Author: Will Keith (Lt. Cmdr. Will Keith, Kappa Squad, TRES Corps)

   Will approached cautiously, looking for openings.  The room was dimly
lit by a few outside windows; one hallway led into the main section, big
enough to hold several TARAVs but now mostly empty.  The whir of a small
piece of machinery echoed in the vast space, providing a cover for the
softest footfalls he could manage.
   He quieted his breathing, climbing hand-over-hand up a ladder to the
second floor, where he could enter a balcony over the open space.  He
crept slowly towards the edge, hand on his pocket to keep his keys from
jingling.  Managing to make it there without anything obvious happening,
he peered over the rail.
   One lone mechanic was working down there, alternately tightening and
loosening some part that he hadn't the faintest idea the purpose of, and
listening to the sound of the idling motor of which it was a piece.  She
was a tall woman with white-blonde hair bound up in a simple catch-all
falling between her shoulder blades.  She still seemed engrossed in her
work, so he moved as silently as possible to the nearest point on the
balcony to where she was.
   He gauged the distance down and over to her, decided he could make it.
He  unfolded, positioned himself, and leapt over the rail.
   As he fell, she turned, extending a wrench to waist height.  Oh, crap,
he was headed straight for it...
   She pulled it down inches before he would have been in some serious
pain.  "Score one more for me," she said, and smiled.
   "So it is," he acknowledged.  "What'll I be paying for this time?
Pizza?  Ration upgrade?"
   "Fresh.  Something fresh, from the Italian foodgroup."
   "No way!"
   "Yup."  She turned back to his cycle.
   "You little vixen!  How do you get something fresh out here?"
   "Trade secret.  Let's just say those who fix the vehicles of messengers
to far places get things brought back for doing it in a hurry."
   "You mean I could have had this cycle finished a while back if I'd
tried to bribe you with food?"
   She laughed.  "No, you haven't been going anywhere lately.  Besides, we
already have the running bet going.  What is it now, my 10 to your 4?"
   "Yeah, I think so.  Next time I win, I'll be sure to ask for something
exotic."  He leaned over the motor.  "How's it running?"
   "I finished all the major repairs by the time I contacted you.  This is
in the nature of tune-up."
   "You didn't..."
   "I didn't replace anything.  Just like you asked, every circuit
restored instead of replaced.  The only reason you got that request is
because you've caused us so little hassle before, and because Kappa's
known to be weird.  The mecha's not AI, why are you so sentimental about
it?"
   "I don't know.  I just am.  I get sentimental about strange things.
Besides, it's a hairsbreadth short of AI anyway."
   "I could modify it up if you want."
   "No thanks.  I have enough trouble working with people as it is.  I
like my quiet on long trips."
   "Now don't get all serious on me.  What about Kit?"
   "He's about as quiet as I am."
   "Which, considering your performance in recent attempts..."
   "Don't start me, Viv."
   She laughed heartily.  "I tell you what.  The guy's bringing me enough
for several meals, which means I'd rather share it than store leftovers.
You wanna join me?"
   "Why, Viv, are you asking me to dinner?"
   She blushed a little, but gestured threateningly with the wrench as she
reminded him that this was purely friends for a social evening, she didn't
want to waste fresh Italian, and she wouldn't date a Research geek if he
was...  Will cut her off.
   "Sounds fun.  One condition?"
   "What?"
   He leaned in and whispered, "Don't get all serious on me."
   She broke into relieved chuckles.  "I'll get some oil on you is what
I'll do if you don't stop breaking up my echoes."  He backed out of the
motor casing, as did she.  "Were you coming because you need the mecha
now?"
   "No, I'm on base duty for a while."
   "Great.  The guy got the ingredients in from Italy today, so they're at
their peak."
   "Ingredients?  You are talking fresh.  Ingredients for what?"
   She smiled in anticipation, drawing out the syllables in gourmet
delight.  "Lasaagnaa."
   He just closed his eyes and sighed with her.
   She tossed a rag into the bin on the workbench - nice aim.  "If you've
got the time, I'll go wash up now."
   "Sure."
   "Be right back."  She headed for the personnel station in the back.
   His com unit chose this time to go off.  "J-Rock to Keith."
   Thinking dire things about timing, Will answered it.  "Keith here, sir."
   "Busy?"  It was of course, that particular tone of a C.O.'s voice that
says, No, you're not.
   Mentally praying this wouldn't take longer than dinner, he said, "No
sir - what can I do for you?"
   "Get yourself to Strategic Analysis on the double.  And grab a Jolt, it
may be a long night."
   He cussed so hard and long that he woke up Kit, who informed him in no
uncertain terms that what he suggested was unethical, physically
impossible for material beings such as himself, and otherwise unenjoyable.
   Mentally, of course.
   Out loud, he said, "On my way, sir.  Permission to take a minute to put
this on hold?"
   "One minute."  He signed off.
   He looked around for Viv and didn't see her back yet.  Best he could do
was leave a note.  Her personal terminal was sitting on the workbench.  He
reached for the keyboard, and it said in Viv's voice, "Personal terminal.
Access denied."
   "Look, I just want to leave her a message."
   It chewed on that for a moment and said, "Limited access granted.
Message official or private?"
   "Private."
   "Encryption?"
   "Not that private."
   "Voice recording / Braille print text?"
   "Voice."
   "Speak when ready."
   "Viv, it's Will.  Just got a new assignment, won't be able to make
dinner tonight.  If I can get out early, I'll drop you a line from
Strategic Analysis.  Damn...  Don't let this spoil fresh lasagna.  I'm
really sorry.  End message."
   The computer's message alert started beeping gently.  He hurried out.

