Cold Warriors Page 5

  "The crazy part of this thing is that I'm too old to be here.” he said sitting on the bunk. He kicked off his boots and began rubbing his feet.

  "Hey pops, do you mind?” a younger guy waved his hand and hopped on the bunk above him. “It's not like we have a fan in here, could you keep the air pollution to a minimum?"

  "Smart ass kids.” He closed his eyes and lay down.

  The hatch opened and a very neatly dressed man entered the quarters.

  He stood stiffly at attention and yelled, “A-TEN-HUT! Officers on deck."

  Caitlin hopped out of her bunk and stood up. The others in the room barely paid any attention. Then a woman in her mid-fifties entered the room. She had round eyes that were set back in her face. Her features were lined and creased. She looked rather plain accept for her lips which had just the barest hint of color. She wore a short sleeved Khaki shirt with green service trousers. Her gray hair was pulled back in a tight bun and it was as taut as the glare she was giving everyone in the room.

  Following her was a man in his late thirties. His hair was cut extremely short and was mixture of gray and black—like it was desperately trying to hold on to the last vestiges of it's original color. He was tall, taller than the lady and was solidly built. He wore the same uniform as she, and his expression was stern. He stopped a short distance behind her and stared directly ahead. Caitlin recognized him instantly; it was Colonel Keegan. The lady beside him, she didn't know. The woman nodded to the man who had announced their presence.

  The low level hum of whispers grew steadily.

  "All right people! Quiet down and get to attention now!” the first man bellowed sounding like a drill sergeant.

  "Thank you, Chief.” the lady responded with a slight drawl.

  She stepped forward and walked down the aisle stepping over all the junk that had been left there. “I am the Commanding Officer of this ship. My name is Major-General Hollis. You may address me as Ma'am or General Hollis. This man standing behind me is my XO, my Executive Officer, Colonel Keegan. He had the distinct pleasure of welcoming most of you personally aboard our lovely vessel. We are on the USS Blanchard. We have a full compliment of Marine and Navy Personnel, though our ranks tend to lean more toward the Marine side. We welcome you as our guests with open arms as long as you play by the rules. If you don't play by them, there will be consequences, extreme ones. In other words if you screw up, you will answer to me. Hopefully on our little pleasure jaunt through space, you won't have to. Now I will leave you in the very capable hands of my XO.” She gestured to Colonel Keegan.

  "Thank you Ma'am.” He nodded to her as she left the room.

  He stood silently and surveyed the room. His head never moved. Everyone remained stiff. The room was dead quiet.

  "I run a tight ship. This is not like your civilian life, we have strict rules here.” His tone was not as stern as the General's. “They are here specifically to ensure the welfare and well-being of everyone on board and that includes you. You will show the proper respect to your peers and superiors, including all senior-personnel. This means you will observe military protocol."

  He stepped towards a bunk with a young man sitting on the side. “Stand up and get to attention."

  Keegan stood back giving the man space. Others in the room followed suit.

  "Since you are civilian personnel you do not have to salute. However, you will acknowledge when an officer enters and exits the room. And you will wait until you are dismissed before you exit a room and seek permission before you enter anyone's quarters."

  Keegan walked around the room. “Including your peers'. We respect privacy around here ladies and gentlemen. We're in a tight space; privacy is highly valued."

  He kicked a pair boots out of the way and picked up a piece of jewelry off the floor.

  "Is this yours?” he asked a young woman standing next to Caitlin.

  She nodded.

  He handed it back to her. “I suggest you lock it up. There is no stealing around here either. However mistakes can happen as well as the occasional theft, or as we call it in the Corps, The Misappropriation of Personal Property, therefore you all will be issued a lockbox for your personal belongings. Use it."

  The Colonel stopped in front of Caitlin's bunk. Her area was clean and her bunk was neatly made. Her black hair hung down over her shoulders and her clothes though tidy, were mismatched and oversized.

