WHEN THE COUNT IS GOOD (8)

The joust had been a little disappointing. There was very little action but the wet ground did not favor the spectacle. There were no deaths to report in his camp, which remained the main in the eyes of Moa. The coalesced probably held a little advantage in the scoring, but the margin, directly proportional to the material damage inflicted was thin after this first joust.

For the general public, mainly made up of laymen, there was no blood, which greatly limited the interest. For the civil audience, with this kind of joust, the impression deeply depended of the professionalism of the commentators.

Moa himself had not lost a crumb of this game. Admittedly, the two troops of pilots were neutralized but from a tactical point of view, it remained interesting. He had commented on the most sensitive actions with his colleagues and had participated in the fit of temper manifestations and insults intended for the referee.

Thinking back at the events, he had a smile.

Moa liked the first joust very much. It was certainly one of the reasons that led him to join the third regiment. It was rarely unfavorable to the coalesced which usually held the advantage. So, except abnormal conditions like that of 'the tragedy of badly inflated tires', the number of dead wasn't high. Even if there were usually dead, because a risky maneuver was rarely as smooth as on the paper, the dead were isolated from each other and easy to count.

For him, the first joust was the perfect opportunity to enter in his own job. He usually could afford the time to inspect precisely the field, identifying trapping places on the ground such as potholes or small stones which could put his colleagues in difficulty in the following jousts.

There was a small break between each joust. First of all, evacuating the field required a few minutes. There were hundreds of soldiers and their equipment and even if the maneuver was perfectly oiled, predetermined paths were established to smooth the withdrawal movements and training exercises were conducted regularly, the operation still required three to four minutes. In addition, it should not hinder the arrival of the troops engaged in the next joust.

Secondly, some adjustments were still necessary on the battlefield, such as picking up the bodies of the dead, the wounded who could no longer move on their own, picking up abandoned equipment, sanding off traces of oil, other hydrocarbons, brake fluid, cooling, body fluid that could jeopardize the holding of the following jousts.

Third, followers were in demand for this break, which allowed them to advertise. In the car management, the editors were already producing the clips summarizing the first joust. The special envoys tried to approach the soldiers who had distinguished themselves the most to collect their hot impressions. The polemicists sharpened their viper tongues which would animate the controversial debates to come.

For Moa, this break was snack-time. Moa had a rapid metabolism, which was good because he didn't get fat, but he had to eat much. His breakfast, even if a large meal wasn't enough for him to wait until lunch time.

This snack was not very elaborate. The night before, he used to make a sandwich, two slices of whole-meal bread, 6 mm thick, buttered with margarine because too much high-cholesterol animal fat could eventually clog his arteries under the shape of an atheromatous plaque, a slice of turkey ham, and raw vegetables of season. Slow sugars, lipids, animal proteins, vegetable fibers, quick sugars, water… in a sandwich a significant part of its daily nutritional requirements were met.

All that was missing was a dairy product, which he filled with a brick of pasteurized cow's milk flavored with chocolate. Was it that of a mare, too expensive, that of goat, too strong in taste, that of coconut, without interest in calcium intake, that of soybean, endocrine disruptor, that of sheep, prohibited in coalesced lands because it was natural resource for 2P2M countries and among them was the Grenati's country, the only milk he consumed was cow's milk. He was aware that man was the only mammal to consume milk after weaning, in addition milk from another species, but it was inconvenient to bring his mother to the front, especially since she no longer produced milk for a very long time. And why chocolate?, because he liked it and just that eating should always remain a pleasure.

The moped squadron was still congratulating itself and greeted its opponent. It was a tradition more than a rule, it was off-camera and the pause was long enough. So after a good fight, it was of custom to greet your opponent, as even if it was war, an enemy soldier was still a human being, with a mom, a dad, sometime a lover and children, at least for those who were lucky enough to still have a family.

At this moment, the rain started to fall again. It was not as heavy downpour as the one that fell earlier but it was sufficient to wet people. Moa still hadn't finished his snack and followed the other officers under a cramped shed. On the battlefield, the formalities were put aside and they then quickly left to take refuge in the changing rooms.

Under the shed, Moa could finish his snack. An officer spoke, they should consider building covered stands, their comfort and efficiency in their mission would improve. The speech was greeted by a round of applause, it seemed everybody agreed.

As the downpour intensified, the little hardworking hands, anonymous because not having the right to glitter from the televisions, were busy on the battlefield. The match had been calm, cheerfully, there was not too much to do. Their role was fundamentally but they remained the great forgotten of this conflict.

The actors of the second joust couldn't stay under shelter and they had to approach the battlefield. It was now the turn of the motor-bikes. The second joust of the morning was imminent.

…

Motor-bike jousts were not like the one on a moped. Just by looking at the characteristics of the equipment, it was obvious that the physical qualities of the pilots were different.

If the mopeds were pushed by a two-stroke engine, the only real physical effort being starting, the motor-bikes used a small electric motor recharged by muscular effort on the pedals. The average morphology of the soldier participating in the first game was often smaller, more agile and less muscular in the thighs, but nevertheless chunky enough to lower the center of gravity of the pilot-machine couple, favoring stability during rapid maneuvers.

