The Way of All Flesh: Illusions Can Be Real

by Corey Furman

  Eight

  Joss had become a different person by the time the fourth year of his tour was done. Extreme heartache and the rigors of military life had contended with the deep emotional attachment he had formed with his platoon, and the infrequent, asynchronous contact he’d had with Riss back on Earth over the interstellar nets. Azul had been reassigned the year before, but Breylin had been true to his word to let him have his head while they were together. In return, Azul had treated him with the respect he typically saved for the sergeants, advising him and counseling him on how to manage people who depend on each other for their lives. Breylin put it all into practice well – if not perfect – and the platoon respected him for it.

  After Nakamura’s trauma and while he recuperated, Azul had Styers step in during Nakamura’s convalescence to lead the squad. Within a month, LT had promoted her to Sgt. She spent most of her free time with Nakamura, though; initially she assisted Headly with tending his injuries, but she quickly took over the responsibility. Before the end of that year, the two of them had come to Azul and Breylin to ask for permission to get married. It was against regulation, since this was technically a forward position, but Nakamura and Styers were high-speed low-drag grunts. Breylin figured he could take whatever little heat it might generate, if any. Once the news was out though, it became popular with the rank and file to call Nakamura Mr. Styers behind his back. The scuttlebutt got back to him anyway, but to his credit he took to wearing it like a badge. In the end, it was the name tag on his uniforms that had to change, not hers. When their tour was up though, she opted to leave the service, while he stayed on with the stipulation of staying on Zarmina’s World. They rented a small, ratty apartment in the city, and stayed there a long time after.

  There were other changes, of course. Some of the Marines earned rank, including Pelligrino who finally earned her rocker. First tours for the enlisted were four years in length, but for those who reenlisted they moved around on a two or three year cycle thereafter. The men and women came and went, but the unit cohesion stayed pretty much the same.

  It was the Styers’ union that got Joss to rethinking the plans that he and Riss had laid out. Moving to Greenland would provide them with fascinating geologic studies for the rest of their lifetimes, as well as keep them on Earth near her parents. But it had been so long since he had seen his queen that maybe, just maybe, Riss might also be willing to reconsider their plans.

  Unfortunately, personal communications were relegated to the low priority bands on the interstellar nets. Transmission one way could take a month, and sometimes a month and a half. To avoid a whole lot of back and forth, he would need to be succinct, yet passionate and honest.

  For hours that night, he wrote and rewrote his thoughts. He printed them out, paced and spoke them aloud with varied inflections. He balled them up and threw them on the floor. After midnight he was no closer, only exasperated with his own inability to trap the right words. He gave up and hit the rack.

  The next morning after PT and chow, a tired Joss took a cup of coffee, the blackest stuff the synthesizers would make, to his office. He closed the door, sat down, and punched up the recorder. He knew what needed to be said, but he hadn’t collected his thoughts and he was afraid he’d screw it up. It was best to just get it out. Nervousness was a feeling he wasn’t used to, and sweat soaked his fatigues under his arms and sheened his forehead, but he was as ready as he was going to get. He took what he hoped were a few cleansing breaths, and he flicked the button to Record.

  “My Queen… I love you, Riss, more than life itself.” He exhaled forcefully through his moustache and continued. “These four long years that we have been apart have been hard on me, more than I can say, and yet we have two more to go. The thought crushes me,” he said as he mimed squeezing something with his hand. “I know the distance between us pains you too, and I am sorry that I can’t protect you from it. This may have been our plan, but it’s had a heavy price – to use your words.

  Riss, would you think through an alternative, if it would bring us together now? If we were to consider leaving Earth and build our lives here, we could do it. We would have to book civilian passage for you, which might bust a huge chunk of our reserves, but there’s beautiful mountains to the north, and unused houses in little settlements that I think I can get for the price of signing up with the gas mining companies. Parts of Zarmina are desolate, but where we would live can be breathtaking. We will do as you wish, mistress of my heart, but I beg you to consider the idea.” He pressed Stop, and thought for a half second that he should record it again. When his stomach protested at the notion with rumbles of nasty bile, he pushed Send before he could reconsider further, and as he bolted from his office towards the head, he just hoped it wouldn’t be three months before he heard back. He was about to release the water his bowels had turned to, and very likely he would also vomit his breakfast between his legs, but he laughed anyway, knowing that the message was already speeding away on its journey across the interstellar medium, that the mission had been accomplished.

  Nearly five weeks later, the platoon had mustered in environmental suits for cold weather training. It was three months past the start of the storm season, and the atmosphere was putting on a really spectacular lightning show. It wouldn’t matter where they were heading, though; fifty eight clicks to the east it was expected to be white out conditions. The temperature was largely irrelevant – as long as they weren’t training in EV suit failure mode; the real training was just getting use to performing in the suit with the visor in place.

  Cpl. Coohill, who had charge of quarters duty, came running out to the grunts as they were mounting the transport. “LT!

  There’s a priority one message on the holocomm!”

  Breylin’s gut tightened. “Priority one holocomm? What the hell? You ever receive one before, Gunny?”

