CHAPTER 04


   “Fucking politicians,” was all that Bob Isaacs had to say on the matter. He mumbled it under his breath, naturally.
Unfortunately, Bob was not quiet enough to be misheard by his ranking non commissioned officer, First Sergeant Jack Sun. Universally called “Snake,” he often proved to be a pain in the ass to Bob. Snake proved it this time by mumbling back to his General, “nobody told you to take that job at the White House.” As an after thought, Snake added the honorific, “sir.”
Bob only growled at his man, “I came to a whole other universe and I still can’t get away from them.”
“That’s what happens when you put them stars on General,” Snake shot back in a more normal tone of voice.
“What?” Bob now growled loud enough to be heard, “it means I got to deal with them?”
“No sir,” Snake was being very sarcastic with his ‘sir’s. “It means you become one.”
“Fuck you First Sergeant,” Bob replied.
Snake added, “you wouldn’t like it, I’d just lay there.”
That caused a throat clearing from a very nervous looking little Captain by the name of Patterson. She had gotten off the chopper that flew into the re-supply area where Bob’s armored vehicles and crews were currently being taken care of. He had halfway figured this might happen so, when the Blackhawk showed up he had his Bradley Fighting Vehicle pulled out of line and parked near the field with the bird. Snake joined him a moment later.
Radio communications, being as lousy as they were, did have some advantages from Bob’s point of view. It meant he got to play just a little longer since nobody could call him and tell him to stop. It was only logical that bad news would catch up with him in the one place he could not avoid. Sure enough, the message Patterson brought with her was just that. The banter it set off between Bob and his NCOIC was at least some pay back. She got very nervous and twitchy. Bob reveled in it.
Then Bob told the girl, “sorry, Captain. I know you’re just the messenger here. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”
Snake shot back without skipping a beat, “don’t take that shit Captain. That’s exactly what he’s doing.”
This advice from the First Sergeant only served to make Sharon squirm even more. She thumbed back towards the chopper and nervously told Bob, “I’ll be waiting for you General.”
Snake managed to hold his laugh back long enough for the girl to be under chopper blades and beyond hearing. Then Snake asked Bob, “how did you know that girl was a career hound?”
Bob waived it off and was obviously agitated as he answered, “she used to work for Jim Garret when he was at 18th Airborne.”
While it was clear that they were both thinking about other things, Snake suddenly became curious, “Garret? He hasn’t been over there in years. She’s still a Captain at G2? Who the hell did she piss off?”
“Not our problem,” Bob huffed out. “Look Snake, I got to take this call. You guys got new orders. Round up Major Foreskin…”
Snake corrected him, “Folkstrum.”
“Whatever,” Bob snapped back. “Get the column to N.I.K.A.” Bob waited for a snappy come back but, he was met with silence. Bob shrugged, “what? You’re not upset?”
Now it was Snake’s turn to shrug, “why would I be?” When Bob looked less than satisfied with the answer, Snake told him, “you don’t want to go there cause you got to deal with Hammond. I don’t mind going there cause some big Pig mutherfuka ain’t going to be trying to blow me in half. That about size it up?”
What could Bob say to that, “fair enough.” He joined Patterson on the chopper and they wasted no time getting into the air. Bob figured he could not blame the flight crew for wanting to. As long as they were sitting in a field they were a prime target for an Orc mortar crew, or worse. Bob did not worry too much about it though. The lack of wireless in Feyland made coordinating artillery next to impossible. He had found that out the hard way. Hitting targets of opportunity, like a stationary chopper, were just acts of blind luck. The actual artillery crew would have to see it firsthand and that was nearly impossible. You could not just call in a strike. Bob used to think that was a pain but, given the current situation, such things actually seemed to be working in their favor. This new fluid battle, that they had on their hands, kind of equalized things.
Then the train wreck flew by. It was way up higher than they were but, it made a sound that was easily detected, even over the drone of the chopper. The flight crew reacted to it almost at once. They went lower and Bob did not think that was possible. The tree’s down here in the south were of a more normal size, compared to the ones up in the Hurt but, that did not mean Bob wanted to see limbs brushing the helicopter's wheels. They had been doing that before the chopper dipped! If there was a clearing then the Blackhawk used it. They would drop almost to the dirt. In one such instance they flew right into a heard of Orc’s. The mini guns on both sides, of the Blackhawk, began firing before Bob even knew what was happening and, fortunately, the same was apparently true for the bad guys. In the blink of an eye, the helicopter jerked up above the next set of trees and then down below the ridge before the Orcs could even start shooting back.
