Theogony 1: Janissaries (6 page)

Master Chief O’Leary gave the signal to stop. Sergeant Ed ‘Shadow’
Pesik, United States Marine Corps, and Sergeant Margaret ‘Witch’ Andrews,
British Army Special Reconnaissance Regiment, both froze in place, although
their eyes continued to search for the threat that Master Chief had seen. What
Master Chief had seen was Calvin, standing conspicuously in their line of
travel. He had a white ribbon tied around his arm and his helmet, marking him
as an observer. He wasn’t on the opposing force…but if an observer was standing
in that particular spot, there must be something that he expected to observe,
which meant there was a threat nearby. This was bad. Master Chief continued
scanning, but didn’t see any threats, nor did he see any place that the ground had
been disturbed, indicating a trap. He saw Sergeant Kawika Liu, the ground
forces’ medic, come from around the tree Calvin was leaning against to stand next
to him. He was also wearing a white ribbon.
Why were both of them looking at
him?
This was very bad.

He looked to his left to Shadow, who gave him a slow shrug.
He didn’t see anything. He slowly looked to the right and received the same
shrug from Witch. She didn’t see anything, either, although Ryan could tell her
senses were on edge. A Jamaican by birth, she thought herself a real witch and
usually had a good sense of danger. With a sense of foreboding, Ryan gave the
signal to continue the advance. They had made good time and ought to be at the
objective, his house, within another ten minutes. Unless they ran into trouble.

He started forward and looked at Calvin. Calvin didn’t move,
and his eyes were locked on him. ‘Fuck,’ he thought, ‘something bad is about to
happen to me.’ He hoped that the Lieutenant Commander would give something
away, like looking to where the threat was, but the officer’s eyes never left
him. He stopped again and scanned the forest around him. Still nothing, except
for a mosquito that bit him on the cheek.

He slowly raised his hand to brush it away, but his arm
stopped working halfway to his face. He tried to look at Calvin but found his
neck muscles didn’t work, either. In fact, nothing seemed to be working. The
world tilted as he fell to his right, all of his muscles locked up. With a
small rustle of leaves, Ryan hit the ground. Ryan could see back to the left
and saw that Shadow had stopped advancing and was coming over to see what was
wrong with him. Master Chief wanted to scream that it was a trap and to get
away, but the only sound he could produce was a small “uh” that he could barely
hear himself. He hoped that Witch wasn’t coming over, too.

Shadow went in and out of his sight as he moved closer
through the trees. When he was about five feet away, he stopped and looked
around, trying to determine why Ryan was lying on the ground not moving. As
Master Chief watched, something small and colorful appeared on his neck. Within
seconds, Shadow ceased moving and fell backwards. The medic, who had been
motionless the entire time, darted over to Shadow and rolled him onto his side.

The only thing worse, Master Chief thought, would be if Witch
came over, too. He heard a small scuffling noise behind him and knew that she was
approaching. Ryan could see her shadow and knew that she was close. It stopped
moving briefly, and he heard a small, female cry of surprise. Her shadow tilted
as she crashed to the ground too.

Master Chief would have sighed, if he could have. He heard a
small scraping noise, as if a squirrel was coming down a tree, and then saw the
ninja, Hattori ‘Yokaze’ Hanzo, walk into his line of sight. He was wearing a gray
cloak, the color of the local tree trunks. As Master Chief watched, he drew his
tanto, a small knife that looked like a miniature version of his katana, and
moved to Shadow, not making a sound. He placed the knife on Shadow’s neck.
Shadow was ‘dead.’ Hattori moved over to Ryan and did the same thing before
going behind him to where Witch lay. They were all dead.

Yokaze came back to stand in front of him. Ryan had heard
that ‘Yokaze’ meant ‘Night Wind.’ He certainly moved like the wind, Ryan
thought. Yokaze reached over to Ryan’s face and removed a small red dart. So
that’s what it was, thought Ryan. Yokaze thanked him with a quiet, “Domo
arrigato,” bowed and then moved off silently, presumably in search of other
prey. Aside from a small noise coming down the tree, Master Chief hadn’t heard
him make a single sound. The only noise generated by the ‘deaths’ of three
people were the sounds of their bodies hitting the ground. Ryan was beginning
to really hate that guy.