  “Nope. We’ll hold in place until you sort it out, LT,” said Trastman, the platoon sergeant who took over for Azul.

  “Thanks. I’ll be back ASAP,” he said as he dismounted and moved out smartly.

  He brought up his comm panel in his office, hoping that it was just some crazy unit readiness test from Command, and not orders to respond to a real threat. Breylin was no coward – none of these people were – but he didn’t want to be called upon to use deadly force. One of the few lessons he had learned as an officer candidate that Azul had confirmed was to avoid needing to draw a weapon, if at all possible. If that wasn’t an option, then act with finality.

  When Joss brought up the holo and the face materialized, his heart skipped a few beats – it was Larissa. “My darling Joss, I miss you. Every day I think the hole in my life, the one shaped like you, can’t get any larger, but it is a hungry thing. It devours a little bit more of the world, and the color of what remains is a little more washed out. I long to cross this chasm between us.

  “But… it is a hard thing you ask. It would probably mean that I would never see my parents again. We would miss Greenland too, though I think you were more in love with that than I was. I’ve talked it over with my Mom and Dad; she thinks it’s charming that you would sacrifice so much for us to be together. Dad hates the idea that he wouldn’t be able to spend time with our kids. You do still want to have kids, right? You’d better, Mr. Breylin!

  “I don’t know if I like the idea, Joss. I’m just not ready to throw that big of a switch.

  “Now don’t get too worked up… I do need you, my heart, so here is what I’ve decided and already set in motion: we’ll try it out for a couple of months. It has put a big dent in our savings, but I’ve bought a one way ticket out to that rock. Just think, I am in hyper-sleep right now as you are watching this!

  “I am coming in on a civilian transport, the Wunderkind. We should make planetfall in about seven weeks. You should see the ship, Joss! It’s huge and shiny, and… oh hell, it’s not like I’ll get to enjoy the trip! I’ve got the good end of the deal – I’ll slip into sleep and
practically wake up in the arms of my knight and protector… but you will have to stew on the anticipation… I’d like to be able to say that I’m sorry, but I much prefer the idea that you’ll be more than ready to receive me. I am the queen, am I not? You’ll probably have your way though, both with me, and where we settle. Don’t count on it though – a queen will exercise her options.

  “Now, I insist that you get everything done before I arrive, Joss Breylin Jr. You know how I’m all about business, and we’ve got plenty of it to get through.”

  Larissa blew him a breathy kiss, and the image faded.

  He sat there stunned. She was coming? Just like that?

  All of a sudden he felt a little nauseous, light-headed, and alive. It was if instead of racing, his heart had just started beating.

  He let the thrill pleasantly chime through him for maybe another thirty seconds, and then he got his ass moving. Marines don’t think about liberty until the mission was done.

  Joss tried to contact some low-level administrator by the name of Cole in Twilight to find out how he might go about using a flat in one of the unused settlements, but the guy kept putting him off. After a week, Joss had had enough. He had two of his biggest people gear up, and the three of them drove in to see the guy in person. It’s easy to blow somebody off over comms, but he might not be so brave with three grunts on his door step.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to make time to speak with you… Lieutenant, is it?” he said as he mopped his brow with a damp, sweat stained handkerchief.

  He was middle aged, balding, and so obviously bored that Breylin wondered if he might be in danger of slipping into a coma. The heat in his office was making him sweat profusely, and the languid overhead fan did nothing but push small, hellish puffs around. Overall, it was the sort of workplace no one could be happy in, and Cole was probably giving him a hassle just to make life interesting. “Yes, lieutenant. LT. Breylin – I command the detached platoon that keeps station at the edge of town. Surely you’ve seen our patrols, Mr. Cole.”

  With only a huge dollop of sarcasm he said, “you might think so, but I’m sure I haven’t. Do you see much combat here on Zarmina, Lieutenant?”

  Breylin ground his teeth. The little piss-ant’s going to make this as difficult as possible, isn’t he… “No. If we did, you would have noticed. That sort of thing tends to be spectacular.”

  “You’re probably right,” he said, sounding as if he was tiring of his own game. With a wave of his hand, he continued. “So what is it that you think I might be able to do for you?”

  “I would like permission to use a house in one of the settlements to the north for a few weeks, maybe as long as two months.”

  “Did you have a particular settlement in mind?”

  “Yes – Amity Canyon.”

  He appeared thoughtful, but then he said, “oh, I don’t think that will be possible, Lieutenant…”

  Joss began to silently pray that his back teeth didn’t snap from the force of his grinding before he got out of this man’s office. “And why is that, sir?”

  “Well… you see,” he said in the most patronizing voice he’d ever heard, “those houses are reserved for company-sponsored settlers. Quite honestly, young man, the company can’t afford to have soldiers tearing them up,” he said with another run at his forehead with that filthy rag.

  “Marines, sir,” Breylin said quietly, dangerously. “We are not soldiers.”

  One of the Marines spoke up. “LT, I’m not sure he understands who is keeping his streets safe.”

  “Oh, come now,” he said in a tone set on full patronize, “I think corporate security is able to keep things under control in our little city.”

