Warrior Of Miton_And so the War begins by Hank Blair

Author:Hank Blair [Blair, Hank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-02-07T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“Major . . . Major Garrett.”

“Huh? Oh – what time is it?” The Major sat up with a start, then rubbing his eyes he attempted to focus them properly, “How long was I asleep?”

“Five hours. I have brought you some coffee. Your dietary requirements form said that humans require this drink immediately upon waking.”

The Major sat staring at the young Mitoni, trying to comprehend what he was saying. He squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head, “What the hell are you talking about?”

The young aid looked puzzled, “Coffee . . . I am sure that I read the form correctly. If I have . . ..”

“Oh – coffee . . . yes,” he reached out and took the cup from the tray in the young fellows hand, “thank you.” He took a sip, realized that it was a synthetic blend and brewed way to strong. “Wow,” he gasp, widening his eyes and glaring at the contents of the cup.

“Is there something wrong, First Major?” The young aid asked with a look of genuine concern. “If it is not to your liking I can . . ..”

“It’s fine,” the Major waved him silent, “it will definitely wake a man up.” He tried another sip, concluded that he could not drink this concoction, and sat the cup back onto the tray. Looking up he asked, “Is it time?”

* * *

Twenty minutes later Major Garrett stepped through the small hatchway that separated the access tunnel from the staging area. He was dressed in battle uniform and his personal phazer hung low on his right hip. He fingered its handle absently as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

There was an eerie quiet in the immense circular room; this, despite the fact that several hundred Mitoni soldiers were checking their equipment, stowing personal items, and generally occupied with last minute preparations. As he walked toward the center of the room to where the Mobile Command Vehicle was located he studied the faces around him. Most did not look at him directly, but from those that did he was able to get a feel of the mood.

Grim – determined – scared . . . god they are green, he thought. What is going through their minds? Most of them, he knew, had never dreamed – never in their wildest thoughts imagined – that anything like this would ever happen.

He stopped next to a small group. They quit what they were doing and the two that were kneeling next to a big satchel of supplies stood up – and all turned to face him. He hesitated a moment, looking deep into their eyes, then asked one of them, “What did you do before all of this?” He swung his arm in a wide arc indicating what he meant.

“I was a singer of songs, First Major,” came the simple response.

“And you?” He pointed at another.

“I was a teacher. I taught literature at the University, First Major.”

The Major turned his gaze to a third member of the group and asked his question by a simple gesture of his hand.

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