Chapter 12

“Sergeant that just cost you further reduction in grade for three months. Would you like to try for six months? Why did you fail to land that craft properly.”

“Sir, on advice of counsel I cannot answer that question.”

The general groaned. “That’s six months reduction in grade to Sergeant and restriction to barracks. You will be assigned to KP until Valentines day. He’s all yours colonel.”

Alan rose and stood in front of the former Gunnery Sergeant. “Do you recognize me mister Bannon?”

The gunnery sergeant saw the eagle on his shoulder, the red arrows and olive branches in the eagle’s claws, the ribbons on his chest and the name Scarlett. This was the Captain Scarlett that they tell sea stories about. “I thought you were retired sir.”

“How could I be retired if you were hired to kill me?” He glared at the enlisted man. “Well?”

“On the advice of council...”

“Enough with that crap. I launched an NCIS investigation into your actions and if they find out you were just being a jerk I’m going to watch them space you. If they find out that you intended to kill me or my wife, I will space you, and if I find out that you were paid by the Eastern Bloc, I will treat you like they treated me.” He got very close to Sergeant Bannon, “I will pluck out your favorite eye, I’ll crush your favorite nut, I’ll take a power drill to your kneecaps and elbows, I will take a sledgehammer to your ankles and wrists, I will stab you with hunting knives just to watch your blood ooze, then I will leave you alone until the pain kills you.”

Sergeant Bannon looked at the fire in Captain Scarlett’s eye and swallowed. He wasn’t kidding; he was promising. “On the advice of council...”

“You are so screwed Mister Bannon.”

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>

Camp Schmitt August 7, 2161 Camp Hospital

“I can hear you snoring over there,” said Dom Russo. He was lying in a hospital bed on the 0.5G wheel of Camp Schmitt. His eyes were covered with bandages, and the look on his face showed he knew his career was over.

“I wasn’t snoring, I was listening to some old music and I uh ... do I snore?”

“They always told me you were a hardass, a wiseass, and you were great to fly for.”

“Aw shit, Dom, I wish we could have flown together longer,” said Alan Scarlett. “What did the doc say?”

“He said ... they can save my left eye, but my right eye is gone.” He stiffened and gulped. “I may get 50% back on the left eye.”

“Are you going to go with a bionic on the right?”

“Yeah, but they won’t let me fly with a bionic.”

“I know, that’s why I’m still wearing a patch. When I retire AGAIN I’m going to get a bionic so I can see my kids in 3D and maybe we can have a game of catch, and they won’t call me back.”

“You do that,” said Dom. “It sounds good.”

“They tell me you’re a good man to work for,” said Alan. “They say that you’re a guy who has no problem overseeing a lot of folks that are spread out over a wide area.”

“I have fliers all over the Atlantic, Pacific coast and everywhere between earth and the moon. Yeah, I can manage a spread organization.”

“I need you. I need a #2 man to help me with Scarlett Water systems. I’m needed on Earth, and Mars, and Saturn and the contracts are building up. They’re begging for us on Luna and the asteroid belt. They want a water stockpile at Lunar Lagrange four and five and we’re spreading out into scrapping. I need a guy who can help keep an organization like that.”

“I ... I don’t think...”

“I don’t want to hear anything from you,” said Alan, interrupting the grounded flier. “I was just bragging. HOWEVER, in the future, if you want to help out a fellow busted up flier, give me a call.” He placed a business card in Dom Russo’s hand. “I’ll be there for you. And I’ll let you fly with a bionic.”

Dom chuckled. “You’re offering me a job and you tell me to shut up?”

“Yeah. Odd, only my best people have responded to an invitation like that. Go figure.”

<><><><><>֎<><><><><>