Infinity Squad (33 page)

"Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad! Immortal Squad!"

We woke up in the tanks, screaming. One after another after another and sometimes two at once. Even I couldn't tell who was who, except for Zazlu. I would have known his face anywhere. The older, male resurrection doctor who wasn't Doc Murphy seemed shocked but also a little bit delighted at all the sudden business.

I sat up, starting my checklist. I was fine. And that one was Zazlu. He nodded back at me.

"Butcher?" I called out, even as the doctor was still fumbling with his datapad.

No answer. Fuck.

"Juan!"

"Here, sir." Right in front of me.

Okay. "Steve?"

"Here," a clone two tanks behind me sighed, looking sadly at his new body.

"Telson!"

To my right. "Here." He looked on the edge of crying.

"Grimstone!"

To my left. "Here, sir." Grimstone seemed okay.

"Harper? Harper!"

"Here." Way back in the corner. He looked like he was going to vomit.

"Delton?"

"Here."

"Finch?"

"Here." He was the last awake clone in the room, shivering and holding himself in his tank.

Nine out of ten. No, I wouldn't accept that.

"Butcher!" I yelled. "Ann-Marie!"

I stood up, dumping water all around my tank and looked around the room. We had taken nine out of the twelve waiting cloned bodies, but Butcher was no where to be seen. I looked over the tanks again and then something occurred to me.

"Wait. Have any of you even
seen
a female clone?"

Grimstone had. And he tried to prepare us, but we could never have been fully prepared. Zazlu, Juan and I coached the others through their first death, we let not-Doc Murphy identify us with our Key Phrases, and then we retired to the barracks, to somberly open a few beers and wait for Ann-Marie's return. We had to wait three hours, until the nightly shuttle came down from the orbiting station. Minutes later, Ann-Marie burst into our barracks cursing like a sailor.

All five-foot-ten, blond, 34-22-34 of her.

Gone was the short brunette college soccer star. In her place was the closest mankind had ever come to making a Barbie doll.

"Can you FUCKING believe this?" she yelled, marching right up to her bunk and kicking it with her long legs. "They don't even HAVE female soldier clones! All they have is mother-fucking
pleasure models!
"

"Butcher, I'm sorry," I said. "Here, calm down. Have a beer."

"I don't want a FUCKING BEER!" she screamed, knocking the bottle from my hand. "I'm in a
pleasure model!
That's all they fucking have!"

"It probably takes a lot of money to invent a new line of clones," Zazlu said, very, very gently. "With so few women in combat positions, the market probably dictates-"

"Fuck you and fuck your market!" she cried, then reared back and punched Zazlu right in the chest with all her strength. He didn't move.

"Ow?" he offered.

"You have got to me kidding me!" Ann-Marie yelled. She dropped to the floor to try and do a push up. Try.

She managed about two and a half before her arms gave out. "You have got to be
kidding me!
" she wailed, pounding on the floor with her fists and feet. They made cute little tippy-tap noises.

"Butcher, come on, get up," I said, taking her arm. "Please?"

She did, wiping the corners of her eyes. The closest I had ever seen her to crying.

"They didn't even have fatigues that fit me," she said, letting me lift her up. "Just this stupid t-shirt and shorts!"

I really tried not to look at her stupid t-shirt and shorts, because Butcher's new body was
endowed
, to say the least.

"They're F cups," she sniffled, catching me looking. "Who knew they even made bras bigger than D?"

"Sorry!" I said, forcing my eyes up to the ceiling. "Really, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sir. You should have seen what I said to the female doctor when I woke up and saw myself."

"Was she, um, in one of those bodies, too?"

"SHUT UP JUAN!" three of us yelled at once.

"You know what the worst part is?" Ann-Marie laughed, tired after her yelling. She dropped down onto her bunk. "Guess where they put the barcode for female clones? So as to not mess up all this perfection?"

I tried not to look as she indicated her firm, bouncing breasts. "Butcher, I don't even..."

She turned and inched down her already low shorts, to show a barcode burned across her spine, right above her tight, supermodel butt.

"A tramp stamp! That's how they ID pleasure models!" She fell into her bed, laughing and almost crying at the same time. "Oh, what the fuck."

"Okay, Butcher is taking the rest of the day off," I said, then looked around at the other first time clones as well. "In fact, all of us, take this day off. We'll tackle the brain slugs tomorrow."

I noticed Grimstone at his bunk. He was testing out his new body, feeling the muscles, stretching. He looked pleased, although he was doing his best to hide it from the others. I walked over to him. Sadness now was normal. Smiling was not.

"Hey," I said quietly. "You okay Grimmy?"

Sitting on his bunk, he looked up at me. "I never was much of an athlete growing up, sir. Asthma, weak knees, all through high school. And I
hated
wearing those glasses."

"Well, that's a silver lining, I suppose."

I saw Juan slowly approach Ann-Marie's bunk, two beers in hand. "The only time I've ever died," he said, "has been in fucking helicopters. Fuck them."

Butcher laughed weakly, then accepted the bottle. "Yeah. Fuck them."

Yeah
, I thought to myself.
Those fucking, untrustworthy, murderous helicopters
.

"It's murder, straight and simple!" I said, slapping Oakley's desk. "Someone in Immortal Squad, I don't know who, sabotaged our helicopters and murdered 10 men in your command. We have to deal with this!"

"And what should I do?" Oakley said, narrowing his eyes at me. "Conduct another 'inquiry', just like we did after Lieutenant Hector died as your prisoner?"

