Westrons Pt. 02

Schott was a little slow getting out of the booth. I head butted him in the face, then kicked him - a tad viciously, I have to admit - in the groin.

Fong was trying to climb over the table, but I didn't get to him, because that's when Samir arrived and used a stunner on me.

He then stunned all four of my fellow cadets. After that, he leaned over me, and whispered: "Sorry, kid - had to make it look good."

***

Military police were summoned. All five of us were detained. ATOFA's own MPs came to collect us, and we were brought back to the base guardhouse. They took Mikel and Schott to the hospital.

I'm not sure how things would have turned out. I suppose I could have done hard time for assaulting fellow cadets. But I hadn't counted on Sam.

Vanova's bartender made a copy of the security recording, and somehow that video (with excellent audio, too) made its way onto the evening newscast.

It was a public relations disaster for AFOTA, and for the AF. There were 4 of their prized cadets, groping and verbally assaulting a waitress. To make it immeasurably worse, this wasn't in the Market, or the 18th District, where such things were ... well, expected to happen. This crude, thuggish behavior occurred in a quiet District.

Citizens were shocked, and gave a righteous shiver. Were wives and daughters safe anywhere in this city, if such goings-on were tolerated?

The only bright spot, it seemed, was the courage of one Cadet Cook, who came to the rescue of the harried waitress. There was considerable controversy, however, about the fight which ensued. While it was noted that Cadet Mikel had struck me first, most seemed to agree that I'd responded with 'excessive violence'.

There were some who approved, though. One commentator called me 'a certified badass'. I got some fan mail, and a few marriage proposals.

AFOTA went into full-scale damage control. Apologies were offered to the owners and employees of the hotel (the owners? Really?). Assurances were made to the general public, that this type of behavior would not be tolerated. The offending cadets would be punished.

Fong and his cronies were suspended for the balance of the semester, as a preliminary to their expulsion hearings (which would be held once public outrage had settled down).

Cadet Cook was confined to the dormitory until his disciplinary hearing could be scheduled.

If they wanted to get rid of me, I'd just served them up a beautiful pretext.

***

- "This a preliminary hearing only." said Major Gomez.

He ran the proceedings, while AFOTA Senior Commander Pelek presided. Evidence was presented to show that I'd done XYZ, and a whole lot more.

- "Does Cadet Cook have anything to offer in defense of his actions?" asked Gomez.

I'd thought about a few things I could have said. Instead, I just came out with the truth:

- "They went after my girlfriend, Sir."

I'm no genius. Yes, I think highly of myself, but that's not the same thing. What I didn't know, before I opened my mouth, was that I was about to say the one thing that these pompous stuffed shirts could relate to.

When they gave low scores, or suspended and expelled cadets, men like Senior Commander Pelek shared one abiding concern: that some disgruntled cadet might get it into his head to get even with AFOTA officers by going after their family.

This didn't happen for regular AF officers on active duty, or on AF bases; their families weren't present. But AFOTA was a long-term, non-combat posting, so that advisors and professors brought their families along. Their wives, and their daughters.

They detested me, and wanted nothing more than my expulsion. But what Fong and his crew had done was beyond the pale.

I got a month's suspension.

***

As suspensions went, it probably wasn't the worst punishment ever. I could still read, and study. They wouldn't let me leave the dorms, though, so it was more like house arrest than anything else.

Karpov and Partosian were the only two cadets who came by my room to check on me. Most of the others gave me a nod when they first saw me, then went right back to pretending that I didn't exist.

- "I didn't know you could fight like that." said Karpov.

I asked him to do me a favor; to deliver a message to Vanova, and to check in on her for me. He did - and brought me back a handwritten note.

Yes, I miss you. Stay safe, and come to see me at work when you get out. V.

***

Senior Commander Pelek addressed all of the cadets - not just my year, but everyone - over 2,000 of us, jammed into the Assembly Hall.

He got to the heart of the matter quickly:

- "While we may deplore the actions of some cadets, and while certain rivalries and even animosities may occur ... there is NO excuse for venting frustrations on the family or friends of even your worst enemy."

"If you dare not face the man himself, there is no other way to describe an attack on his wife or children, except cowardice."

