Chapter 3


Everything went well enough from the time he walked off the shuttle, down the concourse, and even past the inner security check point. Jake had not really expected any trouble at that one and, for that matter any trouble at all. The first check point was manned by people who obviously worked for the airport itself. They were mostly interested in his immunization records and less so in all the other stuff that was the standard fair for traveling from one planet to the next. Jake was positive that all of the rest of his records, and his meager belongings he had in just one bag , would get a good going over once he went to the check in desk. What he had not expected was exactly how thorough that would be.

Unlike a lot of people, and mostly due to his past work, Jake had actually traveled off world before. His experiences with little backwater dumps like this place was that they were usually fairly informal when you got past anything but genuine health concerns. It was getting from places like this back to Earth that was the real pain. While saying that customs on Earth would crawl up your ass with a microscope was a bit of a metaphor, it was only just barley so.

The biggest surprise here was not only how thoroughly they took Jake's phone and scrolled through every travel permit, noting every electronic stamp, checking his diplomatic credentials with their own computers to make sure they were real but, what they did when they were satisfied that everything was in order. At that point two heavily armed panzer grenadiers showed up and escorted him to a back room. It was very Spartan with it's two chairs situated on each side of a single fold out table.

The two Wehrmacht soldiers said nothing beyond the commands they gave which were very basic. Jake even switched to German and still they did not respond when he asked them why he was here. Jake even thought about trying to walk out of the one and only door to the room but, then he thought otherwise. The last time his eyes drifted to the door one of the Germans made sure the sound of his safety coming off made an unusually loud click that cut through the silence of the room like a knife. Jake then gave up and just rubbed his chin and mumbled to himself, "fucking figures."

Finally when the door opened a very erect looking man in a Wehrmacht uniform, minus all of the combat gear, came strolling in with the normal amount of swagger that Jake had long come to expect from guys like him. He was an officer, a colonel even, and Jake stood up as the guy walked to the other side of the table and positioned himself just behind the cheap metal chair. The man acted as if it were beneath him to even sit in such a cheap little thing.

In German, Jake greeted the man, "Herr Oberst, I assume you have an explanation. You know I'm…"

The man interrupted in English. Jake was kind of surprised at how neutral the guys accent was, "yes you are Deputy Marshall Jacob Barton of the United States. You are here to fill a treaty position and hence, are protected from detention by IFOR without direct consent of your Consulate. Was that what you were going to say Mister Barton?"

Jake switched back to English, "well I'm glad we got that part out of the way Colonel. Now if you'll tell the goon squad over there to step aside, I'm pretty sure I got somewhere to be."

The man almost sounded apologetic as he replied, "you're not being detained Mister Barton. I'm sorry if I you gave you that impression. My men are only here for your safety. Let me introduce myself. I'm Colonel Johan Horst of the Three-Twenty First Panzer Grenadier battalion on detachment to IFOR, currently performing security duties here on Charlemagne."

Jake had read every file he could find about this planet when he found out he would be working here. He fully well realized the Euro's still called it by the name that Horst just gave but, Jake also new that on US star charts it went by an entirely different one, that being New Poseidon. If having two official names was not bad enough the locals had their own name for it, Lake Houston, a left over from the original Texan colonists who settled here. Since Texas lost it's claim to this place even before the war, it was not a distinction that anybody else paid much attention too.

As far as Jake was concerned, he was not going to pay this arrogant German twit any more due than he deserved which, by all estimations, was none at all. Jake just went on with, "well I'm sure we'll being seeing a lot of each other Colonel. Now if you'll pardon me I have things to do."

"Why the hurry Mister Barton," the German came right back with. "As you pointed out, we're going to be seeing quite a bit of each other. Why not take this opportunity to get to know one another?" Jake did not respond. He simply picked up his bag and made a motion for the door. As he did the German added, "and your consul has already been notified of your arrival." He looked at a wrist watch at that point and it made Jake wonder about what kind of man still wore those silly things. The only answer Jake could come up with was, "antiquated."

Horst then finished by saying, "the man from your consul should be here to meet you any second."

Barton pointed to the floor, "he's coming here? To this room?"

Horst looked slightly indignant at the idea of having to repeat himself, "as I explained, we notified your consul as soon as we were alerted to your arrival."

Jake dropped his bag down on the floor and squared back up at the table. With a curious tone he asked, "and you just happen to be here at the airport. This early in the morning, doing what? What exactly does a battalion commander do at an airport at the crack of dawn?"

The Colonel's nose raised in the air and he sniffled as he answered, "I am a military man, Mister Barton. I am also a very thorough officer. I take my duties seriously and hence, I am quite accustomed to being up at the, as you call it, crack of dawn." Then Horst laid his next card on the table, "surely a man such as yourself understands such things. As I am to understand it, you were just recently a military man yourself. Is this not so?"

