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"Indowy, hell." The general snorted. "I had to get somebody from Corp maintenance to set up a portable generator a couple of compartments over then drill through the damned wall. We've got mostly standard office equipment and we're having a shitload of problems getting them integrated. Cream and sugar?" he continued graciously.
"Much of both, thank you, sir. I could look into that for you, sir. I get along with Indowy pretty well, I think it's because I'm their size."
"I understand that we already have you to thank for getting the damn lighting fixed. Not to mention finding the food we were supposed to be getting all along. Lots of time on your hands, Lieutenant?" The general handed Mike his coffee and took a sip of his own, peering at the lieutenant over the rim.
"Sir?"
"I had an interesting conversation with Oberst Kiel of the Bundeswehr the other day. I believe you know the Herr Oberst?"
"Yes, sir. He was one of the GalTech Infantry Design team leaders for the NATO committee."
"He came through General Arnold, who asked me to talk to him on the subject of my ACS battalion. Do you have any idea what he said?"
"Yes, sir."
"I understood that you were to advise the battalion on ACS techniques, is that correct?" asked the general, mildly.
"Yes, sir," said Mike. Now he knew where this was going. He was mildly surprised that the general was underinformed. The flag officer was in for a shock.
"And how would you rate the battalion as an ACS unit?"
"Low, sir," said Mike, taking a sip of the coffee. He suppressed a grimace. Apparently the general was a Texan; you could have floated a horseshoe in the brew.
"Thank you. Can I ask where you have been the last two months? Where you were today?" asked the general, anger building in his voice.
"Under direct orders, until we made planet-fall, to keep to myself," said Mike, forcing down another sip. Fortunately the way the conversation was going he was going to be able to put the cup down and avoid it soon.
"From whom?" asked the general, surprised.
"Lieutenant Colonel Youngman, sir."
"Direct orders?" asked the astounded officer.
"Michelle?" Mike prompted.
"Yes, Lieutenant O'Neal," she said. The experienced machine knew when to be on her best behavior.
"Run the applicable conversation."
"Now, I don't care what you think your mission is, or who you think you are. What I want you to do is go to your cabin and stay there for the rest of the trip. You're not confined to quarters or anything but I decide how my battalion is run, how it trains, what its tactics are. Not any former E-5 with a shiny silver bar that thinks he's hot shit. If I find you in the battalion area without my direct permission, in the training areas, or talking to my officers about tactics or training I will personally hang you up, shake you out and strip you of commission, rank, honor and possibly life. Do I make myself clear?" the AID played back.
"I confess, sir, that I did not handle the conversation very well on my side," Mike allowed, to stu
"Did you tell the AID to record that conversation?" the general asked, with a neutral expression once he had gotten over his shock.
"You didn't know, sir?" asked Mike, with an uneasy voice and a glance at the general's AID, sitting conspicuously on top of his desk. This was a turn he was not particularly happy about.
"Know what?"
"They record everything, sir."
"What?"
"We found out at GalTech, sir. Sight, sound, everything. It can be played back at any time in the future."
"By whom?"
"Currently they are designed solely for user-authorized playback, sir, with some caveats. Some of the countries wanted to make it anyone of a higher rank, but we, the Americans, and a few others, the British and Germans notably, refused. If our soldiers found out that their AIDs would rat on them at any opportunity, they'd `lose' them all the time. However, the records are generally accessible in times of combat or by anyone interacting with the owning individual during the applicable moment."
"Okay. Damn, maybe you should be my ACS advisor. So, the colonel told you to remain in your cabin. Effectively under arrest. Have you?"
"No, sir. I've been keeping in training, physical and tactical. I also construed that I should not develop social contact with the members of the ACS battalion, so I've avoided the club, etc."
"So, you've been working out in a gym for the past month?"
"And with my suit, yes, sir."
"Have you been working with any units of the 325?"
"Sir?"
"Do you realize that you always respond the same way when avoiding a question? Among other interesting anomalies, it appears that Bravo company of the battalion is the only company in the ACS battalion that is hitting the expected milestones for suit training time. And, according to the Herr Oberst, Bravo has made a remarkable advancement in the last month. The Oberst seems to feel that the only part of my ACS unit that is worth wiping a nose with is Bravo company. Not actually up to where they should be, but not completely useless.
"Then it came to my attention that Lieutenant Colonel Youngman wrote an Officer Evaluation Report for his Bravo company commander that accused him of everything but sleeping with my daughter. According to the OER it seems that Bravo company is `wholly unprepared for combat.' In a recent internal battalion EIB evaluation none of the company's perso
"Sir, one of the EIB standards is a thousand-meter land navigation course. Where'd they do it?" For the first time in the conversation the general was begi
"Good question. More to the point, since the EIB hasn't been upgraded for ACS standards, what's the point of training for it?" asked the general. The affable expression had turned to something very like a snarl.
"Ummh, his people . . . need to maintain proficiency for when they transfer to non-ACS units, sir?"
"Very good," smiled the general with a rueful shake of his head. "You make a wonderful devil's advocate, Lieutenant. Unfortunately, regulations currently call for permanent retention of ACS qualified perso
"I suspect that Alpha and Bravo's brass is unshined and they haven't met their PT norms, sir."
"Sarcasm, Lieutenant?"
"Sorry, sir. Maybe a little."
"As a matter of fact, when I asked Lieutenant Colonel Youngman about Bravo company, he commented that he was considering relieving his Bravo company commander."
"Jesus!"
"Do you normally interrupt generals, Lieutenant?" the general asked, dryly.
"No, sir. No excuse, sir," said Mike. He took a deep breath and tried to get hold of his temper. Relieving Captain Brandon would cut the entire pipeline he had been using to get the battalion any decent training.
Infantrymen were past masters at disappearing. Partially it was a matter of their mission; being "ghosts" was half of what being infantry was all about. Another part of it was that without a war or heavy-duty training schedule, they were always first to be handed the worst details. So experienced individuals in infantry units learned to become functionally invisible outside of real training times.
Mike and Wiznowski had used this ability to the fullest. The companies were holding regular morning, early afternoon and recall formations, per battalion orders. However, some of the empty holds were practically right next door to the battalion area. Every day NCOs from Bravo and later Alpha company had slipped out of the battalion area and into the abandoned holds. There they had begun to master the myriad facets of their new specialty, the better to pass it on to their juniors. One of the ironic items was the fact that they bitched and moaned about not having the "GalTech expert" available to help them. Mike meanwhile was monitoring the entire process through his Milspecs or armor, down to listening to the bitching. Whenever he felt that the situation needed something pointed out he filtered it through Wiznowski. As far as anyone knew, Wiz was ru