Chapter 15

Jhon Bonga stepped into General Park’s office and smiled. “Good morning, sir. Sleep well?”

Park grimaced and shook his hand. “I am not at all happy to see you, Director Bonga. I hope you will not take that personally, but I hold you responsible for Chun or Kang, or whoever he is being here at all.”

Not happy feels like an understatement. I’d say something like livid.

“One little private is causing that much trouble?” Bonga raised an eyebrow.

“Who called you, Director?” Park exhaled and steepled his fingers.

Aindry might lose his career for placing that call, but Chun can probably survive the blowback.

“Private Chun asked me to look into it, General. He needs allies, and I desperately want to recruit him.”

“He should have placed his request through his sergeants, and then it should have been routed up through the chain of command, where I would have called, if needed.” Park said.

Well, he got it partly right.

“Has anyone explained that to him?” Jhon cocked his head.

“Not yet,” Park said. “I’m waiting until I can do it without ordering him shot.”

“Probably wise,” Bonga said with a half-smile. “But having him here can’t have been all bad.”

“Private Kang, who should have been assigned to a minority unit, showed up and captured the base record for the two-mile run on his first day here.

“We have had to order him to stop killing snakes, then deer--he killed a deer with a bayonet.” Park walked to the window that faced out of his second-story office and looked across the base.

“Sounds like you’re not feeding him enough,” Jhon said.

“For the moment we’ve fixed that. We are giving him extra field rations on the sly, and he’s stopped using my base as his personal scavenging ground.” Park spun on Bonga and jabbed a finger into his chest. “I have six MPs who do nothing but investigate claims that Kang broke this, or Kang stole that.”

He jerked his uniform straight and squared his shoulders.

That sounds like an exaggeration.

“I’m sure you have already tried this, but why not simply exercise him to the point that he is too tired to cause problems?” Jhon shrugged his shoulders.

“That is our program for every recruit, and always has been.” Park said. “The problem is that Kang does not get tired. He gets hungry. And when he gets hungry, he goes foraging.”

“Book work?” Bonga grinned.

“I watched him receive his infantryman’s manual, Director. He flipped through it for perhaps fifteen minutes, then asked his Drill Sergeant if he could take the test. That material is supposed to keep them busy for most of a week.” Park’s reflection in the window glared at him.

“If not for General Farland’s handling instructions, I would have failed Kang on the first or second day and shipped him out of here, but thanks to you I have to have evidence that would stand up in a courtroom before I can punt him.” Park straightened his uniform again.

“I’m sorry,” Jhon said.

“You’re what?” Park raised his voice as he turned around.

“I’m sorry.”

“And how much good do you think that does me?” Park’s eyebrows met in his fury.

“Not much,” Jhon said. “But consider this, sir. We have the opportunity to field an agent who can do the impossible. No physical obstacle will stop him. He doesn’t get tired, he doesn’t get too hot or too cold…he is a force of nature, and your command structure wants to know where he is and what he is doing. With some justification, I might add.”

“This was supposed to be a retirement post for me,” Park looked down and sighed. “I have eight years left, and this is the base I took basic training in. It’s a dream job. I might even stay longer than eight years, at least that’s what I thought before you turned everything on its head.”

Jhon nodded. “As I said, I’m sorry. You have a reputation as a level-headed commander who does the right thing, even when the situation is out of control. Fort Vodun has the best training staff in the world. Where else should we have sent him?”

“It’s not smart to punish people for competence,” Park grinned. “It hurts morale.”

Jhon chuckled. “That is a fact, sir.”

“About the Aindry problem,” Park said. “I don’t have to let you on my base.”

“What about my writ, sir?”

“The Prime Minister doesn’t have operational control.”

“That only works if General Farland backs your decision.”

Park sighed. “The army is already investigating. We will find out who is responsible. I can’t run a base with people threatening my Drill Sergeants.”

“Yes, sir. My basic argument has not changed from yesterday.”

Park shook his head. “Do not go anywhere without Captain Adams. Anywhere. The last thing you need is to get shot. The last thing I need is dozens of federal agents crawling all over my base because a civilian Director was murdered here.”

“I am not certain how to find Captain Adams this morning.”

