3026 may 12 11:00 am outer Periphery ??
Grave in demeanor, sober in tone, though the eyes seemed to hint at a twinkle of mischief. Hints but not conveys interest, for the Major was not given to mirth of any kind. Pointing out the areas where the invaders have been shoring up defenses and temporary base camps, encompassing all the surrounding grazing lands, canyons and moss forests. Looking down on the smallish man with a grudging respect, a respect of learned acceptance, knowing this man was in a place of power among his folk and kin, and that no other could accomplish the task this Shepard could. Taking his unlit cigar from the corner of his puggish mouth, said what needed saying.
“Send out the sheep dogs. We do not need all of the sheep to disappear, just enough to make sure they are hungry. Aye aye sir, da wee shep whill be safe'n comfy soon sir. Thank you Master Shepard Troke, and one more thing; could you and a few of your brothers, also, procure, some of the ammo and gear our visitors have so carelessly left lying around? Aye sir, that' be sumthin ta doo sir. Wit out our'd shep sir, me boys been ta bit testy, an bein spoilt for'n good fight do ya ken? Once wee's put dem shep in the caves, all da miss's be take'n care'd o the shep anyhows.Very good then Troke. Master Sargent Glasshope, See that two cases of our private whiskey stock is provided to our master herdsman here, I believe “procuring” is a very thirsty business Master Sargent. Give them a case of “our” porcelain mugs too, I think it is important. Yes Major, it will done as you say.
His best whiskey, our Highlander mercenary mugs, why is he doing this? I know his family has major title of land on this weird little planet, but why coddle sheep herders, why would the shepherds want mercenary mugs? I am stuck here with this smelly man, talking nice, as I walk him to the units storage unit. The Master Sargent said, “be polite trainee, I'll hear no bad thing spoken from you or anyone about our friends, you make sure nothing occurs to cause a problem, we need these people.” Friends? Need? What the heck over? “This way Master Troke. Will you need a cart to carry this stuff, or are going to want someone to pick up later what you can't carry now?” With a gimlet eye'd glare, the shepard spins to look trainee Hanson face to face and toe to toe, looking up, chin jutted out says in a horse powerful whisper,” does ya want me to skelp yoan ya's bastirt nose ,you's jessy coddle bonnie? If'n i's want be takin insults from the likes of you'n, I'd piff'd in ya soup, ya ken?” Flabbergasted, Trainee Hanson steps back, looking down on the little man uneasily, wonders what he has done, and how to make amends. With the soft calming voice Hanson used on his beloved horse, if made skittish by an unexpected noise, or sent of a desert lion, he said,”I am sorry Master Troke, I do not know what I have done, I meant no insult, sir.” Troke's face and neck turning as red as Clancy the chief mechanic's nose, looking to burst at any moment, shouted to break glass,”You treat me as an old woman! to NEED help! to NEED a cart! to NEED another to come and carry a wee bit of whiskey and a few pretty cups! I should beat you till ya mudder would weep to see ya, you's lilly white wet soap!!!” No sir Master Troke Sir! I was just trying to be helpful sir. Getting redder, now starting to explode, sweat starting to bead on the forehead, smittle flecking out as he screams as loud as any military training Sargent,”You ?!ARE TRYING TO HELP ME!? DO I LOOK LIKE I NEED HELP TO YOU!?!” Troke reaches out with a speed Hanson cannot believe, grabs the trainee at belt and blouse collar, yanks him up and around over his head, horsely whispers,” *
amurNay auld granmaw, dried in da paps, dobber boy, ya ken? En how's mak'n mends ya glaekit?” Trembling in rage and embarrassment, to be caught so easily by a dung burning sheep herder. Hanson himself horsely whispers,”I was wrong Mr. Troke, I see my failure sir. Where I come from, people of power, like yourself, choose to have others do fetching, like having a child bring a cup of water, sir, and I myself would have used a cart Mr. Troke, it is obvious that you could choose to carry twice what you are being given, if that is what you, chose. “ With less anger, but still intense, Troke whispers, well said boy, now how'n you makin amends, before I's put ya down? Amends sir? I don't know sir, what would you think would be appropriate?” Anxiously , with brows furrowed, yet pleading in confused helplessness, Hanson cranes his head to look his tormentor in the eye. Peering back in the eye of the long legged, wet behind the ears, brawny Lt. Trainee draped over his tawny shoulders, in a break back hold, Troke softens with his deepest and softest Scottish brogue, grins and winks, “You seem to be a goot hearted bairn, how bouts I carry twice the amount I was given, as you suggested?”
