Bedelia Chapter 8 In Enemy Territory

Chapter 8 Movement to Contact: (Monday-Friday) (18+)

On Sunday morning, Bedelia was taken by buggy to Finsterwald. It was a four-hour drive through the rolling countryside on a beautiful fall day. Around one O’clock they arrived and she was ushered into the main Administrative Building. It was a bustle of activity as couriers, and soldiers and civil servants moved in and out the endless corridors and rooms. Some had the letter “T” emblazoned on their chests. These were Templers, belonging to the order which had founded the school. Others wore the standard black SOF uniform or civilian clothes.

In the foyer they were approached by Esmeralda, a Blue Blood female, one of the beacons Bedelia had worked with, on and off, for the past several years.

“Captain Standaloft wants you to report to the infirmary. Vivian, the beacon for Captain Jennings patrol is in a bad way and he wants you to go to her.” Esmeralda’s eyes were red and tired looking. Vivian was her cousin.

“What do you mean in a bad way?”

“She was one of the wounded they brought out, unconscious through it all. The doctors say it’s a matter of time.”

This was a part of the job Bedelia hated most. A part of her skill was the ability to enter a dying person’s mind and gather information that nobody else could. While not a close friend, she knew Vivian as a comrade from her sister unit.

Esmeralda took her arm, leading them through the maze of corridors and entered a wing that was less congested, and smelled of antiseptic. There was an indoor garden with a stream and waterfall. It was supposed to create an ambience of tranquility but instead reminded Bedelia of death. There was nothing tranquil about the sight that awaited them in Vivian’s room.

Vivian was writhing on the bed and her respiration was labored. Bedelia took her hand, squeezed gently and entered her mind. She located the neurons that carried the pain from her shattered spine. How the young girl had survived this long was a testament to her will and that was fading fast. She would be gone in a few minutes, her life snuffed before it barely got started. The narcotic should have been stronger, the pain was intense and she wondered why the full syringe hadn‘t been administered.

Vivian wanted her mind clear and has been hanging on until you got here, channeled Esmeralda, reading her mind. She told me not to let them knock her out.

Bedelia snapped the neurons… as abruptly as she had once ripped the blood vessels from a Guard Officer’s brain. The pain ceased and Vivian stirred.

Is that you Bedelia? came the girl’s thoughts, flooding to mind

I’m here Vivian, what is it you want to tell me?

Just before they found us, I got the strangest feeling… it was like a humming and it swept over, buzzing like a bee, getting closer and further and closer and further until it stopped. Then like a dog sniffing, it reached out touching one of the sentries. He cried out and then from all sides they attacked. We barely had time to pull back yet I lingered an instant to identify the source…I saw him then, standing in the moonlight, searching for something. That something was me. I had my helmet on and barely averted my eyes and still there came a pain so excruciating I could barely stand it. Somehow, I managed to keep a grip on my senses, and gathering my full powers, swept my gaze back to him, giving it the full edge of my mind. I caught him head on and he screamed and reeled backward, pointing in my direction shouting, “Kill her! Kill her!” Then came a shower of bolts and I was wounded. The last I remember was Cpt Jennings and two NCOs pulling me free, but not before, I saw that bastard rolling on the ground and holding his head. I wanted you to hear the buzzing, Bedelia, listen closely and if you ever hear it, get the hell out of there. Bzzzzzz…
That was her last thought.

Bedelia arouse shaken, and Esmeralda threw herself across the bed sobbing.

Thank you Vivian, Bedelia vized in farewell, and stumbled out of the room.

Outside she began to shake uncontrollably. Esmeralda walked out and took her by the arm. “Captain Standaloft wanted to see you as soon as we finished here. Come along now… there’s a lot going on.”

Upstairs Guiles sat at a table in front of a lectern. When Bedelia and Esmeralda walked in, he motioned them over.

“Did you find out anything?” he asked.

“Enough,” Bedelia answered.

“Thanks Lieutenant,” he said to Esmeralda. “I know how difficult this was. Why don’t you try to get some rest?”

She nodded, trying to control her emotions, turned and walked from the room.

