"Her position bore the brunt of the UNPF counterattack, and the platoon at her right flank was destroyed. Sergeant Pacelli received orders to retreat to clear the way for close air support. At that point, communications failed.
"Heedless of her own safety, Sergeant Pacelli ran more than two hundred meters through enemy fire, becoming wounded in the left arm in the process, and ordered her squad individually to withdraw as she returned, destroying three reconnaissance drones en route. Finding Militia Private Adam Warren injured and immobile, she carried him from the area, still engaging the enemy with her weapon. While doing so, she was wounded in the left leg.
"Finally able to relinquish her casualty to Reserve Corporal Drake, she turned and reengaged the enemy with rifle fire and grenades, accounting for an estimated twelve casualties, ensuring the safe retreat of her squad and keeping the enemy in the target area. She had no cover and was surrounded on all sides by enemy troops."
Well, yes, she thought. But I wasn't trying to be brave. There was nothing else to do. And it sounds like I was a one-woman army, the way they say it.
The adjutant was still reciting: "At that time, close air support attacked the enemy on her right flank, delivering ordnance within ten meters of her unprotected position. Immediately the craft was clear, she again engaged the enemy. Out of ammunition, she fought hand to hand and secured an enemy weapon. She resumed shooting, accounting for an estimated sixteen more casualties. During the course of the battle, she was wounded a third time and injured by a drone that she destroyed.
"She held her position as six squads approached, then charged forward through their fire to retrieve a second casualty, Militia Private Daniel DaSoto. Shouldering him, she retreated to the cover of a downed tree and defended the position and Private DaSoto for the remainder of the battle, accounting for another nineteen estimated casualties. Unable to advance through her fire and that of her squad, the enemy finally broke and surrendered. Her captured weapon held three remaining rounds.
"Sergeant Pacelli's actions led directly to the success of the battle, saved the remaining lives of her platoon and of more than two hundred and fifty other soldiers on the ridge, who, without her selfless efforts, would have been engaged at close range and overwhelmed. It is certain that without her actions, the battle would have been lost and the war's rapid end not achieved without much greater combat and loss of life.
"The courage, honor and devotion to duty and to her unit and nation displayed by Senior Sergeant Kendra Anne Pacelli, above and beyond that normally expected of soldiers of the Freehold in the face of battle, reflect great credit upon herself and the Freehold Military Forces and set the standard by which others will be judged."
"Signed under my hand, this nineteen September, two hundred and eleven, Citizen Patrick Chinratana, Speaker for the Citizen's Council, by unanimous vote."
The so far silent crowd let loose a few gasps at that revelation.
Kendra was still stunned and weak-kneed as the marshal draped the ribbon over her head. She remembered almost too late to lower her head to help. She straightened to thousands of camera eyes fixing her. She waited for a few seconds, knowing they had to have their invasion of her privacy, then made hurriedly to leave, remembered the marshal and turned back. He reached out and shook hands very sincerely. "It is an honor to serve with you, Warrant Leader," he said and saluted. Oops! she thought. I missed the salute. They'll forgive me, I hope. She snapped her best response and waited for him. "Thank you, sir," she said, unable to manage more.
After several seconds, the adjutant behind her coughed slightly. She suddenly recalled that this decoration, by regulation and tradition, meant anyone of any rank had to salute her. She dropped it quickly and the marshal dropped his. She turned to leave and as she descended the steps heard above her, "Forces!"
Shouted orders rippled across the field from subordinate echelons, army down to battalion, with gaps due to casualties. It ended with a flurry of shouted, "Company!"
"By my command, pre-sent . . . arms!"
Flustered and overwhelmed, she popped her arm up quickly, then resumed her march back to her slot. Thunderous applause surrounded her, going on enthusiastically for long seconds.
Rob and Marta steadied her. "Brace up, girl," Rob said.
"I'm about to cry," she whispered. She was bursting with sweat, tingling and shaking, and everything sounded even more distant than her implant already made things. Another speaker was adding some words that she knew she should listen to politely. She was too distracted.