  "You will dress appropriately. Women, your hair will be pinned up or in a pony-tail so it is not a danger to you or a hindrance to you performing your duty. It will not be worn down while on duty. Men you will be clean-shaven and hair will be cut short and combed. All of you will be given clean clothing that will fit ... hopefully."

  The Colonel stood in the front of the room. “You will all be assigned work details. You will perform your work in an efficient and timely manner. If you do not, there will be consequences. And finally, clean up this room, I never want to see it in this state again. The Chief will set you up with everything you'll need ... carry-on."

  Keegan left the room as silently as he entered.

  "Alright everyone get this place squared away on the double. Everyone is responsible for policing their own area,” the Chief Petty Officer ordered.

  Caitlin couldn't believe it. She had died and joined the Marine Corps. Or was God an aging general? Either way she knew it couldn't be heaven ‘cause there was no chocolate.

  "What does he mean by squared and police?” Caitlin's bunkmate tapped her on the shoulder.

  "Squared away means straighten the place up and policing means there are no maids here. You mess it up you clean it up."

  "Oh,” the lady groaned.

  "Teacher's pet,” another joked.

  * * * *

  Keegan tapped on the keyboard of the computer in front of him. The officers’ lounge was not at all crowded. Most of them were in the ship's bar, lovingly called Tun Tavern. Since he was about to go back on duty, having a drink was out of the question. Not that he was in the mood for one any way.

  "Hey, looked what the cat dragged in,” the CAG said.

  Keegan chuckled. “You shouldn't talk about yourself like that ... it's bad for morale."

  "Long since past dragging ... I gotta be carried nowadays.” He glanced at the screen.

  Keegan blocked his view giving him an incredulous look.

  "What are you doing?” the CAG asked innocently

  "If you must know, I'm checking on the sketchbook I ordered."

  "Oh those new CAD systems are lousy. The chips get screwed up whenever they're in a C.S. jump and then you can never get the thing to reboot. Get an older model it's better,” he commented while searching his pockets. “And then they trip off all sorts of buzzers and whistles when they go through the sensors. That's why you don't have it."

  "Nah, I don't have to worry about that. I ordered the good stuff. That new paper with a heavy bond and some charcoal pencils."

  "Oh, in that case it's stuck in a warehouse somewhere waiting for you to get back to the states."

  "What are you looking for?” Keegan leaned back.

  "I'm dying for a cigarette. You don't...? I forgot you're reformed."

  Keegan reached in his shirt pocket and handed him a piece of gum, “I can't stand it when you look pathetic."

  "Thanks."

  Without hesitation he plopped the piece in his mouth. His big white teeth clamped down on the gum briefly distracting Keegan.

  "You know I was just thinking about the debrief we just had with Rizard."

  Keegan resumed studying the monitor. He knew the CAG always had a take on a situation and he was even freer about sharing it—whether Keegan was interested in him sharing it or not. “Yeah what about?"

  "Well,” he began while pulling up a chair, “who do you think they're gonna get to go down there and pull this thing off?"

  "I don't know, special forces."

  "Yeah, I was thinking that too but...” the CAG whispered. Keegan noticed his fr
iend's Texas drawl seemed to get thicker whenever he spoke quietly, “what about all these popsicles we've been getting on board? I heard we're not the only ship that's been getting them."

  "That's no surprise,” Keegan logged out of his account, “Cryos have been used in the field for over two years now.” He shook his head. “You know it's against regs to be speculating about classified info."

  "Who's speculatin'?"

  "When did your security clearance become higher than mine?"

  "Do you really wanna know how I found out?"

  "On second thought, no. Let's just leave these things to the brass at HQ, all of it is out of our hands."

  "You're a dying breed, Medoro,” the CAG shook his head, “even in the midst of the war you still never give into temptation."

  "It's only temptation if you're interested."

  "Move it sailor!” someone yelled outside.

