Superman? Ha!
Chapter 14

Copyright© 2009 by aubie56

We were all carrying AA-12s with buckshot in 8-shot magazines. That way we could switch to XP or HEAP easily if we needed to. Frankly, I hoped that we would not need to use any of the ammunition. This was a recon mission, quick in and quick out.

We had night-vision goggles supplied by TWT that were superior to anything the Arklets had. These goggles did not distort colors, and a bright flash of light, such as a muzzle flash from our guns, would not blind us. We filed out of the transporter gate into a forest with very little undergrowth and trees that were spaced relatively far apart. That was to give us some freedom of movement in case we ran into opposition as soon as we touched down.

The coast was clear, so we formed up and started looking for someone we could interrogate. It took about half an hour to find an isolated house. I was sure that we were going to scare the shit out of whoever we approached, but there was no way around it. Every one of us had one of the TWT radio/translator devices, so there would be no problem talking to anyone we met, no matter who it might be.

I went to the front door of the little house and knocked gently, but loudly enough, I hoped, to awaken any sleeper. The rest of my squad was hidden, both to give me cover in case I needed it, and not to frighten too much whoever came to the door. I had to knock again, and this time I did bang a little harder. After all, there was a limit to the amount of time we could spend here.

Still no answer, so I banged again, even harder. Still no answer, so my patience ran out. I tried the door and found that the lock was broken. I used the radio to inform my squad that I was about to enter the house, so they should be alert and not shoot me if I came running out.

I went in and was met by an almost overpowering odor of death. Shit! What was going on? I found what must have been the master bedroom and looked at the bed. On it was a partially decomposed body of a man who had been shot in the head, execution style! I checked the adjacent bedroom and found it empty, but highly disarranged. There was one more bedroom with two bunk beds which had the partially decomposed bodies of two young boys, both shot in the same manner as the man in the first bedroom.

I thought I might have the answer, but I hated to guess too soon. I radioed that I was coming out and did so. We formed up and continued our search. We found two more houses with exactly the same kind of remains in them, so it began to look like we had stumbled upon a "harvesting" spree of females to be used as sex slaves. The men were of no value, so they were eliminated.

Dammit, this looked like a busted trip. We might as well go back and look somewhere else tomorrow night.


I was really depressed when I returned home. I knew the Bustols were bastards, but I had no idea just how far their evil traveled. I just fell into bed, and none of my wives could console me.

The next day, I asked the TWT scanners to look around and try to find us a more promising place to visit tonight. This time, they found a town where there were young women walking around in public, so we figured that this was a much more likely place for us to get the information we wanted.

That night, my squad and I were set down just outside of town well after dark, but not so late as on the previous night. I wanted us to have more time to look around. I wanted to find the mayor, figuring that he would have the most to tell us if we could get him to cooperate. I didn't want to force any of the natives to do anything at this stage. I wanted as much good will as we could garner.

There was a house on the edge of town that looked to be reasonably prosperous, but not the ritziest place in town. I was looking for a successful business man who could direct me to the mayor. Possibly, the man I first contacted could tell us something useful, also.

We looked around the house and found a window with a light showing. I sneaked up to it and peeked in. A middle aged man was sitting at a desk working on what looked to me like a ledger. This seemed like a golden opportunity, so I tapped on the glass. I had taken off my helmet because I was afraid that he would be frightened if he saw it.

The man turned to the window and stared at me for a good 30 seconds, so I tapped again. He finally made up his mind and opened the window. "Who are you, and what are you doing here at such an hour? Don't you know that you will be shot for violating the curfew?"

"My name is John McDonald, and I would like to talk to you for a few minutes. May I come in?"

"I must be crazy, but OK. Oh, my name is Allor Insrullor"

I was in luck. Except for a difference in accent, the man spoke a version of the Inglet language that I had no trouble understanding. I was happy that I did not need the translator.

The man opened the window all of the way, and I crawled in. As soon as I got inside, the man recoiled in terror. He saw that I was wearing a uniform and was carrying a gun. Neither one of these things was tolerated by the Bustols.

"Don't worry. I won't harm you. All I want is some information. I am from across the ocean where we have been fighting a war with the Bustols, your oppressors. We won that war, and now we want to free you from their tyranny. Will you answer some questions for me, please, and then I will leave before we are discovered."

"Very well, I'll cooperate as much as I can. How did you defeat those damned Bustols?"

I gave him a short rundown on the war we had just fought, then I asked him a number of questions about life under the Bustols. My final question was where could I find the mayor. The answer was that the mayor had been arrested by the Bustols, and smart money said that he would never be seen again.

Oh shit, now what was I going to do? Well, I guess that I had better ask the $64,000 question. "Do you think that the local people would fight the Bustols if we provided weapons and leadership?"

"You can bet on it. I wished that I had a gun the time four of their men raped my wife and made me watch. She died from the ordeal, and I have never forgiven myself for not trying to do something to help her. Fortunately, my daughter was too young to interest them, but she won't be when they come back."

"Is there some way that you and your daughter could come with us without causing a lot of problems for you neighbors? We could make sure that she was safe where the Bustols could never reach her, and I would like to talk to you much more so that we can make plans for the liberation of your people."

"There would be no problem with us leaving right now, or, at least, as soon as my daughter could get dressed. Is that too soon?"

"No, that's fine. You get her to come into this room with whatever she wants to carry with her. You get your stuff, too. We can leave from here. I'll make the arrangements while you are taking care of your end.

I said over the radio, "Sgt. Rawsol, sent a man back to the transfer gate to have it moved to my location. He can go home through the gate's current location. The rest of us will leave from here."

About 15 minutes later, the gate showed up in a corner of the room, and I had the rest of my squad come through the window and exit to Karak. Allor and his daughter showed up before the last of my men had left, so she had a royal escort back to Karak. I'm sure the fact that she was pretty had nothing to do with it!

Back in Karak, I had the CQ (Charge of Quarters) arrange for living space for Allor and his daughter. They went to bed and so did I. Allor was to meet me in the morning to discuss the situation back at his home.


I had spent about six hours questioning Allor on every aspect of life under the Bustols. What it amounted to was that the county was taxed a certain number of females every quarter. The number varied a little bit, but it ranged on the order of 120 girls and women each time. The local mayor was given a quota to meet, and it was up to him to decide how the women were selected. Allor's daughter had missed the draft because of the bribe that Allor paid the mayor, but they were running low on women, so it was likely that Allor's daughter would have been taken in this or the next quarter's draft, simply because there were no other women to be sent to the Bustols.

 
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