Patterson stopped screaming long enough to turn on her intercom and strongly suggest, “I vote we don’t do that again!”
Bob had managed to keep his cool but, he had to admit over the coms, “I think our esteemed intelligence officer has made an intelligent contribution to our flight plan.”
The pilot seemed almost amused as he replied, “sorry General. Take a look above us. That’s why we’re flying low. Them guys aren’t too picky about what they’re shooting at today.” Bob glanced out long enough to see large formations of prop driven planes that were headed in the opposite direction. He was not sure but, by his estimations, they were IAF Spitfires. The pilot then explained, “every time the egg layers fire off one of those big ass guns, the elves try their best to pound the shit out of it.”
Bob nodded towards the front of the chopper and replied, “by the sounds of it, they haven’t been too successful, so far.” When the pilot could not reply, Bob looked to Patterson. She was in intelligence. You had to kind of figure that she would know about such matters, maybe? She didn’t.
It was not really that relevant because the main human base, in Feyland, was only fifteen minutes away from where Bob had been picked up. Good news if you wanted to get out of the chopper. It was bad when you considered that Bob had been picked up on what was essentially the front lines. As they made their first pass over the perimeter Bob could see that Major General Hammond, the CO for the Hundred and First Airborne, had not pulled out any stops when it came to defending his primary headquarters. He had second brigade down here in the south and it looked to Bob as if he had half of it defending him personally.
That seemed rather odd and it was not because of anything that Hammond had done. The strange thing here was what had not happened. NIKA did not appear to have been seriously attacked. That thought was filed away in the back of Bob’s mind as he finally made it to the operations center. He was not surprised to find out that Hammond had been down here, in this highly fortified bunker, ever since the fighting had started. Unlike the main center, which was located in a more ordinary office building, a target that could be reached and leveled with one of those big guns, this center was underground. It’s entrance was a very generic looking little mound with a single door. The actual rooms were far away from that door as well.
Patterson had all of the usual badges and papers that one needed to walk around in a place like this. Naturally, having just arrived from another universe, Bob was lacking these despite the fact that he was the National Security Adviser of the United States. Bob was not really sure of the technicalities but, he wondered if that did not make him the senior American official in country. It was a card that he had to play but, Bob was equally sure it could also be played against him so he tucked that one away for later. Despite his job, the fact was that Bob only had one star on his uniform and Hammond had two. For most guys, and especially during a situation like this, the rank thing would not mean much. Bob realized that with Hammond, it probably would.
As it turned out, Bob was not the only one thinking about his uniform. Patterson suggested, “sir would you like to take a shower? Get a fresh uniform? It might be…”
Bob cut her off quick, “you said the briefing is already underway, so, no, let’s get there.”
When Bob slipped in the conference room door he was not too surprised to find out that this was not as much a strategy session as it was an all out argument. It was even less surprising when Bob saw everyone that had made it here. If Hammond was not bad enough, there was also that old scruffy looking guy, that Bob knew to be a Camelonian, by the name of Ian Balfour. This guys name came up a lot and, if the CIA actually got something right, for a change, he was one of the biggest dust smugglers in Feyland. He had obviously not hit it off with Hammond.
Balfour’s presence also explained why Major David Cross was in the room. He had come over from Coven Hill with Bob and, just a few hours ago, they had been at the point of shooting at each other. Cross did not seem to take it personally because Bob slid up on the wall next to him and the guy simply nodded. Cross was also helpful enough to explain, “Sir Ian is having trouble getting protection for his trucks.”
“Yeah,” Bob replied in a half sarcastic tone, “I can see how this whole war thing is cutting into your little side business.”
Cross made absolutely no attempt to play stupid. He also did not seem to take offense as he pointed out, “the general should realize that not every army has it’s own dedicated delivery service. The elves are among those. That’s not even counting the fact that people still have to eat and how can they do that if no one brings them food?”
It was the elf comment that made Bob look at the two who were in the room. What was surprising was that they were not shooting at each other. Of all the times that Bob had been over here, he realized he had never seen those two men in the same room together. The one that Bob was more familiar with was Quintescau Ceascu and he ran the clan known as the Noveus-Faeyu. They had been the most helpful of the elves, that is, if you could say that any of them had. The other one was Montceaus Odaylya and, while Bob had met him a few times, they had never really had a sit down talk. Bob knew almost nothing about him, or his faction, the Olyan-Notae. Bob knew that there was no love lost between the two groups of Elves and they seemed to be more interested in shooting at each other as opposed to the Orc.
