Going to Bakersfield

By MichaelD38

Copyright © 1999

IMPORTANT LEGAL INFORMATION

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental. This work contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity, and anyone offended by such things should read no further. If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other repressive local regulations, liability for downloading it is your problem, not mine. This work is intended solely for the quiet and private enjoyment of adults, and any other use is a violation of the copyright.

This work is Copyright 1999 by MichaelD38@aol.com and is protected by United States and other international copyright law. Reposting and archiving is permitted, except where a fee of any sort is required or earned for access, provided this disclaimer and note remain attached to the story. All other rights, specifically rights of commercial use, are reserved. Commercial use here is defined to include posting on membership web sites, banner-funded web sites, and those protected by fee-based age validation methods (such as Adultcheck and Adultsights). However, exception is specifically made for web sites (such as DejaNews) that provide archiving and access to all Usenet posts in a particular group without editing or selection for content. No modifications may be made to this story without express permission from the author. Any questions regarding use of this work can be directed to the address above. Failure to contact the author prior to use is presumptive evidence of bad faith and may expose you to significant criminal and civil liability.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I have always been fascinated by "alternate reality" fiction. Done properly, it can throw otherwise subtle elements of a society into sharp relief. It's what I tried to do with "Virginity is Curable," and it's what I'm trying to do here. I got the idea for this story from thinking about the decade-long unrest in the Balkans.

I'm not really sure how to code this thing properly, but certain elements of it, taken out of context, may be very offensive to some people. Before you flame me about this, I ask that you read the entire story and look at the work as a whole. The narrator is a dramatic construction--he's not me, and he's not intended to be taken that way.

The sex in this work is more implied and referenced than really described. If you're looking for a stroke story, this is probably not your thing.

Feedback, good or bad, is encouraged. Intelligent comments and criticisms will receive appropriate responses. Flames and juvenile slobbering go straight to the recycling bin.

* * *

GOING TO BAKERSFIELD

Copyright 1999 by MichaelD38@aol.com

I.

I stepped out of my hummer and followed Private Richards across the parking lot. The fight was only recently over, and I had to step over the bodies of a few L.A.P.D. troops in riot gear. My men were already stripping them of useful equipment; I didn't have to order them to do it. The trucks the cops had arrived in were both burning. One was on its side, having been knocked out by a rocket grenade.

As I approached the school, I could hear bursts of machinegun fire from around the side of it. The teachers were all being shot, but we still had to inspect the students. Normally we would have shot the blacks and Hispanics amongst them too, but I doubted we would need to today. This had been a largely white neighborhood to begin with, and it was close enough to the front that the non-whites had already fled south.

I paused for a second, hearing artillery fire a few miles away. The 15th was probably shelling the Burbank airport again. I reached for the binoculars Richards was carrying and held them up to my eyes. I could see the airport now. A C-130 was burning on the runway, and the Marines around the terminal were already returning fire. I looked back toward the mountains, seeing a shell explode against the hillside just as I looked. I knew where the 15th was today, and the Marine guns were off target by about a mile--so far. I hoped my mates in the 15th had enough sense to stop shelling and move before they got hit.

"Sir, we don't have a lot of time."

I nodded, handing the binoculars back to Richards. We had to complete this raid and get back into the hills before the California Guard troops camped down the hill figured out what was going on and came after us.

We reached the football field a moment later, and I saw that my men had already separated the students. The boys were off at the far end, and those who were white enough were being offered recruitment into our unit. The girls were being segregated also, but for a different reason. A group of about fifteen blondes and redheads were standing nearby. All of them had their hands tied behind their backs with plastic zipcords.

I walked down the row of girls, inspecting them. I stopped in front of one brown-eyed blonde, looking more closely. I grabbed her hair, pulling it apart to inspect the roots. Dark brown.

I shoved her back toward the other students and turned to glare at the sergeant who had gathered up the girls.

"O'Connor, what is this shit? That girl is about as blonde as Michael Jordan."

He squirmed.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't look closely enough."

I continued down the line, stopping a few girls down in front of another blonde. This one was a different story--blue eyes, pale blonde hair clean down to the roots, fair skin and gray freckles. About five- seven, nice breasts despite an otherwise slim build, and very cute. She wore only bell-bottom jeans and a tight spaghetti-strap T-shirt.

"What's your name?"

"Chelsea," she said softly.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Gather up the rest," I said to O'Connor. "Stick this one in my truck. And let's get out of here ASAP."

We walked rapidly back out front, with Richards dragging Chelsea along by her arm. I saw my other men running to our vehicles. O'Connor and several others came up the rear, leading the girls we were taking with us.

Just as we were ready to go, two more men came running out of the school. They jumped into the last truck.

"Go! Go!"