So, Jake realized, the guy had been thoroughly briefed. It made Jake wonder how thick his file was with the local station chief. Back on Earth, it was a sure bet that the Abwehr had a few gigs in their database on Jake. How much of that had made it out here? Of course, not knowing that, Jake decided he was not going to make it easy for the guy, "I did my time Colonel."

"So you did," Horst replied, "with the Fifth Special Forces as I understand it. What happened Mister Barton? Something about breaking your leg in a training accident, was it?"

Jake had actually broken his leg on a jump but, it was no training accident. His team was extracting a hostile from inside of Texan territory. It was one of those kind of missions that might tick a few people off but, normally not seriously enough for either side to go to war over. Hence, anything short of a total pooch screw, was a training exercise on the books. Of course, Jake realized, the German probably knew all of that. It was equally obvious that this Colonel did not care. The politics back on Earth seemed to disinterest him but Jake could not be completely sure.

Jake tested his theory by replying, "you might could say that."

Horst seemed to know exactly what the American was fishing for, "of which is no concern to me and, I think you will find, anyone here."

Jake raised a brow to that, "then what does?"

A faint electronic beeping sounded off from just below the German officers gray tunic. He did not bother to look at the phone that was making it. Jake kind of got the impression that the guy might be afraid it would mess up his uniform if he rumpled his shirt to get at the hidden belt under it. Horst just clasped his hands behind his back, clicked his heels, and nodded to the American, "it would seem that your representative from the Consulate is here Mister Barton. I do hope you enjoy your stay on Charlemagne."

That last part, despite the words, sounded more like something that ranged from disinterest, which Jake doubted, to the more likely intent which was, "please go to hell and let the door slam you in the ass on the way." Jake was formulating an equally polite insult when the door opened and ended the conversation. Horst and his men left as the man in the suite, with the buzz cut hair that looked to have once been more red than gray, came strolling in and took charge.

When the Germans were gone the guy put out a hand for a shake. As Jake took it the man introduced himself, "Gary Moss from the Consulate, Major Barton."

"I'm not a Major anymore," Jake replied. Then he went further by wanting even more of an introduction, "you wouldn't happen to be the station chief, would you?"

"Who me?" Barton laughed it off. "Not I Major. I'm just Consul Whitman's secretary. I'll let him brief you. He's been looking forward to meeting you since we first heard you were coming."

"I bet he has," Barton replied with no small amount of sarcasm. Since when did a State Department guy ever give a crap about some no named Army Major who was not even that any more. Jake did not believe it and he also did not believe Moss about the other thing. Jake knew a CIA guy when he saw one and Moss was just oozing spook out of every poor. Jake decided he felt like being an ass. Horst had most certainly put him in the mood. He told Moss, "if you got to call me anything then how about Deputy? That's what I am now, you know."

Moss only chuckled at that and as they walked back towards the front of the airport he acted as if he were correcting Jake by saying, "that's not entirely true Major." It was all he had left to say on the matter and Jake did not feel like discussing it any more either. About the only other comment he made before they got to the car was about the weather. The rain was not all that heavy but, it was enough to be annoying when the small black sedan he was walking too was sitting in an open parking lot. "Is it always like this?"

As Moss opened the door with a key, something that took Jake a second to recognize what the guy was even doing, the man told the newcomer, "this is nothing Major. When it starts to really rain you'll think this is a walk in the park." When both men were inside the dry interior the spook went on, "you only got two real seasons down here in the Arch, dry and wet. When it's pretty it's really pretty here. When you got storms, well, take cover."

"The Arch?" Jake asked the man. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh," Moss started the car and realized that he had not even thought about what he called the place. It was a sign of exactly how long he had been here now. He explained, "archipelago. This island here is in a really long chain that kind of sticks out from the big continent. This planet really isn't all that settled you know. Most of the people live along the island chain all except for the Valley."

"Not very original names," Jake replied. He went on with, "so I take it this Valley is on the continent then?"

"Yeah," Moss replied as he drove out of the parking lot, "it's where most of the food gets grown here. After the Texans lost this place and you had other settlers, moving in, a lot of the families of the original colonists up rooted to get away from all the new folks."

Jake only groaned at that, "oh it sounds like this place is just dripping with love for your fellow man."

This time the sarcasm was very evident to the spook. Maybe it had been before but, Moss actually commented on it after he laughed, "well it's why all the names are so damn generic here. In case you ain't noticed, Major, a lot of different people call this planet, and everything on it, by a lot of different names. You use the wrong one with the wrong guy and you could find yourself in a fist fight, or worse. It's a lot safer just to call everything by what it is."

What could Jake say to that. It sounded like some useful advice so he just simply replied, "gotya."