FAMILY REUNION-Containment protocol part 7
Alley Oop's back in the picture. Fiction, 2300 words (12-minute read).
Find the rest of the Containment Protocol tale here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 6 (last episode), Part 8 (next episode)
FAMILY REUNION
by Ray Tabler
The nature of the landscape the platoon traveled through shifted slowly from prairie to wide valleys with inter-spaced woodlands, between rocky, volcanic hills. The dark, brooding shadows beneath the trees made Booker tense each time the column detoured around a grove in their path. On one occasion a herd of plant-eating dinos stampeded out the far side of a thicket.
It was hard to pick out details of the fleeing animals, bunched together and partially obscured by the trees. They appeared to be solid, horned and frilled, low to the ground and about thirty feet long. Triceratops, maybe, Booker thought. The sound of machine gun bolts being pulled back rippled back along the vehicles. But no one fired. The herd headed away from them.
“Klesuf.” Nohfa called over her shoulder from her perch on Fred’s gun.
“Those are klesuf.” Muñoz translated. “Nothing to worry about. She says that if klesuf are around, you can bet there aren’t any predator nearby. Klesuf are too jumpy.”
Booker relaxed slightly. “These klesuf good eatin’ too?”
“I can answer that question.” Muñoz shook his head. “The dammed slice of klesuf are so gamey I could barely choke it down.”
“From what I remember from school, dinos are what birds descended from. I would’ve expected them all to taste like chicken. Big, dangerous, foul-tempered, hungry chickens.”
That dragged a laugh from Muñoz. “All birds taste like chicken, more or less. Ostrich is sorta like beef. Alligator is more like fish. So is iguana. Fresh water crocodile is close to chicken. Rattle snake too.” Muñoz noticed Booker’s raised eyebrows, and shrugged. “Green Berets end up eating a lot of strange local foods on deployment. Best way to bond with the indigs is to share their meals.”
“How long were you here?”
“A bit more than a week.”
“That’s a pretty short time to pick up as much of their language as you did.”
Muñoz glanced at Nohfa. “Well, I just happen to be very good at languages. It’s a gift. Slotted me toward the Green Berets, actually”
“I guess so.”
Even though he was talking with Muñoz, Booker still scanned the surroundings. Nohfa’s reassurance about the presence of the skittish klesuf notwithstanding, Booker didn’t want any more surprises. He felt a small degree of rueful vindication when distant movement caught his eye. Large creatures appeared around the edge of a stand of trees, and turned toward the column.
“Heads up! We got movement to the front right, about three hundred yards.”
Turrets traversed. Pensky dropped own to stand ready in his loader’s position. The tracks spread out to either side of the line of march, the better to allow guns to bear on this new threat.
Booker retrieved his binoculars and trained them on the approaching mob of dinos. “What the—?”
“Hey, El-tee. There’s people riding those things!” Jackson pulled away from Fred’s main gun optics, wiped his eyes and looked again.
“I see ‘em, Jackson.” Booker exhaled a frustrated sigh, and radioed over the platoon channel. “Be advised, this might be a welcoming committee. But, stay alert. We don’t know for sure yet if they’re friendlies.”
From her perch astride Fred’s weapon, Nohfa shaded her face from the prairie sun, and squinted at the distant group. Her face brightened, and she emitted a delighted squeal. Pointing and bouncing up and down. She slapped the metal of the turret, urging Fred on by sheer, animated force of will. With a backward glance, Nohfa spoke a few sentences to Muñoz with a breathy zeal.
“Her homies?” Booker asked Muñoz, tilting his head at the squadron of mounted cavemen.
“You guessed it.” Muñoz confirmed.
“Hmm.”
More details became clear through booker’s binoculars as the distance between the tanks and the indigs reduced. There were about three dozen dinos, swahldets according to Muñoz. Maybe two thirds of those bore riders. The others appeared to be fitted with bridles, but not saddles. Ready remounts for when a burdened dino tired, Booker reasoned.
