[COPY] Brass Fever-Containment Protocol-Part 15
The makin’ or the breakin’. Fiction. 2200 words, 11-minute read.
Last time, Booker had just learned of the mountain of the gods. But the witch doctor is stirring up more trouble. The rest of the containment Protocol story can be found here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/rays-serial-fiction
Brass Fever – Containment Protocol-Part 15
By Ray Tabler
Bunzo led the delegation of the Bedrock Decency League right up to the chief’s hut, and struck a righteous pose, feathered, bone-bedecked staff of office planted firmly in the dirt. With an excessive amount of arm waving and chest thumping, Bunzo cut loose with a long harangue. Halfway through, Vinzi rose from his log and endured the torrent with a look of exasperation. Bunzo’s supporters showed agreement with grunts and nods.
“What’s this about?” Booker asked Muñoz quietly.
“Bunzo’s unhappy with the distribution of our gifts. Says the gods are displeased.”
“Well, ain’t that convenient?” Booker frowned. “I’ll bet that the folks backing him didn’t get as many bayonets, machetes, and cook pots as they thought they should either.”
“That would be my guess.” Muñoz agreed.
“We could promise to bring back more gifts when we return. Wouldn’t be a hard sell for colonel Shaylton. The project probably spends more on coffee every morning than the aid package cost.”
“I don’t think it would do any good.” Muñoz cautioned. “Bunzo lost status when Vinzi clocked him with that chunk of firewood this morning. He’s looking for a way to regain face. He’ll likely find some other way to make trouble.”
By this point, the witch doctor had wound down. The chief answered back, a derisive tone evident in his voice. Bunzo’s eyes darted about, gauging the solidity of his support, and perhaps checking to make sure no convenient pieces of firewood were within Vinzi’s reach. Bonzo rebutted. The chief and the witch doctor argued back and forth.
Muñoz summarized the debate. “Vinzi says that the council decided on gift distribution, and Bunzo should take it up with them if he has a problem with it. Bunzo says the gods have a problem with it.” The two tribesmen continued to argue. “Now, he’s brought up Pinsky’s breaking of taboo again.”
Booker scowled, and crossed his arms. This mission was going straight to hell on greased rails. He was sorely tempted to order his men back to their vehicles, and barge his way back to the gate site, dino migration or not. That certainly wasn’t the smart course of action, but would provide a large amount of momentary satisfaction. Suddenly, Booker’s mouth dropped open, his eyes wide.
Muñoz caught the change in the lieutenant’s mood. “Clearly, you’ve had an epiphany. I’m almost afraid to ask what it is.”
“You should be.” Booker smiled.
Bunzo also caught Booker’s expression. He paused, mid-tirade, eyes instantly wary. Vinzi also noticed. With the witch doctor and the chief suddenly silent, everyone present found their eyes drawn to Booker. The full attention of the gathering caused Booker a moment of panic. Gritting his teeth, he decided that there was no turning back now.
“Tell Vinzi and the witch doctor that the gods just whispered into my ear.”
“What?” Muñoz squeaked, glancing at Mulroney with concern. This was the last thing he expected to hear from Booker.
“The gods spoke to me, while they were bickering, and told me what they want done.”
“You sure you want me to say that? The gods are only supposed to speak through the shaman.”
“Really? Even better. Go ahead.” Booker extended his arms and waved his hands in what he hoped would be an appropriate gesture for an oracle.
Reluctantly, Muñoz translated Booker’s words. The effect on the tribesmen was so comical Booker had trouble not laughing out loud. Vinzi raised an eyebrow at Booker, clearly doubtful. Bunzo also appeared skeptical, but mostly alarmed at this outsider’s usurpation of the witch doctor’s exclusive hotline to the gods. However, most of the locals seemed to swallow Booker’s claim hook, line, and sinker. They muttered and whispered among themselves. Those who might have harbored doubts kept that to themselves, lest their neighbors think them unbelievers.
Bunzo recovered from the shock, and opened his mouth to throw some cold water on Booker’s blarney. The lieutenant was ready for him, though. Booker spoke up first.