   Strategic Analysis was a room about the size of a movie theatre.
(Rumor said an Admiral or two occasionally used it as one.)  This
impression was reinforced by the relative darkness as well as the large
screen at the front of the room, currently showing a map of the
continental U.S.  Purple dots predominated, various other colors usually
adjoining them, and a few purple splotches marred some areas.  It was
clearly a display of known forces' positions.
   The good news was, there were no intense purple dots with data
scrolling around them, signifying that the Lavender Lard Lord had returned
and was amassing his armies again.  More unusual was that the time marker
in the upper left of the screen was moving through time at the rate of
days per second, and extremely little was changing.  Only one or two
fronts, out of the entire nation, shifted even slightly.
   "Up here."  The Kappa squadron leader's voice sounded from the upper
deck, where a small bank of computers displayed this view as well as
others.  Will mounted the stairs to stand by him.
   "Have a seat."  He took the proffered chair and turned his attention to
the screen J-Rock pointed to.  "You've come up a not inconsiderable way in
my squadron.  Among the reasons for this is that you're familiar with the
more arcane elements of warfare strategy.  Also, your record in Research
and in your few field assignments supports opinions I've heard from the
staff around here that you're pretty good at putting two and two together
in nonobvious ways.  I'm counting on that now."
   "Thank you, sir.  How so?"
   The Admiral indicated the large screen.  "For the past several months,
B'harnese forces have been taking their usual defensive stance while they
await the return of their lord.  This time, though, it's different."  He
selected several smaller areas for display on a number of screens in the
monitor bank close to us.  "They would still take advantages that they
could get, and would retreat when necessary.  Furthermore, the actual
number of spongin and other beings didn't decrease dramatically - at least
not more than could be accounted for through casualties.  But in these
locales, obvious advantages were refused.  They're doing nothing but
holding position.  And here, a small number of spongin rallied in order to
hold a position.  Spongin practically never do that.  There must be an
explanation, but we couldn't figure out where to start.  Until yesterday."
   He magnified a section from southern Kansas.  "This is the only spot
where something seems to have gone differently.  For several years, DE,
TRES, and spongin forces have been going back and forth over control of
cropland for food resources.  There was never any real attempt to drive
out the other side, since it was a relatively minor priority for both
sides, though for different reasons.  But our troops there have reported
that not only have the spongies completely withdrawn without any
indication of why, but they have simply torched the land behind them."
   He showed a picture of the burnt land.  Though Will's expression never
changed, inside anger flared.  Forgetting even the battle, he became
furious over the pointless destruction of valuable resources.  *I know one
shouldn't let the enemy gain from your loss, but this was so shortsighted
of them - that land will take years to recover until it can produce
again.  It was the wrong place for scorched earth to happen.*
   J-Rock was speaking again, and Will focused his attention. "...will be
to meet with the DE rep at the site in order to see if you can determine a
possible reason they left.  Warrior Persephone will concentrate mainly on
the strategy elements - you work on the arcane and forensics.  If
possible, one of you is to be backup while the other infiltrates the
retreating spongin units.  If we can duplicate whatever made them retreat,
great.  If not, at least find out if this is connected to the other
unusual activity.  Do you understand?"
   "Yes, sir."
   "Good."  He got up.  "Spend a few hours here and use those nonverbal
brain cells you seem to have in such abundance to familiarize yourself
with the strategy situation you're going to try to unravel.  You need to
be at the Sumner base in two days."
   Not worrying about a reply, Will turned to the banks of computer
screens and began to assimilate.  As his C.O. left, the information was
starting to take on the semblance of pieces of some shadowy whole - fronts
being held; spongin numbers shifting and changing; Sumner County, Kansas;
the absence of the Hell Wyrm[tm]; scorched earth; unexplained retreat;
large events, and small...
   He was still thinking when he claimed his mecha the next morning and
started out.