The riders were all dressed as Nohfa had been when she came through the gate with Muñoz, an enormous dinosaur on their heels. Primarily clad in leathers, each of Nohfa’s people clutched a long, stout lance. Other primitive weapons of various types sprouted from lashings and holsters on their saddles, ready to hand once the lance was cast or shoved deep into flesh. Something’s flesh.
Muñoz had called the swahldets hadrosaurs. Long-buried, dim memories of educational TV programs dredged up from the bottom of Booker’s mind a hazy idea of that type of dinosaur. He seemed to remember that they were plant-eaters. Which was some reassurance. However, bison, hippos, and elephants were also herbivores. That didn’t make them any less dangerous when the beasts were in a bad mood.
As Muñoz reported, the swahldets ranged between thirty and forty feet long. Running flat out, as they did at the moment, they used all four legs in a swift, rolling gait. The darned things came on faster than Booker would’ve believed possible if he wasn’t witnessing the speed with his own eyes. A number of the swahldets trumpeted as they galloped, a mournful note emanating from a bony, colorful crest atop their long, skulls. The call was evocative of waterfowl’s, only deeper in pitch and resonant.
Nohfa called to her people, arms high and spread. They were close enough now to recognize her. And she them. The lead rider called out, joyfully. He spurred his mount on, slapping the flat of his lance head against the swahldet’s flank.
He was a giant of a man, an unruly mop of red hair, barely contained by a leather headband. Colorful feathers sprouted vertically from the headband, and dangled from the rider’s locks. A delighted grin split his face as he approached Fred’s prow. Fortunately, Rusty brought the tank to a halt before there was a head-on collision with the swahldet.
Nohfa squealed and ran lightly out along Fred’s gun barrel as if it were a gymnast’s balance beam, leaping across the remaining gap, as the lead rider skidded his swahldet to a sideways stop in front of Fred. Nohfa landed in the man’s outstretched arms, and they clasped each other. She locked her lips on his, passionately and sloppily kissing and moaning between unintelligible, loving words.
“Uh, that’s her mate, Zunta.” Muñoz supplied.
“Really? I never would’ve guessed.” Booker replied with a rueful shake of his head. He felt an odd mix of relief and an unexpected disappointment at the reunion.
When Nohfa came up for air, Zunta’s swahldet twisted its head about awkwardly, crooning for attention. Nohfa about faced in her position forward of Zunta’s saddle on the swahldet’s neck, gracefully scissoring her legs, and leaned over to embrace the beast. She whispered praise into the spot where its crest joined its head. The mount closed its eyes in rapture at Nohfa’s breathy doting. Zunta laughed in hearty indulgence.
“It’s like a big, scaley dog.” Booker commented quietly to Muñoz. “A smelly one.” He wrinkled hid nose at the strong, animal scent wafting off of the swahldet.
“I warned you.” Muñoz shrugged.
The swahldet momentarily fussed over, Nohfa spoke to Zunta, pointing at Booker and Muñoz. Zunta replied, grinned, and addressed a long, somewhat ritualistic speech at Booker.
“Zunta is beholden to you for the safe return of his mate, and invites all of us to enjoy the hospitality of their home.” Muñoz translated.
Bookers kept a smile on his face, but felt inward frustration. “I’m thinking we don’t have any choice in the matter. Do we?”
“Not one little bit.” Muñoz smiled back, picking up on Booker’s reticence. “Refusing his hospitality would be seen as a deadly insult.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“What’s your concern? We’ll be safe. Under their traditions, guests are afforded protected status. Besides, we returned his mate. He is genuinely grateful.”
“It’s not that.” Booker sighed. “If we offloaded the foreign aid package here and now, then about faced and pushed hell-for-leather, we might just make it back to the gate site before sundown. And I sure don’t want to travel through this country in the dark.”