We swung out of the lot just as a series of explosions ripped through the school building. The APC's took the lead, toward the fire road we had come down. I stood up in my seat, looking behind us for any pursuit. I could see a couple of Marine AH-1 Cobras in the air about a couple of miles away, but nothing else. Even if the helicopters saw us, they would be taking a big risk coming after us with antiaircraft units we had in the foothills nearby. This time, at least, we had gotten away clean.

II.

We were back up into the Angeles National Forest in about ten minutes, passing the booby-trapped checkpoint a few miles into the woods.

I regrouped with my staff when we returned to the camp.

"What did we get?"

Lt. Barnes checked his notepad.

"Six M-16's and flak jackets off the cops, along with four Berettas. The flak jackets are a little shot up, but not too badly. Twenty-seven kids, thirteen boys and fourteen girls. I think we might have a few possibilities among the boys, but no more than that. Most of them are pretty upset and scared."

"Give them a few days."

He nodded.

"The girls are already being prepared for the trip north. Three of them are staying, so we've got eleven to send to Bakersfield."

"Three?"

He nodded again.

"They volunteered. I got the impression they were more scared of going north than staying here."

"Fine. What else?"

"We lost Charles and Finley. We've got three more walking wounded, but that's it. All in all, a pretty good raid."

"Okay. Good work, Jack."

He grinned.

"Thank you, sir."

I thumped him on the shoulder and went to my tent. Private Richards was waiting for me, and I saw Chelsea sitting in a chair in the corner. Richards had cut her hands free, and she had them tight in her lap. She was still crying, head down.

Richards handed me two sheets of paper, both communications from HQ in Bakersfield. I scanned them for a few seconds. Nothing particularly urgent.

"Do you need anything else, sir?"

I noticed Karin peering out from the back, a concerned look on her face.

"No. That's it for now."

"I'll be outside, sir."

"Thank you, Private."

Richards left, and Karin brought me a cup of coffee. She was eighteen, blonde, about five-nine, with breasts much too big for her athletic frame. She had been a cheerleader at Glendale High before we'd snatched her (along with a bunch of other kids) about two months ago, and she had been with me ever since.

"Thank you, Karin."

I saw her glance at Chelsea and realized what she was upset about.

"You're not going anywhere, Karin, don't worry. She's going to Bakersfield in a few days."

I saw Chelsea's head jerk up, a look of horror on her face. Karin nodded shyly.

"Okay," she said.

"Um," Chelsea gulped. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths.

"Yes?"

"You're sending me to Bakersfield?"

"You have something to say?"

"Please."

"What?"

"Please don't send me to Bakersfield. I'll do anything."

I glanced at Karin, who was suddenly tense again.

"I already have a girl here."

"Oh, God, please. Please don't send me there. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do."

I took in the despair in her face, then looked at Karin.

"It's up to Karin."

Karin gave me a searching look, then stared at Chelsea for a few seconds. She was concealing her nervousness well, but I could sense it just the same.

"I would still be first, right? Number one? If she stays?"

"Of course."

She thought for another moment or two.

"Then I guess it's all right."

Chelsea let out a sob of relief, falling forward into her hands and beginning to cry again. Karin glanced at me once and went to her, putting her arm over Chelsea's shoulder.

"It's okay."

The emotions of this scene suddenly got to me, and I decided to leave the two of them alone. I left the tent and went for a walk around the camp. We were going to have to move again in a few days; we were simply too close to the city. The California Guard had been making probing raids the last few weeks, and they would find us here before long if we stayed.

Christ, I was getting sick of this. This guerilla shit was getting old; I wanted to get back to the regular units and do some real fighting. Unfortunately, this project in Bakersfield was sucking up more and more resources that should have gone to the troops in the field.

The war had been going on for over two years, when it should have been over in six months. We held most of the western United States now, except for scattered portions of Washington, Utah (we had had the Mormons under siege in Salt Lake now for almost a year), eastern Colorado, and coastal California. The Eastern Front ran more or less south from Idaho to the Arizona-New Mexico border.

California was the last remaining prize. The big offensive this spring had cut the state in two, but our advance had stalled since then. Our units in the north were fighting the 7th Mountain Division from Fort Ord; down here, we were up against the 1st Marine Division from Camp Pendleton.

The problem, at least from my perspective, was that most of the Marines were up in Ventura and San Luis Obispo, where the real fighting was. Down here, we faced mostly California Guard troops and the remnants of the L.A.P.D. The Federals knew we were up in the mountains above LA, but they couldn't spare the troops to come down and root us out. Neither, however, could the Covenant spare the forces for an encircling drive around the mountains into Riverside and Orange County (where we had more than a few sympathizers). I had been a Marine once myself, and I was getting sick of fighting cops and weekend warriors instead of real soldiers.

