GATE: The Janus Campaign

Back! Here is a piece co-authored with Major Major over at Space Battles. More to come. Enjoy!

From Here To There: A Kiwi Story


Redhorn Pass, Southern Dumas Mountains, Village of the Fair Hills, Night of the Great Quake.


As the initial shaking had stopped, Chief Gelnash looked to the heavens with irritation and then down to the ground with annoyance. In Falmart it was impossible to not believe in the gods. Their apostles traversed the land carrying out their duties as they saw fit. No... Gelnash believed in the gods. He just didn't LIKE them very much. He suspected the feeling was mutual but he didn't care. He was merely thankful that their guests had gotten a warning and there had been time to take cover. He turned to the human, this Colonel Stroudley. "I see Hardy is cranky today," he smirked.


Colonel Duncan Stroudley, the commanding officer of what had become known as the 3rd New Zealand Expeditionary Force, worked his jaw from side to side for a moment as he cleared his throat from the dust, which also made his rather bushy, grey-streaked moustache move around on his upper lip.


"It's been a bit of a while since I've felt it that rough, yes," he said with a half-grin and a chuckle, before frowning a little. "Things might get a bit dicey though if the aftershocks are worse than that though," he said, partly to himself.


"The Empire has been trying to push us out of our land for hundreds of years. A little shaking from a petulant goddess isn't going to break us now! So? You say we should be safe outdoors for now?"


Stroudley nodded. "Earthquakes back home can be fickle like that; the first quake or two might be quite mild, just knocking over a cup at most; but then, the next shock might be strong enough to collapse your house."


"I see," The chief nodded and beckoned over his wife, who was holding their youngest child. The baby seemed completely unfazed by the tremors. "Then if we cannot offer you and your men the hospitality of our huts, we can at least offer you good company while we wait to see if Hardy's temper has abated. The night will be a long enough one So we might as well be comfortable."


Stroudley could hardly refuse, so he and the group of mounted troopers he had come out to inspect (there were some days he really wondered if anyone at Gibraltar ..... he quickly cut that train of thought off) gathered round, with several of them also taking some time to tend to the horses.


Galnesh spoke to several of his men in the Utumno dialect. They nodded and went to fetch food and drink to share. Then he turned back to his guests. "You speak the High Tongue with an interesting flair, Colonel! My father made certain I learned to speak it as the highest of the Imperials do. It surprises them to no end to find I can speak at all, let alone know the speech of their nobles."


Colonel Stroudley chuckled. "Well.... we were the sons and daughters of Mother England for a long time, but we long ago struck out on our own; though when push comes to shove, we've usually come to her aid, and to the aid of those in need; we shine a light in the blackness of night, to paraphrase an old song I'm fond of." he nodded.


The Chief's wife laughed. "It's hard to believe that you and the Imperials are the same species. Tell us of your lands, Colonel?"


The soldiers under Stroudley shared a few glances, as the Colonel settled down. "Well then... where would you like me to start? Perhaps with the legends of Maui, the trickster? Or perhaps, something a little more dry, with the voyage of James Cook?"


"Why not start with the legends?"Trexa asked. A people's legends speak much to their character. Much more than mere fact," She noted lightly. "And you are the first humans we have actually wanted to know."



Stroudley nodded, as he waved for one of the troopers, a big Maori man. "I hope you'll forgive my rather weak narration; I'm somewhat unaccustomed to speaking to a large audience." the older man remarked with a slight chuckle of self-deprecation.


As he was talking, the trooper pulled out a small player and speaker, which then played the sound of a pūtātara, a Maori trumpet of sorts made from a conch shell, and used for important ceremonies.


"Gather around me now, one and all, and listen as I tell you the stories of old." Stroudley then declared, beckoning them close.


Galnesh grinned as his people, especially the young ones gathered to listen attentively. It was much like when he would recite the tales of the first Orc King, who wrestled a Mountain Troll for days before building the first home on their mountain.


Stroudley nodded once he was certain he had their attention. "In the beginning, the world was small and dark; that was because of Ranginui, the Sky Father, and Papatūānuku, the Earth Mother, who lay locked together in a tight and loving embrace. Between them, they had many sons, tall and strong, who are nonetheless forced to hunker down in that cramped darkness," he stated grandly.


"Over time, the brothers grow into men, and begin to talk with each other; they wonder what it is like to walk and live in the sunlight. The first to speak was Tūmatauenga, Tu of the Angry Face, who was the fiercest of the brothers, and would in time become the God of War; like his brothers, he is tired of their predicament, and proposes that the brothers band together, and slay their parents."


Many of the younger Orcs looked clearly horrified, for ties of family were the most revered of all. Galnesh's second youngest, a boy of five put his arms around his mother protectively.


Stroudley nodded solemnly. "I know, and perhaps it will relieve and gladden you to know that Tu's proposal was not accepted by his brothers," he informed them. "Instead, it is his brother Tane-Mahuta, soon to be the God of the Forests and the Birds, who proposes the plan that his brothers accept; that the brothers use their great strength to pry apart their mother and father's embrace, and then separate them far from one another."