“Hmm. I see your point. But just dumping the gifts on Zunta would likely be seen as an insult to the tribe’s elders. We’d be, in effect, recognizing him as the chief, bestowing upon Zunta the privilege of distributing the prizes. The elders would not appreciate that challenge to their authority. And Zunta would not be happy at us for putting him that predicament.”
“Crap! This is complicated.”
“It sure as hell is.” Muñoz agreed.
“Alright. I guess we’re staying the night in Bedrock.”
Muñoz grinned. “Don’t be a stick in the mud. I can just about guarantee that they’ll throw a big T-Rex tail barbecue in celebration.”
“Oh, joy.” Booker deadpanned.
As Booker and Muñoz spoke, Zunta edged his swahldet up close to Fred’s gun muzzle. He eyed the dangling T-Rex feathers, reaching out to handle them. He felt the silky texture of the blue-green, shimmering trophies with something approaching awe. Zunta asked Nohfa about the feathers. Nohfa responded, pointing out the trophies gracing each muzzle of the platoon.
Zunta barked words which were clearly earnest praise, looking at Booker with hearty approval. He raised his deep voice to the other swahldet riders, gesturing at the feathers Fred and the other vehicles bore. Excitement spread through the mob of tribesmen. They guided their mounts up close to the tanks, admiring the trophies. One or two raised arms in some prayers to unknown spirits.
“I guess we’re a hit.” Pensky joked, his head poking through the loader’s hatch to see what all the shouting was about.
Nohfa waved at Booker and Muñoz before directing Zunta further back along the line of tracks. Zunta smiled, and spurred his swahldet to the rear. Other mounted tribesmen flowed among the Abrams and Bradleys, reaching out to feel the unfamiliar metal of the tanks with hesitant fingers and puzzled eyes.
“She’s gonna show him the T-Rex tail strapped to Pebbles’ rear deck.” Muñoz explained.
Booker frowned. “I am not happy that we won’t be able to wrap this mission up today.”
“Well, we encountered delays, of a dinosaurian nature.” Muñoz pointed out. “Wasn’t totally unexpected. Good thing we have built-in contingency plans.”
“Yeah. Speaking of that.” Booker reached down into the turret and retrieved a piece of electronic gear about the size of a shoe box. Status lights glowed and blinked on a matte black control panel. “We might as well let the brass back at the barn know our plans.”
Booker stared at the device. “Wonder what makes this thing tick, anyway.”
“It’s a quantum communications module.” Pensky spoke up, his head just above the level of Fred’s turret top, in the loader’s hatch.
Booker and Muñoz blinked at Pensky.
“It operates on the principle of entangled particles. Two subatomic particles are entangled on a quantum level and then separated. One stays back at base. The other one is electromagnetically isolated in the device. When the entangled particle we have is perturbed, the one back at base is too, even if it’s in another universe. Trouble is, creating entangled particles, and keeping them that way is a real bitch. That’s why we can only send very simple messages. And not many of them either. Perturbing a particle unentangles it, and that one can’t be used again. Once we’re out of entangled particles, that thing is just expensive junk.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Booker and Muñoz stared at Pensky as if he’d grown a second head and turned an electric shade of blue.
Pensky shrugged. “Quantum physics is my hobby. I mean, it’s top secret and all. But people talk, especially when we’re all cooped up together two miles under the ground.”
Pensky noticed Jackson leaning out of his gunner’s seat, craning to look at Pensky’s read end. “What?”
“I’m just looking to see if Michio Kaku has his hand up your ass, using you like a Muppet.” Jackson snorted.
Pensky shot Jackson a middle finger. Jackson laughed even harder.
“Who’s Michio Kaku?” Rusty asked over Fred’s crew channel.
While this exchange was going on, Booker scrolled through menus in the gray-and-black LCD display on the quantum communications module. He selected the proper option, and pressed a radio button. The display flashed, and a text assured him the message had been sent.
“Alright. They know we’re staying until tomorrow.” Booker told Muñoz.
“Until at least tomorrow.”
