John Ringo - Against the Tide

“Miss Ghorbani, you suffer under a misapprehension,” Conner said, smiling faintly. “The misapprehension is that anyone in New Destiny cares . Oh, not about your opinion , that, as you said, goes without saying. No, rather about the fate of one individual, no matter how potentially able. Are you familiar with the saying ‘Quantity has a quality of its own’?”

“Stalin,” Rachel said. “My father loves to rave about its stupidity. He especially cites the reality of Zhukov.”

“Who is Zhukov?” Conner asked. “For that matter, who is Stalin?”

“You see ?!” Rachel snapped. “You’re an idiot . You’re quoting things you don’t even know the genesis of! You don’t know the reality surrounding them or to what it directly related! It wasn’t a general quote it was about a particular weapon ! And if you’re going to apply it to people , the falsehood of the statement is directly associated with the original person who said it!”

“So… who is Zhukov?” Conner said, politely.

“Ack! I’m not here to teach you ancient history,” Rachel snarled. “I’ve got more butchery to perform. I suppose you’d prefer that I concentrate on those who aren’t too far gone and won’t need a lot of recovery?”

“Yes,” Conner replied. “More or less. You’re not going to tell me who Zhukov is, are you?”

“Go look it up!” Rachel snapped.

“Russian general,” the elf-thing said, sibilantly. “Commanded the Siberian Army during the early stages of the Phase Two of the First Planetary War. Later commander of the whole army. Possibly saved Russia. That is arguable.”

“If Zhukov hadn’t mobilized his Siberians, Moscow would have fallen,” Rachel snapped.

“Russia had lost Moscow before,” the elf-thing replied. “It destroyed Napoleon.”

“Completely different situation,” Rachel said. “Even with the partisans, the Germans had the logistics to hold it through the winter, easily. And by the end of the winter, they would have held Murmansk as well and taken Stalingrad. The only thing that kept them from doing that was Zhukov.”

“They didn’t have sufficient security for their supply lines,” the elf argued.

“Excuse me,” Conner said.

“They could draw them, were drawing them, from units from Eastern Europe,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “No, it was the Siberians…”

“EXCUSE ME!” Conner shouted. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“The Russian Winter Campaign of 1942,” the elf-thing replied.

“That tells me so much!” Conner snapped.

“What are you?” Rachel said, looking at the elf-thing.

“I am Roc,” the elf-thing replied.

“I said what not who,” Rachel said, thoughtfully.

“What am I?” Roc asked Conner.

“You’re my bodyguard,” Conner snapped.

“I’m a bodyguard,” the elf-thing said, turning back to Rachel.

“Like hell,” Rachel said, musingly. “You’re one hell of a violation of protocols is what you are. I assume the Lady hasn’t found out, yet. Pity. Be interesting when she finally opens Elfheim back up. She flipped her lid when they made the wood-elf prototypes. She’s going to find a new meaning of mad when she finds out about this… thing.”

“That is besides the point…” Conner said, showing the first real signs of anger.

“Not in your case,” Rachel said, happily. “Just knowing you’re anywhere near one of these things is going to make you a special treat for the Lady. She’s had thousands of years of experience in coming up with nasty things to do to people. I’m sure she’ll pull them all out for anyone associated with… that,” she finished, pointing at the elf. “And why the hell is he a bodyguard when he’s the first thing I’ve found in this crowd that doesn’t have his head screwed into his ass? At least he knows who Zhukov is.”

“That is not your concern,” Conner said, his mouth -tightening.

“Hey, Roc,” Rachel said, grinning. “You really ought to take over, you know? At least you have a clue.”

“Roc is not going to ‘take over,’ ” Conner said, smoothing his features. “He is fully controlled.”

“Like hell,” Rachel said, frowning. “Hey, Roc, what do you think about Bedford Forrest?”

“He was a fine cavalry general,” the elf-thing replied. “He had the gaslan .”

“Elf word, damn,” Rachel said, wonderingly. “They’re not preprogrammed. The data on Zhukov could have been but why preprogram elvish…? This isn’t a construct, is it?” she added, horrified.

“That is enough,” Conner said, raising his hand. “One more word and you will find out how controlled Roc is.”

Rachel opened her mouth and then closed it with a clop. But she stepped forward, nonetheless, right up to the thing, staring it in the eye. It stank. Not human body odor, something like the smell of the orc Changed but much worse and included in it was the smell of the rotting blood in its harness. But she stayed there, for a moment, peering into his eyes, trying to find any spark of what he had once been. All she could see was that there was a world of fury behind those eyes. She reached up, gently, touched it on the face and then turned away.

“I’ve got more butchery to do,” she said, her voice catching. “But I guess I’m not the first, huh?”

“Just get back to work,” Conner said, gesturing the thing to proceed him.

“Goodbye, Roc,” Rachel said, softly, stepping over to the sink and starting to wash her hands again. “Whoever you were.”

“What do you think, Lieutenant?” General Magalong said, looking out the window at the retiring New Destiny forces. Their first salient was already a hundred meters from the New Destiny fort and they appeared to be preparing the first parallel.

“I think we’ve got us a fight on our hands, sir,” Pedersen said. He was standing at parade rest in front of the general’s desk.

“I think so as well,” the general said, turning away from the window and waving to a chair. “Sit, Lieutenant, before you keel over.”

“That wasn’t that hard a fight, sir,” Pedersen said, but he sat anyway, sliding forward to keep most of the mess off the chair; he was still rather bloody.

“Those big… things…” the general said.

“I think the general consensus term is ogres, sir,” Pedersen said, grinning slightly. “Too… clumsy for trolls.”

“Ogres and trolls, oh my,” the general replied.

“Yes, sir,” Pedersen said with a nod. “They’re slow and clumsy but hard to fight. Very long reach. Might be better attacking them with a pike wall. Longbowmen will do a number on them, though, at least at any range under a hundred meters. Heavy crossbows as well. I don’t think they’re a carefully thought out construct; they seem to be just a human design… increased. That’s why they’re so clumsy; humans aren’t designed to be five meters tall and as broad and heavy as they are. I think… if we have some pikes made up with a sharpened edge that stretches back about two meters… Then assign a particular unit to drill with them. Intersperse them in the regular forces to respond when one of the ogres attacks. That should handle it. They just caught us off-guard.”

“Ogres and orcs and I saw at least two different types of Changed working on the parallels,” the general mused.

“Yes, sir,” Pedersen replied. “As long as they don’t come out with a corps of orc composite bowmen I’ll be happy, sir.”