The lights came up and we were all on our feet cheering like fools. I cheered as loud as anyone. Trumpets blared and a rather dreary piece of recorded music began playing. Everyone snapped to attention and sang the words of their despicable anthem.

Long live Nevenkebia, Land of peace, Land of goodness, land of light. Long live our leaders, Sweet men of mercy.

Long shall we preserve Liberty’s right. But dare to attack us—And you got B fight!

There was more like this and I hummed along and was exceedingly happy when the singing ended. A holomap now hung in the air and General Lowender poked it with his finger.

“You will all be issued with maps and detailed orders. We will meet again tomorrow after you have studied them.

At that time we will go over the plan of attack in detail. But as an overall approach—this is what will happen.

“This division, the 88th, known as the Fighting Green Devils, has the honor of liberating this industrial section of the largest city called by the barbaric name of Bellegarrique. There are mines here and here, warehouses, a rail transportation system and here, ten kilometers away, a dam at the end of this lake that provides electricity for the city. For the benefit of these selfish people we will occupy all of these targets. We will liberate them from the futility of their rejection of our reasonable needs.”

“A question, general,” a colonel called out. The general nodded. “What kind of defenses can we expect? How large is their army? How modern?”

“That is a good question, colonel, and a vital one. We must be prepared for anything, any_ variety of attack, any kind of surprise. Because these people are very subtle, tricky, wily, treacherous. It seems that, well, in all of the contacts made by General Zennor, all of the investigations made by skilled agents, it seems that something very” suspicious was found to be happening. It appears, on the surface that is, that these treacherous people have no army, no defenses—they do not even have a police force!” He waited for the hum of excited voices to die down before he raised his hand for silence.

“Now we all know that this is impossible. A country needs defenses against attack, therefore every country must have an army for defense. The criminal elements in society would plunder and destroy were they not curbed by the police. Now we know that those are realities. We ’ know that these treacherous people are hiding their cowardly arm~-Trom us. Therefore we must proceed with armed cautiop, ready for any sneak attack. We must free them from themselves. We owe that to them,” I have never in my life heard such a load of old cagal—but it impressed my military mates who cheered wildly at the thought of all the nice mayhem to come.

While I wondered what disastrous future lav in store for these simple people about to be liberated from their stupid and peaceful ways.

Liberation by destruction was on the wayl We would free them even if we had to kill them all to do it!

Chapter 15

I returned to my company, clutching the package of sealed orders and holding tight to the idea that this was the most insane endeavor I had ever heard of. Morton looked up when I entered the cabin.

“You are wearing a very worried look,” he said. “Something personal—or should we all be worried?”

“Anything I can do for you, captain?” Sergeant Blogh asked, popping in the door behind me. They all wanted to know about the meeting. I threw the package onto the bed.

“Sergeant, what is the position regarding strong drink on troop transports about to go into action?”

“It is strictly forbidden, sir, and a court-martial offense. But one of the spare tanks on the command car is filled with ninety-nine.”

“Ninety-nine what?”

“Ninety-nine percent pure alcohol. Cut half with water and stir in dehydrated orange juice.”

“Since we are going into combat I am making a field appointment. Acting First Sergfeant Blogh you are now First Sergeant Blogh.”

There was a rattle as Morton dropped three canteen cups onto the table, a thud as a bag of orange crystals followed. I could see where he was getting adjusted to the army.

The sergeant came back with a twenty-liter jerrycan, which with added water would make forty liters of hundred proof drink which, in turn, should make this voyage more bearable.

We clanked mugs and drank deep.

“This stuff is pretty repulsive,” Morton said holding out his empty cup for more. “Can you now tell us what you found out?”

“I have some good news and some good news. The first good news is that we are going to invade and occupy an incredibly rich and heretofore unknown planet named Chojecki. Secondly—they don’t appear to have any defenses of any kind. No military, no police, nothing.”

“Impossible,” the sergeant said.

“Anything is possible in the fullness of time and the width of the galaxy. Let us hope the report is correct because it will certainly make for an easy invasion.”

“I think it is a trap.” The sergeant still wasn’t buying it. I nodded.

“The general seems to think the same thing. He is sure that there is a secret army in hiding.”

“Not necessarily,” Morton said. “Before entering the army I was a student of history. So I can tell you. Diverse are the ways of mankind. As you have so truthfully stated, captain, in the fullness of time and the width of the galaxy there have been many kinds of societies, forms of government …”

“You got governments you got armies. That’s the way it’s got to be.”

The drink was making the sergeant pugnacious and Morton maudlin. Time to close the bar.

“Right. “ I climbed to my feet and kicked the jerrycan of alcohol out of sight under the table. “Sergeant, get the noncoms together. Tell them what I told you about the invasion, have them pass it on to the troops. That will be all for now.”

The door closed behind the sergeant and Morton dropped his head onto the table and began to snore. He was sure a cheap drunk. I finished the repulsive, though certainly

TUB CHIMI BCe fiTBRI ••T ARTC nB&E•r•n lethal, orange-alcohol mixture and heard my stomach rumble in protest. Or was it hunger? A long time and a lot of distance had gone by since that half-eaten steak in the officers’ club. I dug into my pack and found some of the rations that we had been issued. A reddish tube was labeled HOTPUP MEAL. In smaller print it stated that it would feed two and could be opened by puncturing the white circle on the end. I pulled my combat knife out of my boot and stabbed the thing enthusiastically. It instantly grew exceedingly hot and burned my fingers. I dropped it onto the table where it rumbled and hissed and began to expand. I kept the knife ready in case it attacked me. There was a ripping sound as the casing split open and it expanded into an arm-long sausage. It looked repulsive but smelled quite good. I hacked off the end, impaled it on my knife and ate. The only thing missing was some beer.

Life continued in this manner. Day followed day like the flapping of a great red sausage. As good as the hotpup had tasted at first bite, I grew to loathe the sorry sausages. As did we all since, due to some bit of mismanagement in the rush to load the transports and be away, hotpups were the only food that had been put aboard. Even the general had to eat the repulsive objects and he was not pleased.

We had meetings and briefings, all of which I duly passed on to the troops. We cleaned and recleaned our weapons, sharpened our knives, had shortarm inspections to keep the medical officers on their toes, worked our way down through the alcohol until fifteen days had passed and the officers were ordered to yet one more meeting.

This one was different. The knot of field officers around General Lowender was buzzing with talk and much consultation of maps. As soon as we were all assembled the general stood—and hammered his fists down on the table. “The invasion has beguni”