Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1999 21:12:24 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Vengeance - Chapter 5 Message-ID: Chapter 5 Sam was sore. He couldn't believe how much drilling he and his fellow team members had done. It was always the same drill, too. Sam wasn't a military expert but he could tell, from the drills, that his team was planning an attack on something highly guarded. One thing he did know after seven hours of being an ensign in this little army, he wasn't sure he wanted to be part of whatever mission this team had. Another thing that caught Sam's attention was the ranking in this little army. Whatever the team was going to do, it seemed to be a joint Navy/ Marine operation. Sam's rank was ensign but his commanding officer, the one who had ordered one hundred and twenty-five push-ups on his now aching body, had the rank of Major. Her commanding officer was a General. Still, for a team of military officers, everything was pretty relaxed. No one in the military would ever dream of addressing a superior officer in the manner in which that lieutenant had addressed Major Taylor. It bothered Sam. Something felt all wrong about this situation. "Hey, Harry!" someone called from behind Sam as Sam limped, literally, towards what appeared to be barracks. "Harry, wait up!" Sam stopped and looked behind him to see a tall man run towards him. He recognized him as one of the two people who flanked him when he leaped into wherever he was. He realized that he himself must be the Harry to whom this man was shouting. "Hey, what's the matter with you today?" the man demanded. "Are you deaf or something?" Sam frowned. "No, I'm... I'm just a little distracted, that's all." "That's all?" the man exclaimed, walking towards the barracks. Sam followed. "I've never seen Harry Stark perform so poorly since I've been here! The Major practically blew a gasket when you pulled that stunt!" Sam hesitated. "Yeah, well...." He couldn't think of a response. "Well what?" the man asked. Sam didn't answer. The man laughed. "Harry, you really are something else." Sam exhaled. "You can say that again," he told the man. *More like someONE else. "Harry, you really are something else," the man repeated jokingly as he led Sam to a barracks and allowed him to enter first. Sam discovered that his presumption of the purpose of the building was one hundred percent correct. The building consisted of one large room and a few windows. The room was filled with double bunk beds and foot lockers, making Sam wonder which bed belonged to his host, Ensign Harry Stark. After a process of elimination, Sam found the Ensign's bunk and noticed a magazine laying underneath the pillow. He read the title with curiosity. "'Soldier of Fortune'? I'm a mercenary?" Someone laughed from above him. It was his fellow push-up victim from the drills. "I don't think you can plead insanity, Harry. The only ones in this outfit who aren't mercenaries are the big shots." Sam looked at the Lieutenant. "The big shots? Sir?" he added quickly. That made the Lieutenant laugh harder. "'Sir'? Come on, Harry. We're in the barracks. What happened to 'Lt. Dan' and your impression of Tom Hanks?" He smiled, sitting up straight on his top bunk. "'My name's Forrest Gump. People call me Forrest Gump',"he imitated. Sam smiled slightly. He had no idea what the guy was talking about but he was certain that it was some kind of running gag involving an odd Southern accent. "Well," Sam replied, "I guess I'm just not in the mood for much humor." Lt. Dan nodded a bit. "I get ya. Taylor really pushed us hard today." He sighed. "I can't believe we've been at this for only two weeks. Feels like two months." Sam thought about his words. "So, how long will it be until we... go to work?" Sam didn't know how else to ask the question, especially since he didn't know for what they were training. Lt. Dan huffed. "Your guess is as good as mine. But for now, I think the situation is pretty good. Sure, we're working like hell but no one's been killed and we're making a shit-load of money." "Not such a shit-load," a husky voice said from behind Sam, making Sam jump a bit. Fortunately, Lt. Dan didn't seem to notice. Sam looked at Lt. Dan. "Excuse me, Lt. Dan," he said, trying to imitate the Southern accent Dan had used earlier. Dan gave a slight, but confused, smile. It seemed obvious that Sam didn't quite have the voice right. "Yeah. Sure." Sam walked away from his bunk and into a bathroom, certain that he was being followed. He turned to look at the man who had followed him. "Al, what did you mean back there?" he asked the Holographic Observer. "Back where?" Al asked absently. "Oh!" he