The motor-bikes were piloted by soldiers of various morphologies, often more threadlike, lighter but powerful in the legs. The electric motor was an important assistance when it was necessary to climb a hill, from where a less strict requisition than for the bicycles, but the efforts remained important. Power and endurance were the qualities demanded during this type of joust.

It was especially the case when the front was always moving. It was not rare that the ground had a slope, and in these cases, it was necessary to be very clever to assign the good soldiers in the good team. Today that the front was fixed in a region without notable relief, it was of less importance.

Piloting a motor-bike was not the major factor. The talent was secondary to the physique. The result was often dictated by who was stronger; the tactics, the environmental conditions, the game intelligence, the overall vision, it was not what dictated the result of the joust.

Physical condition had never been the strong point of the third regiment. The beefy were more willingly sent to the southern fronts. In addition, the coalesced did not possess an effective detection program. Admittedly an early detection policy in elementary school was in place, but the training took years, and then the children also took years to reach the age they could fight. These promising programs could only take effect in three years, when the first promotion from early detection would be of age to be sent to be killed.

In the meantime, the coalesced usually suffered this second joust. This had always been the case, even in the early years of the war, when everything was going well. The gap between the coalesced and their enemy had widened since the massive arrival of money from the Grenati family.

The latter had recruited several former professional teams and especially their medical and pharmaceutical staff. Faced with these athletes, the coalesced team suffered from the comparison.

It was rare for Moa that his counter did not display a two-digit number after this joust.

Moa glanced at those who were about to die and still saluted their superiors. He still had a task to do and knowing a little more before the start was never bad.

Normally, this joust being the least profitable for the coalesced, they tended to send unwanted people in the army.

The third regiment received a lot of mails on daily basis. On those mails, many people complained because it was fun to complain. One of the main complains was about the immersion into TV programs. They said that the program was immersive enough only if they could find familiar faces in teams. Seeing a familiar face surviving a joust was delightful it brighten their day, seeing him dying made their emotion overwhelm. The impact was not the same if they saw perfect unknown soldiers that changed each day. They couldn't be emotionally attached to strangers.

So the executive couldn't cut, reading day after day the same complains was tiring and they decided to put a permanent team of a few soldiers whose role was i) staying alive, ii) coordinate the others, iii) being handsome and appealing for advertising purpose. As their role was important, they were entitled to a bonus and a few benefits in kind, including the privilege of not queuing at the mess.

The number was made of the scraps of the army. Sentenced for x reason, x being improper behavior, insubordination, refusal to share his dessert at the mess, crime of dirty mouth, in short more or less serious crimes. To this waste were added a few veterans whose survival instinct was too developed and who were starting to cost the army a little dear.

The rain was falling onto the incessant line of soldiers. Normally, the squad was not very large. Often, to limit casualties to their bare minimum, it only contain the minimum of soldiers the army had to send according to the rules, with a margin of error of five percent because it was necessary to take this margin if a problem arose. There were penalties when an insufficient number of soldiers were sent in a joust and those penalties were prohibitive. They were financial, and the army could not afford it.

One day, the coalesced had attempted to send a single soldier who was killed in seconds. The outcry that followed had been immense; the previous penalty had not been dissuasive enough, so the implementation of astronomic fines. Never again, it had been the reasoning of the FWJ, a large fine, corresponding to the loss of profit of the television channels broadcasting live had been decided, and certain channels tended to artificially inflate their losses.

Today there were many, too many soldiers. The strategists had prepared something. It was certainly the reason why the briefing had dragged on that morning. Many of these soldiers were normally part of the squad that participated in the third game. Moa recognized many of them, knew a few, including one of these neighbors, who owned an apartment in the same residence as him.

After having taken shelter in his dressing room, Pom reappeared. The ads were over and the attention of the world was returned to the jousts. He was wearing a pink anorak with a hood. The rain could permeate the cotton of his regulatory jacket and it would have hampered his movements.

The whistle blew. The second game started.

The start of the motor-bikes was not comparable to that of the mopeds, much less spectacular, at least in Moa's eyes.

As soon as the kick-off was given, the Grenati army set in motion. The coalesced did not even have time to enter into formation when a first wave swept over them. Moa knew well the jousts and the various formations the teams played in and he was surprised not to recognize the one used at this moment. New formation, innovation, this was not frequent. So, the coalesced were not the only ones who wanted to surprise their opponents...

Tonight it was certain that special programs would analyze the tactics of the Grenati. This would allow the coalesced to make adjustments and to adapt but for the moment, they had to trust the collective intelligence of the team in place to cope.

Its intelligence was not very high however and quickly, the right flank was destabilized and a breach was opened.

Moa knew his counter was going to be opened.

Could another outcome have been expected? No, it was impossible. There was an inherent flaw in the motor-bike team, its turnover which did not allow attaining cohesion, a collective understanding that more experienced teams, over the course of the innumerable jousts, managed to approach. It was not improvised in a single joust, on the job.