Captain Jennings entered and laid some notes on the podium. He had just gotten the word on Vivian and he couldn’t shake the effect. There's a special relationship between a patrol leader and his beacon that outsiders can’t appreciate. It's an emotional bond that represents a category of love that is special onto itself. “If everyone will take a seat,” he said, "we’ll get started with the debriefing. I’ll not bore you with everything that went right,” he began. “From the beginning, it was a smooth and efficient operation, everything going according to SOP. We were waiting for dark to move back when suddenly one of the sentries cried out. At that instant, we came under attack. Luckily, we were already on the verge of transition into the movement mode. We executed our immediate action drill and I looked over at Sgt Boswell our beacon. She was down on her knees with three bolts through her abdomen and chest. Someone outside the perimeter was screaming, “Kill her! Kill her!” Our fires began to have some effect and we began to execute our movement drills. We suffered several more casualties and almost had our mobility compromised. As we drew clear, our attackers made no attempt at pursuit. It was almost as if their command and control had ceased to exist. We were extremely vulnerable but the enemy failed to take advantage of it. We were able to break contact and crossed the border two days later without further incident. It is my sad duty to report that Sergeant Vivian Boswell passed away a few minutes ago. Vivian was a dear friend; and she will be missed” he said choking up… “She was only fourteen years old.”

"Our sympathies go out to you and her family…" said Col Sawyer. "Under ordinary circumstances, I would defer this inquiry, however we have another patrol getting ready to depart, and there are some unanswered questions. Please realize, Cpt Jennings, that we are not impugning your actions or trying to affix responsibility. Foremost in our minds, is how the enemy was able to locate your patrol base. Do you have any notion as to how they did it?”

“Colonel,” he answered. “From the time, we crossed the border we traveled exclusively at night. At no time did we have or come close to having contact with civilian or enemy forces. Our patrol base was in heavy woods and again there were no cooking fires or noise discharges that would attract attention to our location. At no time did anyone approach. I personally led the recon element that made contact with our agent and again it was without incident. It was a textbook operation and how it was compromised is beyond my understanding."

"Thank you Captain. Major Renulli?" Major Renulli was the Intelligence Officer.

“Captain Jennings. What process did you use for selecting a gate and was there anyone besides yourself who knew the location?”

“I had a choice of over one hundred gates and used a random number generator that came up with the number thirty-two. At the hub, Sgt Boswell located the port within less than an hour and we proceeded through. The only one I showed that number was Vivian, when we got there. I entered the access code and we crossed. Again, we encountered no issues and made a smooth transition.”

“Did anyone besides yourself know the location of your patrol base? And please describe the process you used in selecting it.”

“I selected it through a map reconnaissance. It was not somewhere I had been before nor was it anywhere a patrol had Over-Nighted in the past fifteen years. Nobody was told where it was until we arrived, when I informed my section assistant, where to set up.”

“When did your beacon report the arrival at your patrol base, and what other emissions were made once you crossed the border?”

“In accordance with SOP, I reported the location of my patrol base and our arrival time. The next day I contacted our agent and upon returning, transmitted the results of our meeting.”

“Is there anything I failed to ask or any unusual circumstances that come to mind, that might bear on what happened?”

“There is nothing more to relate. I have no idea how they managed to find us.”

“Thank you Captain, I have no further questions.”

“Does anyone else wish to further query Captain Jennings?” asked the Colonel. “If not, The After Action Review is concluded.”

Colonel Sawyer came over to the table and motioned for Major Renulli to join them. “What do you think Major?” he asked.

“Up until a year ago, the rate of compromise by our patrols was less than five percent. In the last quarter every one we’ve sent out has been interdicted. Something is going on and unless we figure out what it is soon, we are going to have to curtail our patrolling activities.”

“Well Captain Standaloft, you’re next in the cue. I see you have Sgt, I won’t even attempt the name , Bedelia here tonight. Esmeralda filled me in on Vivian’s final thoughts. What do you make of it, Bedelia?"