   As the pavement slid by underneath him, he listened to the monotone hum
of the engine and watched the clouds meander across the sky.  He had
entered the general area of his destination - all about him had sprung up
fields, miles on miles of golden wheat waving gently in the wind.  In tune
with the engine's note, he started singing softly: "Oh, beautiful, for
spacious skies/ for amber waves of grain..."
   When he finished, Kit waited a moment, then said, *There's more to it.*
   *Yeah.  But I never really learned the rest.*
   *You should.  Your people - humans - have such beautiful music.*
   *Didn't yours?*
   He was silent for so long that Will thought he'd chosen not to answer.
Then Kit said, *Before the Times.  We must have.  And at first, I remember
the MindNet full of wonderful music, made by skilled composers who just
thought it up and broadcast it.  But I can't remember how it sounded.
Near the end, there was only the music of the insane.  Weird chords,
atonal sounds, jittery rhythms.  And sometimes, a haunting echo of a
melody from billenia ago.*  Pause.  *I still listened to it sometimes.
When I had been floating around in the emptiness for so long that I
couldn't stand the silence anymore.  But I had to be really starved to go
back in.*
   They drove on under the bright sky for a few more miles.  Finally, Kit
said, *Play something.*  Will chose the Houseknecht arrangement of
"Salvation is Created" and they listened as the spaces slipped by.

   The field base was a cluster of temporary buildings close to a lake.
They stood out relatively well - all around it the golden grain had given
way to burnt, blackened earth, cutting a wide swath to the north.  No
casualty of battle this.  The retreating forces had ensured the Jihad
would get no gain from what they themselves could not have.  Will drove up
and glanced around, taking in the layout and the open gate, noting the two
who must be the field commander and Warrior Persephone.  He shut down the
cycle and dismounted.
   As he approached the two, it was Persephone who commanded much of his
attention.  She was small, almost diminutively so, but carried herself
with a dignity of stance that belied her height.  The whole image was...
he searched for a word.  "Compact."  No: "Intense."  It was as if she
contained a potential energy that could be spontaneously released with the
right catalyst.  The ever-present logical analyzer in his brain pointed
out that _every_ human body contained phenomenal amounts of such, and he
stuffed it down with the retort that it was rarely so impressive.
   As he closed and stopped near the two, he noted somewhat puzzledly that
she had worn a varying set of unusual expressions, which just then cleared
to a smile as she stepped forward holding out a hand.  "Hi, you must be
the rep from TRES Corps.  I'm Warrior Persephone of the DE - but call me
Pers, all my friends do."
   During the first part of her sentence, his mind had flashed
unexpectedly back to the lyrics of "America".  Surely "shining sea" could
be the only description of the color of those eyes, like a clear, deep
ocean, with the sun glinting off whitecaps -
   Kit's snicker snapped him back to reality at "call me Pers...".  Caught
off guard, he smiled.  "I'm pleased to be considered a friend so soon."
He shook hands, including Captain Adams in the gesture.  There was a
momentary pause, in which he inexplicably found himself going over the
kinetic memory of her hand, and as usual when confused he latched on to
immediacies to navigate onto firmer ground.  "So, shall we get down to
business?"

TBC...