The older children and the adults in the audience nodded, agreeing this was the most sensible solution, as hard a decision as it must have been.


"And so, the brothers squared their shoulders, and with all their strength, attempted to pry apart their mother and father; but at first, it seems entirely without success, as even with all the strength in their backs, and working together, the embrace of Rangi and Papa remained as strong as it had ever been.


”It seems for a moment as if all their efforts will be for naught; but then, Tane has an idea. He laid himself down on his back, bracing himself against his mother, and then he used his thick, strong legs. It takes every last bit of his strength, but soon there is a great hue and cry, as he forces his parents apart."


The Orcs pictured this struggle. It must have been a terrible cry at that moment. It must have been both a triumphant and yet sad moment, much like the day any son must change the course of life.


He nodded. "Tane then spent much time searching the heavens for lights to adorn his father with, so that he might be appropriately dressed; once he collected them, he threw him high into the air, where they formed the stars, the sun, and the moon.


"Yet even to this day, Rangi and Papa grieve for each other; Rangi's tears fall from the heavens as the rain, to show how much he loves her still; and when the mist rises in the forests, it is Papa's sighing, as the warmth of her body still yearns for Rangi, and yet also continues to nurture mankind."


Galnesh leaned forward with appreciation. "Your gods are much like the gods of our own legend. Not like the gods of Falmart. I take it your gods do not obsess over impressing mortals with their might?"


"Not that I can recall off the top of my head," Stroudley said, after several moments of thinking.


"That is good," Trexa said. "Now tell us! What do you think of this world?"


Stroudley chuckled and shook his head. "Every day since I and my men came here, I have had new surprises, both good and bad. This world reminds me so much of the works of a great writer back home, a man by the name of Tolkein. Not long ago, I would never have thought or dreamed that I might one day be sat here, breaking bread and sharing stories with a tribe of Orcs, in a world where magic exists."


“To be fair, we never imagined humans who would be willing to sit and share stories. I hope the humans here will be willing to learn from your people. But time will tell," Galnesh noted. In the meantime, it looks like a lovely triple moon tonight. Tomorrow I am sure there will be plenty of work for all. But tonight, Let everyone eat their fill and rest in the company of friends." He watched as his brother's eldest daughter and her sister brought out a large cave boar that had been cooking in a pit all day. "Good news, uncle! the boar wasn't ruined by the earth shakes."


As those gathered began to feast, Stroudley idling thought about his first days in this new world...

***​

It had been a few weeks since what had become known as the Battle of Italica had occurred, and for once, the 407th was having a comparatively quiet day. In the Command Tent, Sergeant Walter O'Reilly, known to most as 'Radar', was sorting out a pile of files that had been dropped on his desk by Major Burns.


He had just closed the filing cabinet when the field telephone on his desk began to ring. He picked up the phone, "407th Combat Support Hospital, Sergeant O'Reilly speaking."


The voice that spoke on the other end was rather odd to Radar's ears; it sounded vaguely British, but at the same time, it had a slightly languid and casual tone to it. "Yes, hello; this is Lt. Colonel Stroudley, with the New Zealand Detachment; is it possible to speak with your CO?"


“Yes sir, Colonel Potter is in his office. Wait one moment, please sir." A minute later, an older man’s voice came on the line, his Missouri twang evident in his tones. "Colonel Potter speaking.”


"Good Morning sir; I'm Lieutenant Colonel Duncan Stroudley, New Zealand Army." the officer introduced himself. "I just thought I'd give you a heads up that my men will be arriving in-theatre in the next 24 to 48 hours, and I'd like to see that all necessary arrangements are made ahead of time to make sure things go smoothly."


"Ah! General Hazama told us the Kiwis were coming. Don't worry, colonel. We've been doing this since day one of this fracas. We'll get you all processed through with no trouble at all. I assume you'll want to get your exam and vaccinations done first, I take it?"


"That's right; a good officer needs to know what he and his troops will be likely to face," he commented, almost as if he was reciting something he'd learned at OCS. "Also, come to that I'll probably also want to arrange some meetings between my company commanders and your medical staff whenever might be convenient for you so that they're up to speed with what we might face out here."


"Can do, Colonel. Can your officers be available in the next hour?"


"I'll rustle as many of them up as I can; though I feel I should let you know, our boys are not exactly doing the same jobs as your chaps, the Aussies or the Japanese," he commented.


"Neither are we, son. But that may be for the best. If you come here looking at this place like any other place you've ever been, you'll never make sense of it."



"Isn't that true," Stroudley remarked with a chuckle. "Eat your heart out, Peter Jackson...." he murmured to himself, before coughing. "Right then. I'll round up my officers, and we should be there in about an hour.”


"We'll have the welcome wagon out for you, then." Potter hung up the phone. "Radar!" He said, waiting for his clerk to come in.


"Yes, Colonel?"


"Gather the senior staff. We're having company in an hour. A bunch of New Zealanders coming in. We'll need full workups and then a briefing. You know the drill. Get Parna and Koirre in on this. I want to underline just how different this place is."


"Right away sir!"