We'd been successful in one respect; we'd managed to do in six months what the INS hadn't been able to do in forty years: get the Mexicans out of California. After a month of ethnic cleansing raids down into the basin, most of them had packed up and fled home as fast as their feet would take them. The Mexican Army had barricaded the border against other refugees, but the Hispanics they let past. Close to half a million blacks and Asians were piled up in San Diego, but the whites had stayed put. With the war in the north, Arizona and the desert to the east, and Mexico to the south, they had nowhere to go anyway.

Thus it had gone up until two months ago, when that first bizarre order had arrived from HQ in Bakersfield. "You will identify and occupy a local high school, separating the pure white students from the rest of the student body. Females with appropriate racial characteristics are to be gathered up and sent to HQ Bakersfield as soon as resources are available to do so."

Up to then, all we had done was terrorize the non-whites we encountered; the rest we left alone beyond hectoring them about race- mixing. What in God's name did they mean to do with these girls? The Bakersfield Project was supposed to be secret, but it hadn't taken very long for word of it to filter down. My commanding officer, Brigadier General Martin, had filled me in about two weeks ago.

Their objective made sense, from a certain twisted perspective, but the means turned my stomach. These were decent white girls they were using. There had to be some other way to do this. I was sick to death of being called a Nazi, because I knew deep down that wasn't what we were about. But this project made that argument harder and harder to believe.

Whispers of what was going on had recently begun to drift into the Federal-occupied areas in southern California. This was the second raid in which some of the girls had volunteered to stay in our camp rather than go north. They couldn't know much about it, but clearly the idea of "going to Bakersfield" had become some kind of horror.

I wasn't prepared to disagree.

III.

I always felt better once night fell. We were safer then, or at least it seemed that way. The Guard troops were largely clueless, and the L.A.P.D. was even worse out here in the woods, but there were a lot more of them than there were of us. Now and then, the Marines would send a Force Recon unit up into the hills, and whomever they found would be in deep shit. By and large though, the Marines who remained down here had to stay in the basin to guard the major targets like the airports.

I stood outside my tent, listening to distant gunfire and an occasional explosion. According to Richards, the 15th was battling a unit of Guard troops about five miles away. They hadn't yet asked for our help and likely would not. Absent that, we were under standing orders to stay put.

Behind me, I could hear Karin and Chelsea talking quietly.

"What's going to happen . . . tonight?"

"He'll probably want us to have sex. He usually does when he brings in another girl."

Chelsea sobbed.

"Oh, God."

"It's not so bad, once you get used to it. It can be nice if you don't think about it too much."

"But I thought . . . I thought the Covenant was against gays and lezzies. I thought they were killing them."

"I guess it's different out here. And Major Harris isn't that bad. He's been nice to me."

I though about that for a moment. Hypocrisy is what it's called, at least it had been before the war. It hadn't been the gay rights issue that made me join up, but a lot of Covenant high-ups who railed against "sodomites" were not so strict about it in private. There were increasing whispers about a certain general in the High Command in Phoenix who was not the he-man he pretended to be.

Chelsea had gone back to crying. I could hear Karin trying to comfort her.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" Chelsea must have nodded, because I heard nothing but more crying. "I'm sorry. But it's not so bad out here once you get settled in."

"I want to go home."

"There's nowhere to go. You'd never make it back. I'm not even sure where we are. If you tried to sneak out, you might get shot. It's happened before."

I didn't hear anything for a minute or so.

"What's in Bakersfield?"

"I'm not sure. They've sent a lot of girls there. I really don't know. But I'm guessing it's not good. You're better off here."

"She is," I said. I heard two gasps behind me. They hadn't known I was outside.

"Sir?" Karin asked a moment later.

"What, Karin?"

"What is in Bakersfield?"

I sighed.

"Insanity."

Although I had planned it when I saw Chelsea that afternoon, I had lost my desire to watch the two of them have sex by that night. They slept together anyway, huddled in Karin's sleeping bag. Just after two a.m., someone shook me awake. It was Richards.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"It's the 15th. It's worse than we thought. The Guard hit their camp with a full battalion. They just radioed us that they're pulling out and coming toward us with what they have left."

"Shit. Wake everyone up. Pack up the camp. We're going to meet up with them and move as soon as we're together."

"Yes, sir."

I jumped out of bed, kicking the girls awake gently.

"Get up. Get packed. We're moving out ASAP."

I pulled on my pants and boots and staggered out of my tent. The troops were already running around, frantically packing up their gear. Lt. Barnes ran up to me.

"Sir, what about the kids we got yesterday?"

I glanced over to where the twenty or so teenagers were massed in a cold, fearful clump. They sat next to the truck that would take the girls to Bakersfield in the morning.

"Leave them. We need that truck to get out of here."

He stared at me a second.

"Sir?"

The standing order in this case was to kill them rather than leave them behind, and Barnes knew it. But I suddenly couldn't bring myself to do it.

"You heard me. Go."

"Yes, sir."

The sounds of the fighting were growing closer. I hoped that what was left of the 15th had enough of a lead not to bring the Guard right down on top of us.

"Richards!"