Adams knocked at the general’s open door, and Park waved him in. “We were to meet at 08:00, Director. It is now 07:55.”

“Good morning, Captain.” Jhon extended his hand, and Adam’s declined to shake it.

“Sending a black man to investigate this is a slap in the face to everyone here.”

“Captain Adams, if my very existence is a slap in your face, then you need to get slapped,” Jhon said. “Can I count on your professionalism?”

“You can,” Adams said.

“Then let’s get started.”

I wonder what Park’s intentions are. Adams might be here to slow me down, or he might be here for a good reason…

* * *

“Captain, I need a copy of the MP’s incident report. Then I need the brick and the note. I’ll want to speak to Mrs. Aindry, and Sergeant Aindry. I also want the patrol schedule for that night.”

Adams frowned at Jhon. “I’ll get them for you.”

“You’ll get them for me now,” Jhon said.

“Your ability to give me orders is very limited.” Adams said, he tried to loom, but he was several inches shorter than Jhon.

“Here’s the thing about being enemies with a coworker,” Jhon said. “I don’t need to worry about offending you. You already hate me. So, get me the materials I asked for, and I can leave sooner.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the papers. You go talk to Sergeant Aindry,” Adams said.

“General Park ordered me not to go anywhere without you,” Jhon said.

Adam’s pointed across the base to a group of men perhaps three hundred yards away. “That’s him, you’ll be safe that far.”

“Alright,” Jhon said. “Come pick me up sooner rather than later.”

“Right,” Adams said, and walked away.

Jhon started out towards the training group. He walked past the end of a building, and a pair of MPs zeroed in on him.

“Stop right there.” One of them stepped directly in his path.

Shit. Adams did this to me on purpose.

Jhon stopped. Both men approached him with hands on their sidearms.

“Gentlemen, my name is Director Jhon Bonga. I am with the Bureau of Antiquities,” Jhon said.

“Sure, you are,” said the lead MP. “Got any ID on you?”

“Of course,” Jhon said, reaching into his jacket.

Both men drew their pistols. “Stop. Do not move or I will kill you.”

Shit. So ends the brilliant career of Jhon Bonga.

“I’m frozen, gentlemen. Do not shoot.”

The air around the one in back hardened imperceptibly.

God help me, he’s going to do it.

“I’m not moving.” Jhon said. Chun stepped up beside Jhon.

“Private, get the fuck back to your unit.” The lead MP trained his pistol on Chun.

“Jhon Bonga is my friend, Sergeant Milsap,” Chun said. “If anything happens to him, I will hold you responsible. Even if someone else does it. It is in your best interests to keep him alive.”

The air around all of them crystalized. Jhon’s knees turned to water. His heart hammered in his chest. Chun’s eyes flickered with green fire, and he stared down the MPs until they slowly put their weapons away. The moment the second pistol went into its holster the feeling of dread evaporated.

What in the seven hells did he do?

“Welcome to Fort Vodun, Director Bonga,” Milsap glowered. “Be more careful next time. It’d be a shame if you had an accident.”

“Of course, Sergeant. Pleasure to meet you,” Jhon said, turning toward Chun.

Chun started walking toward his unit, and Jhon hurried to keep pace with him. “Thank you for that.”

“Of course, Director. You came here to help me. It would be bad manners to let them shoot you.” He seemed completely unfazed.

“What the hell did you just do?” Jhon scanned Chun for some sign of residual breath manipulation.

“I made them afraid of me,” Chun said.

“How?”

“I cannot say. Your language does not have the words,” Chun said.

A tall Drill Sergeant approached. “Private Kang, who gave you permission to run off?”

“No one, Drill Sergeant. I was saving my friend’s life, Drill Sergeant.” Chun stood at attention, and Jhon looked him up and down.

He’s a private tall and two privates wide. I forgot how imposing he can be up close. No wonder he wants more food.

“Yes, I saw that, Private Kang. Now push until you can remember to ask before you leave scheduled training.”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.” Chun dropped and started doing pushups. His form was perfect, and he levered up and down like an oil pump.

“Sergeant Aindry, I presume?” Jhon inspected his uniform for a nametag.

“I am,” Aindry said. “You must be Jhon Bonga. I really fucked up when I called you.” He glanced around, but only the three of them were in earshot.