  "Yes, Sir!” The sailor ran past the door.

  "And don't come back ‘til you find it!” the same voice yelled again.

  The two men stood up and walked toward the door to investigate the commotion. Just as the sailor doubled back, Keegan stopped him.

  "Sir?” The young man said flustered and confused. He stood at attention.

  The CAG did his best to hide a grin.

  "What's going on sailor?” Keegan asked glaring at the sailors at the end of the hall. They stood stiffly at attention like statues. They weren't moving, but he could hear their chuckles. The boy was young and it was obvious by the group of sailors harassing him, that it was his first deep space cruise.

  "Sir, I'm carrying out the Petty Officer's orders, Sir."

  "Really? Is this why you are double timing it in my hallway?” Keegan asked moving

  "Yes, Sir."

  "What are your orders, seaman?"

  "I have to find tubes, Sir?"

  "What's that sailor?"

  "I have to find tubes, Sir."

  "What kind of tubes?"

  "Fifteen feet of fallopian tube."

  CAG snorted. Keegan gave him a look to stow it.

  "In that case, you better get a move on! We all have to do our part."

  "Aye, aye Sir.” The seaman saluted turned and began to trot away. Then he stopped turned around and trotted towards Keegan and the CAG.

  "What is it son?” Keegan asked trying to remain serious.

  "Do you know where I might find fifteen feet of falliopian tube?"

  "Try the women's officer's quarters,” CAG grinned broadly.

  "Carry on.” Keegan saluted.

  He saluted back and ran down the hallway.

  "Were we ever that stupid?” the CAG asked.

  "No. But we were that young once. I gotta get back to work."

  As Keegan made his way through the passageways, various men stepped aside. As the afternoon and evening shifts were changing, more people entered the hallways going to and from their various assignments. He observed a group of people gathered around the room cheering. He knew on a ship, this could not be good. His footsteps quickened. As he pushed the people aside, he saw a clump of men and women on the floor, some were wearing uniforms others were dressed in service detail outfits.

  "Break it up!” he yelled. “That's an order! Now!"

  "Mira!” a woman's voice yelled.

  They both jumped into the fray pulling a couple of the people apart just as the MP's arrived to break up the melee.

  The room settled down quickly. Everyone was frozen in place as soon as they noticed Keegan.

  "What the Hell is wrong with you people? Get back to work!"

  The by-standers scurried away leaving just the MP's, the combatants, Caitlin and Keegan. He and Caitlin held a tight grip on the hostile combatants.

  "I want answers! Report to the officer's mess in one hour."

  * * * *

  Caitlin stood in the officer's mess. She thought it was clean and neat and had an interesting decor. Kind of like a 1950's diner theme. It was devoid of people except Keegan, herself, and those involved in the scuffle. No one appeared happy to be there, especially the colonel.

  She stood at stiffly and tried not to fidget. She was nervous and keyed up. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. Though her former life as a civilian and a military wife seemed like a distant dream, some things stood out in her mind; like the three rules of survival. Keep quiet, pay attention and don't volunteer any information; answer only the questions that you're asked. She never thought much about it when she was on the outside looking in, but now she appreciated the wisdom. It could keep a person out of a whole mess of trouble.

  "People, I don't have time for this kind of crap!” Keegan stormed into the room. “What happened?"

  Caitlin could tell he was a very hands-on commanding officer, she'd seen him more times since she'd been awakened than she seen the guys who served food in the galley. She figured this could mean one of two things, he was either very close to the men and women under his command or he was a micro-manager. Only time would tell.

  "Permission to speak, Sir.” a female Marine said. “We were trying to give a report when there was a miscommunication."

  "Yeah, you called us frozen assholes!” another woman responded.

  "Right.” Keegan folded his arms and licked his lips. “You all are restricted to your quarters for a period of two shifts. You are to report to duty, go to mess, and then go back to your quarters. All privileges at the tavern have been revoked until I see fit to reinstate them. Is that clear?"