He ran up me.

"Sir?"

"Where's your radio? First squad was on ambush tonight, right? Where are they?"

He handed it to me.

"They're coming in, sir. We already radioed them."

"How far?"

"Five minutes, tops."

I thumbed on the radio.

"Eagle 15 this is eagle 12, come in."

The response was immediate, and loud gunfire came over the air.

"Eagle 12, we read you."

"What is your ETA our location?"

"ETA is ten minutes, max. We're moving as fast as we can, Steve."

"What have you got left?"

"Two hummers and about ten men. We lost everything else. They got the G5s. We didn't have time to hitch them up."

"Shit. All right, get your butts in here."

"Roger that. Eagle 15 out."

I left Richards and stalked around the camp to see how close we were to getting out. The men were still running around in every direction.

"Let's move it! We're going to have a Guard battalion on our heads in less than ten minutes, and if we're not out of here by then, I'll kill you all myself!"

The hummers were packed up in a few minutes. I heard engine noises coming down the road, and a few seconds later, First Squad came screeching into the camp. I ran over and grabbed Lt. Rettig.

"The 15th will be in here in less than five. Set yourselves up about a hundred yards back up the road and wait for them. Stay on the radio and let me know as soon as you see anything."

"Yes, sir."

They turned around and went back up the road. I went back into the camp, finding Lt. Barnes getting the last of the gear into my truck. Karin and Chelsea were sitting together in the back seat. Karin was holding Chelsea, who was shaking in her arms. I turned back to Barnes.

"We ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get the vehicles out on the road. First Squad is up waiting for them. As soon as they're here, we're taking off."

"Got it."

I turned on the radio again.

"Eagle 12 one, this is eagle 12."

Rettig answered me immediately.

"Eagle 12, we read you."

"Did you bring the mines and the claymores with you when you pulled out?"

"Yes, sir."

"Rig them up across the road. Set the trip wires as soon as the 15th gets past. Let's see if we can slow those Guard pukes down a little."

"Roger that, sir, I'll get on it."

I watched as our caravan lined up, with one APC in front and the other waiting for the remnants of the 15th to pull in the rear. Then the radio crackled again.

"Eagle 12, this eagle 12 one. I think I hear them coming."

"Roger that. Be careful you don't shoot each other up."

Then, a few seconds later:

"It's them, sir. We're pulling out."

"Roger."

I turned to the line of trucks.

"They're here! Let's move it!"

The engines revved up, and the vehicles began to move. A few moments later, I saw the two hummers of the 15th swing into sight. Major Shepherd hung off the side of one of them, looking like he had taken a round across his arm.

"Tom! Is this it?"

"Yeah, Steve. We got it pretty bad."

"All right. Keep going, I'm going to come up the rear in the LAV."

He nodded, and his driver pulled them into the rear of the caravan. First Squad came up behind them a moment later.

"Did you get the mines set up?"

"Yes, sir," Rettig shouted. "They're in the shit if they follow us."

The APC moved in behind First Squad, and I grabbed the side ladder as it passed, swinging myself up on the top. I dropped down into the hatch after giving one last look at the camp. The kids we were leaving behind were sobbing in relief. I didn't blame them.

Two minutes later, several explosions lit up the night behind us. Jesus God, those Guardsmen were stupid. But at least they were off our asses now.

IV.

We drove for about an hour up into the forest, finally making camp about ten miles from where we were before. I found Tom getting patched up by Jones, the medic.

"Not a good night," I said.

"No. HQ is going to be pissed about losing those howitzers. But we had no choice. They were on us too fast."

"Somebody screw up?"

He nodded.

"I think so. Our second squad was supposed to be on ambush. I don't know what happened. I think they may have gotten overrun before they could radio camp, because the first sign we had of those Guardsmen was when they got up to the perimeter. I had one of the men rig a booby trap on the 155mm shells we had stockpiled, but I don't know if it worked. They may not have slowed down long enough to set it off."

"I didn't hear anything."

"Me neither. You guys get out okay?"

"We had to leave behind the kids we snatched yesterday, but otherwise we got out clean."

He looked up.

"You left them?"

"No time to do anything else."

He stared at me for a moment or two before nodding.

"Guess not."

It took most of the rest of the night before I was satisfied with our new camp. After radioing HQ and discussing what had happened, they told us to operate as one unit for now, until they could send reinforcements to put the 15th back together. For now, we were the 12th/15th Special Ops Company, with me in charge and Tom running the remnants of the 15th as one of my platoons. As Tom had feared, they were not pleased about his losing the howitzers, and I suspected that they would be sending a Special Service unit up here to deal with it.

I went to bed just before dawn, finding that Karin had put my tent back together as best she could. Chelsea was huddled in one corner, head down.

Karin came and knelt down in front of me when I sat on my bunk.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

"For now. I think the SSD may be coming up here in a few days."

Her face paled.

