by J. N. Chaney
“Listen up, then. You know where Leteeka’s is, on West Central Boulevard?” Everyone nodded. “OK, then. On our last day in the Corps, one thousand fifty-three days and a wake-up from now, we need to get together again. I’ll buy a bottle of something, something expensive, and we’ll share it then and tell a few sea stories.”
“Nice thought, Rev, but the chances—” Tomiko started before Rev cut her off.
“But that’s where you’re wrong. Look, guys. If we swear to be there, I mean swear right now, then nothing can keep us from doing it, right?”
“Uh, I don’t think it works like that,” Ten said, sounding uncertain as if not knowing how to pop Rev’s bubble.
“I know how things work. But why the hell not? Maybe Saint Chesty will protect us. Or maybe not, I know. But I want to see all of us right there before we get discharged.”
Rev didn’t believe in any supernatural powers from that long-dead Marine from Twentieth Century Earth and now the unofficial patron saint of the Corps, but he couldn’t just accept that three-quarters of them were going to be killed in the war. He was feeling helpless, and he wanted to wrestle back some sort of control over the situation. He knew a simple promise to make it back wasn’t going to ensure that, but at least it was a proactive start.
The others looked at him, clearly uncomfortable.
Finally, Yancey broke the silence with, “Shit, we all know Grandpa’s a lifer. He won’t be getting out.”
“That’s the plan,” Bundy admitted, the first time he’d done that. “But hell yes, I’ll be there to see you knuckleheads off. I swear it.”
It was one thing for Rev to pop this on them, but it was another thing altogether for Bundy, the mature one, to join in.
“Who else?” Rev asked as he looked the rest in the eyes.
And one by one, he could see them accept the concept, at least in spirit. Cricket, Tomiko, Orpheus, Ten, Fyr, Udu, and finally Yancey. All agreed.
“If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. Hands together,” Tomiko said, standing up.
The nine recruits, strangers seven weeks ago, stood in a circle, their hands locked in the center.
“Do all of you hereby swear to meet at Leteeka’s on the day we’re getting discharged, to raise a glass in a toast?” Tomiko asked.
With a loud ooh-rah, the pact was sealed.
12
“Come on, give me another,” Rev told Yancey as he spotted for him. “It’s all you.”
Yancey’s arms failed, and Rev had to take some of the weight and shift the barbell to the stops.
They’d been back from the resort and cleared to recommence training for five hours now, and Yancey, Bundy, Udu, and Fyr had wanted to go to the gym. Rev had been tempted to just hang out with Tomiko and Cricket, but that was all he’d been doing for the last week, and the gym was a nice change of pace.
“I still don’t feel any stronger.”
“You heard Bundy,” Rev said, nodding to where the older recruit was doing pull-downs. “It’s going to take a while.”
Rev didn’t know if he felt any stronger. Probably not. But his joints were still sore, and the thrice-damned spider web was itchy as all get-out. The doctor told him yesterday that it was all in his mind, something not all that rare. Rev didn’t care if it was in his mind or not—he still itched.
“Add ten,” he told Yancey, placing a ten-kilo plate on his side. He’d struggled a bit doing a full set at eighty-five kilos, and despite knowing that he wouldn’t realize any gained strength for a month or more yet, he couldn’t help but be a little curious.
He’d have easily lifted one-oh-five when he was playing ball, but he’d let himself slide since then. Even getting back into shape in Phase One and Two had been more cardio than strength, and now, only a week after getting augmented, he was still in recovery.
He lay back on the bench, made sure his arms were perpendicular to the deck, shoulder-width apart, then grasped the bar. After taking five deep breaths, he brought the bar down to his chest, and with a grunt, exploded into the bar. To his surprise, he raised it. Easily.
Maybe I am getting stronger.
“Good job, Rev. Let me try.”
Rev should have done a full set, but he hadn’t expected it to be so easy. A little reluctantly, he relinquished the bench. He moved behind it to spot when Bundy came over, wiping his face with a towel.