Under ordinary circumstances, Colonel would not have made such an inquiry, to a female enlisted soldier. However Bedelia was not ordinary and in the Tristonian SOF community, her psychic abilities were well known and uncontestable. She had become so valuable that she was closely monitored and no longer allowed outside the country except in exceptional circumstances. She should have held a higher rank and gone to Officer Candidate School, but she was not a citizen and her service record was filled with markers. She was volatile, outspoken and frequently unwlling to curb her temper. Cpt Standaloft was the only one able to abide or control her. Takes a squirrel to know one was the scuttlebutt around the Headquarters, but these sentiments were spoken in low tones and never when she was around. Still in addition to her psychic skills she had an incisive mind and Col Sawyer never had a conversation with the Simian, where he didn’t learn something new.

“Somehow, “Pops,” they were able to vector our psychic transmissions.” “Pops” was a nickname for the Colonel that nobody dared say to his face. Guiles winced and Major Renulli buried his face in his hands. “From what I gathered from Vivian,” she continued, “the Republic has some sort of Super Simian running their interdiction program.”

The Colonel was too intrigued, to call her to task. “Why do you say that?”

“Whoever they had in charge that night, was trying to locate Vivian. When I saw him, in her minds eye, he was trying to burn her down. With her out of the picture dealing with the take-down of the patrol would have been much easier. However, she sensed his intention and averted her gaze. The helmet probably saved her life but even so the jolt sent her reeling. Despite being stunned, she gathered all her psychic power and came back catching him between pulses. The arrogant bastard wasn’t even wearing a helmet and it struck him full in the face. By any measure, he should have sizzled and dropped dead on the spot. Instead, he was only incapacitated, creating a leadership vacuum that allowed the patrol to break contact and escape.”

“Hmmmm, What did you make of him?”

“I only got a glimpse in the ambient light, but he had at least four times her power and probably twice mine…this Guy is an awesome force.”


Later that evening Captain Standaloft assembled his patrol and issued the order. Because of security reasons, he was vague on the details saying only that they intended to establish a patrol base and make contact with an agent. There was really no need to say much more as everyone was an experienced combat veteran. It was his intention to get in, do it and get out as fast as possible and if all went well they would be back in less than a week. After the briefing they loaded their equipment into horse drawn wagons and began the ride to their crossing point. Once they reached the gate, Bedelia set out in search of it. The ports moved about and left the barest of signatures as to their shifting location. Once she found it, Guiles entered the security code and it opened into enemy territory.

It was Eleven o’clock Sunday, evening and they moved fast, covering twenty miles before reaching their first checkpoint, an hour before dawn. It was located at the edge of a Primeval forest. They crossed into the tree line and prepared a hasty defensive position. There, they hunkered down during the daylight hours, waiting for darkness before once resuming their march. They pulled a special tarp over the top of themselves and settled down for the wait. Each position held two elves’ and while one slept, the other remained alert. Captain Standaloft and Bedelia shared a position in the center. Around noon, they were wide-awake, sitting beneath the camouflage shroud, when Buddleia had an idea.

She nudged Guiles with her foot. “How long from the time Cpt Jennings reported the location of their patrol base until the Empire showed up?”

He scratched his head and thought. “Two days from when they arrived. They sent their initial report at around 0400 in the morning. The following day they ventured out and talked to the agent. They waited until dark, and returned getting back sometime after midnight. Then they would have sent their second report. They rested the following day and were about to depart when they were attacked. About thirty-seven hours.”

“That’s what I was thinking and it occurred to me what might have happened.”

“You have my undivided attention,” he answered.

“I’ve been thinking what I would do if I were working for the Empire and trying to catch one of our patrols.”

“So have I,” he answered. "Care to share your thoughts?”

“I would use three or four mobile listening posts. They would cover a swath of say a hundred square miles. I would place them around the perimeter of an area I wanted to deny to the Confederation.”

“Go on.”

“Then I’d wait for a psychic transmission. There probably wouldn’t be much of a signature from the first interception but networked and amplified, in the mind of a Super Simian, it might be enough to narrow the search area to say about, twenty square miles.”

“I follow you.”