"Why? Because of tonight?"

"Yeah."

She gulped.

"Will they do anything to you?"

"I don't think so. It's Major Shepherd they're going to want to talk to."

She put her arms on my knees and laid her head down. I brushed her hair with my fingers for a few moments, then looked over at Chelsea, who appeared to have fallen asleep.

"How is she doing?"

"She's really scared. But I think she'll be okay eventually. Once she gets adjusted."

Neither of us said anything for a minute or so.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"How much longer is this going to last?"

"The war, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"It depends on how long it takes us to finish off California. Once that happens, I'm fairly sure the High Command will offer some kind of armistice. We never wanted the whole country. With California, what we have is enough. The Federals can have the rest."

"And you'll be someone important then, right?"

"Depends. Probably. Assuming I live that long."

I knew what she was thinking, but there was no need to say it. I had her pegged pretty well from the beginning. She would do what she had to, hoping for some kind of payoff at the end. Which would probably come, if we both survived in one piece.

She lifted her head and began unbuttoning my fatigue pants. I let her, and she had soon pulled them down along with my shorts. She bent forward, taking my penis into her mouth. She bobbed slowly, massaging me with her tongue. I lay still and let her do it for several minutes before pulling her up. She stood in front me, disrobing. I took her big breasts in my hands when they were free, pulling them to me. She put her arms around me, holding my head as I suckled her.

We fell back onto the bunk, and Karin straddled me. I felt her reaching between us, finding my erection, slipping it into her. She lowered herself down, finally bending down to kiss me. It was getting harder and harder lately to tell how much of her passion was feigned, and, I had begun to suspect that some of it wasn't. She was no longer the terrified girl she had once been. She had made a decision at some point, it seemed.

She leaned back until she was straight above me, holding me inside her. I fondled her breasts roughly, tweaking her nipples. She whimpered, digging herself against me. Then something across the tent caught my eye: Chelsea was watching us through the narrow gap between her forehead and the arm she was resting on. But as soon as she saw me look over, her head dropped back down.

Karin came, or at least appeared to, and threw herself forward over me. I rolled her over on the narrow bunk, and began driving myself into her. She moaned and writhed under me, clawing and grappling at my back. I let go of myself, and came into her with a grunt about a minute later.

I noticed that the sun had begun to rise while we were coupling. Karin wriggled out from under me and sat up.

"Chelsea," she said. The other girl's head rose, and she looked at us fearfully. "Can you take that basin and get some water?"

Chelsea struggled to her feet and slipped out of the tent with my washbasin. She returned about a minute later.

"Just put it on the floor," Karin said.

She did. Karin got up and began to wash herself. Chelsea sat back down where she had been, alternately watching Karin and looking at me. Karin gave herself a sponge bath for a few minutes before looking down at the other girl.

"You should wash, too."

Chelsea shook her head, drawing in on herself. Karin glanced at me, then back at Chelsea.

"Come on. You might not get a chance for a while."

Chelsea looked up at me, terror in her eyes.

"Bathe, girl," I finally said. "If you're going to stay here, you're going to stay clean."

Karin set her sponge down in the basin.

"It's okay. I'll help you."

Shaking in fear, Chelsea stood and let Karin undress her. Her body was thin and pale, and she tried not to look at me. But she let Karin wash her, and began to relax a little toward the end. Karin kept looking at me to check my reaction. I knew what she was doing, and I knew where this would go if I let it.

"That's enough. The two of you can go to sleep."

The relief that washed over Chelsea was painfully obvious, but Karin looked at me in confusion.

"It's all right, Karin. Go to bed."

"Yes, sir."

They got dressed and snuggled into the sleeping bag. I was asleep a few minutes later.

V.

Nothing happened to rouse me from my bunk before I rose that afternoon. The troops were settled in and one of the squads was out on patrol. Between our raid the day before and the wreckage of last night, we had a substantial number of wounded, and I expected we weren't going to doing much but rest for a few days.

I was checking the perimeter when I saw Private Richards walking up to me.

"Sir, there's a call for you from HQ."

I followed him back toward the command tent, where I picked up the radio.

"This is Major Harris."

"Major Harris, this is Colonel Breckenridge of Special Service Detachment 8."

I tried to fight the chill that ran down my spine.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I've sent a squad up to your position. Captain Michaelsen is in charge. They should be there by tonight. You are to give them whatever assistance they require."

"Sir, if I might inquire--"

"No, you may not. Captain Michaelsen will explain when he gets there. Do you understand, Major?"

I responded as coldly as I could manage.

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. HQ out."

I set the radio down, ignoring the questioning look on Richard's face. It took a second or two to get the order past my clenched jaw.

"Please ask all the officers to come to the command tent immediately."

"Yes, sir."

He all but ran out of the tent. Barnes and Rettig showed up a minute or so later, followed by Lt. O'Reilly, one of Tom's men. Tom himself came last. I gathered myself up for a moment before speaking.