"You're allowed," Rob said. "No one doubts your courage."
"You knew about this, didn't you?" she asked.
"Yes," he admitted. "I had to help reconstruct my run, as well as I remember. Which isn't much."
"Bastard!" she said, smiling. Tears were running, but she was happy.
"Love, regardless of what you think, you were suicidally brave. Anyone else would have turned and run," Marta told her.
"Call me stupid," she said. "It never occurred to me . . . because I thought we were already dead."
Rob didn't tell her that Naumann had consulted with him as to whether or not she'd accept the medal. Additional merit was added because she was an expatriate from the enemy side. They weren't sure how she'd feel about that so it wasn't mentioned. He didn't tell her either that she'd been put in for a commendation for her work on the attack on Earth. He knew she wouldn't want any reminders of that.
"You are very much alive," he told her, as they applauded the speech. None of them had heard it. Few others had, either. "And are going to stay that way."
"Attention to orders. To all whom these presents come, greeting," the adjutant shouted, without amplification. They all braced and became silent. "Posthumous citation to accompany the award of the Citizen's Medal. Private Aaron, David J. Corporal Abraham, Lois L. Private Allan, Nicolas M. Lieutenant Andries, Jack C. Senior Sergeant Atama, Mvumbu K. Sergeant Babbage, Charles A. Operative Benitez, Rojero G. Captain Botan, Vera L. Operative By The, Jade S . . ." the list went on for long segs to absolute silence from the crowd. Over two hundred names were read. The adjutant was crying openly, but her voice was firm. " . . . Costlow, Derek L . . ." made Rob hiss and close his eyes. Kendra twitched as she heard " . . . Senior Sergeant Romar, Jelsie C . . ." She briefly closed her eyes and prayed. For Jelsie, she made it a Druidic prayer. "The above named members of First, Second, Third and Fourth Special Warfare Regiments distinguished themselves by unsurpassed courage and valor during the system battle of thirty-four April, two hundred and eleven. These men and women voluntarily infiltrated the U.N. and U.N. held stations and space facilities throughout the system, armed with explosives, and destroyed the intelligence and support infrastructure of the occupation forces. All accepted this assignment knowing it meant their deaths. Their sacrifice allowed the planetside forces to engage a superior enemy force with greatly reduced intelligence and strategic threats. Without their unwavering loyalty, the war would have been lost.
"The courage, honor and devotion to duty and nation displayed by these soldiers, above and beyond that normally expected of soldiers of the Freehold in the face of battle, reflect the highest credit upon themselves and the Freehold Military Forces and set the standard by which others will be judged."
"Signed under my hand, this nineteen September, two hundred and eleven, Citizen Patrick Chinratana, speaker for the Citizen's Council, by unanimous vote."
There was absolute silence for seconds that dragged on seemingly forever. Finally, shouted orders in the distance broke it and the skirl of bagpipes drowned out the twitters of birds. Kendra was just glad she wasn't the only person almost blind with tears. Besides the pipes, there were volleys of rifle salutes, and five Hatchets screamed low overhead, one pitching up and roaring vertically out of sight in an ages-old tribute. She could see Rob staring wistfully at the craft he'd never fly again.
Then she had to stay for the reception in the awardees honor. Everyone immediately joined the line that
filed slowly past the slabs of malachite and black marble that bore the names of the two hundred and six soldiers whose deaths had made it possible for her to even fight. There was palpable silence, the visitors keeping quiet in awed respect as they stared through the monument into their own thoughts.
There was Jelsie. She ran her fingers across the incised letters, then bent to kiss them. She would find out what information was available about Jelsie's mission. She was sure she'd been enthusiastic and willing, even knowing the cost.
Naumann stood at the far end and nodded to her as she approached. He saluted her, which embarrassed her, and she returned it. Then he introduced the man with him, who was in UN uniform. "Kendra, this is General Meyer, the UN commander from the ridge."