“Then I’d pull in the listening cordon to that twenty-mile radius. The second transmission would be much clearer and I suspect the location could be narrowed to less than a mile.”

“Oh my goodness said Guiles exhaling…that’s how they’re doing it.

“You think so?”

“I wish I’d thought of it. I don’t have to think it up, to know the truth when I see it. Don’t stop now…”

"That close, a map recon would allow me to pretty much zero in on where the patrol was hiding. It would be good defensive terrain with cover and concealment."

"Indeed, it would."

"Now that buzzing Vivian reported. When I use a man sweep to determine someone‘s location in the dark, I have to be pretty close but if Super Man has twice the power I do, he might be able to push out, say a hundred yards. That would require a lot of energy and could account for the buzzing noise. Such a capability would be able to identify everyone’s position."

"I follow you."

"Jennings patrol was lucky, in the sense that they were getting ready to move. Had they planned to stay the night, the enemy would have known by midnight, all the defensive locations and launched an attack in the wee hours of the morning. They would have surprised and overrun the patrol. As it was, when they alerted the sentry, they went straight into the attack mode."

"No doubt."

"So if we wanted to kill this Super Simian, what we need to do is send a transmission on day one. They will close to within twenty miles. Send a second on day two. They will close to within a mile. We set up an ambush and when they attack, we have a surprise waiting."

"It’s a great idea and rest assured I’ll pass the thought along when we get back."

"Why wait? Why don’t we test our hypothesis right now! We can kill two birds with one stone."

"Because our mission is very specific. This is not a combat patrol… However, your idea has short-term possibilities. For that matter, it solves a concern that’s been troubling me since we left."

"What’s that?"

"If we continue, according to plan, we won’t be sending a transmission when we get to our patrol base. I wouldn’t want to risk it after what happened to Jennings. However, if we keep silent, the first transmission they hear will be the one we make from the vicinity of the Compound. That could tip off our objective and possibly lead to the compromise of Marigold, not to mention ourselves. However, if we do what you’re suggesting, we make that initial report. When they hear it they will break down the listening posts and begin closing in. While they’re moving, we will establish contact with the Compound."

"So what do you have in mind?"

"Change our patrol base to a location that’s at least forty miles from the compound. When we get to our patrol base you send a transmission confirming our arrival. However, we will leave the main patrol at the previous check point, taking only an Over Watch team with us. We can leave a beacon box with them."

A beacon box, reflected Buddleia. It was a psychic device used by agents as a drop. It was preenergized and once a message was placed inside, it transmitted the message back to MOD. All the patrols carried one.

"On day two the over watch team, activates the psychic emitter, while we are in route to the Compound. If anyone comes nosing around our pseudo patrol base, our hunch will be confirmed. The look-outs will skedaddle back to the patrol, while we visit with Marigold."

As the day turned to evening, they ate their rations and an hour after sundown, set off for their second check point. Here Guiles, briefed the patrol that they would remain behind except for the two soldiers, who would continue on. That afternoon, as they Day-Overed, Guiles nudged Bedelia’s toe.

“How do you propose to establish contact?”

“With a very narrow beam,” she answered.

“What will you be searching for?”

“If there are a thousand Goldens in there, that will radiate a psychic signature unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I think I’ll start quietly nosing around.”

“Nosing around?”

“It’s like brushing against someone on the street. They hardly take notice but you get a quick feel. I’ll know immediately if I’m dealing with a Golden or an Elf. If it’s an Elf, I take a closer look. Hopefully I’ll run across Horance or another Elf being used as a breeder.”

“So that will be your initial contact?”

“I don’t know how else to do it. If it isn’t Horance maybe some Elf can tell me where he is.”

“This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“No it isn’t.”

“What can I do to help?”

“The closer we get the faster it will go… if we have to stand off a thousand yards it could take ten years. If we get inside a hundred it should go fairly fast.”

“Damn! We could be right up on the perimeter and they might be the other side of the Compound. Then we have no idea how large it really is except that it holds over a thousand Goldens. That’s somewhere between five and ten acres and getting within a hundred yards is going to be a challenge.”