After another minute, Sergeant Liu came over and gave the
three deceased soldiers some kind of injection. The paralysis went away quickly.
Calvin sent the medic and the other two soldiers ahead so that he could talk to
Ryan privately.

“I take it we’re going to lose again?” asked Ryan with a
sigh. This would make them 0-4, with two losses as the attackers and two more
as the defenders.

“I don’t know for sure yet,” answered Calvin, “but it’s a
pretty good bet. They have several other surprises set up for your squad that it’s
probably going to walk right into, especially now that you’re no longer alive
to lead them.”

“What did he get me with?” inquired Ryan.

“I think the medic said it was some sort of quaternary
ammonium drug called suxamethonium, or something like that,” replied Calvin. “He
said that it is often referred to as ‘sux’ in hospitals.” Calvin paused. “I
guess it sux to be you.” He chuckled at his pun. “He said it is one of the few curare-like
substances that are reversible. Don’t feel bad; I couldn’t see Yokaze once he
was in position, either, and I knew where he was. He’s good.”

“I’m getting damn tired of losing,” growled Master Chief.

“No doubt,” said Calvin, suddenly serious. “And why do you
suppose that is? Not that you’re tired of losing, but that you’ve lost every
single exercise?”

“Since we haven’t won a single round, I would have to say
that they’re better than we are,” said Ryan, still growling. “But I know that’s
not true. My guys and gals are just as good as Top’s, maybe even better.” He
saw that Calvin had a small smile. “Damn it sir, what’s so fucking funny? Do
you know something I don’t?” His tone made it sound like he didn’t think that
was possible.

“It’s not funny,” said Calvin, “but it has been interesting
to watch. Yes, I do know something. Before I tell you what it is, do you
remember what the cover story of the platoon is?”

“What?” asked Ryan, slow to adjust to the change in topic.
“All of the troops were sent here to form a center of excellence,” he
remembered.

“That’s correct,” replied Calvin, “and that’s what Top has
done. When he plans an event, he brings everyone together to discuss the
situation and invites their input. By doing so, he takes advantage of the
unique skills that each of them brings to the table. Everyone that is here is
an expert in their field, and each has shown an ability to use their talents in
new and creative ways. Top just lets them put their ideas into action. Would
you have let one of your troops climb a tree with a blowgun to defend a
position?”

“No,” said Ryan with a sigh, “I would have probably had them
use a machine gun and wouldn’t have let them hide in a tree because they would
have been exposed there.”

“And that’s the problem,” agreed Calvin. “You need to get
past the idea that you’re leading new SEALs that need to be told what to do all
the time or that your job is to turn the soldiers under you into your version
of SEALs. That’s not what they are, or what they’re here for. You need to
embrace the concept that you have veterans with skills that
you
know
nothing about. Take advantage of your squad members’ experience, let them give
you their input and adapt the team to be something greater than the sum of its
parts. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan, “it does.” He sighed. “You know what? 
You’re not half bad. For an officer.”

“Hey, Skipper, can I bother you a second?” asked Night. By
convention, most of the platoon and the squadron were using the navy term
“Skipper’ for Calvin. Although he had been initially uncomfortable with the
term for a navy unit commander, it had grown on him, and even the non-navy
people were using it almost universally.

Calvin looked up from the paperwork he was working on. 1730
already. Damn. “Sure, XO, what’s up?”

“Well, sir, you’ve been talking about exercising a lot
recently, but I haven’t seen you make time for it. We’re finishing up doing
some martial arts downstairs, and I thought you might like to join us.”

“Well, I’m not really dressed for it…” Calvin said.

Night looked him over. “Your flight suit will be just fine,”
he said. “Just take off the boots. In the unlikely event that you land one, I
don’t want to get kicked by someone wearing steel-toed boots.”

The two men went downstairs, and Calvin saw that the platoon
had laid out mats to practice on. Good, he thought. I really don’t want to get
thrown onto the concrete.

As they walked up, one of the twins pinned his brother to
the mat. No one would ever know who won, though, because both of them claimed
victory, and no one could tell them apart.