Booker speared Muñoz with a warning glare. “Don’t jinx us!”
Muñoz chuckled. “You believe in that hoodoo?”
“I don’t want to tempt fate.” Booker said.
“Smart man.” Muñoz conceded.
Jackson put a hand over his mike and whispered loudly to Pensky. “Who told you about that quantum tangling jazz?’
Pensky covered his own mike. “One of the techs from section twenty-three. We eat lunch together, when we can.”
Jackson’s eyes rolled up, sorting through likely suspects. “You mean the one with pink hair, and thick glasses?”
“Yeah, her.”
“She is kinda hot, in a nerdy sort of way.”
Pensky smirked, evidently smitten. “I know, right?”
“Seriously,” Rusty said, isolated up forward in his driver’s compartment. “Who’s Michio Kaku?”
“Listen up.” Booker radioed over the platoon channel. “We are continuing on to the objective. That will involve an overnight stay. Sorry if it interferes with any previous engagements. Each vehicle commander acknowledge when you are ready to proceed.”
Rogers sequenced in from the other three Abrams and the two Bradleys. Booker visually confirmed that no swahldets were in the way.
“Move out.”
Surrounded by a boisterous swarm of cavemen mounted on dinosaurs, the platoon churned it way towards Bedrock. Nohfa snuggled into the saddle behind Zunta, holding tight to his muscular torso. She glanced at Booker, only to toss her long hair in disapproval.
Muñoz gave Booker a better-you-than-me look.
Booker rolled his eyes. “Man, I’ll be glad when this job is done.”
Gonzalez struggled to keep Barney’s telescopic main gun optics zoomed in on Nohfa’s toned backside. The movement of Barney and the swahldet Nohfa and her mate rode over the uneven ground made that a difficult task. Somehow, Gonzalez managed.
“I don’t know, sergeant,” Gonzalez rendered his opinion. “Look at the size of that caveman. The el-tee won’t try nothin’ now that Alley Oop’s in the picture.”
Yoder agreed. “You might as well pay up now, Sarge.”
Mulroney grinned over at Yoder. “We ain’t back home yet, son.”
END.
Tune in next week for Part 8-Bedrock
Find the rest of the Containment Protocol tale here: https://raytabler.substack.com/s/containment-protocol-serial
Part 1 (the beginning), ... Part 6 (last episode), Part 8 (next episode)
Author’s Note: Toward the end of part 6, I incorrectly located sergeant first class Mulroney, PFC Yoder, and sergeant Gonzalez in Wilma. They are, in fact supposed to be in Barney. My apologies. Readers of science fiction and fantasy routinely accept all sorts of fantastic premises; faster-than-light travel, aliens, dragons, etc... But that’s understood from the start. However, confusion over who is riding in which tank is plenty enough to throw the reader right out of the story.
To keep me honest going forward, as honest as I can be kept, here’s a table of who is in each vehicle. At least, everyone named so far.
https://www.battleorder.org/us-army-tanks-modern
Pebbles and Bam Bam are the cavalry variant of the Bradley vehicle. Both the infantry and cavalry variants of the Bradley are crewed by a commander, gunner, and driver. The infantry variant crowds six more soldiers in the rear compartment. The cavalry variant only has two additional men back there, who act as dismounted scouts.
The two Bradley’s under Booker’s command are a hastily-attached section (half-troop?), mainly along to transport the “foreign aid package” of machetes, bayonets, and cook pots to Nohfa’s tribe. But both Pebbles and Bam Bam have proven quite useful for fighting off velociraptors and hauling T-Rex meat. Booker likely regrets not bringing more Bradleys along. When encountering dinosaurs, the rule of thumb is: more firepower is always welcome.
http://afvdb.50megs.com/usa/pics/m3bradley/m3bradley.html
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Seems to me the whole platoon will be celebrating Thanksgiving in Bedrock🦃🦕 This is SO exciting I love this series!
Another fun installment! Love the communications equipment technobabble.