“Just wanted to say goodbye. We’re taking off in an hour.”
“Already?” Rev asked. “Is it that time?”
He could query his AI, of course, but he still had it on sleep.
“Hurry up and wait, you know,” Bundy said. “We don’t actually take off until twenty-thirty, but they want us at the terminal at seventeen-thirty.”
“All for a twenty-minute hop to Camp Kamachi?” Yancey asked.
Udu just shrugged.
“Hey, bring us some of the BBQ,” Rev said. “I hear it’s pretty good.”
Rev had never been to Anastasia, where Camp Kamachi was located, and all he really knew about the small town was that they thought they had the best BBQ on the planet.
“Don’t know why you armor and mech gotta go to Kamachi for snapping in,” Yancey said.
“Just consolidating resources. Their Zero-twos and threes are coming here for the same reason.”
It made sense, but Rev would have wanted to keep the gang together. At least they’d all reunite in the regiment as soon as they were done with Phase Three. Some would get there sooner, while he and Tomiko would be the last to report in.
“Well, keep your powder dry,” Bundy said, fist-bumping the other two.
“You, too.”
Rev stood there for a moment, watching him go. Bundy had become the group’s unofficial leader, and Rev realized he’d been leaning on the man. They’d be back together, at least in the same regiment, soon enough, but he was going to miss him.
“He’s good people,” Yancey said, lying back on the bench again.
“That he is. Now, you going to hit this thing?”
Yancey put his hands on the bar and contorted his face so much that Rev had to laugh. “What, you’re trying to scare it up?”
“Screw you,” Yancey growled.
He still had a grimace on his face when he lifted the bar off the stops, then lowered it to his chest, using his ribcage to bounce it back up. Not what the docs had said about taking it easy until training restarted on Monday, but Rev understood.
“Two more!”
Yancey rolled his eyes, but he complied, puffing away for the next two reps.
“Hell, yeah,” he said. “Daddy’s got it.”
From the next bench, a recruit Rev didn’t know gave Yancey a disgusted look, but the recruit didn’t say anything, and Rev ignored him.
“Good job. Now get your ass off that bench and give me another ten.”
“You mean five and five?”
“Ten on your side,” Rev said, putting a ten-kilogram plate on his side.
A hundred and-twenty-five kilos was about the max Rev had ever lifted, and it was probably stupid for him to risk his still-healing body trying to push that much iron. But why give him strength if he wasn’t going to use it? And if the docs were right, this was nothing to what he’d be capable of by the time he was through.
Before his better angel could tell him to take it easy, he flopped down on the bench. He took a firm grip of the bar and raised his body slightly to make sure his shoulder blades were flat on the bench.
A cloud of doubt started to creep into his thoughts, so as not to let that negative thought become reality, he lifted the bar up even before Yancey was in position to spot him.
With a shout, he lowered the bar to his chest. Then with a louder shout, more of a scream, he arched his back and pushed. His arms faltered halfway up, but with a second effort, he fully extended just as Yancey reached over to guide it back into the stops.
It hadn’t been pretty, and arching his back like that was asking for trouble, but he�
�d done it.
He jumped up, slashing the air with a closed fist. “That’s what I’m about!” he yelled as Yancey came in with a high-five.
“Fucking convicts,” the recruit at the next bench said with a sneer.
“What was that?” Rev asked, his exultation gone, just like that. “What did you say?”
The recruit sat up at the end of his bench, gave Rev’s barbell a dismissive glance, then said, “I said damn convicts. What, your hearing ain’t kicked in yet?”
Rev could feel the anger start to kindle within. He stepped over to the other recruit before Yancey grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Forget it,” Yancey said.
“Better listen to your convict friend there,” the other said, casually flicking his hand first at Rev’s barbell, then at his. “You don’t want to get yourself into a bad spot.”