  “That bunch of candy-asses? I could —”

  Breylin held his hand up and the grunt fell silent instantly. After a few seconds Breylin said, “Can you tell me what the plan is if you should have another simulant revolt?”

  He faltered for a moment, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “We would call you, of course. Our people aren’t equipped to deal with that sort of thing. But that has only ever happened once,” he said dismissively.

  “I know,” said Breylin. “I was there. One of my men was seriously wounded trying to save your settlers. It’s a good thing he isn’t in the room, or worse yet, his wife. You might find their response… excessive.”

  Bored guy took a few seconds to blink while the words sank in, and then he sat back in his creaking, burdened chair, threw the rag on the desk and considered Breylin over steepled fingertips. “Well now,” he said. “That’s very interesting, Lieutenant… and maybe it changes a few things.”

  “Favorably, I hope.”

  “That depends on your perspective,” he said with humorless eyes. He sat forward again and rested his forearms on the desk, clearly becoming attentive. “I might be able to use some of my authority to provide you with what you need…”

  So, he can be pushed, he thought. But only so far. “What do you want, Cole?”

  “Well, let’s see. Is there any chance this arrangement might become permanent?”

  “Possibly – I may opt to stay on world at the completion of my assignment, depending on whether or not I am offered a job with one of the mining companies.”

  He responded quickly. “I can help with that, too.”

  “All these favors,” Breylin countered. “I’m guessing you won’t be providing me with anything out of your generous, good nature. In fact, the cost’ll be high, I’d imagine.”

  “I want something in return for my help, of course.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ll make sure you’re offered a job when the time is right, and I’ll guarantee you whatever residence up there in backwater Amity you chose are part of the terms. The rest of the agreement will be decided then. Whatever you’re offered, you’ll accept.”

  “You don’t want much, do you? Those houses’ll never be used again, and you know it.”

  “Maybe… but you get peace of mind knowing my company will definitely hire you,” he said. “It’s not just a house, is it? Security’s what I’m offering you, Lieutenant.”

  Breylin sighed heavily, knowing the guy had him. “Fine.”

  “Excellent…” Cole turned to his console and banged away at it for a couple of minutes, and a sheet of paper whispered its way out of a slot below the screen. He took it and placed it on the desk in front of Joss with a pen.

  “What’s this?” Breylin said with a gesture.

  “It’s a promissory note between you and my company. You sign now, you get your house now.”

  “Sign it? No one does this anymore – everything’s done with thumbprints.”

  “Call me quaint.” He handed Joss the pen, eyes now full of life. “Sign it,” he said lasciviously.

  “You want me to sign it? Here’s your quaint signature.” Breylin rushed to his feet, drew his Kabar and with a massive overhand swing drove three quarters of its length through the sheet and the desktop beneath it. The blood grooves along its keen edge had whistled on its way down, but the impact had been like a thunderclap in his stale, hot office. Joss leaned towards him with his fists down on the surface and did everything he could to nail him to his chair with his eyes.

  Cole looked up at him poleaxed and sweating twice as hard. “Holy shit! What the hell is wrong with you?” He shook his head. “You’ve ruined my friggin desk!”

  “I have two other fighting knives at my disposal, Cole,” he spat back. “Do you want anything else signed?”

  “Whatever,” he said trying to sound cool. He pushed himself back from the edge of the desk, Breylin, and his knife. “Have at it, Lieutenant. Pick a place and it’s yours.”

  “Thank you, sir. You can keep the blade.”

  As the Marines were leaving the guy called out, “Make sure you don’t destroy the place, will ya?”

  Joss paused and nearly turned around, but he decid
ed to let the door close between them instead. Let him have the last word. He’d gotten everything he’d come for, and maybe a bit more.

  Joss had taken very little liberty his entire tour – only for a few rock hounding excursions at a couple of days a piece. He had even lost a few this past service anniversary because he had been over the maximum allowed. Even so, he was able to block out the two full months Riss would be on world.

  The memories of what had happened at Amity Canyon weren’t painful, but they were still quite vivid to Joss. Of the two houses at the top, he chose the one he hadn’t needed to search. If the view wasn’t quite as good as it was from the other, it would still be great.

  Gunny made the whole platoon available to help get the place in order. The work got done, but since a break in the storms presented itself, it became more of a party.

  The inside was old and dusty from long disuse, but it was still furnished. The previous occupants must’ve died here, Joss decided, with all of the personal items scattered about the place. He found quite a few holos on the walls, clothes in the drawers and toiletries in the bathroom. There was even food still in the cabinets. None of the stuff had been thought of in at least a couple of decades. All of it went into boxes that were loaded into their seldom used lorry. With the squads more or less rotating, everything was carted out and the house was cleaned fast, paving the way for the serious business of picnic-style chow and tossing a couple of balls back and forth. Everyone had a great time, and Breylin knew that a better platoon didn’t exist.

  He got food in the place, and he had salvaged the towels and sheets and the like. He let the water run for a couple of hours. As a final touch, he made a couple of 2D hard copies of holos of their parents and hung them up in some salvaged frames in the kitchen.