk through these gates.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am.” He picked a small silver box from his back pocket. “Smile for the retina scan.”

Angela looked into the beam of red light, watched as Derek nodded.

“According to this, you are Angela White.”

“Are you going to let me in, then?”

“I suppose I’d better.”

“Thank you very much.”

The gate shimmered out of existence, and the girl walked through. As she walked into the base, Derek shook his head. “That is all woman.”

“Forget it, boy.” His partner, an older soldier by the name of Barry something, smiled slightly. “She’s not interested, never will be. Keep it to yourself, but the general feeling on the base is there’s nothing any man can do for that girl.”

“What?” For a moment, the younger soldier was confused, then his eyes went wide. “You mean she’s…”

“Hey, I don’t start the rumours. I just report them.”

“What a bloody waste.”

He shook his head, and turned back to the gate as a motorcycle pulled up. The guard nodded.

“ID, please.”

He examined the card as the driver handed it to him. The hair was a little longer than in the picture, but the eyes were still the same arresting shade of grey.

“Good morning, Lieutenant. You are expected. Captain Anthony has asked me to direct you to the Officers’ Quarters. Straight ahead, and then turn to the right at the top. Follow the signs.”

“Thank you very much.”

Damascus gunned the engine, followed the directions, and parked in a space that did not appear to be assigned. Securing the machine, she glanced at a sign and headed for the Officers’ Quarters.

As she entered the building, she almost collided with two soldiers, coming in the opposite direction.

“Uh… sorry, Lieutenant.”

“Take a little more care on the corners…” she checked the name tag. “Travis. First rule of road sense.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Damascus checked the girl’s tag. White, A.

“As you were.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The salutes were sharp, but as Damascus walked away, she did not see two pairs of eyes following her down the corridor.

“Come on, Angela. Let’s go.”

The girl just stood there.

“Hey, soldier girl? Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

A moment later, she moved, a frown creasing her forehead, her bright brown eyes troubled.

“You all right, kid?”

She looked at him sharply. “Kid. I’m six months older than you, remember.”

“But six centimeters shorter, little girl.”

“I’m not so little.”

“I noticed.”

He had noticed the way her breasts pushed at the front of her uniform the first day she had arrived. Since then, he had worshipped her from afar, not getting too close, trying to be a good friend, rather than inviting her into a bed. By any standards, she was beautiful, her eyes a bright, clear brown, her figure enough to turn any man’s head, her hair a beautiful deep gloss black. He would always think about her, would always wonder what it would feel like to remove her clothing, piece by piece, then hold her against himself, but he would never, ever let her know what he felt.

Life was too precious for that.

* * * *

Officers’ Quarters were empty, so Damascus placed her kitbag on the floor beside a small table, walked towards a drinks machine, tapped a button. She waited for the cup to fill, then took a sip, nodded.

“Not bad.”

She undid the buttons down the front of her jacket, placed her cap on the hat stand. Heading to the window, she stared out into the parade ground, her spare hand slipped into a pocket.

Not quite Academy stance, but comfortable.

Right now, she needed some comfort.

The parade ground was empty, the only occupant being a piece of paper drifting slowly across it on a breeze which had sprung up out of nowhere.

The breeze died, and the piece of paper, running out of energy, or willpower, slumped to the ground.

She didn’t want to be here. Not like this.

She was a captain, not anybody’s second in command.

This was just the most unbelievable bullshit...

The door swung open, and she turned. The man coming through the door was the best possible advertisement for a soldier. A little over one metre ninety tall, he was wide at the shoulders, narrow at the hip, and wore a tightly disciplined moustache. Eyes like dark blue lasers. Hands like shovels. Upper arm muscles threatening to rip his uniform apart.

She was relieved they were on the same side.

“Good morning. Damascus?”

“Yes.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Lieutenant Andrew Richards.” The handshake was firm, but her hand survived it. “What’s your first name?”

“Jackie.”

“For the most part, we operate on first-names basis. Dave describes himself as firm but fair. Get it right, he’ll love you. Get it wrong, you’ll know about it. Are you familiar with what's expected of you?”

“Yes. I know the basics. What happened to my predecessor?”

“Volunteered for an operation in a country I’m not allowed to talk about. Found a landmine. What was left of him died three days later.”

Damascus nodded. “He was a good soldier. Still, that’s what happens. Those with the brightest futures go early, it seems. You can’t tell what’s just around the corner.”

“If you could, you wouldn’t get out of bed. Can you tell me a little about the platoon?”

“Forty-two soldiers. One sergeant. Two Warrant Officers, currently in flight retraining. Three corporals, the rest privates.”

“Any known problems?”

“No. There is Travis, though.”

“We've met.”

“He’s a worry. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good enough soldier, but he lacks an edge, somewhere. There is definitely something missing, and I’m damned if I know what it is. Could be commitment problems. Maybe he just needs a fresh pair of eyes over him.”