The guy’s barbell had six 20-kilo plates on each side. Rev tried to do a quick calculation of the total weight, but he was too angry.
OK, so the guy was stronger.
That wasn’t the reason Rev backed down, however. At least he didn’t think so. He didn’t want to get time added to his commitment by getting NJP, Non-Judicial Punishment.
“Let’s leave,” he told Yancey, looking around until he spotted Udu and Fyr over on the leg press.
He started taking off the plates on his bar when the guy said, “I saw that old convict come up to you. Geeze, what the hell was his crime? Shitting in his adult diapers?”
Rev reacted automatically. He dropped the plate and swung at the still sitting recruit. It was one thing to insult him but another to attack Bundy.
He put all the force he could muster in the back of the swing, hoping to smash that condescending grin, but with amazing reflexes, the man’s hand popped up and stopped Rev’s swing cold. He twisted his hand, palm up, and gave Rev a shot in the chest that flung him across the weight room.
Rev gasped for air, sure that his lungs had just caved in. He’d never been hit so hard in his life.
The guy slowly stood, then started over to Rev, who tried but couldn’t get up. Yancey tried to get between them, only to be pushed to the side.
“Pretty stupid, convict, and now you’ll pay.”
A blur rushed past Rev. Fyr and Udu got between the two, with Fyr yelling, “What the hell are you doing?” He pushed a forefinger in the other recruit’s chest. “Are you crazy?”
The recruit hesitated, looking confused.
“He’s a damned convict,” he said. “All of you are.”
Yancey joined the other two to form a wall between the man and Rev.
“And we’re all Marine recruits here. He’s not your enemy. The tin-asses are,” Fyr said.
“The worst thing the Corps did was take in convicts,” the recruit said, looking around behind him at the others in the gym, who had all stopped to watch.
If he expected support, he didn’t get it.
“Come on, Matt, it’s not worth getting written up,” one of the other recruits said. “Leave them be.”
Udu stepped closer, her nose a good six centimeters higher than his. The guy, Matt, involuntarily took a step back.
“You’re right, Terry. These convict pieces of crap aren’t worth NJP,” he said with bluster. “Why don’t you just leave?”
Yancey grabbed Rev by the arm and helped him up. “You okay?”
Rev wasn’t OK. But he wasn’t going to give this Matt guy the satisfaction of knowing that. He just nodded and tried to glare at the guy. He wasn’t sure it came out very threatening.
“We’re done here. Let’s go,” Fyr said. “Udu and I have to leave in a few hours anyway.”
With Yancey and Udu helping Rev, they made their way out of the weight room. Rev expected to hear a parting insult, but the guy kept his mouth shut.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Rev let go and almost doubled over again in pain.
“That was some shot you took,” Yancey said. “Are you really OK?”
“Hell, no,” Rev gasped. “I feel like I was run over by a tank.”
“Not surprising. He’s not in our class, and if he’s still here, he’s a Zero-two, Zero, three, or Zero-seven. That means he’s gotten the strength augmentation, and he’s had more time for it to take hold,” Fyr said.
“Did you see that rack? That was 260 kilos of iron there,” Udu said. “Give it another month or two, and you and Yance’ll be that strong, too. Stronger, by the time you’re done.”
“Do you need to go to sickbay?” Fyr asked.
Rev poked at his chest. It hurt like hell, but he didn’t know if anything was broken. His bones would not be woolly rhino-strong yet, but the reinforcements of his joints were mechanical, and the spider web should have diffused some of the guy’s punch.
Rev was also aware that if he went to sickbay, they’d want to know what happened. Whatever consequences there might be for the other guy, Rev had swung first. That was something he’d just as soon not come to the attention of the training company commander.
“I think I’m alright, but as soon as I get back, I’ll wake up my AI and have it check me out.”
“Don’t be a hero, and don’t rely on the medi-nanos. Your training starts on Monday, and you have to be at a hundred percent.”
Whatever shape he was in, Rev was going to be there bright and early Monday morning.