It was kind of surprising that these two men, each with their own little crew of flunkies, were not yelling at each other. Bob had to wonder if that had something to do with the fact that Hammond would not let them bring their weapons in here. Still, the peace between them did not hold and, Bob noted, it seemed to be Balfour who got it started when he turned his, venom filled, gravely voice on Ceascu and stated, “you don’t have anything to say you sorry cocksucker. Your people pulled up stakes on me and ran like Gnomes who just saw a junk pile.”
It was Montceaus who added with a smile, “and we were more than happy to lend our assistance in your time of need.”
That did not seem to impress Balfour who was no less enthused when he told the elf, “and that all depends on what you want for it when it’s all over with Mont.”
This led to added yelling that finally made Hammond pull his side arm. He had not yet shot the ceiling when everyone shut up. He holstered his weapon and tried to get back to his main points and, as Bob had always noticed, his were the only ones that mattered. This time seemed to be the exception though. Ceascu developed a sly grin, and a pleasant demeanor as he slid in, “I see that General Isaacs as joined us. I was wondering what he had to say.”
Even if Bob was pretty sure Hammond had seen him come in, only now did the Major General nod and say, “welcome Bob. Glad you’re here. We can sure use the help.”
Even if Hammond sounded genuine, Bob was pretty sure the guy was not. At the same time, Balfour laughed and then grumbled, almost under his breath, “I’m pretty sure he wishes he was somewhere else right now.”
Not to be outdone by his rival, Odaylya developed a smile and nodded to Bob as he said, “I have been told you are an able warrior. The Olyan-Notae also wishes to know the General’s thoughts.”
That almost made Bob want to laugh. His desire to cry tempered his amusement at the obvious brown nosing. What Bob really wondered was if good old Mont was kissing ass because Bob answered directly to the President, or, was it because Bob had a personal audience with the emperor. Either way, the statement could not be true unless you counted the true mark of a good warrior being the loss of your entire command to an Orc attack. So far, that had really been Bob’s one and only action.
Still, this attention put Bob on the spot and he knew he was not going to get out of being drawn into this particular battle. He figured he had to win it because, the reality of what was going on here had been obvious since he slipped in the door. Bob decided to do what none of these guys were. He asked questions as he walked over to the part of the room where they were, “I’m afraid I need a sitrep before my opinion would count.”
Balfour actually looked approving and, for once, it seemed genuine. Hammond was ready to dismiss it out of hand though. He seemed to want to talk to Bob in private, first. Ceascu came to his rescue by pointing out, “well you stopped the attack on the temple. For that we are all grateful but…”
Balfour interrupted with, “fat lot of good it does us Quint. The Dell is buried under a ton of rubble.”
That actually seemed to really concern Odaylya. It was hard to tell with elves because their expressions were not quite human. Still, Bob thought he sounded very concerned when he snapped at Balfour, “you said your people could dig it out.”
Balfour remained easy enough, “not while the Polmarij are still shooting at it. You know, those big gun things they managed to pull out of their porky little asses? I don’t think the IAF has managed to knock a single one out, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Hammond put his fist down on the table and looked right at Balfour, “and until we can clear that site, everything else is of secondary importance Mister Balfour, that includes your trucking business.”
Now Ceascu added to the rapidly growing chorus of voices, “the Polmarij have launched large scale attacks against the perimeter of the capital. Until those are quelled, I’m afraid…”
“Wait a minute,” Bob raised his voice above all others. To his surprise, they all shut up. Bob was not even sure what to do when he had the floor because he had not expected to get it. He charged ahead anyway, “guys, you’re all looking at these little battles and we’re supposed to be here hammering out the big picture. So far, I haven’t seen the first instance of that. We need a coherent strategy here guys, cause, there is one serious thing you are all overlooking.”
Ceascu graciously waved his hand at the big mess of papers on the table and then to the maps on the wall. He politely replied, “why General, I thought that was what we were doing here. We have to list the details, do we not?”
It was Odaylya who crossed his arms and asked, “what are we missing here General?”
Bob looked in all their eyes and could see that they did not get it. He burst out with, “that we could loose!” When none of them replied, Bob explained himself in a slightly more composed way, “we might not have a strategy but, I can tell you from just what little I’ve seen, the Orc sure as hell do.”
Odaylya snickered, “they are animals doing what they do.”
“Oh really?” Bob waived around the room and stated, “you might have noticed this place hasn’t been attacked. Have you asked yourself why?”
Never being one to agree with his rival, Quint Ceascu worded his statement in such a way that would make it seem as if he did not, “I would say that is eloquent evidence of the fact that they do not have a serious strategy. NIKA is obviously a serious threat to them.”