“I’ll do that, if you like.”

“It would be helpful, I think.” Richards nodded.

“I’ll make it a priority.”

“Good. What’s your specialty?”

“I don’t have one. I’m skilled with Exploflex explosives, pistol, unarmed combat, PLC-1, and I can accurately throw a knife up to about forty-five metres.”

“That’s a lot of enlisted soldier’s skills.”

“No such thing.” Damascus shook her head. “If there’s a new skill, I want it. If someone has to be taken out with a knife at forty metres, what’s the point of only being able to throw thirty-five? A whole platoon or company, could be wiped out for want of someone with the correct skills matrix. I have made it a point to gain as many skills as I can, and I want to learn more.”

“Why haven’t you upgraded to PLC-2?”

“I was about to start the upgrade programme. The reason I didn’t start it is the same reason I’m here today. I do want to do it, though.”

“Dave will like that. He’s not happy with people just being satisfied with their current skill level. To tell you the truth, nor am I.”

“Same here. It gives the appearance of lack of ambition. A soldier should always try to be better. It’s as much a learning process as…”

The door opening terminated the conversation, and Captain David Anthony entered. He was tall, too. Damascus noted Lieutenant Richards could have fitted inside him with room to rattle around. The eyes were fairly intimidating, but was lost when a huge smile broke out across his face, and their depth of brown was inviting.

“Lieutenant Damascus?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Captain David Anthony. Good to meet you. Andrew, half an hour, two big coffees, please. I don’t mean the stuff from the machines, either. I’m going into conference with the lieutenant, and I do not wish to be disturbed. See to it, please.”

“Yes, Dave.”

* * * *

“Follow me, Jackie.”

The corridor was short, the room at the end of it surprisingly spacious but drab. A chart of some kind on the wall, a commset on the desk. Computer terminal. And that was it.

“Sit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cut the sir crap now. It’s Dave. I’ve read your file, and I have to say I’m pretty well impressed. You gained some excellent marks and some good comments from your tutors. Who was your senior tutor?”

“Masterton.”

“Same as I had. He was damned good when I was in training. That was a while ago, though.”

“Don’t let the passage of time fool you. He’s still sharp. Knows what he’s on about.”

“I’m impressed with some of your grades.”

“I was part of a good group. We helped each other. One person getting a good grade was a team success. One person failing reflected on all of us. I am of the opinion that is how it should be, Dave.”

“That’s how I run things here. We are a team, not a group of individuals. Each member is dependent on everyone else doing his job correctly. If one person fails, it could affect the rest of the platoon, and from there the rest of the company.”

“Exactly the way I learned it.”

“Good. I like that. Do you smoke?”

“No, never have. Can’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke.”

“Good enough. What would you describe as your ultimate ambition?”

“I would like to be sitting in that chair, having this conversation with a fresh-faced young lieutenant straight from the academy. Going back to that would be good.”

A smile lifted the corner of the captain’s mouth.

“Who knows? Maybe.”

Damascus shook her head. “I don’t think so, sir. I would like to do it again, but I cannot see it happening. Too much against me.”

“Maybe.” Anthony's eyes locked on hers for a moment. “What’s your best strip and rebuild time for a PLC-1?”

“One minute twenty-seven seconds.”

“That’s a good time. Why is a T-mine so dangerous?”

“When you step on it, it doesn’t detonate straight away. It waits until you lift your foot off, then fires a canister of explosives and ball bearings at head height. The bearings can penetrate a standard helmet at five metres, and are still deadly at ten.”

“What’s an APR?”

“Armour-piercing rifle bullet. Enhanced velocity four point five mil cartridge. Penetrates a standard issue bulletproof vest at one hundred and fifty metres, maybe more. Almost as good as a PLC-1, which is why they are illegal. Most weapons which fire bullets are ancient history, but this little b***h has somehow managed to survive extinction.”

Anthony nodded. “Read a lot?”

“Yes. Anything that I think will help me do my job better. Weapons, tactics, leaders, battles. Good and bad, failures as well as successes.”

“Why the failures?”

“So I can learn what mistakes not to make.”

“Seems to me you made one. A big one.”

Damascus locked her eyes on his. “It’s all in the report, sir. I was demoted to make it look like justice had been done.” The harshness of her own voice frightened her. “You and I both know I should not be here, having this conversation. There is no way back, as far as I am concerned. I’m here for appearances’ sake. Do you know the real mistake I made?”

“No.”

“The real mistake I made was letting him off too lightly. I could have put him in hospital for a very long time. No. Not could. Should. But I’m a captain. We don’t do things like that. Sir.”

There was a silence, one of those silences that refused to be broken.

Captain and former captain looked at each other across the table.

The former captain lifted her head slightly.

The captain recognised the challenge.