“General Park seems to believe that Chun placed the call, Sergeant,” Jhon said. “I strongly suggest you leave that assumption the way it is.”

“What about Kang?” Aindry knife handed in Chun’s direction. “They’ll run him out of the service for this. Are you really going to let him take that hit when you don’t have to?”

“Chun is protected by the interests of Central Command,” Jhon said. “For example, we know that he can melt a Landspear III. And apparently, he can make hardened MPs piss themselves.”

Aindry stared down at Chun. “Private, did you melt a tank?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”

Aindry glared at Jhon. “And you set me up to yell at him and abuse him every day for months? What the fuck did I ever do to you?”

“Chun, how do you feel about Sergeant Aindry?” Jhon looked down at the pushing Chun.

“He is young, but he is an excellent instructor. Working through basic under his instruction has made an intolerable situation survivable, Director.” Chun spoke clearly, without a hint of effort. He continued his pushups at the same measured pace.

“So, you don’t feel the need to take horrible revenge on him?”

“No, Director.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Aindry said. “What about Sand?”

“I will find a way to take mild revenge on Drill Sergeant Sand. But nothing horrible,” Chun said.

“You understand if I catch you, I will smoke the dogshit out of you?” Aindry sounded incredulous.

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”

“Well, in any case, we have some nasty business to attend to. Sergeant Aindry, do you have any enemies?” Jhon took out a notepad and pencil.

“None in country that I know of,” Aindry said. “Certainly not on base. I get on well with most everyone here, and what little friction there is doesn’t even warrant a snub at a party, let alone this.”

“No one that might take advantage of this opportunity to lash out at you without drawing attention to themselves?” Jhon began writing.

Aindry shook his head. “Nothing like that.”

“How about you, Sergeant?”

“Come again?” Aindry crossed his arms.

Jhon ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t have a reasonable theory in this direction, but let’s just say you threw the brick through your own window. Now you can arrange some kind of accident for Chun, and as long as you do it cleanly no one will suspect you.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Aindry blinked a couple of times, and red began spreading upward from his collar.

Genuine moral outrage, so not him.

Jhon backpedaled to try and break the tension. “What about any of the other Drill Sergeants assigned to this platoon?”

“Not a chance,” Aindry said. “Sand is the meanest of us, but he would never threaten my family… he’s keen to get Kang thrown out, but he’ll do it by the book.”

“I agree,” Chun said. “The Drill Sergeants assigned to this platoon are too professional to get caught up in something like this.”

If Chun doesn’t think they did it, he’s almost certainly right.

“Anyone else nearby?” Jhon looked about. “Anyone particularly vocal about not wanting a Han here?”

“Sure,” Aindry said, “about half of the base, and the other half is thinking it.”

I hope it isn’t that bad, but I take his point.

“How about Mrs. Aindry?”

“She works as a secretary for our church. She’s very active there. I don’t think she has any enemies at all, let alone someone who would do this. And how would that connect to a private in my training platoon?” Aindry rubbed the back of his head.

He’s trying to think it through, not just giving me quick answers. Reliable.

“May I interview Mrs. Aindry?”

“I’d be happier if I could be there, but it’s my turn to babysit. So, you can talk to her, but please be easy on her.” Aindry looked Jhon in the eyes.

“Of course, Sergeant. My goal is to remove the problem, not make it worse.”

Adams wasn’t there yet, so Jhon watched the unit go through hand-to-hand combat drills. Most of the boys were nervous about performing in public. One named Talent stood out though. He thoroughly outclassed his opponent.

Decent footwork for a twenty-year-old, fast hands, excellent spacing… Give him ten years and the right training and he’d even be a challenge for me.

Instead of sitting down like everyone else, Talent asked to fight Chun. Initially Sergeant Aindry said no, but Talent persisted. “Come on, Drill Sergeant. He’s been ducking me ever since he got here. Put him on the mats.”

Aindry paused, looked from Chun to Talent. “It’s your funeral kid.”

Chun got up and took to the mats. The day’s exercises were for bayonet techniques, but Talent clearly had something more pugilistic in mind.

“You will follow my orders at all times.” Aindry said. “If I tell you to stop, you return to your corner. Do you get me?”