"An SSD squad is on its way here. They should arrive later tonight."

I watched as Tom's face went gray. O'Reilly did not look much more enthused, nor did my two officers.

"I spoke to the commanding officer of Detachment 8 several minutes ago. He did not sound pleased. He would not tell me what this concerns, but no doubt it has something to do with last night's unpleasantness."

"Steve, this is my fault," Tom said. "I'll take the fall for it. Don't put yourself at risk."

"Tom, you know as well as I do that the SSD doesn't operate that way. They'll come up here looking for problems, and they won't leave until they find them. We're all standing together on this."

"What should we do, sir?" Barnes asked.

"Just get your stories straight. The 15th was overwhelmed by a force of Guardsmen; we picked them up and cut off the pursuit. Whatever specifics they ask for, just tell them you were too excited from the combat to remember precisely what happened. Odds are they're going to lean on me the hardest. I've dealt with them before, and I can handle it."

"Steve--"

"No ifs, ands, or buts, Tom. Right now you're under my command, and that's an order."

He nodded.

"Okay. Thanks."

I had Richard radio the patrol to watch for the SSD unit. Then I sat down in my tent to wait.

They arrived just before dusk.

I watched as their hummer--shiny and clean from its tenure in the rear echelons--pulled into the camp. On the doors of the vehicle was the SSD insignia, a black shield with a silver chevron. There were four of them: Captain Michaelsen and three enlisted men. Michaelsen carried a leather case; his men toted M4 carbines. All of them wore the black and silver epaulets on their fatigues that marked them as part of the Special Service Directorate.

Michaelsen was tall and thin, about twenty-five, with sandy blond hair. He looked around the camp, his face showing the disgust for the regular units that was a common SSD affection. It was a look that my men returned, though subtly as they could manage.

Michaelsen gave me a sloppy, disdainful salute, which I returned slowly.

"Major Harris. I'm Captain Michaelsen. I believe my presence is expected."

"It is, Captain. Please come into my tent."

I led him and his men into the command tent.

"I'm afraid I can't offer you anything but water. We're a little short right now."

"That's fine, Major."

I sat at my table, and Michaelsen sat down in a chair opposite me. His men remained standing near the tent entrance.

"I'm assuming you know why I'm here."

"I've learned not to make assumptions. Especially where the SSD is concerned."

He gave me a thin smile.

"Very well. We can do it that way if you like. Can you please have Major Shepherd join us?"

I called out for Richards, and he stuck his head into the tent.

"Sir?"

"Please ask Major Shepherd to come in here."

Tom appeared in a few moments.

"Major," Michaelsen said. "Please have a seat."

Michaelsen drew a notepad out of his case.

"Let's begin with last night. Major Shepherd, your unit was attacked by a force of California Guardsmen?"

"Yes."

Tom ran through the basics of the fight, up to the point where they joined up with us.

"What happened to the Second Squad?"

"I don't know. We were never able to make contact."

"It's possible they deserted?"

Tom's face darkened.

"No."

"Lt. Conrad was in charge of that unit, correct?"

"Yes."

"His political scores have never been exemplary."

"He was an excellent officer."

"Nevertheless. His political reliability was not what it should have been."

Tom's head sank, and I could see his jaw tightening.

"I knew Lt. Conrad," I said. "He would not have deserted."

Michaelsen turned to me.

"Well. Perhaps, Major. But then your political scores have never been particularly exciting either."

"I stand by my record. I'll put it up against anyone in the rear echelons."

He returned my icy stare with another thin smile.

"Let's talk about you, then, Major. The 12th raided a high school in Altadena yesterday, did you not?"

"We did."

"Where are the subjects you were ordered to detain?"

"You mean the children?"

His nose wrinkled ever so slightly.

"Yes."

"We had to leave them behind. We had no choice. It was either leave them or leave some of my men and equipment."

"I'm assuming you shot them all, as you are under standing orders to do."

The temperature in the tent dropped about twenty degrees. Tom stared at me, eyes pleading. I forced my gaze back to Capt. Michaelsen.

"No."

One of Michaelsen's eyebrows went up.

"No?"

"No. Ethnic cleansing is one thing. But I will not massacre children."

"That is not your decision to make, Major. By leaving them alive, you allowed the Federals to rescue them. Are you aware that the Federal media is trumpeting their operation last night as a major victory? They claim to have destroyed two Covenant Special Operations units, in addition to rescuing thirty-five 'kidnapped children.' Not to mention recovering several artillery pieces."

He glanced at Tom briefly.

"The effect on Federal citizen morale is likely to be considerable."

"It was unavoidable," I said. "Had we stayed behind long enough to shoot all those children, the Guardsmen would have caught up with us. They were very close behind us."

"They were," Tom said.

"Then you should have done your duty to the Covenant and accepted the consequences."

Tom shot to his feet.

