I returned to my company, clutching the package of sealed orders and holding tight to the idea that this was the most insane endeavor I had ever heard of. Morton looked up when I entered the cabin.
'You are wearing a very worried look,' he said. 'Something personal - or should we all be worried?'
'Anything I can do for you, captain?' Sergeant Blogh asked, popping in the door behind me. They all wanted to know about the meeting. I threw the package onto the bed.
'Sergeant, what is the position regarding strong drink on troop transports about to go into action?'
'It is strictly forbidden, sir, and a court-martial offense. But one of the spare tanks on the command car is filled with ninety-nine.'
'Ninety-nine what?'
'Ninety-nine percent pure alcohol. Cut half with water and stir in dehydrated orange juice.'
'Since we are going into combat I am making a field appointment. Acting First Sergfeant Blogh you are now First Sergeant Blogh.'
There was a rattle as Morton dropped three canteen cups onto the table, a thud as a bag of orange crystals followed. I could see where he was getting adjusted to the army.
The sergeant came back with a twenty-liter jerrycan, which with added water would make forty liters of hundred proof drink which, in turn, should make this voyage more bearable.
We clanked mugs and drank deep.
'This stuff is pretty repulsive,' Morton said holding out his empty cup for more. 'Can you now tell us what you found out?'
'I have some good news and some good news. The first good news is that we are going to invade and occupy an incredibly rich and heretofore unknown planet named Chojecki. Secondly - they don't appear to have any defenses of any kind. No military, no police, nothing.'
'Impossible,' the sergeant said.
'Anything is possible in the fullness of time and the width of the galaxy. Let us hope the report is correct because it will certainly make for an easy invasion.'
'I think it is a trap.' The sergeant still wasn't buying it. I nodded.
'The general seems to think the same thing. He is sure that there is a secret army in hiding.'
'Not necessarily,' Morton said. 'Before entering the army I was a student of history. So I can tell you. Diverse are the ways of mankind. As you have so truthfully stated, captain, in the fullness of time and the width of the galaxy there have been many kinds of societies, forms of government …'
'You got governments you got armies. That's the way it's got to be.'
The drink was making the sergeant pugnacious and Morton maudlin. Time to close the bar.
'Right.' I climbed to my feet and kicked the jerrycan of alcohol out of sight under the table. 'Sergeant, get the noncoms together. Tell them what I told you about the invasion, have them pass it on to the troops. That will be all for now.'
The door closed behind the sergeant and Morton dropped his head onto the table and began to snore. He was sure a cheap drunk. I finished the repulsive, though certainly lethal, orange-alcohol mixture and heard my stomach rumble in protest. Or was it hunger? A long time and a lot of distance had gone by since that half-eaten steak in the officers' club. I dug into my pack and found some of the rations that we had been issued. A reddish tube was labeled HOTPUP MEAL. In smaller print it stated that it would feed two and could be opened by puncturing the white circle on the end. I pulled my combat knife out of my boot and stabbed the thing enthusiastically. It instantly grew exceedingly hot and burned my fingers. I dropped it onto the table where it rumbled and hissed and began to expand. I kept the knife ready in case it attacked me. There was a ripping sound as the casing split open and it expanded into an arm-long sausage. It looked repulsive but smelled quite good. I hacked off the end, impaled it on my knife and ate. The only thing missing was some beer.
Life continued in this manner. Day followed day like the flapping of a great red sausage. As good as the hotpup had tasted at first bite, I grew to loathe the sorry sausages. As did we all since, due to some bit of mismanagement in the rush to load the transports and be away, hotpups were the only food that had been put aboard. Even the general had to eat the repulsive objects and he was not pleased.
We had meetings and briefings, all of which I duly passed on to the troops. We cleaned and recleaned our weapons, sharpened our knives, had shortarm inspections to keep the medical officers on their toes, worked our way down through the alcohol until fifteen days had passed and the officers were ordered to yet one more meeting.
This one was different. The knot of field officers around General Lowender was buzzing with talk and much consultation of maps. As soon as we were all assembled the general stood - and hammered his fists down on the table. 'The invasion has begun!'
He waited until the cheering had died down before he continued. 'The first scouts have gone down and report no resistance. As yet. But we must be wary because all of this could be a dodge to suck us into a trao of some kind. You all have your orders, you know what to do - so there is nothing more to be said. We touch down in two hours. Set your watches. So that is it. Except, boys - give 'em hell!' More wild cheering followed before we hurried back to tell the troops what lay ahead.
'About time,' was Sergeant Blogh's comment. 'The troops get soft, lose their edge lying around on their chunks like they been. About time.'
'Get the noncoins and we'll go over the attack thoroughly just once more,' I said, spreading out the now familiar map. With the lending this close I had their undivided attention.
'Here is where we are supposed to touch down,' I said, tapping the map. 'Now how many of you believe that the military pilot flying this thing will actually land on the correct spot?' The silence was complete.
'Right. I feel the same way. We are supposed to touch down at dawn which means it will probably be dark - or raining, or both. We will be first out because we got the longest way to go. I will lead in the command car which if it is dark and unless we are fired upon, will have its lights on so you can see it.'
Sergeant Blogh frowned and touched his clipboard full of papers. 'A specific order here from the general states that no lights are to be used.'
'Correct. And the general will be the last one to leave the ship and we will be first, and we have to get clear at once because there are tanks right behind us.'
'Lights to be on!' the sergeant said, firmly.
'I will proceed to the nearest hill or highpoint to check the map and see if we have landed where planned. If not I shall determine just where the hell we are and where we are going. The lieutenant here will muster the troops and follow the command car. When I know where we are going we will go there. Here. To the dam. To the generating plant that supplies the unpronounceable city of Bellegarrique with electricity. Our job is to seize and secure. Any questions? Yes, corporal?'
'Can we leave hotpup rations here and live off the countryside?'
'Yes and no. We take the hotpups in case we should run across the supply officer so we can stuff him with them. But we seize some native food soonest. It will be brought to me for testing before distribution. Anyone else?'
'Ammunition. When do we get the ammo?'
'It's on the disembarkation deck now. You will be issued with it when we go down there. You will see that each man is issued his lot. You will also see that no weapons are loaded. We don't want any guns going off inside this ship.'
'We load after we hit the ground?' the First Sergeant asked.
'You load when I tell you to. We do not expect any resistance. If there is no resistance we don't need to shoot any of the locals. If we don't shoot the locals the invasion will be an instant success. If the weapons aren't loaded they cannot shoot. The weapons will not be loaded.' There was a murmur of protest at this and beetlebrowed Corporal Aspya expressed their mutual concern. 'Can't attack without loaded weapons.'
'Yes you can,' I said in my coldest voice. 'You can do what you are ordered to do. One weapon will be loaded. My weapon will be loaded. And I will shoot any man - or officer - who disobeys orders. More questions? No. Dismissed. We proceed to landing positions in thirty minutes.'
'They are not happy about this ammunition thing,' Morton said when the others had gone.
'Tough cagal. I am not happy about this killing thing. No ammo, no shooting. This will stop accidents happening.'