"We will NOT have cowards at AFOTA."

A bit convoluted, really. But my fellow cadets got the message.

***

The day after my suspension ended, I had a class in the morning, followed by UC in the afternoon.

The fix was still in. They matched me up with Mongo, who put me back in the hospital.

***

Vanova didn't panic when she saw me. My arm was in a cast, the left side of my face was still blue, and the stitches looked pretty grim.

- "You poor thing." she said, and helped me to my booth. Then she kissed me, very softly, on the lips, before going to get me a beer.

- "Is Sam here?" I asked. "I have to thank him."

- "Later." she said.

That night, she took me to one of the rooms, and undressed me very carefully. Once she had me installed between the sheets, she took off her own clothes, and crawled in beside me.

- "Umm ... I don't think -"

- "Shh ..." Vanova gently enfolded me her in her arms, so that my head was resting on her prodigious bosom. She knew exactly what I needed. What a lovely way to fall asleep.

When I awoke, it was to find Vanova sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at me. She was wearing a filmy, virtually transparent nightgown, which ...

- "You keep getting into fights." she said.

- "I keep losing fights - is that what you mean? Don't forget, I won one."

She smiled, but her eyes still looked sad.

"I think I'm just a bit unlucky." I said. "They keep matching me up against cadets who can kick my ass."

- "You're fighting them, aren't you?" The way she said it, I think she already knew the answer. "I don't know why, or how - other than the obvious - but they're punishing you. Is that it?"

- "Do you really want to know?" I asked, softly.

- "Yes." she whispered.

So in a moment of weakness, I told her. Not everything. But quite a bit. I emphasized Pelek's speech, so that she'd feel safer. She didn't interrupt me. At one point, she reached out to stroke my hair.

- "Why didn't you take their offer? You could have gone to school somewhere else."

- "I want to be an officer. I know, in every fibre of my being, that I'd be good at it. Plus, I have trouble quitting. I've never been good at giving up."

- "I know." she said. "I thought you'd never stop asking me out."

Somehow, we progressed from there to making love, the sovereign remedy. Vanova was gentle with me.

***

I was excused from a number of exercises, with my broken arm, but classes, tests, and TacSims went on.

They gave me the Russian army of the Crimean war; my opponent had an Anglo-French-Turkish force which outnumbered mine significantly. He also had quite a bit of cavalry, whereas I had very little.

Luckily, I had two things going for me. First, as the inferior force, I was given a few options with regard to terrain: I could change the landscape a bit, over about 10% of the grid we were playing on. Second, my opponent was Cadet Lee, who was only in AFOTA because his father had been a brigadier.

The scenario was meant to be a classic: static defense against a mobile attacker.

I knew how these worked. If I created a strongpoint, he could just go around it. If I defended the entire front, he'd simply break through, and roll up my flanks.

But I knew that Lee had attended the same lectures, and Sleepread the same texts. He didn't have the imagination or the sense to deviate from SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) or what I called DeafBoy (Doctrine Favored by Our Instructors - DFBOI, or ... DeafBoy).

I placed a few of my natural terrain obstacles in the front line, between our respective zones. It was nowhere near what I needed to create a serious obstacle, but it was just enough to suggest one.

I left a lane open. Lee could advance - or charge - into the gap I'd left for him. It was a wide opening, held by a single highly vulnerable infantry unit.

It was like fishing; Lee took the bait. He launched a massive, all-out attack against my sacrificial offering, obliterating that unit, and then exploiting his breakthrough.

As he broke through, Lee discovered a series of water obstacles to his right. It wasn't a lake, or any kind of impassable obstacle - but it looked a little bit like one, so that General Lee veered to his left.

He found a series of rugged hills further left, so Lee adjusted his advance again, just slightly. And ... he charged straight into my massed artillery.

Cannon to the right of them, Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon in front of them, Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well

Into the jaws of Death ...

The Charge of the Light Brigade, replayed on a larger scale, with a similar result.

Lee whimpered as I blew his elite cavalry units into oblivion. Then I launched my own (limited) cavalry units in a flank attack, and added insult to injury.

My opponent was determined - or just plain stubborn. He continued to push his reserves into the 'Valley of Death".