realized. "That little comment I made." He pointed his right thumb to the door behind him. "Those guys in there think they're going to get a whole lot of money after all this when, in fact, they're not going to get a single penny." He didn't even have a handlink in his hand, which Sam found extremely curious. Also, the Admiral seemed extremely tired and concerned, contrasting his well-tailored navy suit with collarless jacket, paisley vest, and white collarless shirt. "Is there something wrong, Al?" Sam asked. Al raised his eyebrows. "Why do you ask?" Sam looked at him firmly. "You're wearing one of your best suits but you're obviously tired and concerned. You haven't even looked at the handlink yet. Seems to me, you're trying to hide something from me." Al exhaled. He should have known better than to try to hide anything from Sam, even the most personal of problems. Sam could read him like a book. "Is it Beth?" Sam asked with concern. Al smiled slightly and shook his head. "It's not Beth," he told the physicist. His expression became sad. "Someone beat the hell out of a friend of mine last night. The chances of her recovery aren't very good." Sam closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Al. Did they get the guy who did it?" Al paused a moment before shaking his head. "They haven't a clue. And the only person who does know is unconscious and in intensive care." He gave Sam a forced smile. "I'm sure we'll get him, though." Sam nodded slightly. It was time for a change of subject. "So, why am I here?" he asked. Al put his hands in his pockets. "Well, we don't have much to go on right now. It's November 22, 1999 and your name is Henry Stark Jr. You're a professional soldier of fortune who has been hired for a mission you're going to do in March of next year." There was a distant, sad look in his eyes. "No one here knows what that mission is or when it is." He didn't once look at the handlink in his pocket. "But you do," Sam concluded. Al nodded somberly. "The Commander of this rag-tag band of mercenaries is General Albert Whitefeather Burke," he told Sam, deep meaning in his voice. Sam looked at him expectantly. "So, what am I here to do?" Al frowned and looked at Sam carefully. "You don't remember General Burke, do you?" Sam shook his head. Al exhaled. "I suppose it's for the better," he muttered to himself. He looked into Sam's eyes. "General Albert Whitefeather Burke successfully took over the complex for an entire week. He was responsible for the deaths of twelve people in the complex and the wounding of dozens on both his side and ours." "And I'm on his side?" Sam questioned. Al nodded. "I must be here to prevent Burke from taking over the complex," Sam concluded. Al hesitated. Sam frowned. "What's wrong?" Al pierced his lips. "That was the first scenario we ran through Ziggy. We ran it several times but, each time, it came out the same. If anyone tries to stop Burke from his plans, there's a ninety-nine percent chance that Burke will kill him, no matter how well armed the person is. Even if you succeed in stopping Burke, there's a ninety-four percent chance that all it would do is delay him a little." He looked at Sam carefully. "We've run all the scenarios we could think of and the only one we've come up with to stop Burke is for you to kill him. But that would flush Harry's life completely down the toilet and we don't want to do that." Sam smiled with realization. "You know this guy?" he asked, looking into a mirror. Al nodded. "He helps us get the complex back from Burke. He's a good guy, Sam, even if he is a bit arrogant and greedy. He certainly doesn't deserve a life sentence for murder." Sam sighed helplessly. "So, what can I do?" "Well," Al told him, "the only thing you really can do is hang on until I can find some more information for you. Also, obey your team leader, who would be Genine... I mean, Major Taylor." Sam frowned. "You know her too?" Al exhaled slowly. "I'd better not tell you any more than I already have, Sam. At least, not yet. This is a very delicate situation here and I can't risk anything accidentally happening that shouldn't happen." He paused. "So, just hang on and obey the Major until I get back. Okay?" Sam nodded. Al took the handlink out of his trousers' pocket and pressed a couple of buttons. A moment later, a white rectangle appeared just behind and to the left of him. "It's dangerous here, Sam," Al warned. "Be very careful of what you say and do. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, Al stepped through the Imaging Chamber door and closed it, leaving Sam alone in the bathroom. Sam exhaled. He had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.