Christopher Nuttall: Picking Up the Pieces

“Yes, sir,” Russell said. “A soldier who won’t fuck won’t fight.”

It was Heinlein’s unofficial motto. “And a soldier who fucks when he should be fighting won’t be fucking any more,” I countered. “Get your people on the ground and get ready for the first bunch of trainees. Hopefully, we should have them here in a week, perhaps less.”

The day wore on slowly. I watched as the remaining units landed, only to be inspected carefully by Fleet observers before allowing us to move them into their pre-prepared positions. We were officially rated as an undersized regiment, but in practice we didn’t have anything like the uniformity that would have created a proper fighting regiment. Half of us were light infantry, although with antitank weapons that made them formidable opponents in built-up areas, while the remainder consisted of a variety of different systems. We had a small helicopter detachment, several dozen armoured vehicles, and what looked to be the most advanced medical complex on the planet. It was something else we were going to have to look at, quickly. What could Svergie produce for itself that we — and their new army — were going to need?

I smiled faintly, thinking of the Government’s reaction if we had to import even basic weapons from other star systems. Even if Fleet didn’t get involved — and I doubted they would if the weapons didn’t include nukes or biological warfare systems — the cost would be astronomical. Even very basic UN-standard rifles and their ammunition would be incredibly bulky and very costly. I’d prefer to buy it on the planet, if possible. If nothing else, it would give the local economy a boost.

“Captain, this is Ed,” a voice said, suddenly. “You have a… visitor.”

“Already?” I asked, puzzled. I’d expected the local politicians to come trailing out to the base over the next few weeks, not immediately. “Who is it?”

“A girl called Suki,” Ed said. His voice suggested that he didn’t believe her. “She claims to be from the government.”

“I see,” I said. My puzzlement hadn’t abated. “Send her in to my office.”

Suki proved to be a strange mixture of Chinese and Swedish. She was tall, dressed to show off her assets — and they were very impressive — and had a surprisingly oriental face. I studied her carefully — for tactical purposes, of course — and concluded that she didn’t have any real military experience. That proved nothing, of course. Jock and his band of Specials were good at looking like harmless assholes until they hit the enemy as hard as they could. Suki might be an unarmed combat expert with a degree in killing for fun and profit.

“Good afternoon, sir,” she said, in a voice I could grow to like, under other circumstances. “I’ve been sent to be your assistant and native guide.”

I fought down several words that came to mind, including what I’d like her to assist me with, and lifted an eyebrow. “You have been sent to me?” I asked. “Who sent you to me?”

“The Government,” she said, flicking her eyelashes at me. She had perfect soft brown eyes, I couldn’t help noticing. All in all, she was almost perfect. “They thought that you would need an assistant and I was in line for a position.”

“Really,” I said, dryly. If that were true, I’d put myself up for NJP, or perhaps a sparring session with one of the unarmed combat experts. “Which part of the Government?”

“The President’s office,” Suki explained. I gave up. It was clear that she was either genuine, or a very good spy. Even if she was the former, the odds were good that she’d been sent, at least in part, to report back on my activities. I couldn’t blame them for being a little paranoid — at the moment, my force was the most powerful force on the planet — but it was just a little insulting. “I can type, handle most normal clerical work and link you to the most powerful people on the planet.”

I wanted to laugh, thinking hard. She had to be a spy, witting or unwitting, and that made her dangerous, yet I could use her. There was something to be said for knowing who the spies were and keeping a quiet eye on her, unless they’d sent her in knowing that she would be noticed and expecting her to distract me from the more… subtle spies. She was trying to attract me and she might have succeeded — hell, she had succeeded — but I had enough experience to know that she was probably bad news.

“Very good,” I said, finally. I’d weighed up all the options. I could have rejected her, but I might not catch the next spy in time. I didn’t mind them knowing most of what we were doing, but they’d probably take exception to some of our activities. “Can you shoot?”

“Why, no sir,” Suki said. She sounded bemused at my suggestion. “We’re not taught how to shoot in school…”

I almost — not quite — rolled my eyes. I hadn’t been taught how to shoot in school either, but Russell had… and, overall, Heinlein produced a greater number of marksmen. They learned to shoot from the moment they could handle a gun and some of their marksmen were just out of this universe. Suki would be starting late, but she’d have to learn; it would have looked odd if I’d refused her training.

“You’ll have to learn,” I said, firmly. “It’s a rule; everyone who works for me here has to pass a series of qualifying tests on everything from firearms to basic tactics. If you’re willing to go through the training and tests, I’ll be happy to have you here. If not… well, goodbye.”

She flushed, slightly. “They sent me here to work for you…”

“Yes, they did,” I agreed. “They sent you knowing that you would have to qualify for the position.” I was tempted to add that there was more to any job than just waving her breasts under the interviewer’s eyes, but declined. It would have been cruel and I like to think I’m better than that. “That’s what you have to do to qualify. If you can’t hack it, then I’d suggest you left before you got someone injured or killed.”

She glared at me and I half-expected her to storm out in a rage, but then she nodded. “Very well,” she said, furiously. Her breasts shook as she quivered. “I will qualify.”

“Excellent,” I said, with false cheer. “Report to the Master Sergeant and tell him to issue you a recruit’s uniform, and then report back here. I’ll have some work for you to do then.”

I smiled inwardly as she left. One way or another, her employers would get more than they bargained for. A dose of training would be enough to see what she was actually made of… and it might even make a soldier out of her. Who knew?

A week later, we began recruiting in earnest.

“There are a lot of them,” Peter observed, as we watched the queue. We’d barely opened the recruiting office and hundreds of volunteers had arrived. There were so many that I was starting to suspect someone had prepared it in advance. “We’re not going to be able to train all of them at once, boss.”

I nodded. We’d set up three offices in New Copenhagen and if all of them were as busy as the main office, we’d have thousands of recruits. The clerks were working overtime to register them all, fingerprint them and give them a date for presenting themselves at the bus terminal. We could have asked them to make their own way to the spaceport, and the training grounds we’d prepared near it, but I figured that it would be easier to bus them in. Besides, it would cut down on the number of scenes outside the spaceport.