“Do you think it will have watch towers? Will a clear zone be established back from the wall?”

“I hope not. We’ve avoided that Compound like the plague, never getting closer than ten miles. There’s a hill to the South when we communicate, line of sight, with him.”

“Why is Horance so important?”

“Because the Simians tell him everything about the activities they get involved in. Horance correlates it and periodically a recon patrol stands off and retrieves the information.”

“Wow! I bet that’s a gold mine.”

“I’m sure it is. The problem we face is that nobody has ever ventured close enough to recon the Compound and nobody ever would have, without Horance requesting it.”

“He must have something important on his mind.”

“That’s only the half of it. He’s no longer transmitting.”

The third night their party of four continued on to the pseudo patrol base. Buddleia sent the transmission and Guiles selected a good over watch position for the surveillance team. It was about half a mile away. They were given the drop box and told what to do the next day.

“If our hunch is right, you should see activity around first light, day after tomorrow. Regardless, stay in hiding and return after dark to the patrol. We’ll all link up at check point two and go home.”

They slept a couple of hours getting as much rest as possible before setting out the next morning. They decided to accept the risk of traveling in daylight, to get them to the Compound as early as possible. Still they stayed off the roads, using them only for a guide, as they traveled in the woods some distance away. By dusk they had traveled thirty miles and were settling down to get some rest when they heard the rumble of an approaching wagon. It raced past, antenna’s waving in the breeze.

They looked at one another and smiled. “Fancy that!” said the Captain.

After midnight they set out again. The road to the compound turned off the highway, where there was a gate and a sentry post. Moving deep through the woods they continued West before breaking unexpectedly at the edge of a tree line. They had reached their objective at four o’clock in the morning. It was a moonless night and all they could see was the light of a lantern moving in the distance.

“This is the place,” said Bedelia. “Ten acres my petutti. It’s twice that the size. There’s a lot of snoring going on inside.”

“What’s with the lantern?” asked Guiles.

“A wagon with three sentries moving along the perimeter.”

“Let’s see how close we can get before the sun comes up.”

As they got closer they could hear the watch calling out to one another. “Four-fifteen and all’s well,” a voice called out as they crept closer. Suddenly Buddleia grabbed his sleeve, giving the sign for a psychic trip wire. They had been through this drill many times. They put their hands on each other’s shoulders and moved sideways. When they were close, Buddleia stepped, arching her leg. He did the same. Then with the other they followed suit, stepping to the other side. As they neared the perimeter road they saw a sentry.

Grog him up, thought Guiles.

I know what I’m doing, she channeled back…I don’t want him passing out in the middle of the road. “Now,” she whispered, and they crossed over and hid in the ditch on the far side. Beyond the ditch was another trip wire and a moat.

Surprise, surprise, she vized.

It was half an hour to daylight. There was a light mist rising off the water and lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the distance. In the etch of the flashes they could see the dim outline of a watchtower somewhere towards the middle of the compound.

What now, she vized, knowing matters were getting dicey. A wagon rolled towards them smelling of manure.

Time to ride the axles…

I was afraid you’d think that, she vized back crinkling her nose.

This was another drill she had practiced in training. As the dray came abreast they rolled beneath, reached up and pulled themselves over and atop the shafts. The wagon continued to the gate.

“Looks like a storm rolling in,” said the sentry as the gate swung open. The wagon passed inside. The drover continued down the street, turned a corner and stopped. Getting off he backed the spreader into a shed and unlimbered the horse. He led the clomping hoofs outside and closed the door. The latch closed with a distinct click.

“Whew!“ said Buddleia.

“Luck again trumps all,” whispered Guiles in relief. They rolled off the axles onto the floor.

“Only you would pick a honey wagon,” said Bedelia.

“Never look a shit horse in the mouth,” came the retort.

“What now?”

“The loft above us has some windows," he answered pointing. Daylight was beginning to stream through. "Up we go," he said pointing to a small rickety ladder. He watched her buttocks scramble up, shook his head and smiled.. “A good start if I do say so myself.” The rain began to beat down on the tin roof.

