BRASS, Inc. by William S. Frisbee Jr

Author:William S. Frisbee Jr. [Frisbee Jr., William S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Seventh Seal Press
Published: 2023-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Bots and Drones

Rick Walker

The painkiller didn’t seem to work, and Rick just wanted to lie down and sleep, but his blistered foot wouldn’t let him, and if he lay still too long, his legs would cramp up again. The best cure was remaining active. The muscles didn’t cramp as much when they were in use, but the blister only hurt when he was walking. He couldn’t win so he did his best to ignore it. It wouldn’t last forever, and if he died? Well. His pain wouldn’t last forever. He imagined what a nice steak would taste like. Chocolate pudding paste was getting old.

One of his sergeants during the Guild Wars had told him nobody gave a damn about his whining. People may pretend to care, but nobody really did unless they wanted something from you or they loved you, and Rick knew damned well that nobody at BRASS loved him. They had zero interest in anyone blowing smoke up his ass pretending they cared. He would suffer in silence because that is just what warriors did in real mercenary outfits. The sissies and amateurs would whine non-stop about unpleasant situations and difficulties. Veterans knew they were just part of the job, and they’re what set the men apart from the boys.

Except maybe in BRASS, where they separated the men from the boys with a crowbar.

Well, perhaps that wasn’t fair. Maybe they weren’t that bad, but the BRASS symbol should be a cactus because it was full of pricks. Maybe he could include that in his two-week notice? A little recommendation?

He knew he was sweating, and the skin suit was doing a good job of keeping him comfortable and dry, but it didn’t stop him from sweating and his throat was parched. Too much to do, and his water filter wasn’t filling up fast enough. That would be his next recommendation. Either more water stores, more water filters, or faster ones.

It was tempting to take shortcuts. He had seen no foot patrols, and he was back from the cleared area, so why not? The manual called for always building a hasty sniper hide before drone operations because if the bad guys saw your drones, they would send their drones looking for you.

Staff Sergeant Jones had made Rick repeat, “Discipline is the instant, willing obedience to all orders and, in the absence of orders, to what you believe the order would have been.”

Rick debated making an exception this time but followed doctrine. He might run out of time, but he was also running low on sleep and that impaired judgement. Stubborn and stupid could be his own personal motto, but stubborn discipline would have to be his calling card. Habit and discipline kept scouts alive. So, like Jones would have ordered, Rick dug a small trench to hide in and covered himself with a camouflage net that also had plenty of native plants and branches woven into it.

Four days before Hammerfist arrived, and the number of tasks was disheartening.

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