Meyer threw a sharp UN salute, which she returned in kind. "An honor to meet you, Warrant Leader," he said. "I'm grateful that at least some of the bravest survived. I just wish we'd been able to have more people of your caliber on our side." His tone was ironic, rather than angry at her circumstances.
"Thank you, sir," she replied. They stared awkwardly for a few seconds and she turned her attention back to Naumann. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't think I deserve this, sir," she said, indicating her medal. "All I did was what I had to."
He looked at her with what she thought was the most gentle expression she'd ever seen from him. "Kendra, the after-action review showed three clear divisions of force on the bluff: air support down one line and across the base, a similar line where the explosives got them and a location just above that where the casualty density was simply appalling and they couldn't move past it. They ran into the proverbial brick wall. All witnesses agree—there was one squad there, and one lone soldier with a rifle out in front. You. We probably would have won without you, but you saved hundreds of lives."
A sudden wave of realization swept through her. She'd saved lives. All her thoughts had been on those she killed directly, but there were several times as many who'd survived because of it. That take on things improved her spirit immensely. She tried to stifle a grin, realized how silly it must look, grinned anyway and nodded. "Thank you, sir," she said and saluted. Then she caught herself again—he had to salute her. It didn't seem proper.
Rob and Marta were joined by Drew and the three kept her covered from assault from the rear. She still had hordes of people in front, wanting to shake her hand, beg autographs, thank her for saving them or a family member, asking if she knew so-and-so.
"Well done, Warrant Leader," someone said. She returned a salute, nodded and took the hand. The booming voice was familiar. Then it registered.
"Sergeant Carpender!" she said, surprised. Her old instructor.
"Warrant Leader Carpender now, but yes. Thank you for honoring me by setting such an amazing example," he said.
"No, sir," she argued. "Thank you for your training. I'd be dead without it."
He joined the entourage and they sought some semblance of privacy, Rob rounding up security personnel from 3rd Mob to help keep the crowd back.
"I'd just retired," Carpender told her, "and suddenly was back in action. I skulked around Falling Rock and kept them busy." Kendra nodded. She'd heard about Falling Rock and his description seemed to be too mild.
They chatted for a few segs, the crowd slowly dissipating. Finally, Kendra said, "I need to get out of here. It's embarrassing. But you are always welcome to visit us."
"Yes," Marta agreed. "We'd be honored."
Carpender grinned and said, "I can't refuse an honored invitation from this family. Thanks, I will."
They said goodbye and her bodyguards whisked her to a staff car, thoughtfully provided by Naumann. They gave the pilot directions and headed home.
They were again made aware of the injuries they'd all suffered by Rob getting airsick. He was highly embarrassed. No one else mentioned it. Just one more reminder of the horrors now behind them.
Epilogue
"It is well that war is so terrible, or we should get too fond of it."
—General Robert E. Lee
It was good to be together with her lovers again, Kendra thought. Or maybe "at last" was more accurate. She found she was comfortable with Marta now. They were together in Marta's huge bed, gasping and sweating from electric exertions. In the bare few seconds between sex and conversation, she reflected on the events of the last few segs.
Marta had tensed as Rob entered her, but seemed to relax immediately. Her muscles and sinews had stood out clearly as she screamed in pleasure and that was a clear indication that her emotional scars were healing. Nor had Kendra protested when Mar dragged her into a scorching embrace. Mingled scents, tastes, the feathery touches of hair and questing lips and fingers that she used to find sensuous were now orgasmic in intensity and she neither knew nor cared which of them was exciting her.
Eventually words were spoken, interrupting her thoughts, along with long kisses and stretching. "Thank you, love," Marta said to her, hugging her close. "I feel a lot better."
"I'm glad," she replied.
Rob gathered them both in and held them. "That was better than I remembered . . . but my memory is a bit shaky. Better remind me often," he grinned at the dark humor.
Marginally uncomfortable, Kendra asked, "So, what are you planning? You mentioned something?"