“Let’s head back. I promised to spend a little time with Tomiko before we take off for Kamachi,” Udu said.
“Wait,” Rev said, grabbing her arm.
He tried to minimize his breathing to protect his bruised ribs, but he wanted an answer.
“Why did you two do that?” he asked.
“I don’t understand,” Fyr said. “We’re shipmates.”
“I don’t mean coming to save my ass. But he called you convicts. Bundy, too. You’re volunteers. Only Yance and me are conscripts. You could have told him you were volunteers.”
Fyr looked at Udu, then said, “Why would we do that? It doesn’t matter how or why we wear the uniform or where we came from. All that matters is that we’re Marines.”
“There’re no convicts or volunteers anymore. We’re brothers and sisters in arms, Rev, and we all bleed Marine green,” Udu added.
Rev was still in pain, but with what his two friends had just said, the heat of anger burning inside of him had been replaced by another kind of heat—the warmth of belonging and brotherhood.
13
Damn, I wonder what she’d be like in bed?
“For—I didn’t ask you that!” Rev said aloud, drawing a puzzled reaction from the greentab sergeant. “Sorry, still getting used to my AI.”
Sergeant Jesup laughed and said, “Yeah, it’ll take some time. It gets easier, believe me. Your battle buddy has to learn how you think just as much as you need to learn how to direct your thoughts and use it.”
Direct my thoughts? Does she know what I was thinking?
His AI was supposedly wholly self-contained for the same reasons his jack was a physical connection. It would be easy enough for the jack to work through wifi or another remote connection, but the Centaurs were able to knock out wifi with ease. Controlling his peripherals had to be done with direct, shielded connections.
Still, he felt a hot blush sweep over his face.
“Let’s try again,” the sergeant said. “Take target three-oh-one.”
Sergeant Jesup wasn’t a DI but what they referred to as a greentab, an instructor. Official DIs wore a black collar tab, assigned corpsmen a red tab, and staff a gold tab. No one without a tab was supposed to interact with a recruit at all. He’d probably never consider the physical attributes of a DI, but as a greentab, it was hard for him to ignore her—
Afraid that his AI was going to interject something again, Rev shook his head, breaking that thought, then looked
down the scope, searching for the target. It took him a moment to spot it.
“Key analytics,” he muttered.
He should be able to simply think the command, but until he was more experienced and his AI melded to him better, vocalizing was a surer proposition.
With the crosshairs on the target, the data ran down the length of the .62 caliber sniper rifle, through the connecting cable, and into his jack, where his battle buddy was able to process the firing solution.
“Three thousand, four hundred and twelve meters. Right fifteen clicks, up twenty-three clicks,” his battle buddy told him.
There was a lot more data being calculated than just range: barometric pressure, temperature, wind, Coriolis effect, the rotation of the planet under him, the density of the ground over where the round would pass, and several more inputs. But to be blunt, Rev didn’t have to know them. That was what his AI was supposed to do. It was up to Rev to hold steady and make the shot.
His AI’s fire solution was not just for Rev’s ears. They went back out through the jack and to the scope. His sight picture shifted left and down, and Rev brought the crosshairs back until they centered on the target.
“Three deep breaths, then gentle on the trigger,” the sergeant said.
Rev tried to tune her out and focus on the target. The Dykstra was an amazing weapon for a slug-thrower, and while the target was well within its range, three-plus klicks was still a long shot.
The trigger of the sniper rifle was a small button on the right side of the trigger assembly. With his thumb, he released the safety, then rested his forefinger just above the trigger. He took the three calming breaths, then on the last he exhaled halfway and held it.
He gave the trigger a light touch, and the big gun exploded, kicking back like a mule. Rev didn’t cry out this time, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch. He wished his body would hurry up and heal under the polyamerase spider web that had been implanted under most of his skin. He brought his scope back to the target in time to see the trace of the round arch to the target, only to have the big round hit high and to the right.