As it turned out, the New Zealanders were a bit quicker off the ball than they were expecting; it was only 45 minutes or so after Stroudley made his phone call that a couple of mud-splattered Land Rovers and Unimogs were approaching the entrance of the 407th CSH.


Colonel Potter was waiting, his hand on the reins of his chestnut mare, leading her around for her daily walk. Her recovery from where the bullet had grazed her flank was healing nicely.


The slightly time-worn convoy rolled into the compound, and the man who was clearly Lt. Colonel Stroudley disembarked the lead Land Rover. He was a man with an unremarkable build, slightly balding, but with a well-groomed and frankly magnificent General Kitchener-style moustache, which was slightly shaded by the 'Lemon-squeezer' hat which he was wearing; apparently he'd wanted to make a good impression, as he was wearing dress uniform.


Colonel Potter returned Stroudley's salute. His plain worn green fatigues matching his worn features well. "Colonel, welcome to the 407th." He looked appraisingly at the immaculate dress uniform. "A friendly word of advice, son. Save the fancy for the victory parade. Keep the hat though. It has character."


"Of course sir; just thought I should have it on hand, in case I needed it for the Brass Hatters." he nodded with a slight chuckle, before turning his attention to the horse. "A fine beast indeed," he commented.


Potter smiled at that. "They do raise some fine horses over here so they can't be all bad. We've got hundreds corralled from when we took this place. I take it you know horses pretty well?"


"Well, not myself personally; but a fair few of the lads are from the Queen Alexandra's Mounted Rifles." he nodded. "They're mostly mechanized troops these days, but I do understand a lot of them are farm boys, so they'll be champing at the bit to get to know the horses, I bet."


"Fair enough. That may become important out here. Well, let's get the exams started on you and your men and then we can give you a rundown on how things set over here. Koirre?" He called to a girl with bluish-green feathers and wearing the working uniform of a US Army specialist.


"Yes, Colonel?"


"Would you mind finishing Sophie's walk and getting her squared away for me?'


"Of course, sir!" She smiled gently taking the reins.


Stroudley's eyebrow rose up at this. "Spreading Democracy already, are we?" he commented in a joking tone. "With your Levi's and your Rock and Roll?"His tone made it clear it was meant in jest though, rather than as a pointed comment.


Potter chuckled. "Well, we kinda owed her seeing how she came in here full of shrapnel. Her fellow patients didn't seem to appreciate her survival though so we mustered her in. It helps that she knows these people and speaks the common vernacular. Luckily they also speak a form of English. Well, the upper class do and she picked it up from them. If you can, I'd heartily recommend you trying to recruit one of the locals yourself if you can."


"I'll make sure the chaps know." he nodded, as they turned and saw that a gaggle of New Zealand Army officers had disembarked from the trucks, and were waiting for them.


They were a bit of a mixed bunch; a mixture of signallers and engineers according to their insignia, and Potter could tell in a trice that most of them were reservists.


"Good, Now make four lines. Doctors Pierce, McIntyre, Hunnicutt and myself will be conducting your examinations. We should be able to get through this in short order. Remember, this is no place for shyness. Alright, gentlemen. Let's begin."


The officers split up into the lines as instructed, with Stroudley at the front, leading by example. One of his subordinates then remembered something, which he passed to Stroudley, who in turn handed it to Potter. "Just in case you need it; it's the first batch of medical histories for the Detachment."


"Thank you, Colonel," He turned to a tall bunny girl with black fur, missing one ear, she still seemed to be filled with enthusiasm. "Parna, take these over to Radar for filing."


"Yes, Colonel Potter!" She seemed to bound off much like her earth equivalent.


This initial consultation went quite smoothly, for the most part; though one of the engineering officers, a woman by the name of Thompson, began sneezing badly when Parna passed by her. It turned out that it was mentioned in her medical history that Thompson suffered from an allergy to animal hair.


“That can be a problem," Captain Hunnicutt noted. "What's the worst reaction you've ever had?"


"According to my GP, I'd fall in the moderate range; mostly nausea, coughs and sneezing, along with an itchy rash," she said. "Normally my allergy medication would have covered it, but I'm running low."


"We'll get you a fresh prescription but make sure you get it refilled a week in advance. Between Bunny Warrior, Catgirls, Wolfmen, Vulpines, and what all else, you're going to need it."


“Thank you, sir," she said, giving him a slight smile, before pulling out a handkerchief and blowing her nose.


Hunnicutt nodded with a smile of his own. "Now, let's get a blood sample." Hee turned to the Japanese/Hawaiian nurse beside him. "Alright, Kelleye, let's get Lieutenant Thompson here worked up. You know the drill." He turned back to Thompson."Don't worry. I'm a terrific plumber! My patients never spring a leak."


She chuckled. "That's good to hear. I'd hate to have to explain that to my wife," she remarked.



In the meantime, Hawkeye took the chart of a young man who looked greener than his uniform. "Welcome to 'You Bet Your Life!'," Pierce said as he took his file and stared at it, seemingly confused. "Hmmm... So... First question: Have you ever had ‘athlete's scalp’ before?" He asked, holding the file upside down.


The young man was a half-Polynesian officer named Marsh, who couldn't help but chuckle at that, as he ran his hand through his short shaved hair.


