Strike Force

It was a wishy-washy answer — he knew it, she knew it, and he knew that she knew that he knew it too. He looked at the eager, exhausted, and happy faces of Red Dog Delta around him, and then at the disappointed, angry, and confused faces of the other squadron members, and realized he had better just leave it at that. “Good job, all of you,” he said. He checked his watch. “The Minnesota National Guard will be at the parking lot in about two hours to fly us out in the Chinook. Police the area and get some water. We’ll march back in fifteen minutes.” Harlow stepped away from the cadets, feeling the disappointment of VanWie’s flight on the back of his neck.

“Sergeant, organize a site cleanup detail,” Katelyn said to Doug Lenz, her cadet NCOIC. She picked out two landmarks to the north and west of the center of the clearing they were in. “We’ll take this quadrant and police the area out toward the treeline and one hundred meters beyond. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll join you.”

“But what about the exercise?” Lenz asked. “Do we get any recognition for winning the exercise?”

“You heard the captain — the prize was the successful completion of the exercise,” she replied. She stepped closer to him, smiled, and added, “Besides, we all know who won.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Now get going. Be ready to move out in one minute.” Lenz saluted and trotted away.

“I suppose you think you’re clever, don’t you, VanWie?” one of the other flight leaders, a seventeen-year-old boy named Johansson, who looked closer to twenty-seven, said. The other flight leaders had been talking together and had turned defensively toward Katelyn as she approached them. “You knew damned well that we were supposed to find those markers ourselves, not ambush one another and steal theirs!”

“Sure I knew it,” Katelyn said, “but the captain made it clear what the objective was, and I made my plan based on the objectives of the exercise, not what I assumed we were supposed to do.”

“You didn’t win, and you just showed everyone again what a little red-headed weirdo you are.”

“I’m going to take this quadrant of the clearing for cleanup,” Katelyn said, ignoring the remark. Her cadet NCOIC trotted up to her and told her the flight was ready to move out. “You guys decide what areas you’re going to take.”

“Why don’t you just take you and your ET hands out into the woods and stay there, freak,” Johansson said.

Katelyn ignored the remark — she was accustomed to it — but her friend and cadet NCOIC, Doug Lenz, didn’t. Before she could stop him, Lenz — who wasn’t that much bigger than Katelyn, even though he was a year older — shouted, “Shut up, asshole!” then charged at the other flight leader. He got one good punch in to the side of the flight leader’s chest, and Lenz’s head butted the other boy’s chin and opened a slight cut, but that was all.

Johansson pushed Lenz’s head down and aside, then wiped blood from his chin. “Motherfucker…!” he muttered, then punched Lenz once, hard, on the back of his neck, and the younger boy went down. The flight leader turned, knelt on Lenz’s back, and raised a fist. “I’m gonna waste you, you piece of…!”

Suddenly he felt a boot strike his chest, and he stumbled back off the young cadet. Unhurt but confused, he looked around to find where the blow had come from…and he found Katelyn VanWie standing between him and Lenz, jumping slightly from foot to foot, her hands raised defensively…her hands, those hands, showing just four fingers on each hand. “Hey!” he shouted, getting to his feet. “You butt out, freak!”

“It’s over,” Katelyn said. “I apologize for Doug, and it won’t happen again.”

“I’m gonna kick his ass!” Johansson said. He took one of the other flight leaders by the arm and pushed him toward Katelyn. “Keep the freak away from me while I teach this a-hole not to mess with Bravo Flight.”

It was obvious the second cadet, a younger kid named Swanson, didn’t want to have anything to do with this, but he put up his hands and stood in front of Katelyn, determined to keep her away from his flight leader until the squadron commander came back. As he approached Katelyn, though, all he could look at was those hands and the weirdness of what looked like a finger in place of her thumbs…

…and he didn’t see her left leg sweep out and trip him. Swanson landed hard on his back and decided he was going to stay right there — he’d had enough of the girl with the ET fingers already…

“What is going on over here?” Captain Harlow thundered from several yards away.

“Group, ten-hut!” Katelyn shouted. She snapped to attention but kept her eyes on the flight leader, making sure he didn’t make a move toward her.

“I said, what’s going on here?” Harlow shouted again. “VanWie, did I see you just trip that cadet?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“Cadets Swanson and Johansson wanted a demonstration of muay thai, sir.”

“‘Muay thai?’ What’s that?”

“Kickboxing, sir.”

“Is that true, Swanson?”