Free Wildcard by Kelly Mitchell Page B

prevent divided loyalties. The
Sergeant did it without hesitation.
    After the debriefing, the General insisted
they take a day off and enjoy his ’ospitality. “We should be
gentlemen together after we have been soldiers together. It is the
best way.” He spent the day off in and out of the social
milieu.
    The others showered, relaxed, played pool,
walked on the island, and ate and ate and ate. LuvRay watched the
pool games, but could make no sense of it. Games were altogether
foreign to him. He swam in the cold lake nearby, though, which no
one else wanted to do.
    Sublime smoked expensive cigars and drank
excellent brandy all day long. He convinced Karl to try a cigar.
The experiment was unsuccessful. Karl almost vomited.
    Even the Sergeant didn’t appear to be
working. Karl asked him about it and the Sergeant told him he had
orders not to work.
    “Why not? Do you need rest?” They stood on a
porch overlooking a geometric garden with multiple botanical
oddities, statues, and a high-jetting fountain. A gardener was
clipping at a couple of lion shaped shrubs which guarded the entry
to the garden.
    “I haven’t done anything yet; how could I
need rest? No. It’s an assignment. I have difficulty in doing
nothing, just hanging around. The man says I need to develop that.
Just engaging with the soldiers without any consequences. You have
to be friends with your squad, I suppose. I think the irony amuses
him, also, that my work assignment is to not work.”
    “He isn’t friends with us.”
    “Higher level of command. It works
different.”
    “What does he do?”
    “He masters alliances and holds them. He
creates powerful teams. The long-term objective is still coming
into focus.”
    “Why does he want Martha?”
    The Sergeant leaned onto the railing with
one hand. “You don’t like that, eh? I’m not sure of the ultimate
goal, there.”
    “What does he want, then? Why do all
this?”
    “Permettez moi de
repondre.” Karl started, spun. The General was standing on the
porch listening. “A French gentleman loves nothing more than for
discussing his purpose in life, and knowing it is the great
exercise in the trivial as he does so. We savor such ironies, out
of a national habit of arrogance. I wish
to alter the great design . It is, perhaps,
why I am here.”
Tactics
    “Creating chaos is both tactic and
strategy,” said the General. They had moved to a rustic wooden
table on the huge porch, where the General arranged for a lunch of
fried chicken. “Pour les Americains,” he said with a smile as it
was served.
    “How does that work as a strategy?” Karl
asked.
    “By creating betraying among the enemy
command. This way is excellent, if you can to achieve. You may
attempt to blur the distinction of government and authority. I
maximize strategic chaos. I hold out the promise of peace and order
if one moves their system to my wishes. Strategic chaos can be
economic warfare. Poisoning the food supply. Attacking the data.”
He seemed much more casual than usual, holding a drumstick and
waving it expressively between bites.
    “And tactical chaos?”
    “The Sergeant is better to explain you this
question.”
    The Sergeant looked up from his fried
chicken. “Hmm, yeah.” He paused to think. “Tactical chaos is
maximal dispersion of your opponent’s troops, both in terms of
their locale and their objectives, while maintaining your troops
cohesiveness in both regards. That way you can increase the enemy’s
chaos near his point of greatest strength. The ultimate chaos is
when they scatter and every man runs for his life, each in a
different direction.”
    “How do you accomplish that?”
    “Attack the weak points to separate two
strong spots.” The Sergeant reached for a napkin, wiped his hands.
He began arranging condiments to illustrate his points. “If you see
a strong point that you can take by some means, it is worth more
risk. Quite a bit of risk, actually, because the felling of the
well-defended point