"Oh wait... I see." He flipped the chart upright. "Oh! You're here for an ingrown eyebrow!"


Marsh couldn't help but outright laugh now. "Sorry..... I know I shouldn't laugh and all... But seriously though, thanks Doc, I needed a good laugh."


"We all do. So, don't worry. Major Houlihan is not only beautiful but she's an actual grown-up so you're perfectly safe. So? How did you end up in the paradise of the ancient world?"


Marsh shook his head and sighed ruefully. "I'm sure you've heard this before; a kid who grew up in a poor town; joined the army young to try to avoid the gang life, and found a place for himself serving his Country, eh?"


"It's always the things they don't tell you that catch up with you. I know nobody ever told me I'd be dealing with friends, Romans AND countrymen.”


"Yeah, true enough," Marsh said. "Though good thing I brought my camera; I'd love to show my cuzzies and rellies all the things this world has."


"I know, pretty amazing. But just be careful looking for souvenirs. There's a guy from the 101st who got turned into a dragon after he bought an antique ring. Photos are a lot safer."


Marsh's jaw dropped at that, and he looked at Hawkeye. "Wait, for reals?" he asked in surprise that bordered on shock.


"No kidding. He's actually developing a bit of a following but on the downside, none of his old jackets fit anymore."


Marsh swallowed at that and rubbed his chin. "I'll make sure the fullas know that then," he said.


"Good. The last thing we need is someone to get turned into the reincarnation of the Great spider god."



"Depends on if they're wetas or not," Marsh commented. "There's nothing like some good bushtucker to put some meat on your bones, eh?"


That's easy for you to say... No really. I've got no idea what you just said." Hawkeye shook his head. "But then again wasn't it Churchill that said we were countries separated by a common language?"


Marsh laughed at that, a big, deep-voiced laugh of genuine mirth. "You're okay in my book, Doctor Pierce," he said once he'd calmed down.


"Glad to hear that! And I think we're done with the jabbing and prodding and you can join your mates and go get something from the mess. Keep the knife. I wouldn't go near our food unarmed."


"Sure thing, bro. If you ever swing by our way, I'm sure you'll be welcome," he nodded, as he left.


Hawkeye smiled, wondering what Marsh would think of Crabapple Cove. In the meantime, Trapper John McIntyre spoke up.


"Table for one! No waiting folks!" McIntyre's 'client' this time was a large and beefy looking man with thick glasses and very short clipped hair; the whole look said 'communications guy' to him. "Alright, So I'm Doctor McIntyre. Welcome to the part of soldiering the recruiters never talked about. Say hello to Nurse Cutler, she'll be assisting me today. "


"A pleasure to meet you, Doctor." the man said; in contrast to his large build, he had a high-pitched, almost reedy sounding voice that seemed out of place.


"So? How did you end up out here?"


"I'm Lieutenant Lambie, sir; I'm in charge of the blokes in the detachment who are being assigned to the communications unit at Gibraltar," he said, shifting from one side of his seat to the other. "I'm also probably one of the only blokes in the force's officer cadre who is actually regular army, rather than Territorials."


"Our CO is regular army. I'll bet you never pictured a place like this when you signed up, eh, Lieutenant?"


Lambie shook his head. "It's pretty surreal, to be honest, sir," he said, taking off his thick glasses and rubbing his face for a moment.


"Married?"


He shook his head. "Barely even knew what a girl was until after I left secondary school," he admitted, rather sheepishly. "I went to mostly single-sex Catholic schools."


"I'd be careful going into the civilian settlement next door if I were you. You're a valuable commodity on the local market Lambie."


"...I'll try and keep that in mind, sir. Thank you for the warning." he nodded.


McIntyre chuckled. "No problem. Of course, what that boils down to is a society that just lost a big chunk of eligible husband material and frankly, by comparison, you're healthier, wealthier, all-around a better catch for these local girls. A lot of them like the brainy types."


He nodded again, as he then pulled out a small notebook and a pencil, jotting down something in it, before tucking it back into his jacket.


"So, Any allergies? Problems with the heat? Anything like that?" Trapper asked.


"Only a prescription for my glasses," he said. "I was due for a check-up when the deployment order arrived."


"We've got an optometrist on staff. I'll make a note to send for him once we've determined you'll be staying in god's hidden little acre with the rest of us."


"Thank you, sir. Is there anything else?" Lambie asked, seemingly eager to be away.


"Just a few basic vaccinations and inoculations. After that, you can wait for the results. I guess you're not overly fond of hospitals, lieutenant?"


"Not especially; Doctors have always made me nervous..."


"A lot of people are nervous around doctors. Bad experience?"


"My mum was in hospital for a long time when I was young, so... yeah, hospitals have bad memories for me."


"I guess they would. Well, No offense but I only want to see you here today and the day we check you out to go home. On the other hand, if you run into a nice girl out there, make sure to stop in and get a check-up. Just to be on the safe side."


"I'll keep that in mind too; but, God willing, this will be one of only two times that you'll have to see me." Lambie agreed, as he rose, and then saluted. "Have a... well.... if not good, then at least, a tolerable day then, Doctor."