"This isn't the same thing at all, sir!"

Standing behind Oakley, Hughes grinned at me. "It seems very MUCH like the same thing, Lieutenant. Are you implying both of you should be court-martialed, or neither of you?" I just looked at him in disbelief as the SMaj added, "And how come it only seems to be Infinity Squad who has trouble with helicopter crashes?"

Oakley was shaking his head, pushing back from his desk. "First you lose a helicopter to 'enemy action', and now you want me to report that we lost two more to
internal sabotage
? Absolutely not. This was a mechanical failure, due to improper tightening of a bolt in the rotors. That's what the report to Earth will say."

I slapped his desk again. "Sir! That is unacceptable!"

The noise brought the BlackShirt guards barreling through the door, automatic shotguns leveled.

"Everything okay, sir?"

Oakley waved them off. "Yes, yes. Lieutenant, it's final. All of your men resurrected without incident. Move on." He pointed a finger at me. "And your squad's production has severely dropped off the last few missions. Get your head straight and pick it up, or you'll see what
real
discipline looks like. Dismissed."

I set my jaw as I looked at him, sitting unarmed behind his desk. His buffering band sat unused on a shelf behind him. Hughes, at least, had started wearing a sidearm, but his band was clipped to his belt, unworn as well. And I remembered how long the BlackShirts had taken to respond. I looked around the room, with its self-important pictures, stupid awards and pointless ornamentation. The next time I was coming into this room, I was bringing a grenade.

Game on.

***

Chapter Twelve

I woke up early to help all of the privates through their first time waking in the new bodies. So did Zazlu. Telson had some shock when he saw himself again and I talked him through it, while Zaz helped Harper. Steve and Grimstone seemed to be fine. We heard giggles and sharply inhaled breaths behind Juan's privacy curtain and left Dakota to counsel him in her own special way. But Ann-Marie's bunk was already empty when I got up, which was a bad sign.

I put on two pots of coffee for the squad as we waited and worried.

We had finished one pot and everyone had dressed and gathered around the tables when she burst into the room, glistening with sweat. She had her long, curly blond hair tied in a pony tail and was wearing a t-shirt and running shorts. Her
old
t-shirt and running shorts, which means they fit about as well as saran wrap.

"How can something with legs this long be so bad at running?" she laughed, wiping sweat off her forehead with her sleeve as she went to her bunk. "Two ten-minute miles? I'll do better tomorrow." With one foot on the ground, she put one foot up on her bunk to untie her running shoe. And then she started stretching that leg.

I gulped. "Um, Butcher..."

"I can't believe my old running shoes still fit," she said, finishing her deep forward stretch of one leg. "Ten inches taller and my feet are still the same size? How did this woman not fall over?" And then she started stretching the other leg, bending away from us again. Deeper. She put her nose to her knee and laughed. “Well, I’m definitely more flexible than before.”

I saw Grimstone blush and suddenly turn away. Telson was starting to hunch over as well, covering his middle.

"Ann-Marie... you may want to..." Her legs were a mile long, perfectly shaped, and her old shorts fit her like a belt. Even I found myself, um, distracted.

She turned to face us, arms above her head and one hand pulling the other elbow to stretch out her back. Her shirt rode up, exposing her bellybutton and smooth, flat abs to me. "But I think my extra height will be a tactical advantage in-"

"Lieutenant! Can you put on a robe or something for god's sake?" I yelled, covering my eyes before her breasts tore her shirt open right in my face.

"What?" she said, then noticed the entire squad staring at her. "It's the same stretches I always do!"

"But you never looked like
that
," Zazlu said, also covering his eyes. Partially.

Butcher crossed her arms over her chest. "So I was ugly before?"

I tried to look her in the face. "No, not at all! You looked fine before. But now you're just-"

"What?" she demanded.

"You're a fucking wet dream, chica," Juan finally said. "I can't stop looking at you in those damn short shorts."

She looked down at her outfit and started turning red, pulling down on the bottom of her shorts to try and make them anything other than indecent. "Well, I'm already going to be wearing men's fatigues cinched around the waist! And it's not like there's anywhere around here to shop for different sizes! So if any of you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them!"

Dakota stood up from Juan's bunk and slowly circled Ann-Marie, looking her up and down. "You know, you may be about my size now. I've got plenty of things that might fit you except for..." Dakota coughed delicately, "...up top." She stopped, looking at Butcher's chest under the skin-tight t-shirt, then tilted her head quizzically. "Are those...real?"

Ann-Marie blushed. "I... don't... know how to-"

And then Dakota was cupping Butcher's breasts, squeezing them. "Nope. These are fake."

Ann-Marie's scream about ripped my ear drums out. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING-"

Fifteen minutes later I gathered the squad around the tables again. The men had taken a break to splash cold water on their faces and the women had returned from Dakota's room. Ann-Marie was now presumably wearing Dakota's underthings and t-shirt under her men's fatigues, and had added combat boots, black tactical gloves, a long sleeve shirt, a baseball cap and a scarf. Her only visible skin was on her face, and she had finally stopped muttering about "implants," under her breath. It was time to start.

"Alright, Infinity Squad, listen up," I said, making sure my voice carried to the back wall and beyond. "We've been through a lot in the last day. But to be clear, what happened yesterday was no accident. We were taken out by Immortal Squad, partially for revenge, but also to give them a free mission to the brain slug caves, which they still haven't returned from yet."

Their faces told me half the squad had figured that out ahead of time and half had not.