John Ringo - Von Neumann’s War

“Did I put my foot wrong, sir?” Shane asked.

“No,” Colonel Schon said. “Not at all. I wish we knew more, but that’s like wishing this wasn’t happening. No, it’s about your mission. Could you define it for me, again?”

“To observe first contact, evaluate the threat and report,” Shane replied. “Basically, we’re an eyeball recon for the Neighborhood Watch team.”

“Exactly,” the colonel said, his face working as he considered his words. “So, when we first make contact with these things, what are you going to do?”

“Observe the effect of our weapons, sir,” Shane said, confused.

“Major, every single unit that has made contact with these things has dropped out of the net shortly after first report,” the colonel pointed out. “What does that tell you?”

“That they’re pretty damned bad news, sir,” Shane replied.

“What it tells me is that we’re going to get butt-fucked,” Colonel Schon said. “Fast and hard. I don’t know how, but we will. And your job is to… ?”

“Get the word back. Why, sir?” Shane said, his stomach sinking.

“That’s right,” the colonel said. “Concentrate like fire on that mission, Major. Concentrate hard. Nobody, but nobody , has succeeded in it. And the United States has to know what these things are. How they fight. How we can fight them. I’m going to lose this battle, Major, sure as God made little green apples. Sending us here is pissing in the wind. My one and only hope is that while I may fail in my mission, you succeed. If you do, it might make losing my battalion, losing my troops, worthwhile. Do not fail me . Do you fully comprehend what I am saying.”

“Yes, sir,” Shane replied, swallowing.

“I didn’t have many Humvees to spare,” the colonel said. “I gave you that one for a reason. Use it.”

“Yes, sir,” Shane repeated.

“That’s all.”

“What was that all about, sir?” Cady asked when Shane waved him towards the Humvee.

“The colonel was clarifying our role in this battle,” Shane said, sitting down in the passenger seat as Cady climbed in the driver’s.

“And that is?” Cady asked.

“Master Sergeant, I don’t often say this,” Shane replied. “But when we make contact, you just obey my orders like lightning. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the master sergeant said, uneasily. “I usually have a fair understanding of them, anyway, sir.”

“Well, here’s a portion of your commander’s intentions,” Shane said. “Keep a careful eye on how to drive the fuck away from here and get to someplace where we can make it back to the States. Or at least England. You work on that for the time being.”

“And what will you be working on if I may ask, sir?” Cady said, trying not to smile.

“I’ll just be sitting here and worrying like hell.”

“Lieutenant Colonel, can you hear me?”

Ridley felt a searing pain in his left shoulder and decided to lie still and pray it would go away. His head still hurt, badly, and he had quit trying to cope with the pain in his feet and toes more than ten or more hours ago.

“Bull! Can you hear me, sir?”

“If I open my eyes there had better be somebody there and this not be a hallucination!” Ridley said. He cracked his eyelids slowly, and instinctively tried to hold his left hand in front of them to shade his eyes. That didn’t work. His left shoulder complained by sending a sharp twinge of pain through his upper body. “Fuck!”

“Sir, don’t move until we know how bad you are,” Rene said.

“Rene! I thought you were dead?”

“Uh, yes, sir, same goes for you. Although, you are the first survivor I’ve been able to find.” Rene leaned slowly over Ridley and surveyed him. His helmet was cracked completely through all the way from the front of his forehead to the back of his neck. Rene separated the helmet and threw it aside. There was a tree limb about a half-inch in diameter sticking out of Ridley’s left shoulder and his upper left side was covered in blood, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding any longer. Rene slowly removed Ridley’s socks. His left foot was swollen and likely broken and three of his toes on his right foot were turning brown and blue.

“You look rough, sir.” Rene straightened and adjusted the makeshift sling around his left arm.

“Shit, Rene, you don’t look so hot either.” Ridley opened his eyes completely and waited for his vision to adjust. He wiggled his fingers on both hands and realized he had complete control over his right arm and hand. He moved both legs and wiggled his toes — that hurt like hell.

“I’m not sure you should move, Bull.”

“Aw shit, just superficial stuff, I think.” Ridley adjusted the way he was lying on the ground and then forced himself to a sitting position with his back to the tree. He rolled his neck left and looked at the stick protruding his left shoulder. “Reckon I ought to pull that out?”

“No, sir, I wouldn’t do that. It might start bleeding again. From the looks of it you lost a good bit of blood from it going in.” Rene sat down and leaned against the tree beside the lieutenant colonel.

“How bad are you, Rene?”

“Left collarbone is broken and I have some cracked ribs I think. My right knee is twisted pretty badly, but I can walk. My left eye is hard to keep open but I’m managing it.”

“Yeah, you look rosy. I don’t know if I can walk or not, but I can try if we need to.” Ridley felt the stick in his shoulder and decided to leave it the hell alone.

“That’s just it, Bull. I’m not sure where we would go.” Rene sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Any idea where we are?”

“Yeah, I think we’re about eighty kilometers north of Bethune and maybe ten or twenty south of Calais.”

“What about the aliens? You seen any since you been on the ground?” Ridley felt through his torn garments hoping to find water or an MRE or something — no luck.

“None. They all seem to have headed off to the east right after we went down.”

“Hmmm. Hey, tell me something. Just how the hell did you survive that fall?” Ridley tried to grin.

“I was tossed into one of those things chest first. I bear-hugged it and hung on for dear life, until it crashed into the treetops. I fell from there. And you?”

“Hell if I know!” Ridley laughed and then grimaced in pain.

The two men rested in silence against the tree for a few minutes more. Ridley finally decided to test his strength and forced himself up to his feet. He could put all his weight on his right foot with pain that he could endure from his toes, which were mostly numb now. But his left foot would not support his weight for more than a few seconds without sending unbearable pain up his body. Ridley sat back down.

“Rene, you think you could tie a splint around my foot with that bum collarbone of yours?”

“We’ll do what we can, sir.”

Ten minutes later the two men were hobbling along through the woods of France, trying to make their way north toward Calais. They had been told that would be the rearward evacuation point for the attack. Ridley leaned heavily on the rough walking stick that Rene had found for him, but was able to walk slowly. At their present pace they figured to reach Calais in a couple hours, but with any luck they would find help long before that.

“No, sir, it doesn’t sound good,” the medic replied to Ridley and Rene’s questions. “Everything I’ve heard so far is that all communications have been lost with the troops as soon as they make contact with the aliens. You two are the first survivors I’ve come across yet.” Fortunately, the two of them had stumbled across a highway and decided to follow it. Before long, an evac convoy heading north to Calais came along and rescued them.