"Easy on the saluting, it makes me feel like I'm in the army. But yeah. Take care, Lieutenant."


The Kiwi officer nodded, and then strode out, letting Trapper get to his next patient


Trapper waved in his next patient as meantime, Colonel Potter nodded to the next person in line.


"All right boys and girls," Potter spoke. "Who's next? Let's keep it moving, folks."


The next up was a female officer, wearing camo fatigues and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Sir," she said.


"And who do we have here?" The young woman looked to be as old as Potter's oldest granddaughter.


"Second Lieutenant Karen Laurie, sir; with the Queen Alexandra's Mounted Rifles." she said, as she stood 'at ease' before him.


"First combat deployment, Lieutenant?"


"Not precisely; I've done a tour in Afghanistan, but I didn't see any combat, and to be honest, if I'd had any say in it, I'd hope that I don't see any combat here, either."


"Good answer. I saw my first combat in Grenada back in '83, then Panama in 89'. Transferred to Tanks in time for Gulf War One and became a Doctor in time for the sequel. Hoping this will be the last. So... what's your experience with horses?"


She chuckled. "Grew up on a farm in the King Country, sir- that's a lot of hill country that you'd never get a quad bike up; I've been brushing up a lot on my riding in the last few weeks; along with most of the troops from the regiment who were being assigned here."


"You'll get along with the local knights that liaison with us. Technically they may be the other side but that has more than a few conditionals. We're technically allied in regards to protecting one of the local cities."


"Understood, sir." she nodded with a slight smile. "I'll make sure that the lads don't get too chummy with them."


"Good. Their own people think they're just a ceremonial guard but those ladies are the real deal. "


"Like the Swiss Guard at the Vatican," she nodded, her head bobbing slightly for a few moments.


"Pretty much. They trade respect for respect. The local horses are of good quality, also."


She smiled. "I'll take your word for it for the moment, but I hope you don't mind if I have a look for myself later."


"That's what I'd expect of anyone who knows horses.”


She nodded again with a chuckle. "Anyway, here's my most up to date files," she said, passing them over.


"Good. It seems in order Now we'll get a blood draw..."


She rolled up her sleeve and bared her arm for him. He noticed a long but shallow scar along the inside of her arm,


"That's quite the scar, lieutenant."


"I've had it since I was a teen; I was out hunting wild pigs with my dad during the school holidays when I stumbled on some loose rocks on a hillside," she said. "That scar came from the bolt of grandad's old war trophy digging into my arm as I fell down the hill. Kind of a silly mistake on my part."


"Wild boar, huh? I've had some run-ins with those myself! Mean critters."


She nodded. "That's why we were using grandpa's war trophy; it's a Mauser rifle he got while fighting in Italy during WWII; it's old, but still packs a wallop."



"I remember using an old Springfield 1903. Damn fine weapon."


Laurie nodded. "Good rifle, yes; though personal preference would be either my granddad's old Mauser or, and this is probably the Brit in us showing, the good old Lee-Enfield." She chuckled a little at that.


“No argument here. The trick is a good headshot. No sense wasting the meat.”


"Amen; I've seen some of the pictures of wild hogs in Texas and such- I wouldn't want to hunt those with anything less than an anti-aircraft gun..."


“At the very least, don't go without backup." Potter nodded and noted her CO coming over. "Colonel..."


Stroudley nodded to Potter. "How are the lads and lasses faring, sir?" he asked with a slight smile


"They seem to be quite the spirited lot. Good bunch, I'd say. They'll do to ride the river."


"Most of them are Reservists, who volunteered for the gig." he nodded. "But I have faith that Wellington knew what they were doing when they rustled them up," he commented, before lapsing into thought for a moment. "Well, either way, I hope you and your staff won't be too busy, Colonel; it'd be nice if you could come see the powhiri when the troops arrive."


"That would be right dandy! It'll do the local morale a good boost too. The folk that settle around here will definitely be interested."


Stroudley grinned at that. "Good to hear; I'll let Marsh know so that he can get his head around it."


"We look forward to it!" Potter smiled at Lieutenant Laurie. "I think we're set here. We'll have the results ready in a couple of hours and then you'll be all set!"


"Thank you, sir." Laurie nodded, as she clambered out of her seat, and with a salute, departed to join her comrades.


Potter turned back to Stroudley. "When the results come in, I'll show you folk out back to the Corral. I'm not sure how well the local saddles will suit but they've got plenty of them piled up."


"Good to hear sir." Stroudley smiled. "Now then, are there any last things? I feel as if I should go and ride herd on the men, in case they gripe about army grub; I'm sure you know the jokes about 'Meals Refused by the Enemy' and all that."


Pierce strolled over. "We've one-upped that Colonel. we're ankle-deep in meals returned by the enemy!" Potter chuckled. "I think that covers it, colonel."


Stroudley couldn't help but burst out in laughter for a moment, a short staccato sound that almost sounded like a dog barking for a moment. "By your leave then, Colonel."