It wasn't a complete slaughter. Lee had been gifted overwhelming forces. He managed to extricate just over half of them, and return to his starting positions.

After our simulation, the instructors gathered, and debated. They wanted to give me a low score.

- "Your strategy was too risky." said one. "If Lee had attacked anywhere else ..."

They compromised, and awarded me a 'C' grade, for 'unnecessarily risking my force' in an 'unconventional defense' against a 'superior opponent'.

Lee got a C-minus.

***

Vanova helped me celebrate the removal of my cast. She bought me three beers, and had Samir serve them.

- "You're a lucky bastard." he told me.

- "I know."

She waited for me in 'our room', on the hotel's 4th floor. Ever since the incident with Fong and his crew, we were both a little nervous. After I told her about my struggles with AFOTA, Vanova decided that she felt more secure at the hotel.

She basically occupied Room 414, thanks to Samir and his wife, the Head Chambermaid.

Vanova had dressed for the occasion - or undressed, actually. She was wearing her transparent nightie, and standing by the window. She half-turned when I entered the room.

- "It won't stay on, Cook. What should I do?" she said. Vanova shrugged, so that the strap of her nightie slid from her shoulder. It didn't fall off completely; instead, it caught on the tip of her erect nipple.

- "Aww ..." I moaned. "That's hardly fair."

- "It wasn't meant to be." she said.

Vanova's hair was becoming seriously attractive. I also found it hard to resist her sensual lips, and her slightly crooked nose (though it couldn't hold a patch to mine). But the sight of her fantastic breasts, barely concealed by the filmy nightgown, was ... irresistible.

I dragged her to the floor.

***

My opponent in the next individual TacSim was Cadet Muro, a particularly obnoxious fool who couldn't have climbed into his limousine unless his chauffeur opened the door for him.

He got superior forces, of course, on a limited grid where I couldn't change any of the terrain features. His troops were 19th century North American cavalry, with repeating carbines. He had artillery, and an early form of machine gun.

I had a small band of Apache warriors, half with rifles, the remainder with bows and arrows. I chose the 3rd best spot for an ambush, and waited.

Muro's forces converged on my position from all sides - by the shortest, most direct routes. He encircled my band, placing his artillery and machine guns to cover obvious exits from the gullies and canyons where my fighters were hidden.

He could not have planned his advance better. It was as if he knew exactly where I would be.

Which he did, of course - because somebody told him.

There was no way this moron could've pulled off what he'd just done - no way - unless he cheated. Even if it had been another cadet ... say, the brightest of us all ... the whole thing still would've smelled bad.

Muro didn't follow SOP. Everything he did was completely the opposite of DeafBoy - and he would never have done that on his own.

I tried to break out before he could surround me completely. More than half of my band were eliminated. I got a mark of F, for being decisively defeated.

Muro got an A-. The minus was because he deviated from SOP.

***

It really stuck in my craw, to lose to an ass like Muro. Still, the whole thing might have ended there. Except that he decided to rub it in - publicly.

- "How does it feel?" he crowed. "A comprehensive defeat!"

I was in line for evening meal at the time, so there were dozens of cadets who heard him. Muro made no pretence of getting food for himself; he just followed me, with a pair of his grinning lackeys shadowing him.

- "Did you enjoy it, Cook? I know I did!"

I didn't answer. I didn't even look his way. Once I had my meal, I headed over the side bar. There, for a small fee, I could get a beer or a glass of wine.

Muro came over with his caddies in tow. "C'mon, Cook! Tell us: how does it feel to lose so comprehensively?"

- "You cheated, Muro." I said.

His grin vanished. "What?"

- "How did you know exactly where I was? Watch a replay of our Sim, dummy." Many of the cadets probably had watched it, to see how a toad like Muro could've beaten me so badly.

"Didn't you watch my Sim with Lee?" (That was standard; we all watched replays of our future opponents' previous sims, to learn their tendencies.)

"You had to suspect that I would try something similar, some kind of ambush, with my inferior forces. Instead of a careful advance, though, you dashed straight in."

"How did you know exactly where I was, Muro? You knew because somebody told you."