  "Yes Sir!” The Marines answered more promptly than the cryos.

  Caitlin hid her disappointment. She wasn't even there when the fight started. All she did was pull her bunkmate out.

  "Dismissed.” He sighed and sat on the edge of a table.

  "Uh, 1169 ... as you were. The rest of you carry on."

  "Yes, Sir?” she asked

  "You arrived just after I did."

  "Yes Sir. I didn't think you saw me—"

  "I see a lot of what goes on around here. You jumped in and pulled that young lady out. Why?"

  "I don't know ... she's my friend I guess. I didn't want to see her get hurt."

  Keegan rubbed his jaw and thought for a moment. He considered her words.

  "So you weren't involved,” he said flatly.

  "No Sir."

  He studied her briefly. “The punishment does not extend to you."

  "Thank you, Sir."

  "You're welcome. You're dismissed."

  Chapter Seven

  Caitlin lay on her cot in a small supply room near the ship's cold storage facility. She had been moved out of the room where a majority of the other cryos were housed and into this one. She didn't ask why, but she liked it. The room was not so much of a room as it was a closet with a light. Her gray bunk sat against the wall close to three coolant pipes which ran up the back of the room like metallic spines. They kept the room very cool, just the way she liked it.

  A diminutive overhead lamp illuminated her spartan domicile. She contemplated her new life, still trying to figure out why she was frozen in the first place. Who had ordered it, and if it was her husband, why he hadn't frozen himself right along with her? Whatever happened to him? And what was she supposed to do now?

  Periodically, her thoughts were interrupted by the rumblings of canon fire but she still managed to relax. She thought of her increasing loneliness, and that even though she loved having her own room, the little companionship she had before was now gone. The other cryos didn't really talk to her. She still didn't know why. She always felt different around them.

  Now she mostly spoke to Major Bishop, whom she saw on occasion, and that was only during her physical therapy sessions. Even those weren't very fulfilling because they weren't really therapeutic. Her visits consisted of injections of a cool viscous liquid, which usually made her feel intoxicated after receiving it. No conversations, just a mild buzz, then she'd sleep.

  As she relaxed, she closed her eyes. The day'
s work had been long and hard. The cot shook as the ship's cannons fired. The ship shivered with each hit it received. The gentle rocking motion lulled her into a restful sleep.

  Suddenly, alarms signaled outside her door. A voice blared over a loud speaker in the distance alerting everyone to general quarters. Caitlin stirred slightly, not bothered by the noise. This happened every time the carrier got into a heated battle. She soon learned that only necessary personnel were allowed in the passageways en route to their duty stations and everyone else had to stay to in their rooms.

  She, like the other cryos, had been confined to the decks deep in the bowels of the ship. She compared it to living underground, never allowed to see the light of day. Having never seen outer space before, she often hoped she could take a peek out of a window every now and then.

  She settled into her cot making herself comfortable. There was no use complaining nor asking to go to the upper decks; there were plenty of normal men and women who never went topside except to leave the ship, so why should they be any different? Besides, whenever a cryo complained about being down below all the time, they were told blatantly that they were considered security risks.

  The carrier groaned. It listed back and forth as it received another hit.

  I wonder if I'm going to die here. What happened to Jason? Maybe he froze himself too. I hope one day I can find him and we could start over. She knew the prospect was far fetched, but it gave her hope. Sometimes it was the only motivation she had to get up and do anything that day. Feeling comforted, she smiled and drifted off.

  An explosion in the distance startled her out of her sleep.

  "That was no hit,” she stated with certainty. She heard footsteps running back and forth outside her hatch. There was a blast in the corridor followed by a loud wail then another blast farther away.

  She listened closely against the door. Alarms wailed outside. They were different than the ones used in battle. They sounded more like sirens. Caitlin jumped to her feet. “What the Hell is going on?"