Potter nodded. "Of course. "


Stroudley then followed where Laurie had gone, towards the mess tent and it would be here that Stroudley and his men got their first looks at a real Orc. Up at the head of the tent, they noticed a greasy sergeant making gestures to the cook as a large being with greenish grey tinted skin stood calmly watching. The cook threw up his hands and nodded in apparent relentment. The large being stepped over to the foodservice trays and wrinkled his nose.


Stroudley stayed back for a moment to watch what might happen next.


The creature reached into a leather pouch and throws a handful of herbs into the bin and stirred it around., then stepped back. The cook cautiously had his assistant sample a spoon's worth. as the assistant nodded in the affirmative, his eyes widening at flavor, the cook chuckled and handed the Orc an apron.


The New Zealanders in the tent slowly relaxed at this, having been unsure if things might escalate.


Sergeant Rizzo patted the Orc on the arm. "I'll go see how the rest of your boys are doing."


Now that that had de-escalated, Stroudley walked among the tables, idly returning any salutes that came his way, as he searched out the other Kiwi's, to fill them in on the goings-on.


"Well, that certainly was odd," his XO noted. "I wonder if these fellows have been in country too long, sir?"


"Probably. Quite the place for it!"


Thompson had been a civil engineer for a road company back on 'Civvy Street', so she was eager to see how the Sanderian's built their roads, and if they were anything like the Roman Roads in Europe.


A short young man in new sergeant stripes walked over with a native Bunny girl with half an ear missing but wearing the uniform of a Specialist 4th class. "Excuse us sirs and ma'ams but do you mind if we sit here? The only other table with any real space is by Major Burns," the sergeant asked.


Several of the New Zealanders moved apart to offer the pair what space they could; it was a little bit of a squeeze, but it would be enough for the pair.


"Thank you," Parna smiled. "Sergeant O'Reilly says you are from New Zealand. I wonder what happened to the old one?"


There were a few chuckles at that before Major Fowler moved to set her straight."The story of how New Zealand got its name is a bit of a funny story; and it starts, not with the British, but with a Dutchman by the name of Abel Tasman." she began


"Your world has so many tribes!" Parna said in awe. "It's amazing."


Helen nodded with a smile. "History is something of a hobby of mine; either way, long ago, Abel Tasman sailed from Zeeland, one of the seven Dutch provinces, to explore the unknown part of the world where modern New Zealand is. His expedition found evidence of it, but they did not land there."


"Oh! that makes sense! Like how the Empire gave new names to our plains of the Great Grass! My former master showed me once." She looked to Major Fowler. "since he is dead, I would be happy to give you his maps and his History of the Empire. He said it reminded him of the tradition of the Empire."


Fowler looked delighted to hear that, as did Stroudley. "Pursuit of knowledge is a laudable thing, and should be encouraged."


"The books are in High Tongue but the maps are in common. My master used to keep my clothes locked in his personal box. Since he is gone now, I think it is fair that it is my box. The books are there. We keep it in the office under Sergeant O'Reilly's cot where I sleep."


At this Radar's eyes went wide. "I sleep in a hammock now! Honest!"


That got them a few chuckles, but they didn't say anything more than that, to spare the young lad's blushes. Stroudley then began to look thoughtful for a moment. "So.... Parna, yes? I've been wondering about something since the Colonel mentioned it in passing during our medical inspections....."


"Yes, sir?" Parna asked, curious.


"He said something about your people being.... what was the term they used..... oh, right.... 'Warrior Bunnies', I believe?" Stroudley questioned.


"Oh yes! We were Great warriors! That is why the Empire sent large armies against us! Most of our kind were worth three Imperials in any battle."


Down the table, Marsh perked up. "So..... you'd be considered, like..... a 'martial race', then?" he asked, as he leaned forward to look towards her.



"Oh! Yes. Our own tribal wars could be very fierce! Of course, we solved many conflicts with ritualized combats. No matter what tribe, we are all 'The People' after all."


Marsh grinned at that, showing very white teeth. "Back in the day, the British Empire referred to my people, the Maori, as one of the 'martial races' too." he commented."After New Zealand became a colony of the British Empire, and then later a Dominion, we were considered to be some of the best natives to recruit into the army."


"I think you would have loved to witness the dance of the thousand blades. I witnessed it once when I was twelve. I wasn't old enough or trained enough to take part but imagine ten rows of a hundred warriors carrying the sharpest blades in the lands dancing for seven hours in perfect synchronicity, the skills becoming more advanced as the hours drew on."


Marsh chuckled. "Well then.... you might want to drop by if you get the chance when the rest of the force arrives. We've got a bit of a show planned...."


"We would be honored," Parna smiled.


Marsh grinned and nodded as he settled back in his seat to continue eating.


Parna looked at Marsh consideringly. "Your people were once a nation of their own but your tribe became part of the British... Do you think this was a good thing for your tribe?"


Marsh shrugged after some thought. "It was a different time; a much rougher period; and to be fair, for the last few decades, the New Zealand government has been trying to make right all the injustices that happened back then, and to make the Treaty of Waitangi actually mean what it said, rather than just be pretty-sounding words on paper. As far as I'm concerned, the past is the past, and getting stuck in it doesn't do anyone good."