“Hallelujah!” Booker shouted; in imitation of exuberant Baptist church services, he’d attended as a child. That caused a momentary pang of guilt, but he figured that he’d ask the almighty for forgiveness later on. Assuming he survived. “The gods commanded me to journey to their mountain, and they will rule on how the gifts will be parceled out!”
“You’re right. I should’ve been worried about what popped into your head.” Muñoz gulped.
“Go on. Tell ‘em. We’ll look pretty silly if we stop now.”
“Silly? We might look dead if this goes sideways.” Never the less, Muñoz relayed Booker’s vison to the tribe.
Many of Bunzo’s backers started slowly backing away from the witch doctor. Some internal disagreement over gifts was all well and good. But now the gods were involved. While no one really expected to get struck by lightning from the clear, blue sky, you never knew about these religious matters. Gods being gods, and all.
A trained tactician, Booker knew he had the initiative, and held on with both hands. He raised his arm to point straight at Bunzo. “The gods told me that Bunzo must come along on this pilgrimage. They want to talk to him, in person!”
Muñoz blinked, but translated. Bunzo dropped his ceremonial stick in surprise. The bulk of Bunzo’s supporters spontaneously decided that this wasn’t really any of their concern after all. It was entirely possible that innocent bystanders might get roped into a perilous trip to the mountain of the gods. And nobody wanted any piece of that. Except for Booker.
The chief watched events unfold, barely-concealed amusement in his eyes. Vinzi winked at Booker, evidently impressed at the political ju-jitsu unleashed on the witch doctor. The only one still standing next to Bunzo was the apprentice shaman, and that loyal induvial appeared confused at the sudden turn of the tide. Bunzo sputtered at his long-gone delegation, then barked a few choice words at Vinzi. The chief shrugged, and replied in a calm voice, as if he were discussing the weather. Bunzo scowled, spat on the ground, and staked off. His apprentice scurried in his wake.
The chief watched the witch doctor leave, and then tuned to Booker, chuckling. He spoke. Muñoz translated.
“That was even better than using a chunk of firewood.”
Booker laughed so hard he almost choked.
“Word of this will be all over the place in no time.” Muñoz translated Vinzi’s words. “There’s no way Bunzo can back out of this. The tribe would see that as shirking his sacred duty. And, he’s already on shaky ground, what with the gods bypassing him to talk to an outsider.” Vinzi paused to shake his head and laugh. “You’ll need swahldets. I’ll ask Zunta and his buddies to go along.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” Booker said.
“Don’t mention it. Besides knowing the way, you’ll need them to help keep an eye on Bunzo. He can cause trouble when he puts his mind to it. At least he won’t be up to any mischief around here while he’s away with you.” Vinzi put a hand on Booker’s shoulder. “Zunta and his companions jump at any excuse to get outside. Young men are like that, as I’m sure you know. With any luck, you can all be on your way this afternoon.”
With a final, conspiratorial smirk, Vinzi entered his hut.
Booker looked at Muñoz and Mulroney, an innocent expression on his face. “What?”
“The gods whispered in your ear?” Muñoz repeated Booker’s words in tone which conveyed just how nuts this whole scheme was.
“Got the job done.” Booker countered. “I thought I was going to have a hell of a time talking Vinzi into this little side trip.”
“This could’ve blown up in our faces.”
“But it didn’t. I took a calculated risk. Turned out okay.” Booker swiveled to Mulrooney. “I’m planning on taking Mr. Muñoz with me. And Pinsky. He might become a flash point around here if left behind. Since you won’t need them to operate the vehicles, should you have to head back to the gate site, I’ll take the four dismount scouts from Pebbles and Bam Bam too. Shift Bam Bam’s gunner, Cooper, over to do Pinsky’s job as loader in Fred. He’ll be a little slower at it, but needs must. With Bam Bam’s gun out of action Cooper’s got nothing to do in that Bradley anyway. So, two days out, two days back. Figure two days for the unexpected. We’ll need six days’ worth of rations. Any questions, sergeant Mulroney?”
“No sir.” Mulroney answered a bit tentatively.
“Alright. I’ll see you two back at the lager.” Booker strode off, a confident spring in his step.