Two sets of ‘Yes, Drill Sergeant,’ followed.

Talent was fast, vicious, and clearly out to prove himself. Chun was calm, efficient, and utterly in control. He slipped punches, used superb foot positioning, and spacing, and showed zero signs of stress.

Of course, Talent must weigh about one eighty. He’s giving up at least a hundred pounds here.

Chun gave Talent a minute to test himself, then choked the kid out. As soon as Talent was awake again, he demanded a rematch. Jhon caught Aindry making eye contact with Chun, and then he approved the match.

Aindry knows Chun is the alpha here. He just wanted to check and make sure Chun won’t injure the kid. There’s trust there, even if Aindry pretends he doesn’t like Chun.

* * *

Adams made Jhon wait for more than an hour. By the time he returned, Jhon was ready to choke him. Jhon wasn’t a dedicated runner, but he did try to keep himself fit. More to the point Captain Adams looked a bit soft around the edges, and he needed to be put in his place after leaving Jhon with the training platoon for so long.

“Try to keep up, Captain.” he said, faking good cheer, and started off. Adams was puffing within two hundred yards.

Nothing like a good run, eh?

Jhon smiled and increased the pace. They left the base office complex and started down the barracks row, and up ahead Jhon could see Chun’s unit standing at attention while Chun did dying beetles.

I don’t envy him.

Jhon stopped to wait for Adams, and Chun stood up. The air around him rippled madly. A rifle shot split the air, and blood spurted from Chun’s chest. Chun staggered a step, caught himself and focused on a portion of pine forest several hundred yards away. A tree went up like it had been hit by a flame thrower.

Chun side-stepped as a second shot rang out. Jhon could see the wind from the shot ruffle Chun’s shirt. Chun made a throwing motion, and a small brightly lit ball of light leaped out of his hand, shot a few hundred yards into the air, then streaked down into the tree line with a blast Jhon felt in his body. A handful of trees fell, and Chun stopped searching the tree line and stuck his finger into the hole in his chest.

He’s okay. He’s got to be okay. Aindry is a better medic than I am, but I’m a better tracker than any of them.

He turned and headed toward the trees. Captain Adams called for him to stop, but it didn’t take long to leave Adams and his blubbering behind.

That’s insane. He anticipated the shot, started a fire over a hundred yards away, anticipated another shot well enough to dodge it, and built a spell that remained stable over a pretty long flight. I couldn’t even tell what he was doing, it happened so fast.

* * *

“Lay down, son. You’ve been shot,” Aindry cowered behind a tree, ignoring Chun’s request for tweezers.

Does he think I do not know that?

Chun frowned. “I would prefer to go to the medical bay, Drill Sergeant.”

Aindry’s eyes widened. “Sure, why not? I’ll go with you, just get down out of sight.”

Chun glanced back at the tree line. “The shooter has fled. Jhon Bonga pursues him.”

They made it about twenty yards before the MPs arrived. Sergeant Aindry commandeered their scar and drove Chun to the medical bay.

The surgeon on duty was a skinny captain named Butcher.

“What happened here?” Butcher pulled Chun into the bay.

“The bullet passed through without hitting the heart, lung, or bone,” Chun said. “It is lodged against my shoulder blade.”

“You’ve been shot in the chest?” Butcher cocked an eyebrow.

“For God’s sake.” Aindry said. “Yes, he’s been shot. Get your doctor hat and get to work.”

“Why is he standing up?” Butcher’s voice was incredulous.

Why is that so surprising?

“Because I have work to do,” Chun said. “Please get your tools.”

“Right, let’s get that shirt off.” He reached into a drawer and came out with a pair of scissors. By then Chun had the shirt unbuttoned, and slipped off. “Doesn’t that hurt?” Butcher didn’t wait for Chun to reply, “I’ll get x-ray to take a picture of that, wait here.”

“I guess Butcher is a fitting name,” Aindry moved into Butcher’s face. “You don’t leave a gunshot patient alone.”

Chun got off of the table and started opening drawers. “Private, lay down like the bad doctor said,” Aindry said, but without his usual conviction. In the third drawer Chun found a long thin tool like a cross between scissors and tweezers.

This will do.