One of the permanent members of the team was however quick to react, and he began to mobilize the right flank in a retreat maneuver. The order was unfortunately not well interpreted by one of the soldiers; a new renegade according to Moa and the latter did not do the right maneuver and collided with two of his teammates. The ground was made slightly slippery by the rain and even if the soldier managed to keep control of his motor-bike and returned to the ranks, the other two were not so lucky.

The fall in itself was not severe. The speed was moderate and the concussions in this kind of situation were generally limited to a few bruises and the skin burned at the level of the forearms. The two motor-bikes were intertwined on the ground. The front wheel of one of the machines saw its spokes broken and come to intersect with those of the rear wheel of the other motor-bike.

The situation was becoming critical. One of the two unfortunates started to run but instead of heading towards his camp, he faced the Grenati troops. He shouted 'carrot' well in the hope of stopping the assault which was heading towards him but in vain. This rule was only in effect during the first joust.

At the same time, a detachment of the Grenati assault team took advantage of this diversion to leave the main body and to isolate a pilot who was hesitant to go and help his two comrades.

It was a fairly common tactic but a feint that only worked on the least experienced soldiers. As the coalesced squad included many of these rookies, it worked every time.

Moa hated this tactic, resulting in two hot spots in two different places. Despite a vain intensive training in the hope of developing exotropia, so that one eye could target a different place independently of the other, certainly losing the depth of vision but allowing him to know what is going on, he nevertheless still could not focus his gaze on two separate locations.

Moa squinted, a sign that his level of attention was increasing. He knew that the probability that this action would result in one or even several deaths increased as the Grenati troops progressed. Furthermore, despite the efforts of the team's permanent staff, the fall had somewhat disorganized the defense line and part of the troops was under threat of encirclement.

Under these conditions, the encirclement would result in a massacre and not forgetting a dead person would be a miracle, even for Moa.

On the battlefield, the soldier who had rushed towards the Grenati troops had returned to himself and blaming his color blindness, he had turned around and ran towards the sideline to request a substitution. His partner, who had fallen with him, managed to untangle the two motor-bikes and pedaled hard to join his forces. Estimating their relative speeds, he would not succeed.

In a few seconds, and unless there was a miracle, the next day's funeral oration would find its first name to honor.

At that moment, no one had noticed it yet, but a coalesced pilot was crossing the maneuvering field at full speed, at least the maximum speed that a motor-bike could reach. Standing on his pedals, as a dancer as the intelligentsia of cycling said, electric motor at full capacity, he had left his position and was heading towards the fallen soldier who had then climbed back on his motor-bike.

Moa was one of the first to see him. The scene had escaped his scope, which was not very professional but nobody would have blamed him in this case. Then, little by little, everyone came to the realization that he was there, teammates who encouraged him, enemies who were trying to end his mad race.

The projectiles began to fly all around him, like a cloud of small annoying insects, a summer evening, when they were flying around you. The pilot did not care; if they had been real insects, he would have swallowed a few; he wouldn't have made the effort to get rid of them with a wave of his hand. But they were not insects but projectiles and their path left no doubt about their target. It buzzed all around his ears but it was like he couldn't hear them. His gaze was fixed on his target, his colleague a short distance from him.

Moa recognized his neighbor, Harry Cover. Harry was a friendly neighbor, although not very close to him, they greeted each other when they crossed paths.

His motor-bike finally managed to disrupt the progress of the pursuit launched against the coalesced soldier. Harry forked and managed to take the wheel of the latter, benefiting of the aspiration to catch his breath and at the same time serving as a human shield. After a few meters, he accelerated and ordered his colleague to make a small effort to shelter from the wind and thus he carried him in the main body of his troops.

At the same time, it was the Grenati soldiers who found themselves disorganized and their surrounding maneuver failed.

There was one last hot spot and the lone soldier did not have the luck of his colleagues.

No one had yet come to his rescue. The only ones around him were Grenati soldiers who raped him on the top of the head with a sharp blow, followed by a side blow that quickly disjoined at least two cervical joints. He thus displayed morphology incompatible with normal human physiology. The spinal cord was broken clean, blood spilled from his cranium, he convulsed twice before falling, his eyes closing despite his spam.

He was dead.

It was a clean death as Moa preferred them. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if a soldier was really dead, pretending to be dead, or just being seriously injured and in a comatose state.

Because of their equipment, especially the different protective gears, it was difficult to recognize a slight breath from an absence of breath. And training well, a soldier could hold his breath for a certain time and Moa had no leisure to observe it for too long, at the risk of missing other events of the battle.

For Moa, the best way to tell if a soldier was still breathing was to watch his nostrils. The blood which did not fail to accumulate around these orifices was disturbed by the flow of inspired or exhaled air and the muscles around reacted subtly, even when the soldier tried to hold his breath. Still it was necessary that his face was discernible from the position of Moa, and for once, it was, and the distance separating him from the body of the deceased did not require any particular effort to conclude on his situation as a corpse.

Moa's counter displayed one.