Broken Soldier (Book One) (20 page)

When he entered the room, he noted that Al shared
the room with three other old men. He kicked himself mentally. If
he had thought about it, he could have checked on the other three
soldiers, in the room, and perhaps recruited all of them.

Al was asleep and snoring. He looked like hell. His
face was badly wrinkled and he had a patch over one eye. His arms
had the tell tail signs of having been hit with many a needle.
Mike’s guilt flared up; but it didn’t prevent him from sticking
with the plan.

He wasted no time, stunning Al with the shoulder
weapon. Al didn’t move a muscle and Mike feared it had killed the
man. He looked closer and saw that Al was still breathing. Next, he
pulled out a large sheet of camo fabric and wrapped Al in it. He
had no trouble carrying the old Corporal. The man was so emaciated
Mike wouldn’t have had a problem even he hadn’t been upgraded.

With no activity in the hall, he made his way to the
stairs and carried Al to the top floor. He opened the entrance to
the roof, and found the shuttle waiting there, as he walked out.
Bambi and Jo had been monitoring his progress and had headed to the
hospital as soon as Mike began carrying Al.

Once he had Al inside, he announced, “This won’t
work. It takes too long and there’s to great a chance of alerting
the authorities that something’s gone amiss. We have to find a
better way to get a larger group all at once. I’ll have to give it
some serious thought.”

Jo helped him strip off Al’s hospital gown, and then
placed him carefully in the med unit. Bambi went to work
immediately to rebuild the old soldier.

After a review of Al’s condition, she told Mike,
This man isn’t in very good shape. I can fix him though. I’m
just saying that he isn’t as well off as you were, when Jo
kidnapped you. It’s going to take a little longer.

“Yeah, I know. Give him back his left foot and his
youth. When I knew him, he was a fine soldier. If he doesn’t want
to go with us, at least he’ll have that going for him. And if there
is any way possible, could you fix it so he won’t be a drug addict
anymore?”

Captain, I’d have to probe his brain a little. I’ll
have to alter his thoughts.

He froze, as he pondered what she meant, and then
told her, “Do it.”

He felt exhausted, and yet he had only been back on
planet Earth for nineteen minutes. Seeing Al in that condition and
realizing how badly he had planed this brief operation had shaken
his self confidence. He thought, damn it, I’m not a strategy guy.
I’m able to think with lightening speed, but I lack the natural
talent of planning.

So he mentally reviewed his list of old soldiers and
quickly came up with the one man he knew who could do the job.
Problem was, Mike couldn’t stand the guy. Major General Maximilian
Kolbe was a brilliant strategist and a class A prick, in Mike’s
book. But the man had designed some of the most effective and
detailed operations in the Iraq and Afghanistan theaters.

Mike had been at one of the presentations the
General had given in Iraq, in preparation for the up coming battle,
to relieve Kuwait. It was obvious to Mike that the man was cold
blooded in his thinking. Gen. Patton would have loved the guy. He
thought nothing of putting some of his troops in bad situations to
tie up enemy forces, as other troops attacked somewhere else. But
the undermanned companies, which had to draw the enemy fire, would
take a lot of casualties.

At that pre-operation presentation, Mike was in the
back of the room. Only officers were near the front. After the
General finished his talk, he opened it up for questions. Before
anyone else could speak, Mike shouted out, “What kind of support
are the troops in the diversion going to get, General?” He had
asked in an angry tone, without thought of military courtesy.

The General was immediately angry and called Mike to
the front of the room, where he proceeded to rip him up one side
and down the other. He never responded to Mike’s question, he just
vented his displeasure at a Sergeant challenging his rule.

The man was a son of a bitch; but Mike had to admit
his tactics proved very effective. So, with great reluctance, he
would pursue the General he hated. They needed the man’s brains and
beggars can’t be choosers.

General Maximilian Kolbe was the distant relative of
a Polish Franciscan of some renown. The old monk had survived
tuberculosis and gone on to distinguish himself as a builder of
monasteries around the world. He perished in Auschwitz, at the
hands of the Nazis, near the end of WW11. In 1982, he was made a
saint by the pope.