“Yeah,” Bob acknowledged but, then he pointed out, “unless we don’t have any beans and bullets. Why loose troops on a place that you can just wait and walk over a few weeks later. Guys, our supply lines are cut. No offense to your clans but, right now, the US Army is the only thing holding them back. Hell, from what I’ve seen, it’s about the only thing holding your entire country together.”
It looked as if both elves were about to raise protest but, Balfour began giving a little clap with his hands and had a smile as he said, “finally, somebody that wants to talk the truth. General, I always thought that was one of your weaknesses but, in this case…” Balfour shrugged it off.
Both factions of elves had nothing to say to any of that. They both retreated to their corners, with their flunkies, and then excused themselves from the meeting. Both insisted they had to confer with the emperor and seemed to be in a race to do so. Bob figured he had just created an international, if not inner-dimensional, diplomatic crisis. Still, after they were gone, he had to ask, “where did the emperor dig these guys up? Sitting on a play ground shaking down kids for their lunch money?”
Balfour replied, “not far from the truth.”
Hammond was less impressed and, it disturbed Bob to see that the man was genuinely concerned. He did not seem that way when Bob had first arrived. It made Bob wonder if he had considered the possibility of defeat. This was not a battle they could afford to loose either. There was no surrender to these things. They did not have some ceremony and take your sword. They did not know those customs or care. Loosing meant death or a fate worse than, and, it was as true for Generals as it was Privates.
Hammond looked like a man who was tired and ready to give up but, he kept on as he huffed out, “you’ve made your point Bob. How much armor did you bring with you?”
“The equivalent of an under strength mech battalion,” Bob replied. He then added, “the Bradley is extremely effective against them but, we’ve been burning through ammo and I don’t have any more.”
“Fortunately,” Hammond replied, “NATO saw fit to stockpile some twenty five millimeter here for the bushmaster. So I can keep you running for a little while.”
That led to the natural question that Bob had, “what about getting some from the elves? They got factories, they got armor, can’t they make us some more?”
That led to another laugh from Balfour, “I take you’ve never actually been in their factories. You might even be able to come up with some machines that could make the stuff you need but, trust me General, their industry is not up too it. Human metallurgy is light years ahead of their shit.”
Hammond grudgingly admitted, “he’s right. My people did a study of this exact problem, about a year ago. They might be able to turn out the rounds, at least substandard versions of them but, the links for the chain guns are beyond them. All that would take a year or more, anyway, and it assumed help from back home, which we don’t have.”
Bob nodded and then stated the obvious, “ok, so we have to make this a short war.”
Again, Balfour laughed, “good luck with that General. This war has been going on for longer than anybody even remembers. You aren’t going to end it tomorrow.”
Bob was confident, “that’s because nobody has bothered to fight it the right way. We don’t have a choice now.”
That drew Hammond’s undivided attention and he was obviously, personally, offended. As far as Bob was concerned, that was just too damn bad. Bob stated his case and, when he was done, Hammond still looked like a defeated man when he quietly said, “ok Bob, fine. Talk to my staff.”
As they left the conference room, Balfour joined Bob as they walked down the hall. Bob really was considering a shower now but, he put up with Balfour for the moment. The guy asked, “so you really think they left this place untouched so they could run down your supplies?”
Bob had a question of his own, “Sir Ian, you seem to be the only guy around here, besides me, that thinks these Orcs are smarter than they look.”
Balfour seemed to be the kind of guy who rolled with the punches and this was no exception, “they are but, they’re not as smart as you’re suggesting. They didn’t dream this attack up. They don’t think like that. Trust me General, I know them better than about any human alive. You even had some of your people come asking me questions about them.”
That raised a brow because Bob had not known that. It was also irrelevant for the moment. He simply told the Camelonian, “I think there’s a lot more going on here than we know about. That’s what I think.”
That drew a smile and another laugh from Balfour as he mumbled under his breath, “I knew Solenceaus was right about you.” That drew a questioning glance from Bob. Balfour switched back to the matter at hand, “there most certainly is a lot more going on here, more than any of you Americans seem to realize.”
Bob remained skeptical or, at least, of Balfour so he put it to the guy, “and how much is this information going to cost me? I’m guessing the protection for your trucks.”
Now it was a real laugh, “I don’t have to buy that Isaacs. You people are going to see that as a necessity before too long. I’m telling you this because, unlike that ass hole back in the conference room, you get it. You want to know exactly what’s going on, you need to be asking some elves that question.”
Again, Bob remained skeptical, “well we saw how good that worked out, didn’t we?”
Now Balfour was grinning ear to ear, “you’re asking the wrong elves.”