Mulroney and Muñoz watched him go, stunned at the rapid pace of the morning’s events.
“You okay with this?” Muñoz asked.
Mulroney sighed. “In my opinion, the el-tee has come down with a case of brass fever. Any officer worth his salt gets it sooner or later. They find themselves in a situation, and realize that this could be the makin’ or the breakin’ of his career. Figure they gotta shine while the spotlight is on ‘em. Makes ‘em do all sorts of crazy stuff. Booker has it bad. I think it’s this business with Nohfa that done it. Whether he’s thought it out or not, Booker thinks he needs some accomplishment which will loom larger in the mission report than getting drunk and contributing to the genetic diversity of Bedrock.”
Muñoz shrugged. “That makes a crazy sort of sense.”
“You can bet on it.”
“The main difference between military genius and foolish madness is whether you come back covered in glory or get everyone killed. Just no way to tell going in.”
Mulroney eyed Muñoz. “Who said that?”
“I did, just now.”
“You’re a philosopher, Mr. Muñoz.”
Muñoz laughed cynically. “I’d trade that title for not ending up as a pile of dino turds at the end of all of this. Well, I think I better go hunt up Zunta, and let him know how many of us will be along for the ride. He’ll need to saddle up at least that many swahldets.”
“See you back at the vehicles.” Mulroney said as Muñoz walked away.
***
“Pinsky! Get your ass down here.” Booker called from the ground at Fred’s flank.
“Yes sir!” Pinsky dropped the rag he was using to dry Fred’s gunsight optics, and scrambled down to stand in front of Booker. “I think we got almost all of that dino blood off of the turret. Fred looks almost show room new. That hot springs water does a great job.”
“Outstanding.” Booker was actually impressed at the spiffy condition Fred was in. Too bad he couldn’t stick around and enjoy it. “You stash that camera in a secure location?”
“Oh, yes sir.”
“Good. Get it. Take out the memory stick you’ve used so far, and stick that back in the safe spot. Show Jackson where that is. Put a fresh memory stick in the camera, and bring it back down here. Bring your Kevlar helmet, and mine, and both carbines from the tank with you. Pack up ammo for the carbines and your side arm, too.”
Pinsky’s confusion showed in his face. “Uh, how much ammo?”
“We might be gone for six days. Use your judgment.”
Pinsky clearly wanted to ask more questions, but decided from the look on Booker’s face that no answers he wanted to hear would be forthcoming. Instead, the loader climbed back up on Fred’s turret and disappeared through the hatch. Booker watched him go, concluding that Pinsky wasn’t as dumb as he looked. Which wasn’t actually saying much. But one worked with what one had.
“Lieutenant Booker.” Mulroney approached, the four dismounted scouts from the two Bradleys in tow. “Olmer, DeWiess, Coffman, and Hudson, as requested, sir.” Mulroney stepped aside and swept a hand at the scouts, equipped with helmets and carbines. The scouts came to attention, and saluted.
Booker returned the salute. “Thank you, sergeant Mulroney. Did you brief the men on our mission?”
“No sir. I figured you would be more informed on that score.”
If Booker detected a faint undertone of disapproval in Mulroney’s answer, he ignored it. Olmer, who’d been in the army long enough to pick up on such subtle clues, certainly caught the unspoken warning, and braced himself mentally for what nonsense was about to come. The other three scouts didn’t have the experience to understand, and listened innocently.
“Men, we are detaching from the rest of the platoon for a brief reconnaissance mission. We may be out for six days. The terrain we’ll be traversing is too rough for vehicles.”
Pinsky dropped the two carbines atop Fred’s turret with a clatter, causing the entire group to look up at him. “Six days! On foot? With those dinos?”
“Pinsky! You will not interrupt the el-tee!” Mulroney barked.
Pinsky gulped. “I think I need to bring more ammo.”
END.
Tune in next time for Part 16 – Home Fires.
Find the rest of the Containment Protocol tale here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/rays-serial-fiction
Platoon Roster:
As the story continues, more of Booker’s men enter, stage left. Here’s a table so you (and I) can keep track of them.
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