3024 may 12, 1:23 pm
“Trainee Hanson reporting as ordered sir, Master Sargent Glasshope, SIR!!!”Hanson,so nervous he saluted the non-com after saying this, was also ramrod straight, obviously stressed with fear emanating in his body language, and more from every sweaty pore. Eyebrow raised, an almost smile forming on the Master Sargent's face, speaks in a confident fatherly tone “So how much did he get trainee? How much of our whiskey did you give to the blackart, out of the kindness of your heart, of course? Shocked and at a loss, the Trainee Slowly drops his crisp salute, transforming it to a limp wristed wave as it drops to his side. How did the Master Sargent know? It had just happened. Hanson was told to report to The M. Sargent when he completed the task with Mr. Troke, so, how did he know? Hanson's brow furrowed in puzzled consternation even wonderment,”Sir?” From the M.Sargent's formidable desk, M. Sargent leans forward menacingly,”I think my question was quite explicit trainee Hanson. You were sent on a fools errand trainee, that is what trainees are good for, you understand?” Looking back at the M. Sargent, dawning light appearing.“Yes sir, I think I do sir.” More patiently, M. Sargent repeats,”how much did you give him?”Looking at the floor, appearing as guilty as a good old dog next to a puddle made in the house, Hanson says, “I gave him five cases sir, sorry sir, take it out of my pay sir!” Leaning back in his chair , looking to the ceiling.”No need for that trainee, the M. Sargent says,” with an infectious grin, “It was a fools errand after all, you filled your duty well. Smiling beneficently, waving Hanson to the chair next to his desk. We knew Troke would get a bit more to wet his and his brothers' whistles. The only question was, how much,” he said while uncharacteristically chuckling.
“I wagered it would be double then alloted...You just made me 200 c-bills, at the cost of the Major's wallet. M Sargent slaps his thigh laughing. “Tell me Hanson, since you do not seem to have any bruises, and are not walking with a limp, How did our friend “convince” you to give him a wee bit more whiskey?” Halfway through the periphery cigar the M. Sargent had given him, the tale was over, the embarrassment lingered stingingly, lessened by the cigar, and the mug of some liquor concoction the Sargent called Gin and Tonic, but there it stung never the less.
“Tell me son, two things strike incongruent to me, not quite in line with your story. You seem to have given up on your orders a bit to quick, offering more of our unit's resources than you had license to give, and the math I learned says twice the amount given would be four cases of whiskey, and not five.” Gathering himself for the rebuke to come.”Sir, you told me to make sure no problems occur sir. There was about to be a definite problem if I kicked our friends keester to the latrine and back for causing me bodily harm sir. Turning red from a suppressed emotion, held in by common sense and training, the Trainee Continues, No mistake sir, that he would have put the hurt on me, and by all I believe, regardless of rank or position held or hoped for, his *** would be mine, SIR! So I thought it would be better to give what he wanted, and to let him know I meant no insult, as I naturally didn't,sir.” A little stunned by this confession, but too much of an old hand to show it, with his best honed stone face.” Alright Hanson, you put your cards on the table nicely, and I won't fault you for that.”
To himself the Sarge pondered,”This kids got some onions, or is as dumb as a lamb, our shepherd would have chewed him up like ac 20's on infantry, then left the the bones for the buzzards, maybe both?” Flicking his own cigar ashes in the tray, casually asks,“The second point?. The math.
How come five cases instead of four?” Trainee Hanson, putting down the cigar ashes into the marvelous seashell ashtray on the desk, displays his hand to count off on is fingers, first displaying two for the whiskey promised.” Well sir, we had the two cases of whiskey, then we had the case of our mugs, that makes three cases, right?” Curious, the Sarge places his index finger in the air and circles it in a, come on get moving gesture. “Yes go ahead, that much I know trainee.” Putting up a total of six digits thereby doubling the count with a flourish the Gin and Tonic could explain. “Twice the three makes six cases obviously. So that blaggard Troke tells me as sweetly as words could be said by a villain and rapscallion.” What'm I to do with two case of those pretty mugs, I only need six of those mugs anyway. Put down both cases of mugs, and give me those two cases there instead, and I'll put those few mugs in my pocket sack.” Sargent Glasshope, seeing red, thinks “this trainee has lied to him,” barely controlled, voice neither raised or trembling, asks,”I thought you said you gave him five cases of whiskey, and am I to believe you lied to me, and instead you gave him six?” Turning pale, almost dropping his drink, he comes as close to attention as you can with a Gin and Tonic in your left hand, and half smoked cigar in the right, looking away as he quotes Trokes words to Master Sargent Glasshope.”I am not a drunkard boy, what would I do with that much drink for me an my boys, and you all need to have a sip or two to get you through our cold wet nights here ya ken? This case of cigars will do sweetly to make up the difference, though they are a bit lighter, but I won't begrudge you for shorting me a wee bit. Now grab me that cart ye were go-in on and on bout, load this up and take it to my pull truck, there sonny, and we'll be just fine.”
Looking back to M. Sargent grizzled face, Hanson with a sure regret, confesses,” I almost told him I thought he was going to carry the cases to prove he was not old or feeble, and what kind of man was he anyway? Fortunately I stopped myself as the crafty old codger slowly, almost begging me to say it,turns his skull like grin at me, slapping a cigar into is maw, popping the bottle top, and pouring himself a barrage of whiskey into is newly acquired Highlander mug! Sir, I thought it better to let him have his, um, fun sir, even if it was at my expense.” Twenty seconds elapse without movement or sign, time drifting, seemingly abandoned.”Trainee Hanson, If that ain't the damnedest thing I have heard in an age son! You just wait here, I am getting the Major, he is going to bust a gut when you repeat this to him, and after that, you can report to the barracks, I am promoting you from trainee to the regulars. You've tested out well on the scout mechs. We could use a fast thinker with a fair amount confidence, and the ability to keep a cool head.” Leaving the room laughing, slapping his thigh again, the M.Sargent moves towards the Major's office, turning once to see the befuddled joy forming on Regular Hanson's ugly Highlander Mercenary's mug.
Edited by plodder, 18 March 2012 - 03:25 PM.