"I got a contract with Lawjin Orbital. They need a system installation monitored and renovation of the surviving equipment. I'll be supervising the other contractors," he explained. "It's a start and I'm sure there'll be repair work to be done. I was going to apply for a pilot slot with Higgins Recovery, but . . ." He tapered off. He'd never fly again. He had no implant for high-performance craft and was subject to occasional disorientation. He could perhaps fly a private craft over empty wilderness, if he felt suicidal.
Marta said, "And I got lucky. Bellefontaine is back in business. They agreed to take me on a month-to-month contract. I'll be hostessing and doing guest escort. As soon as the nets are completely back, I've got an ad in place. I lowered my rates to start with, but I'll boost them again as soon as possible. There'll still be a market for my pictorial work, although outsystem is harder to collect on.""Are you okay with Bellefontaine?" Kendra asked, gripping her hand.
"I'm fine, love," Marta assured her. "Really. Occasional nightmares," she admitted, "but no conscious problems. How about you?"
"I'm okay," Kendra agreed. Mostly because she'd seen what happened to Marta and realized the difference in scale. And one did get used to pain with practice, but she wasn't going to say that. "I'm glad the UN did pay my back pay, but considering how much hassle it was to get that out of them when I said I wasn't going back, I'm really glad I didn't. It's a decent chunk of cash. I'm on orders through the end of the year. After that, I don't know.
"Maybe I'll take up gardening."
Military Glossary
Airfac:
Air facility. Aviation depot on an FMF base.
* * *
Antarm:
Pilot shorthand for "Antiarmor." Used to voice activate weapons.
Avatar:
UN air superiority aircraft.
Ayda:
Pilot shorthand for ADA, or Air Defense Artillery. Used to voice designate a threat or a target in the combat environment.
* * *
AO:
Area of operations. Delineates a geographic region of military responsibility.
* * *
Black Operations:
The elite FMF clandestine special warfare units. Trained to acquire intelligence, construct improvised munitions and disrupt enemy operations behind the lines or even in enemy home territory. Also conducts active espionage and counter-terrorist operations.
Blazer:
The elite FMF special warfare tactical units or soldiers assigned to them. Units consist of, among others, Combat Air Control, Combat Rescue, Roving Reconnaissance, Insurgency Instruction and Combat Pioneer.
Break:
Call word used to indicate the end of one tra
nsmission and the beginning of another.
Bro:
Pilot shorthand for "broadcast," used to instruct the system to transmit to all units.
Butterfly:
An antipersonnel bomblet shaped roughly like a butterfly, with explosives in the body. It creates incapacitating minor wounds, typically to the feet.
CAP:
Acronym for Combat air patrol. Aircraft aloft, armed and patrolling for potential threats over a military position.
Charlie:
Rearmost unit in an operation, from "Tail-end Charlie."
Citation for Courage:
(CfC) Third highest FMF combat decoration. Awarded for "Conspicuous courage under enemy fire."
Citizen's Medal:
(CM) Highest FMF combat decoration. Awarded for "Outstanding selfless bravery and personal sacrifice in battle." Usually awarded posthumously.
Dez:
Pilot shorthand for "designation."
Dragonbreath:
See M-41
Eecee:
Pilot shorthand for "electronic countermeasures."
ELINT:
Electronic intelligence boat. Command and Control and intelligence gathering spacecraft of the FMF.
Emp:
An Electromagnetic pulse weapon.
Envi:
Pilot shorthand for "Environment." Refers to the sensory input received through the helmet and cockpit controls.
Fitrep:
Fitness report. Necessary approval for promotion or retention.
Flashbang:
Stun grenade that generates high-intensity light and loud report, but minimal blast. Casualties are still possible.
FMF:
Freehold Military Forces.
The unified defense structure of the Freehold of Grainne. Consists of ground, air, orbital, space and support units.
Guardian:
UNPF close support vertol, maneuverable, well armored, adequately armed but not as well as the Hatchet.
GUV:
General utility vehicle. Carries a six-person infantry team. Can be rigged as an ambulance, gun platform, mortar, missile or other support weapon platform, repair or recovery vehicle or for cargo.
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