“What is it that men have about a woman’s ass?” She asked.

“In the blood he answered, in the blood.“

Sitting down in the straw with her back to the wall, Bedelia rested her head back and cycled through her relaxing drills. Then she opened her mind to the psychic vistas that began opening around them.

A background static of activity began to develop. Mostly it was a noise she hadn’t heard since childhood and a flood of memories began washing back over her. It was a mix of scent and sound that was the signature of the Golden Apes… or so she always considered them until Olivia corrected her. Golden Elves… Mountain Elves. The psychic resonance from such a large gathering was heady and powerful.
Forget the Goldens, she told herself. And began sweeping around. There were a large presence of men also in the Compound. Where would I have Horace locked up if I were an Imperial Guardsmen, she asked herself. Getting to her knees she looked out across the Compound to a large and imposing structure in the center. In there, she concluded, probably in a tower or down in the basement. She began to sweep the first floor offices detecting only a human presence until she sensed something different… it was not a Golden, not quite Elfin and barely detectable. She amplified her sensitivity sniffing closer. There was a room with a familiar scent, so faint as to be almost indiscernible but a definite presence none the less. There was a guard at the door and she floated through it and down a hallway. At the end of the corridor there was a room with a cell and inside was a young girl….Petra. Bedelia gasped, then slipped gently into the mind of her old friend. Ordinarily Petra would have known instantly but instead remained unaware. Her mind had a drugged like, foggy quality. She was laid out on a table and a young and handsome masseur was rubbing her with oils. His hands were skilled and she shifted with pleasure as strong fingers worked her body.

“And how is my favorite little Simian, this morning?" he asked

“Go frack yourself,” she told him.

He walked around the table and took a tin cup from the shelf. “Time for your medicine.”

“Must I?” she said with a pleading look.

“Don’t be so fractious,” he answered, his voice becoming sterner.

“If you won’t tell, I won’t either. I bet you could sell that stuff for quite a profit.”

He stepped around in front. Bedelia could see through Petra’s eyes everything that was happening. He was wearing a two piece white cotton uniform. A Simian logo was over the right breast pocket. The words "Staff" were written above. About his waist was a leather belt and hanging from his hip by a strap was a vial filled with purple liquid. Taking the vial he half filled the glass.

“Drink it down,” he ordered raising his voice. “Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”

She sighed and drank. “Why do I listen to you Jody?”

“Because you’re finally starting to learn what's best for you.” He went back to his massage. " Do I need to use the restraints today?"

She shook her head, "No."

"Don't fight it,...Work with the drug and don't fight it." Her body began to tremble as he began to vigouously work her neck and shoulders. Then he focused on her lower back and buttocks; finally on her thighs and feet.

Petra moaned.

"Turn over," he directed. He took a salve of Lilac paste and spread it beneath his nostrils.

Once she was turned he began massaging her front and sides, working downward. His fingers danced around her neck, breasts and the tips teased her nipples. He was a virtuoso of the craft, a skilled manipulator. He massaged the top of her thighs working faster, his seductive touch moving down, between and ever closer.

She groaned feeling it coming and helpless to stop. His fingers paused, spreading the soft tissues, exposing her scent gland.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded as he began kneading the bulb gently.

"Let it flow," he whispered, insistantly, "Let it flow."

With a rush came the sensation. She arched her back straining. Holding a small tube beneath it, he began milking.

"That's my girl," he said with encouragment. She trembled as a spasm ran the length of her body. "It's coming, It's coming."

Then it began dripping out...one, two, three precious drops. He pulled down squeezing, Four, five, six. "One more! one more!" he coaxed as the sweat beaded on her forehead. A final rivilet began forming. "Almost!" he exhorted, watching it elongate. "Good girl!" as it dropped inside. He placed a cork in the opening and the cylinder in his pocket. The room filled with her fragrance as he walked over and threw open the window. Despite the salve, he was stimulated by her musk and his phalus strained, hard and throbbing."

"See you tomorrow," he said, patting her fanny. He went outside, locked the cage door, and left her laying on the table.