Gen. Kolbe was nothing like his namesake. He was
arrogant and aggressive. He was damn lucky to have earned his
second star, after having pissed off the head of the Joint Chiefs.
But, the President had saved his ass and seen to it that he was
given a spot in plans for operation Desert Storm in Iraq. As much
as Mike couldn’t stand the guy, he had to admit he had been a good
fit there.

The old guy was a widower like Mike and had just
turned eighty. He lived alone, on a fifty acre ranch in Texas. As
far as Mike could tell, Gen. Kolbe would be home and by himself.
Well, he thought, there’s no time like the present.

With the alien shuttle at his disposal, going to
Texas was a short trip. They made it in twenty minutes and set down
in the General’s front yard. Mike would have picked the back yard,
but it had a really nice flower garden and Mike didn’t want to piss
off the man, by crushing his favorite rosebush. He needed this
man.

By the time they arrived, Mike had an idea as to how
to approach the guy. If worse came to worse, he could always stun
him. He admitted to himself that he would enjoy that, if it became
necessary.

Captain, there are several lasers on this site and I
detect what I believe is an alarm system. Should I defeat it for
you?

“Can you do it, without setting anything else
off.”

I think so, sir.

He liked the fact she seemed to be all business when
it counted. She was definitely growing up quickly.

He went to the front door and used his shoulder to
push it open. There was a loud crunch, as it gave way, and then he
was in, without any alarm going off. He had to guess where the man
was sleeping and was incorrect at the first three bedrooms, before
he found the old guy, in a forth.

There was a dim nightlight, which provided Mike a
view of the old man, without resorting to his greatly improved
night vision. At eighty years of age, he looked pretty damn good.
Maybe he wouldn’t be interested in regaining his youth after all.
That’s when Mike realized that he was staring down the barrel of
forty four magnum. An Israeli made one, too, if he wasn’t
mistaken.

The General was sleepy; yet alert enough to put some
steel in his voice, as he demanded, “What the fuck do you want,
boy. It better be damn good or you’re a dead man.”

Mike put his hands up. “Hold on General. I’m here
with an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Son, the only thing keeping you alive right now is
that uniform. I don’t need life insurance and I don’t want to sell
my ranch. So you’d better impress the hell out of me with this
offer of yours.”

The General held the heavy pistol on Mike, as he
reached over and turned on his bed lamp. Then he ordered Mike to
sit on the floor, with his hands beneath his ass.

Mike obeyed and thought, well, the old guy hasn’t
lost his ability to command respect.

“Talk, God damn it.”

“Sir, I’ve been sent by a classified department of
our military to offer you a way for you to regain your youth. It’s
true sir. I’ve had this procedure done myself. Look at me. I’m
actually seventy one years old.”

“Bullshit. That kind of talk is just a pipe dream.
You’re getting real close to meeting your maker, young man.”

The General looked closer and Mike saw his eyes open
wide. “I know you from somewhere. Holy shit, you’re that crazy
Sergeant from Iraq who didn’t like my ideas. You had some balls
then. Now you’re just fuckin’ nuts. I’m going to let you live boy,
but only if you get the hell out of my house.”

“Please General, if you’ll let me explain.” He
pleaded, “Maybe it would make you feel better if I told you that we
need your help. We need your amazing brain for strategic
planning.”

“Who in the hell is WE?”

Mike hadn’t been as prepared as he had hoped. When
all else fails, tell the truth. If that didn’t work, he would have
to stun the old guy.

“OK here goes. We have aliens from outer space that
are a threat to our planet. There are other aliens who might be
willing to help us, but we need someone who has a naturally
strategic mind to provide us some direction. That’s where you come
in.”

General Kolb began to grin and he mumbled, “Oh this
is rich, aliens from outer space. Who the fuck put you up to this?”
He waved the gun and added, “Ok big boy, keep talking, I ain’t
buying it, but it’s too good of a story to ignore.”

Captain, Jo says that at this point, he might as
well make an appearance. Maybe when the General sees a real alien,
he’ll believe you. Isn’t that better than getting shot?

Mike commed back,
I thought I was bullet
proof.

I can’t guarantee that you wouldn’t be harmed. I
looked up the pistol he’s holding. For humans, it is a very
powerful weapon. Oh shit, Jo’s on his way in. You better make some
sort of introduction.