The two officers squared off on the mat. “Have you ever done
any martial arts?” asked the XO.

“Yeah, when I was little,” said Calvin. “I made it to yellow
belt and then quit because I liked baseball better.”

“Well, let’s start out easy then,” said the XO. He showed
Calvin a few blocks and told him when they were appropriate. “OK,” announced
the XO when he was done, “I’m going to attack you, and you try to block me.”

He approached Calvin slowly and reached for him. Calvin
blocked easily. Night threw some punches, and Calvin blocked all of them. Night
began to get a little frustrated that he couldn’t land anything on Calvin and
started throwing punches faster and faster. When that didn’t work, he started
interspersing kicks and elbow strikes, as well. Calvin either blocked or evaded
all of them. With each block, members of the platoon would call out
encouragement to Calvin or razz the XO on his inability to hit the aviator. The
XO swore that Calvin even used a ‘nine block’ one time, which was a black
belt-level move.

Both men had worked up a sweat, and Night called for a
break. “You said you only made it to yellow belt?” asked the XO, taking a drink
from his canteen.

“That’s right,” agreed Calvin. “I did OK at it. I just
wasn’t interested in it.”

“Well, you’re a damn natural,” said the XO. “I’ve never seen
anyone as good as you with so little training. Let’s try a few throws.” He
showed Calvin a few taekwondo throws, and how Calvin could use his opponent’s
force to his advantage and throw the opponent to the ground. Once there, Calvin
could follow up with either a controlling or finishing technique; even better, he
could pull out a weapon and shoot him.

As taekwondo is equally as concerned with defense as
offense, the XO also showed him some freeing techniques, where he could break
loose from an opponent and neutralize the danger.  “You need to be able to
break contact with an enemy if one ever gets a hold of you,” the XO said once
he was done. “Are you ready to try some of those?”

Calvin agreed, and they went through some of the moves at
half speed. The cheering from the platoon started up again, and shortly both
men were doing their best to beat the other. Finally, after several minutes of
maneuvering, the XO was able to throw Calvin. “Pretty good, sir,” he conceded.
“One more?” the XO asked.

“Sure,” said Calvin, “then I have to go.”

“OK,” replied Night. “Focus and let’s have at it.”

Calvin shut his eyes and focused on what he was doing. When
he opened them again, he looked changed; his demeanor calm and supremely
focused. They bowed and began circling each other, throwing punches and kicks,
while the platoon screamed abuse at both of them.

“Will you give me five to one odds on the skipper?” Top
asked Master Chief.

“Five? I’ll give you ten,” replied Ryan. “I’ve never seen
anyone throw the XO. That’s easy money.”

“I don’t know,” said Top. “He was holding his own earlier,
and he looks pretty focused now.”

As he said it, the XO feigned a kick at Calvin. As Calvin
went for the block, the XO reached in and grabbed his flight suit, pulling him
off balance. Seeing that the XO was about to toss him over the XO’s hip, Calvin
unexpectedly jumped
toward
the XO, rolling across his back and grabbing
the XO’s shirt as he went past. As his feet came back to the ground, he
continued the spin, pulling the XO around and over
his
hip. The XO lost
his balance and was thrown to the ground on his back.

Silence echoed throughout the hangar.

Although nearly the whole platoon had been cheering for
Calvin, no one had actually expected him to win. No one. Even Top, who had bet
on him. He hadn’t been thrown a single time in all of the platoon’s
competitions; in fact, not a single soldier had been able to score a point on
him. Everyone was stunned, most of all the XO.

Calvin reached a hand down to help him up. “Thanks for the
lessons,” he said. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Well, you’re my prize student now,” said the XO ruefully,
“since no one has been able to do that before. You need to come down and work
out with us more often. Maybe there’s something that you can teach us.”

“I doubt it,” said Calvin, “but I’d love to come join you.”
Indicating his sweat-soaked flight suit he said, “I need the exercise.”

On the other side of the hangar, Top held out his hand.
“I’ll take that ten dollars now,” he said. “When are you going to learn not to
sell the skipper short?”

Top couldn’t hear the response, but thought it sounded
suspiciously like “fucking officers.”

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