He sectioned off a little piece of his mind, channeled the pain there, and let it scream while he reached into the wound. The tool was barely long enough, but he got the bullet and slowly extracted it.

“Fuck me,” Aindry said.

Chun turned the bullet around. It seemed intact.

Good. No pieces to go looking for.

He set the bullet on the counter and found a needle and sutures in another drawer, then eyed the wound.

This is awkward. I don’t think I can reach it well enough.

“Sergeant, do you know how to stitch?” Chun gritted his teeth as he spoke.

“I’m a Drill Sergeant,” Aindry said. “And sorry, no, I’m not qualified to stitch that up. Wait for the doctor.”

“Captain Butcher is incompetent,” Chun said.

“Nevertheless, I think he’ll do a better job than I will,” Aindry said. Fortunately, Butcher returned with someone from x-ray less than a minute later.

“Holy Father,” said the x-ray guy.

Chun picked up the bullet and handed it to Butcher. “It was up against the shoulder blade. Do you still need a picture of it?”

Butcher turned the bullet. “No. It looks intact.” He turned to the x-ray guy. “I guess we don’t need you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Chun cocked his head.

Why is wound care strange?

“Let’s get you to surgery,” Butcher said.

“Why?” Chun held up the needle and suture. “Close it up. I would be done already, but it is an awkward place to stitch myself.”

Butcher poked the edges of the wound. “There’s very little bleeding, and the bullet came out clean. Maybe a full surgical repair would do more harm than good.” More poking.

“All right, Private. Let’s get you stitched up. Do you want anesthetic for this?”

“I do not need it,” Chun said.

“Lay down on the exam table,” Butcher said. Chun lay back on the table, Butcher insisted on cleaning around the wound, which Chun had already done.

He does not know that wizards do not get sick.

Butcher’s stitches were large and unevenly spaced.

I have seen actual butchers take more care.

It took him an inordinately long time to finish, and by the time he cut the suture Chun was wishing he had done the job himself, awkward angle or not.

Chun stood and put his shirt back on. “I am ready, Drill Sergeant.”

“No, you are not,” Aindry said. “You’ve been shot. You need a note from your doctor clearing you to return to duty.”

Chun turned to Butcher. “Captain Butcher, may I please have a note to give my Drill Sergeants?”

Butcher’s eyebrows shot up. “You got shot, walked in under your own power, extracted the round yourself, and now you want to go back to training?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Absolutely not. We need to keep you overnight for observation, and you’ll need ten days to two weeks of healing before we can release you to full duty,” Butcher said.

“What do you hope to observe?” Chun glared.

“Well, we hope that your recovery will go smoothly, but we want you here so we can act quickly if you have difficulty breathing, heart irregularities, or any signs of infection.”

Chun reached out and grabbed Butcher’s lab coat with his left hand. “Hang onto my wrist, Captain.” Aindry pushed himself upright but waited. Butcher grabbed Chun’s wrist with both hands, and Chun lifted him off of the floor. “Which of my duties do you believe I am unfit to perform, Captain?” Chun carefully lowered him and patted the wrinkles out of his coat.

Butcher just stared at him. “That’s not possible.”

Aindry spoke, “What’s not possible, that a mountain of meat like him can lift you with one arm, or that Private Kang is so goddam stubborn?”

Butcher nodded.

“Kang, can you push?” Aindry sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.” Chun dropped and started pushing.

“Well, Doc,” Aindry said, “he looks fit to me. Can you sign the note if I promise to send him straight back here at the first sign of trouble?”

Butcher pulled out a pad, scribbled on it, and handed it to Aindry.

“Follow me, Private,” Aindry said.

“May I keep the bullet?” Chun stood from pushing.

“Of course,” Butcher said, wiping the slug down before handing it to him. Then they left the medical bay.

Once they were outside, Aindry turned on Chun. “If you ever put your hands on senior personnel again, I will have you shot.”

“Again?” Chun chuckled.

“Haha, Private, but I shit you not.”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant, I intended no insult,” Chun said.

“That’s the only reason we’re having this conversation instead of going straight to the brig. Do not touch ranking personnel. Ever.”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”

He could have had me thrown out for that. Why would he pass up the opportunity?