And the Tribes of the Great Grass are now also in the past." Parna replied. "But it will be alright! The Tribe of the Iowa will be strong and good."


Sergeant O'Reilly blushed again at that. He figured his mom and his Uncle Ed wouldn't have a problem, he did worry a little about the rest of the town. He just didn't want any of them giving Parna a hard time. Parna smiled. "But I think even with the blessing of the Great Trickster God, it may be best if my new tribe doesn't quite do things the same way as the old tribe."


This got them all looking at her. "How so?" Marsh asked.


"Well, Radar has told me that it is not lawful to carry off one's husband without permission. Our daughters will have to ask for permission. In days past, our tribe mothers simply found the human that seemed most fit and took him with them! Most of the time they didn't complain for long. Also, he says that we must not simply club anyone who tries to take our land. Not that the old ways worked so well when the Empire came for our lands."


There was a brief silence at that, as the New Zealanders all considered her words, and Thompson unconsciously began to lean away from her, partly due to her allergies.


Parna looks self-conscious. "Of course, sometimes men didn't want to stay. So we sent them home... Still... I believe Radar when he says it is better to follow laws as long as others must follow the same laws."


"Here here to that." the others agreed before Fowler changed the subject a little. "So..... what do you do most the day here anyway, Parna?" she asked.


"Oh! I help translate the common language for everyone. Doctors treat many Saderans. Some also think they will cause trouble but I let them know I hear and understand them! I am also learning to answer the tellingphone and handle messages."


”Telephone," Radar gently corrected.


There were a few chuckles. "Tellingphone..... that's actually quite a good name for them." Stroudley remarked.


"See?"Parna said to Radar proudly. "Sometimes my Radar not quite so right after all! But he is still my Radar. I am happy that he and the doctors say they can fix me." She touched her severed ear.


The others all winced at that. "Barbaric, that," Lambie muttered darkly. "Slavery is one of those things that simply shouldn't be allowed at all."


"I think that I can change," Parna replied. "And if Bunnies can change, then the Empire can change too. Radar has taught me to believe that. But they will need good people to show them a better way just like I have learned."


They nodded. "True enough," Stroudley said. "We've seen the mess that happens when you try to enforce that change from without," he said, sighing and shaking his head.


"I have heard that in County Formar, no slavery is allowed. The former Count made it illegal. I think others will learn from this."


"Let's hope so." Stroudley nodded, before shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm getting a bit maudlin, aren't I?"


"It is alright!" Parna said with a smile. "I am much enjoying new thoughts and ideas. It is good that your armies have people of good conscience. But perhaps I can talk of things not so dark." She looks to Marsh. "I WILL still teach my daughters the skills of the hunt. Not so they will hunt but so the skills and a good tradition are preserved. It is a test of a new Warrior's skill to both seek and evade." Her ear twitched slightly. "For instance, I can tell that Major Winchester will be going on a hunt of his own soon! He really does not like it when Hawkeye samples his 'Cognac'?"


"He does seem the type to favour that." Lambie nodded. "Back on our side of the Gate, cognac is a very expensive and sought after form of alcohol; it has an air of sophistication and elegance to it."


I see!" Parna nodded, then frowned. "speaking of elegant and dangerous... I hear a unicorn out by the corral and it is not in a friendly mood."


This once more gave them pause. "A unicorn?" Marsh asked, before grinning widely. "Hey, Lambie; maybe you should go and see if it likes you, eh?" he grinned, making a joke at the other man's expense.


"You're probably more his type," Thompson put in. "You know Earthy, natural smelling." There were a few laughs at that, and any tension in the air from what Parna had been saying before vanished.


"And I thought Unicorns went after pure-hearted maidens!" someone said.



That got another round of laughter at that, and Lambie blushed to the roots of his hair.


"Still, this unicorn sounds like one of us! minds its own business until you poke at it and all."


"Don't tickle a sleeping dragon, or awaken a sleeping giant." they all agreed.


"On the other hand, maybe better that someone take him under proper care before he gets hurt?"


They all nodded a little after some thought, and a couple of the Kiwi's got up, having finished their meals while they'd all been talking.


"Well then! From Here to There! and Back Again! Sir!"


Break a leg there, lads." Stroudley nodded and gave them a thumbs up.


"Right Sir!" All told, three of Stroudley's junior lieutenants set off.


"If they succeed," Thompson suggested. "We ought to commission a new patch for the outfit."


Stroudley chuckled. "It's certainly going to be quite a story to tell the children. Though I'm hardly Viggo Mortensen, am I?"


“Maybe he'll play you when they make a movie about all this!"


"If he can do the accent, then I don't see why not." he shrugged with a half-smile


"What about Lambie? Who could carry off that face! That.... sly wit?"


"....Say what you might about the Prequels..... but what about Hayden Christiansen? Or, maybe Robert Pattison?"


"Oh! Anni!" Marsh teased. "Anni! I was so worried!" That caused even more laughter.


At this point, Colonel Potter strode in. "Ah! Colonel. I see you've survived our daily bread!"


"Well, it's probably better grub than a lot of the locals would have ever seen," Stroudley said. "Care to join us for a bit, sir?"