- "That's not true!" he blustered. "I followed Professor Mayne's doctrine. I knew that you'd set up an ambush, and it would have to be at close range, because half your force only had bows and arrows ..."

- "How did you know that only half of my men had rifles?"

Too late, Muro realized his gaffe.

- "I didn't! I mean ... what I meant was -"

- "You just said you knew."

There was a reason I'd lured Muro over to the bar. I couldn't spare the money to have a drink with my dinner, but he obviously didn't know that. No, the reason I'd led him here was because the bar also served the faculty, in their private dining hall.

Three Instructors were standing on the other side of the bar - and they'd heard every word.

One of them had the integrity to intervene. Professor Chang.

- "Cadet Muro? Were you told the composition of your opponent's forces before the engagement?"

- "No, Sir." Muro was just intelligent enough to know that when you're up to your neck in shit, you keep your answers short and sweet.

- "Did someone inform you of the precise location of Cadet Cook's forces?"

- "No, Sir."

- "He's lying, Sir." I said.

Muro rounded on me. "Are you accusing me of cheating? In front of witnesses?"

- "Looks like it."

***

- "You should have let me handle this." said Professor Chang.

- "Thank you, Sir. But we both know how an official inquiry would end." Nowhere.

Cadet Muro claimed that I had publicly insulted him. I had. So he petitioned to be allowed to defend his 'honor'.

When that was granted, Muro chose AC - Armed Combat.

He'd checked out my grades. My Weapons scores were fair. My UC scores weren't so great, but then, he'd probably seen the video from the hotel. Our match would be supervised, of course; but as a cheater himself, Muro couldn't be sure that I wouldn't use some dirty street fighting techniques on him, before the referees could intervene.

My AC scores were quite poor. I was ranked in the bottom 10% of our class in fencing. What Muro didn't consider was that I'd been consistently matched against the very best fencers in our year - experts with a blade, like Karpov.

Meanwhile, like many of the wealthiest, best-connected cadets, Muro had most often been paired with patsies, the weakest in AC, and well below him in the rankings.

He'd made a major miscalculation.

He made another mistake when he chose epees.

We wore masks and bibs, which protected our faces and throats. Jackets and plastrons to cover chest and underarms, and unusually short breeches, which really only protected the groin and upper thigh. Our arms and legs were bare, and we didn't have gloves. AFOTA didn't want either of us killed or disfigured, but maiming was acceptable.

Muro could have chosen to have the fight stopped at first blood; instead, he insisted that we continue until one of us conceded the match.

Normally, I'm not very fond of fighting with epees. With foil or sabre, only the head and upper body are legitimate targets; in epee, the whole body counts. It's a bit ridiculous that touching your opponent's toe scores a point, just as good as stabbing him in the chest or throat. Epee fighting also doesn't give the attacker any advantage in scoring; the only real advantage goes to the person with the longer reach.

I'd watched a few videos of Muro's earlier matches, and learned what I needed to know.

He postured quite a bit, before we began. When the referee said "Begin!", Muro came forward. He danced and pranced, and feinted at my head. Then he lunged, and stabbed at my forward foot.

It was precisely what I'd expected, and I let him do it. I felt a searing pain in my foot, but I was concentrating, as I slashed him across the arm.

Yes, I'm aware that only the point of the epee is sharp, and that it's the only way to score a point in competition. But this wasn't a tournament; it was a duel.

I slashed Muro across the forearm with a 3 foot long rod of steel, weighing a pound and a half. That had to hurt. Muro was shocked - I don't think he was accustomed to being hurt.

In a sparring match, the fight would've stopped momentarily, while the referees awarded a point. But I didn't wait. While Muro was surprised by the unexpected pain in his arm, I lunged forward and stabbed him in the thigh.

He went down, shrieking. My goodness, there was a surprising amount of blood, for what was essentially just a puncture wound. Turned out I'd nicked his femoral artery. The medics were out there in seconds.

***

I didn't tell Vanova about the duel - I didn't want her to worry. She could tell that something had happened, though. My limp was noticeable, as I favored my injured foot.

But she didn't press me on it. 'Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies' was her policy, and she applied it to both of us. I didn't quiz her about her past, and she didn't go into hysterics when I turned up injured - again.