"Goddamnit, that is it! I am not going to be lectured to by some wet-behind-the-ears Captain who hasn't spent one minute in combat!"

"Tom, sit down."

"Steve--"

"Sit down! This is not helping anything."

Michaelsen gave Tom a satisfied smile.

"My qualifications are not issue here, gentlemen."

"Nevertheless, you're treading a dangerous line," I said. "Captain."

"I have political authority here regardless of rank, Major."

I paused for a few moments.

"I have friends myself, Capt. Michaelsen, and more decorations than you're ever going to see. Please keep that in mind."

He shuffled the papers in his case.

"I am aware of that, Major. In fact, until last night, your accomplishments were quite impressive. I see here that you have provided over a hundred subjects for the Bakersfield Project."

"Yes."

"How many did you lose last night?"

"Eleven."

"I noticed when I arrived that you have a number of girls in this camp."

"We do. All of them volunteers."

"How many?"

I suddenly realized where he was going with this, and I had to battle my disgust to answer him.

"Ten."

"Well, that seems to be an appropriate solution. Send those girls to Bakersfield, and I believe the SSD's interest in this matter should be at an end."

Tom met my gaze, ashen-faced. The look I gave Michaelsen should have carved him two.

"You don't have that authority. An order like that has to come from the proper chain of command. Some of those girls are Covenant troops."

Michaelsen's eyebrow rose again.

"How so?"

"As an SO O-4 I have the authority to induct enlisted members into my unit. You know that damned well, Mr. Michaelsen."

He straightened out his papers and placed them back into his case.

"Very well. I will speak to Colonel Breckenridge about this. I expect you will receive the appropriate orders within a day or two."

Michaelsen stood to leave.

"Goddamnit," Tom muttered.

"You have something to say, Major?"

Tom waited a moment or two before answering, though he did not raise his head.

"No."

"I thought not. Good night, gentlemen. I shan't be spending the night in your little encampment, I'm afraid. I have more important matters awaiting me in Bakersfield."

"I'm sure," I said icily.

Michaelsen left with his men, and I heard their hummer driving off a few minutes later. I rubbed my forehead with my left hand, trying not to think about what was likely to happen now.

VI.

"Steve?"

Tom and I were still sitting in the command tent.

"What?"

"What the hell is the Bakersfield Project? Do you know?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

I sighed. It took me a moment or two to answer him.

"It's a breeding program."

"A what?"

"Just what I said. They're using those girls to breed enough whites to fill up California when the war is over."

I looked up, seeing Tom's jaw hanging open.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. General Martin told me."

"In God's name, why?"

"Apparently they're concerned about the Mexicans coming back after the war is over. I don't know why the hell they would, but the idea is to breed enough white people to replace them. Concern about higher birthrates among non-whites and all that."

His eyes lost their focus, and he stared at the tent wall behind me.

"That's why they only wanted white girls."

"Right. Blondes and redheads only."

"They can't be doing this willingly."

"No. According to General Martin, a unit from SSD Detachment 8 is raping the girls until they get pregnant. For all I know, our friend Capt. Michaelsen has probably paid them a visit. He seems like the type."

"How long have you known?"

"For sure? About two weeks. I had my suspicions before that, though. It seemed too obvious an explanation. I guess I was in denial until I talked to General Martin about it."

Neither of us said anything for a long time.

"This isn't what I'm fighting for," Tom said.

"I know."

"You left those kids behind deliberately."

"It was a spur of the moment thing, but yes. Yesterday was the first raid we ran since General Martin told me the whole truth. I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"The girls you have here--"

"I'm not turning them over to the SSD."

"Maybe you won't be ordered to. God knows we need the extra bodies here, especially after last night."

"If Colonel Breckenridge raises enough hell about it, they will. You know that. The Bakersfield Project has the express blessings of the High Command. And you know how the brass feels about women in combat, no matter how much we may need the help. I'll get a rocket about this in a day or two, mark my words."

"So what are you going to do?"

I didn't answer him for about fifteen seconds.

"I don't know, Tom. Go to bed. I need to think."

I didn't hear Karin come into the tent. The first indication I had of her presence was a soft hand on my shoulder. I jumped back when she touched me, and she recoiled in fear.

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Karin. What are you doing?"

"I was just wondering what was going on. I saw the SSD men earlier. Everyone seems so excited."

I looked at her, suddenly seeing her as if it were the first time. She was just a kid. Two months before, she had been about to graduate from high school. I had plucked her out of the group of girls we'd snatched from Glendale High because something about her caught my eye, and I didn't want to send her off to whatever the SSD was doing. However she had been acting lately, I knew she wasn't staying with me willingly. She was only here because she had decided that the Federals were going to lose the war--and every indication was that they would eventually--and attaching herself to me was the best way to save herself. She had been right, up until tonight.

The look on my face seemed to unsettle her.

"Sir?"

