Tattoos & Rail Guns Chapter 22: Last Minute Preparations

Lieutenant Sawyer was not the only one who had grabbed a quick shower and meal. Rodriguez had gone off to grab a drink or two; he wouldn't get drunk until the mission was over. Samuels had of course disappeared as quickly as possible; his supposed girlfriend had to see him every night or she would call the barracks incessantly; his going to her was a mercy to everyone else. Rodriguez had never met her; it was Samuels’ business so he didn’t pry. Kev had been dismissed but would be summoned as soon as there was a plan.

This left Walker alone with Douglas. Douglas took a step closer to Walker. “You don't think either lieutenant is going to pop in for the rest of the night, do you?”

Walker smiled. “Not likely.”

Douglas grinned. “Good. Means we can grab a shower in peace. Maybe even run out of the hot water.” He quickly shucked his clothes, grabbed a towel, and headed into the showers. He flipped the water on. “It’s hot.”

Walker kept smiling until he realized what had been said, specifically the “we”. The smile faded as he ran through the possibilities, then smiled as he shucked his own clothes and grabbed a towel, and ran into the showers. “We?”

Douglas turned and leered. “Yeah, 'we'. Unless you have better plans.”

Walker walked forward. “Nope.”

The two were very clean half an hour later. Within an hour, they were sleeping in the same bunk, in each other's arms.

* * * * *

Lieutenant Prowse had been invited to a gallery opening and decided to go. Dressing up in her finest vest and slacks ensemble, even picking a nice red bolo to go with it, she walked the short distance to the gallery. She entered the well-lit building, grabbed a flute of what she hoped was champagne, and started looking at the art. It was still early; few had decided it was early enough to arrive fashionably late. She sipped the flute; it was just sparkling cider. She sighed. However, the art was worth the trip; the artist, some “Phillipe Casteras”, had a nice touch. It was nice to see some old-fashioned cubism done in neon paints. The overall effect was actually incredible.

She walked around the gallery, enjoying the paintings and grabbing the occasional hors d'oeuvres; they were enjoyable, even if they were just cheese, meats, and crackers. A thin man approached her, wearing shades and short black hair; she smiled at his attempt at appearing vaguely European. He sidled up to her. “I hope you're enjoying the work.”

She turned slightly to him. “Yes, actually; I fell in love with cubism in college. I almost turned to painting because of some old prints I saw of Picasso's work.”

His brow furrowed. “So you saw the originals?”

She smiled. “I wish. They were reproductions.” She sipped from the flute. “Well, then. I did track down a museum in Spain that had some originals.” She turned fully to him. “It was well worth the trip.”

He smiled. “So why didn't you become a painter, then? Lack of talent? Or patience?”

Her smile widened. “I wish. It was my parents; I needed to keep PoliSci as my primary major to keep them happy.” She winked at him. “Doesn't mean I didn't take some art classes, however.”

He tipped his own flute to her. “ Ah, yes; the old problem about pleasing the parents. I of course rebelled against mine. They were pacifists; that made military enlistment mandatory.” He took a step closer to her, leaning over her. “I'm a food maintenance specialist during the day, curator by night.” He took a step back.

She tipped her own flute to him. “I ended up joining to get out from under their thumb.” She took a step towards him, leaning over him. “I'm infantry, exoskeleton specialist.” She took a step back. “I could take you for a drive sometime.”

He smiled. “That would be awesome.” He noticed someone entering the gallery. “Look, I hate asking, but do you mind playing my 'bodyguard' for the night?” He turned serious. “Conversations can be deadlier than combat.”

She nodded. “So understood.” She looked at her empty flute. “Just keep my glass full and we have a deal.”

He smiled. “Sure. But first, business calls.” He started walking to the new guest. She nodded her head and followed.

* * * * *

Samuels walked out to the perimeter, looking for a section of the fence in disrepair. It took him a good fifteen minutes to find it, but he did find it; he jumped over the fence. He needed to walk over to the meeting spot. He debated breaking cover, but he felt too close to the base. He quickly found the parked motorcycle he had been looking for.

Sharness was on it. “I almost gave up on you.”