"Don't mind if I do!" The New Zealanders all shuffled around to let Potter join them. "I'm happy to tell you all of your people are coming up A-Okay for duty. But I've had to send back one of the German Pioneer boys. Tested positive for hepatitis. Lucky for them he's their EOD man."


"Those mad lads; live for today, for tomorrow you die," Thompson commented.


Potter nodded. "I was that age once. you wouldn't believe how many brawls I used to get into. I miss those days!"


Stroudley chuckled. "Oh, the stories I could tell you of my own misbegotten youth...." he said with a sigh of reminiscence.


I don't know which stories I've told are more outrageous. The true ones or the lies!"


"Statistics! The worst of them all!" one of them called out in a Shatner-esque fashion.


Potter laughed "True enough! It occurs to me, Colonel, while you've got most of your officers with you, now would be a good time to go over some of the lay of things as it were.”


"....That's actually a decent idea; the Grems at Gibraltar gave us a bit of a primer, but actual in-field knowledge would trump that."


“Well then, let's start with the obvious stuff. Better to make sure."


"Very good, sir." they all said, as they pulled pens and notebooks from various pockets to take notes.


"First thing is that every Joe wants a souvenir. Don't go bartering for random trinkets. You may have heard that one guy got turned into a dragon. That's true. So far, except for being a thirty-foot long dragon, he seems none the worse for wear but the next curse could be a lot worse. So next time you want to send the home folks something, go to the PX and get'em a postcard." The New Zealanders began to take careful notes of this, with one or two of them murmuring names which Potter correctly deduced were soldiers under their command who would be likely to fit in that category, and making sure to get it through to them.


"Next thing on the list, This pertains more towards you officers than the enlisted personnel as it is a command judgment. But we have discovered there are identifiable units in the Saderan order of battle that will not attack without direct provocation. Specifically, there is an entire order of Knights that fight under the banner of a Rose. I'm told it's actually derived from the Lancaster Rose but we have an agreement to not try to kill each other and also to protect the local homesteads and such. Now... Keep aware of your surroundings and situation but avoiding a fight with the reasonable people over here is preferable on all levels.”


"Do you have any pictures of this Rose?" Stroudley asked. "Best make sure that we all know what to look out for."


"We'll make sure you all have copies for ID." Potter agreed. "According to the observer they left behind, they have three mounted companies. Red, White, and Yellow. And the Infantry is a Black Rose. Most of the members are young women from noble families or old veterans who don't want to retire and don't have the pull to get good political appointments. Their level of training is higher than the average. Fortunately, so is their discipline.


"In the meantime, a lot of the local communities are still being raided by folks who up until recently were members of one or another of the local armies." That caused a few dark expressions to pass over their faces for a moment."That's right. " Potter noted. "After hitting a brick wall here, the survivors either went home or took up pillaging the locals. A bunch of them tried to ransack Italica. The ones that aren't dead are doing hard labor rebuilding the walls.


"Next item:..." They took more notes of this, as Potter went into details."The existence of an extremely large reptilian predator... Has been confirmed. It's about two-hundred and seventy feet or roughly eighty meters if my math is anywhere near correct. Highly aggressive and immune to anything lighter than anti-tank missiles. For now, my advice is if you see it... Take cover and leave the dragon hunting to folks your loved ones haven't met."


They noted that and made a face. "By the sound of it, I wouldn't want to face one, even if we had a couple of battleships for fire support...."


"Yeah. The locals say this thing has a taste for blood now and one of our patrols got in a lucky shot and blew off an arm. So it might get even more aggressive since us little green things are the only viable threat."


"Great; so we're on Smaug's 'to kill' list then." someone muttered.


"Don't worry Jerry!" Someone else observed. "I'm sure he's a bloody charmer on his good days."


"Well.... at least he's probably not a Hungarian Horntail or anything like that."


"Of course not! This guy ATE the last one!"


Potter waited a moment. "That said, most folk just want to go about their business. Including the Faeries. "


"...Blimey, the Fae Folk are here too?"One of them, whose name had slipped Potter's memory for a moment, asked that.


"About eight inches tall. They seem to like the Marines best and they've been swapping vocabulary."


That got a few looks. "That sounds...... colourful," Thompson remarked.


"It is. At the same time, we've been good neighbors since they weren't too fond of the Imperials cutting down their woods to build barriers against us. That isn't to say they don't have relatives who aren't aware of us yet. Their standard weapons are swords or arrows. They may be small but they're usually coated in poison or a sedative." They nodded and took down more notes, with one of them mumbling something about NBC gear if patrolling that area.


"Remember, these folks have their own religious practices and for them, their gods are not only real but have their own agents walking around. No one is asking you to convert but be aware and respectful. Especially if you start hearing words like 'apostle' or 'oracle'..."

***​

Looking up into the night sky, Stroudley reflected that he and his people had been fortunate and not run afoul of the ancient dragon. Nor had any of them managed to get themselves cursed. But they had encountered people and sights unimaginable back home. In the morning, Stroudley’s people would help Chief Gelnash and his tribe start to rebuild. After that…?


From Here To There And Then On...