Free Starfist FR - 03 - Recoil by Dan Cragg Page B

conditions—and that includes my staff and me. Get used to life in the tropics, Colonel.”
    “Very good, sir. May I ask to whom the honor goes for recommending me?”
    “Volunteered you is more like it.” Aguinaldo grinned. “Alistair Cazombi. You’ve had police experience, Rene?”
    Raggel had come to like General Cazombi very much but the question surprised him. “Yes, sir, but that was a long time ago.”
    Aguinaldo leaned forward and placed his coffee cup carefully on the table. “Okay, Rene, here it is. I have a military police battalion that’s been assigned to my task force. It’s full of misfits and virtually useless as a military unit. I want you to take command of this battalion, knock it into shape. You have unlimited authority to do that. Promote, demote, transfer anyone who doesn’t cut the mustard. Whatever equipment or training they need, you ask and you shall receive. You have thirty days from today to get those duds ready for training. For all I know, we may not even have that much time. This could be a come-as-you-are war, Rene; the Skinks could show up anywhere at any time and we’ll be off to the races. That is why you’ll see no dress uniforms of any kind in this task force, combatticals only, because we have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. Can you handle this assignment? I’m not asking if you will—you have no choice—but I’m asking if you can.”

    “Uh, sir, that sergeant major sitting in the outer office—?”
    On the way in Raggel had nodded casually at the senior noncom sitting stiffly in a corner, a massive man with bumps on his clean-shaven head. He’d noticed the crossed pistols on his uniform, the traditional insignia of the Military Police Corps, and wondered what the man was doing sitting outside the task force commander’s office.
    “That is Command Sergeant Major Krampus Steiner, formerly the senior NCO of the Seventh Independent Military Police Battalion. Dottie will give you the personnel records for every man—and the one woman—in the battalion. Go over them with Steiner. Dottie’ll give you an office to work in. See if you want to keep Steiner. If you do, fine; if not, get rid of him. But I think you’ll want to keep him. Oh, I’ll formally introduce you to the rest of my staff after you’ve vetted the Seventh’s personnel files and selected whom you want to work with down there.
    “So I ask you again, Rene, can you work with these guys and make something out of them?”
    “Yes, sir, I can.”
    “Good! Dottie!” he shouted, “send the sergeant major in here right now!”
    Headquarters, Seventh Independent Military Police Battalion, Fort Keystone, Arsenault Colonel Raggel and Sergeant Major Steiner sat in a small office cubicle just down the hall from General Aguinaldo’s office, methodically going through a manning roster and personnel summary sheets on the men and one woman currently assigned to the Seventh Independent Military Police Battalion. With Steiner’s help—mainly his candid appraisal of each man—Raggel formed two piles of summaries: on the left, those who would be sent home; on the right, the ones who’d remain assigned to the battalion. The left-hand stack was very small, by comparison, and consisted mostly of officers and noncoms and a few other ranks whose records revealed total inexperience or monumental incompetence or men about whom Steiner had nothing good to say. That stack consisted only of the worst incompetents and drunkards. Colonel Raggel soon came to realize that if drinking to excess were the only criterion for sending a man home, the Seventh Independent Military Police would soon cease to exist. Conspicuously missing was the sheet of Lieutenant Colonel Delbert Cogswell, the officer who commanded the battalion on Ravenette. He had retired as soon as the battalion had been repatriated. “A decent enough officer, Colonel,” Steiner had remarked, “but too fond of the booze.” Steiner did not drink, at least