Futuristic Infantry 6

Col Pearson sends for me, puts out a carafe of coffee, "first let's get the unpleasantry out of the way. Those end of tour crime stats were horrendous. I really do not appreciate them being charged to me."
"Ma'am, it's a silly rule. King Canute had as much chance of convincing the tide not to come in."
She laughs, "quite so. That said, it was a pretty spectacular tour."
It was? What part did I miss?
"First, 109% turnout, mega-achievement. Shows how it's done. Looks good on your file."
I nod pleasantly.
"You are also getting a commendation from the rocket attack."
"How so?"
"From first launch to them in custody, less than four minutes elapsed. A new world record. Shows a high level of combat readiness. Also, your manner of arrest."
I breathe a silent prayer.
"You see, almost every officer lets the girls go crazy, beat them as long as there are no marks. Intel hates that; gets them sullen, silent and afraid. Your arrest, without violence, got them in that stage of total indignation. They gave away a lot of clues they really should not have. Since you were not in the helicopter, shows you exert good control."
I nod.
"If I have your promise not to say this to anyone, I have news."
"On my honor."
"I have had it right out to the outer limits. Another year, earliest retirement. I hope you get the job."
"Why me?"
"I know it sounds racial, but say it. Our minority officers, with a few notable exceptions, do a much more serious job than our mainstream officers. So, I have some reading material for you, when the time comes."
"Thank you ma'am, honored."

Brigadier-General Federenko sends for me, sets out a pot of tea, "I would congratulate you on a successful tour."
"Thank you ma'am."
She looks out the window a moment, as if trying to drum up courage to broach a delicate topic, "let's just say, today's modern age, more tours are failures than successes."
Not exactly news to me.
"Now doing the math, you have been on 15 tours. In every single case, whichever group you happen to command has come through well. Eerie, when you think of it. No one on earth has a batting average like that. Not myself, not your Col."
I nod politely.
"So I assume you are very well-versed in dealing with infantry problems."
I nod.
"In fact, we have need of that expertise. Ever heard of the Infantry Technology Committee?"
I groooan inwardly. Not another committee. Surely enough is enough, "no ma'am, haven't heard."
"Just starting out, ways and means of replacing human infantry with droids."
I keep a neutral expression, say nada.
"Before we go any further, I want your reaction. Set aside economics and technical, your gut reaction on this please."
"Ma'am with all due respect, it bites, bigtime. As you know, career prospects for women are limited; more so for minority women. Why not put that same energy into taking mens' jobs away?"
She chuckles, "good, you're in. Exactly what I wanted to hear. A counter balance to the geeks who will ignore the people problems."
I groan inwardly, but nod pleasantly.
"Maj we are not talking a lot of jobs. Less than a quarter of the infantry, spread over more than a decade. In all cases, meant to be the dirty dangerous stuff; so humans can do tech jobs. Even then, it's only privates. Droids are not capable of leadership."
"Oh," I reply, relieved.
"So you attend, learn what you can, contribute what you can. See, costs on either side. Humans, too much downtime, all the drinking and fighting. Droids, huge amount of maintenance and repair. We doubt if it will save so much as one dollar. It's to make the forces more attractive, draw a better class of woman."
I blush.
"Ah, that kind of came out wrong. Nothing personal. I mean overall. By the time it's fully operational, you'll probably be commanding Brigade tours in Ulster."
Not likely, Brig-Gen, I think acidly, be retired by then.

I pick a window seat, stare out morosely. Meena joins me, "so-oo, what's the prob?"
I explain, winding up with, "yeah even though she says it's only a few jobs, it's still real people, real jobs lost."
"Whaddya give a rat's ass? You'll be retired."
I've noticed, she seems to have a number of man-like attitudes. I retort, "first, it's the jobs themselves. Then you gotta load a whole lot more tech skills onto Sgt's and Cpl's, all presumably for the same salary."
She laughs, "he-ell, they should hire men then. Every boy learns droids starting at 14. No droids made for woman, just no market demand, too poor."
I give her the evil eye.
"Oh lighten up, you old prude, just joking. I mean come on, if even a 14 year old boy can learn, then why can't a full-grown woman? Heavens, the boys don't even get paid for it, just part of life."
I stop, ponder, "now that is one colossally rude statement. But true, I guess."
"Come on Zohra. Same thing was said centuries ago when only men owned cars. Few decades later, woman had caught up."
"Uh, yeah."
"Men started with typewriters, woman took over. Men started as infotech geeks, woman soon caught up."
"Point taken."
"You know who'll really suffer?"
I grin, "bar owners near infantry bases."
We both laugh, Suddenly I feel better. Why was I so uptight? Maybe she's right, connected with not getting any.
"In fact," she grins, "it'll work, once the bugs get ironed out. No more apprenticing doing grunt work. Everyone a tech from Day One. Better paid."
I nod.
She lets the other shoe drop, "which means of course, more money to blow on booze and drugs. More AWOL, not less. More MP's, not less."
"Spoken like a true cynic. You're starting to sound like a man."
She seems flattered by that comment. Still, bet she's right. Everyone knows Sgt's drink more than Cpl's; who drink more than Pvt's. And yes, the reason is monetary.