"Karin, will you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Go around the camp. Bring the other girls in here. All of them."

I saw a ration of fear wash over her.

"Sir?"

"Do it, Karin. Please."

She disappeared from the tent. Over the next few minutes, the other girls drifted in. Four of them, including Chelsea, were from yesterday's raid, still terrified and confused. Three of the others, the ones who had been with us the longest, were now Covenant enlisted, though they worked in the camp and had not seen combat. The other two belonged to Lts. Barnes and Rettig. The last was Karin, who came in behind them.

"Karin, is there anyone outside?"

She stuck her head out the tent flap.

"No, sir."

"All right. I am about to commit what is probably treason. You should all be aware that we had a visit from the SSD tonight. Among other things, it appears that I will shortly be ordered to send you all to Bakersfield."

Gasps and sobs of alarm filled tent, though I saw looks of disbelief on faces of the three privates. Karin had her hands over her mouth, staring at me in horror.

"All of you. Even the three of you in uniform. This is because I chose to leave behind those eleven girls last night, rather than executing them or bringing them with us. The SSD seems to think that the ten of you will be enough to make up the difference."

Private Baumgarten, a pretty redhead who was also the most stable of the ten of them, spoke up.

"Sir, what are you going to do?"

"I have no intention of turning any of you over to the SSD. Unfortunately, if I refuse, they will simply send someone up here to arrest me and take you back themselves. What I propose to do instead is take you all back to Los Angeles."

More gasps greeted this announcement.

"But, sir--" Baumgarten began.

"You are not required to come with me. But understand that what awaits you in Bakersfield is nothing less than organized mass rape. Bakersfield is a breeding program. There, you will be raped repeatedly until you become pregnant. And I expect that the moment you give birth, it will begin again. This is the SSD's idea of purifying California."

Baumgarten looked at the other two girls with her.

"Sir, even us?"

"Even you, Private. This project is apparently more important than any fuzzy ideas about unit cohesion."

Some of them had begun to cry now. The three girls in uniform stared forlornly at the floor of the tent.

"Any questions? I want to leave as soon as possible."

Baumgarten shook her head.

"All right. Private, you and the other two go out and get one of the hummers. Bring it up to the front of the tent."

The three of them slipped out. The rest of the girls stayed clumped together, crying quietly. Karin inched up to me, fighting the tears.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I anymore, Karin. Neither do I."

When I heard the noise of the hummer outside the tent, I doused the lights and looked out. The three girls were inside, and I saw no one else nearby. I leaned back in, waving for the others. They scrambled into the truck as quickly as they could.

Once we were loaded up, I went around the driver's side and climbed in. Baumgarten slid over, letting me up. I put the truck in gear and drove slowly out of the camp. We were almost out when I saw someone in front of us, facing the truck. It was Lt. Barnes, and he had his hand on his gun.

"Sir, what are you doing?"

"Get out of the way, Mr. Barnes."

"I can't do that, sir. I'm sorry."

"I can run you down."

"I think I could shoot you first, sir."

We stared at each other hard for a few moments.

"If you're going to shoot me, Mr. Barnes, go ahead and do it. Otherwise get out of my way."

He struggled with himself for several seconds before his hand dropped away from his gun. He stepped aside, and his head fell to his chest. I drove up to him.

"Sir, why?"

"Speak to Major Shepherd about this when I'm gone. I believe he can explain. He's in command now."

I stomped on the gas, and the hummer leapt forward. In a few seconds, we were beyond the camp and into the forest.

We drove for nearly ninety minutes through the darkness before I finally began to see the lights of the city in front of us. I stopped the truck and stepped out. Baumgarten looked over at me in confusion.

"Sir--"

"You can take it from here, Private."

"You're not coming with us?"

"There's not much point. I'm facing a firing squad no matter where I go now."

She stared at me for a moment before sliding over into the driver's seat.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't say it, Melissa. You don't owe me anything."

Then I saw Karin's face pressed against the rear window. She struggled with the plastic for a second before getting it open. She reached out for me.

"Sir--Steve--"

I couldn't look at her.

"Please don't, Karin."

I felt her grabbing at my shoulder. I turned toward her. She said nothing, tears running down her face. I put my hand on her cheek.

"Don't mourn me, Karin. I don't deserve it. Go home."

She let out a sob, pulling me closer. She kissed me once before I pushed her away.

"Go, Melissa. You're wasting time."

"Goodbye, sir."

The hummer lurched once and rolled off. Karin hung out of the window, watching me as they left. I stood in the road looking after them until they had disappeared into the night.

After a few minutes, I broke free from my inertia and walked off the road. I climbed up the hill a ways until I found a ledge overlooking the San Gabriel Valley below. I took my Beretta out of its holster. I worked the slide, getting a round into the chamber. One should be enough.

I looked up at the sky, at the darkness around me. I wondered if I would hear the shot.

THE END