else scored over 250.
We spent two hours on the firing range, then continued our hike. Mud sucked at our boots. The air smelled of sulfur and decay. Clouds of mosquitoes formed around us. The hot sun glistened on the water and shone in our eyes. The air was hot and wet and thick as perspiration. The crickets and cicadas buzzed so loud it nearly drove some men insane.
When we finally reached the far side of the swamp, we were met by two trucks. The captain over the exercise climbed into the back of a truck and dumped out our gear. “We’re here for the night,” he said. “You might as well set up your bivouac.” As he grabbed a pack, Philips mentioned something about using their Jeep as a latrine once the officers settled down for the evening. I seriously toyed with the idea of joining him.
We had tents, but whoever’d planned the hike wanted us to rough it. Instead of a plasticized tent with an elevated floor and inflatable cots, we slept in an old-fashioned canvas tent. Groundwater soaked through the floor of our tent and our blankets.
Had we been planning to invade a swamp, I would have called this bivouac an ideal proving ground; but I had never seen so much as a drop of groundwater on the Mogat home world. Unless the brass wanted to invade their planet through its plumbing, the hike made no sense.
That night, as we doused our lanterns and went to sleep, one of the lieutenants called in through the tent door. “Harris, Captain Moultry wants to see you in his tent.”
A bright full moon hung over the campgrounds. We had set up our bivouac on the edge of the swamp lands. As likely to inhale mosquitoes as oxygen with every breath, I trudged to the captain’s tent.
I knocked on the door.
“Enter,” the voice growled back.
There sat Admiral Alden Brocius, looking tired and grim in the bleaching white light of a lantern. “This hike was not my idea,” he said as I stepped in.
“It certainly wasn’t my idea,” I said.
“Your base commander didn’t want me fraternizing with enlisted men,” Brocius said. “His replacement is arriving tomorrow.
“You’re welcome to come back with me and spend the night in the commandant’s quarters. They’re vacant and a lot more comfortable.”
Compared to my canvas tent in the swamp, this plasticized tent with its dry interior and hardened floor was a five-star hotel. It had climate control and folding chairs.
“Sounds nice, sir, but I would prefer to stay with my platoon,” I said.
“I had a feeling you would say that,” Brocius said. “This hike was a very bad idea. We need you rested.”
“Big plans for us?” I asked. I already knew the answer. If we didn’t launch an invasion soon, we’d be defending, not attacking.
“Briefing the day after tomorrow.” Brocius pulled a book with a black leather cover from a table by his seat. He tossed it to me. The book was unread and its cover stiff. Its pages did not flutter as it flew through the air. I caught it and looked at the cover. The title was printed in gold leaf:
“Have you read this book?” Brocius asked.
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
“Have you ever wondered why you haven’t read this particular book?”
“It’s against regulations,” I said.
“Yeah, they don’t want to take a chance on any of you enlisted men becoming converted. I always wondered who came up with that rule,” Brocius said. He took a bottle of Scotch from the table and poured himself a glass. Then he tossed me the bottle. “You can share it with your platoon. Tell them it came compliments of Fleet Command.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, turning the bottle in my hand so I could read the label. I did not recognize the name.
“They made us read the Space Bible in Annapolis. It always seemed like a fairy tale to me. Atkins claims he found an underground alien city in the center of the galaxy.” Brocius waved his hand. He made a sour face as if he had just smelled garbage. “Strictly Jules Verne stuff. You know what I mean? It’s like
“I’ve read your report a dozen times, Harris. Every time I read it, I think about Atkins. That city you described, it sounds just like the one in his book. Right down to the transparent ceilings, Atkins described it all just the way you did.
“There’s something else, too. We tracked down the location of that planet using the broadcast computer on the battleship you boys stole. You know where that planet is located? It’s in the inner curve of the Norma Arm. It’s the very rock the Liberators invaded fifty years ago. The difference is that back then no one ever thought about looking under the covers. This time we know better.”
“Admiral, how can we possibly invade their planet?” I asked. “Even with the Confederates and the Japanese, the Mogats have ten ships for every one of ours, and they have those shields. They’ll pick us off before we land a single platoon.”
Brocius laughed. “Come on, Harris. You don’t think I’d send the Marines into the meat grinder without leveling the field? Atkins isn’t the only one with secret technology. The boys on the Golan came up with something good.”
“Did they figure out how to get through the Mogats’ shields?” I asked.
“We already know that,” Brocius said. “You turn them off at the source.
“No, they came up with something better. They came up with a way to get through the Mogats’ radar. They’ve invented a new cloaking technology that makes our capital ships invisible to radar detection.”
“What about transports?” I asked.
Brocius shook his head. He was not drunk, just morose. He sat there looking craggy and old, his skin showing not a hint of color in the bleaching light from the electric lantern. He sat silently for several seconds. I had no idea what he might have been thinking about. Finally, he said, “I’ll send a truck by tomorrow morning. No more hikes for you and your men.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
I saluted. Admiral Brocius returned my salute. I started to leave, but he stopped me. “Your friend Freeman turned himself in to Navy Intelligence last night. I don’t suppose you had something to do with that?”
“I spoke with him,” I said.
“He had a crazy story about a Mogat base,” Brocius said. Maybe he had forgotten our conversation back on the Golan Dry Docks, or maybe he thought I had.
“We checked into his story. He was right. The energy readings coming out of that building are off the scale. Did you know they were there?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“We’ve set up round-the-clock satellite surveillance. They slipped an entire broadcast engine in under our noses. Who knows what else they brought with them.
“Freeman said something about going out with our invasion force.”
“Oh, yeah, can he come?” I asked.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
The rules changed when we returned back to camp the next day. We did not drill all day, nor did we get to go into town that evening. Instead, we had a quiet night on base, lights out at 2200.
They called Reveille at 0600 the next morning. Our briefing was at 0800. The sergeants from every platoon filed into the mess hall. In my platoon that included Thomer, Evans, and a guy named Greer, whom we shipped in to replace Sutherland. I went, of course. There were almost five hundred of us sprinkled across a cafeteria built to serve as many as two thousand men at a time.