“Sir, I have an alien friend who is on his way in to
meet you. Please don’t shot him.”

The old man shook his head and asked, “What’s this
clowns name?”

“His name is Jonelle. But, I call him Jo.”

“Sergeant, you’re not very original. Jesus Christ,
an ET named Jo. Really? That’s the best you got.”

At the sound of movement, the General realigned his
aim to cover the door. Jo peeked his head around the entrance and,
using the mechanical sounding interpreter, said, “General, Kolbe,
it is a pleasure to meet you sir.”

The man froze, as he gazed in astonishment at the
seven foot tall grayish alien. Jo added, “Sir, everything my friend
has told you is true. If you would like to see our spacecraft, we
have it parked in your front yard.”

It took nearly a minute, before the old man
responded. “You poor guy. What have they done to you? Good grief
man, you really do look like an alien. As for a spacecraft in my
front yard, I’ve had helicopters land there a few times and they
always made a mess of my grass. You’d better not fuck up my lawn,
or you sons-a-bitches will pay.”

Jo commed,
He thinks I am not a real alien. He
must believe that the government has given me alterations. That’s
why he expressed sympathy for me.

Mike nodded in agreement.

Bambi commed,
Captain, I hate to be rude, but
just stun the guy and let’s get out of here.

Mike realized she was right. This was taking too
long.

Without moving a muscle, he sighted through his
shoulder mounted reticule and fired a stun round at the old
General. Before landing in the man’s front yard, the thought of
shooting him had been pleasant; yet actually doing it had failed to
provide the satisfaction he had anticipated.

Jo held the front door aside, as Mike carried the
General to the shuttle. Once inside, he saw that Bambi had a med
unit all ready open. He gently set the old man inside and closed it
up.

“Bambi, take us back up to the other shuttle.”

Upon further thought, he redirected their coarse.
“Change of plans. Look up the address of a grocery store and take
us there. I’m going to buy a few items for the food
replicator.”

They set down at the far end of a grocery store
parking lot and Mike hopped out, after taking a quick look around.
Forty minutes later, he was wheeling out two overloaded carts to
the shuttle. He had to fumble around once, in order to allow
another late night shopper to pull out, before he could risk
disappearing into the invisible shuttle.

As he packed away the grocery bags, Bambi said,
Damn, Captain, you must really be hungry. Did you bring anything
back for Jo or me? You know, we might be hungry, too.

He didn’t respond to the obvious jest.

Back aboard the large shuttle, Mike took out a tin
of coffee, opened it and dumped a teaspoon of it into the
replicator. Ten minutes later, he tasted his first cup of
reproduced coffee from an alien machine. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it
tasted wonderful.

His next item was a New York strip steak. What came
out of the replicator looked nothing like what he put into it. He
had the food processor cook it and the thing looked like a strange
lump of dark red animal flesh. However, it tasted pretty good to
him. He had been eating odd food on the Mother Ship for nearly two
months, so this was a welcome change for him.

He couldn’t afford to waste any more time on food
preparation. He could play with the replicator on the way back to
the Mother Ship.

While Jo enjoyed a snack of some odd looking food
bar, Mike began to look up the whereabouts of his son. He had
deliberately avoided doing so earlier, because he wanted to remain
focused on the need to recruit warriors. Mike and his son had grown
somewhat distant, since the passing of Sherry. He felt guilty about
not keeping tabs on Wayne and had a sudden desire to see how his
boy was doing

When Jo had kidnapped Mike, his son had been at
Pensacola Naval Air Station training new pilots to fly F-18s.
Wayne’s experience flying combat support sorties for the Marines in
Afghanistan made him an expert on the coordination between ground
based close air support personnel and the pilots bringing death
close to the Marines in need.

Years earlier Wayne fell in love and married a
beautiful young girl, Mary. Sherry was ecstatic and went over board
in helping the young lady’s mother plan the wedding. Mike took to
the girl like a father and truly enjoyed dancing with Mary at their
wedding. She was a sweet kid and he knew his son loved her dearly.
Mike and Sherry had wanted grandchildren, but there were none. He
didn’t know why and hadn’t pressed his son about it, as it seemed
to be an awkward topic to discuss with him.