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Captain Leon McManus looked at the report on his desk. Two C4 members taken out, objective reached. Minimal damage to base. Back in my day... , he thought. Damn kids wouldn't know how to infiltrate a base if it was abandoned...
Another piece of paper beckoned to him. It was an official transfer order back to the Boston Metropolitan District, President Wychin's headquarters. Earlier on today, the president had called him... and, in so many words, told him that he was being reassigned and that the papers would be faxed over in a few hours. Assignment to a training camp as a drill instructor. Hmph.
Well, at least I'll be able to teach the little freako's a thing or two... Leon ran a hand through his graying hair. Time to face it man... you're getting too old for this crap. he chuckled to himself. Settle down to beating the shit out of raw recruits...
His musing was interrupted by a knock on his door.
"Come in."
The door opened, admitting Alexander Philips, a 'new C4 recruit', as he was called around the base. Leon had heard John Poole labeling Philips an 'ass-licker', and the guy certainly looked like it. Certainly, he must have done quite a bit of it for what he was about to get...
"I assume you've read all the papers faxed over to you... sir." Philips spoke in a clear, calm tone.
"Yeah, I did... Private." Leon chuckled. "Last time I'll be able to call you that... or, even see you. Y'know, Poole was right... I wonder whose ass you kissed to get this."
"Like I told the Sargeant... I.S.B. grunts don't go down." Philips grinned. "We just go up."
Leon frowned. "So it seems... " He paused. "I'd give you some sagely advice, private, but I know you'll just ignore it. Remember though... this unit started just about at the beginning of the war. You're gonna be commanding thirty years of history - I hope you can hold it up."
"Don't worry, sir. You can count on this unit not getting blown to bits right away." Philips nodded. "Your plane's waiting. Sir."
"I heard it outside, private... now beat it the hell out of my office - you don't get promoted 'till I'm outta here!" Leon grinned.
"Yes sir." Philips saluted and marched out.
Leon looked out the window towards the landing pad. Then, he looked at the Cold Force emblem lying on his desk. Somehow, the pale blue color didn't seem to fit it anymore. We've come a long way... Leon thought. And we still haven't gotten anywhere. He grunted as he got up, and started the walk outside the office, down the hallway, and out to the runway. His belongings were already in the plane... and the entirety of the Cold Force was lined up to see him off.
John Poole shook his hand firmly. "Looks like I'm the last of the old geezers... have fun beating the shit out of the recruits in boot camp. Hell, I might join you in a few years..." Poole grinned.
Leon grinned back. "Once you feel that arthritis in your joints, give me a ring... I'll set you up in a nice retirement home!" He clapped Poole on the back and moved on.
Leon stood opposite of William Shade. "It's been an honor having you in my unit, son." You should have gotten that promotion, instead of some boot-licking ISB weasel. he added mentally. "Out of these kids, you're the only one I might miss." He grinned. Shade nodded and saluted.
Finally, Leon approached Philips.
"As of now, I, Captain Leon McManus officially relinquish command of U.S.S.A. armed forces, Cold Force platoon, to you, Captain Alexander Philips. With this honor comes a great responsibility." He paused. "I'll be watching you. And if you screw up, I"ll be all over you like flies over rotten meat." He grinned and observed several chuckles which quickly hushed. He saluted. "It's all yours, Captain."
As Leon walked up the dropship's ramp, Captain Philips turned to face his troops. "Attention!"
Everyone stood stiff.
"Face right!"
Towards the hangar doors.
"Dismissed!"
As the plane took off, Leon couldn't help but take one last glance at the unit he'd commanded over the last few years. You've earned this break. Time to let the young ones take over. You just relax, sit back, and enjoy the rest. he thought as he leaned back in his chair. Soon, he was asleep as the plane streaked off away from the sunset.
Written on May 9th, 2000 by Andrew Pokrovski AKA Alexander Philips