Samuels looked around before approaching. When he walked up to her, it was as Lellend. “I wouldn't have blamed you.” He smiled. “The information was delivered. It was not only easy, but they thought they had uncovered it.”

She smiled in return. “How long do you think before your group is knocking on our door?”

He breathed deeply. “I would guess by lunch tomorrow. Lieutenant Sawyer likes to take the initiative, and her team is designed well for instant response.”

Sharness started up the bike. “Good. I'll let our associate know. He's chomping at the bit.”

He took a step back, instantly shifting to his more human form. “Well, if we can take care of this group we should be good to go.” He smiled. “Just remember that the tattooed warrior is mine.” He smiled. “I need a new wall decoration.”

She gave him a thumbs-up and then pulled away.

Lellend needed to stretch his wings so he walked into the woods where no one would see him before extending his wings to their full wingspan and flew for a few hours. He enjoyed the chill of the night air; he only hoped no one would see him. His flight lasted a few hours, then he became Samuels once more and snuck back into the barracks.

He saw the boys sleeping; he left the alone and slipped into his own bunk. May as well let them enjoy their sleep...He acted like he was sleeping. So many problems would be solved by the end of the day tomorrow. He smiled as he turned to the wall.

* * * * *

Deezle the Defiler was actually smiling. The sacrifices from Sharness' ranch were incoming and should be here by sundown. He had also been told that they would have visitors today and that he didn't need to hold back. While he would keep something in reserve (it was never a good thing to put all of one's eggs in one basket, after all), he wasn't going to make it easy for the visitors to make it up to his lair.

The first thing he had done was to summon his own squads and encourage them to bring friends. Ten of the squads so summoned would be stationed on several floors, with an additional four to provide air support; any flying invaders would be attacked and destroyed. He just had to figure out the right floors to put them on; he couldn't make their appearances regular or they would be predicted and the randomness would keep them on their toes, making them lose their edge over time. Some of the more aggressive albeit stupid demons would wander around; that would just add to the randomness.

He also needed to make sure that the magic circle was ready. While he was sure it was, variables could have changed that. It should take a few minutes to confirm its readiness. When the sacrifices were ready, they would be led to the circle and prepared for their role in creating a permanent portal to their home plane. Their souls would power the link while providing a mana magnet so additional mana would keep the link up for as long as this mudball existed.

A thought occurred to him: He had reprogrammed some robots just to see what he could do. Now would be a great time to see if they could handle themselves in combat. He rolled over to his terminal and started typing commands; in a few minutes, he had the robots powered up and off to their destinations.

He grinned as he thought about the carnage they were going to see today.

* * * * *

Walker and Douglas woke. They both stretched, and Douglas sought warmth under the covers. Walker looked around, and got out of bed, poking Douglas. Douglas ignored him. Walker kept poking. Douglas kept ignoring him. Walker then shoved him out of bed.

Douglas looked ready to throw a fireball at him. Walker glared at him. “We're not supposed to sleep in the same bed. ” He gestured at the two sergeants sleeping. “We need to be dressed before they wake up.”

Douglas sighed. “Stupid rule.”

Walker buttoned his shirt. “It's something about fraternization in the same squad.” He stopped and looked at Douglas. “Now, if we were in different platoons....”

Douglas smiled. “I could spell them asleep, if you want....”

Walker's eyes rolled. “Not today. Maybe later.”

Douglas sighed. “Fine.” The two dressed in speed and silence, even though Douglas did have a problem finding his boxers; Walker found them on the other side of Rodriguez and tossed them to the spell-caster. They soon had all of the clothes on, minus the top shirt but plus the boots. They headed into the latrine to finish getting ready.

Rodriguez threw off his blankets. “I thought they were never going to wake up.”

Samuels stood up. “I know, right?” He grabbed his own clothes. “So, do we punish them?”

Rodriguez stretched out. “Yes, but not officially.” He sat straight up. “I think we can have more fun if we ignore it until after breakfast and then subtly point out that we know what happened.”

Samuels smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

The younger two entered the room. They froze when they saw the other two were awake. Walker gulped. The two then walked into the room. The younger two grabbed their shirts, put them on, and left for breakfast.

The sergeants smiled at each other. Thus began the most awkward hour of the young men's lives.