by J. N. Chaney
Maybe getting to use his AI was becoming second nature to him, but he was home now for the next few hours, and he didn’t need it spying on him. He put it back to sleep.
He let Neesy bend over to activate the door, then stepped through into the apartment. An aroma of . . . something, but he didn’t know what, rushed out to envelop him.
“Hey,” Grover said from the couch where he was watching the holo, not bothering to get up.
“Is that you, honey?” his mom asked, coming around the half-wall from the kitchen. Her hands were coated in what had to be flour.
He put Neesy down before his mother hugged him. Rev felt guilty for wondering if his mom’s hands were leaving prints on his Charlies, and he felt an overwhelming desire to run to the head—toilet, he should call it here—to check it out. He’d never been that concerned about his clothes before, but eight months as a recruit and Marine had beaten it into him.
“I’m so glad to see you, son.” She released him, then held him out at arms’ length. “Oh, and so big. Mia’s going to be happy to see that.”
Rev didn’t bother to tell her he and Mia weren’t a thing. She’d been overjoyed when she heard they were dating, and if she assumed Mia was somehow waiting on him—or that he wanted her to—then it was easier just to let it go.
“I made shepherd’s pie for you, your favorite.”
Rev didn’t know what shepherd’s pie was, and it certainly wasn’t his favorite. Maybe his mom had made it once and he hadn’t said it was terrible.
The family autochef wasn’t the best, but it had a few snack programs that the base autochefs didn’t have, given that they weren’t particularly healthy, and he’d much rather have some of those than this shepherd’s pie. But once again, it was just easier to go with the flow and be thankful—and maybe, for a minute, just exist, in the place he’d originally belonged.
“Grace, give him a minute to breathe,” his stepdad said, coming through the door.
“You want to change into something more comfortable?” he asked, holding Rev’s assault pack.
Rev had brought some PT gear, intending to wear those, but he suddenly wanted to stay in his Charlies. This was the first time he’d worn them other than for inspections. His chest was bare, other than the single Raider badge, so there wasn’t much to show, but it was still a Marine uniform.
“Nah, I think I’ll keep these on,” he said, sitting down beside Grover.
“What’s that?” Grover asked, pointing at Rev’s wrist.
“My house arrest bracelet. They gotta keep tabs on me.”
“’Cause you’re a criminal?”
“Grover!” his mother said.
“What? It’s true.”
“I was exaggerating. We just call them house arrest bracelets. And we all wear them, volunteers or conscripts.”
“Cool,” Grover said, turning back to the game.
“Neesy, do you want to help mommy finish the dinner?” his mother asked.
“I want to stay with Rev.”
“It’s OK, Hamster. You go help her. I’ll be around until later this evening.
With nothing else to do at the moment, he settled in to watch the game.
Only, he didn’t stay until late evening. The dinner was a horrendous-looking mess but surprisingly not terrible, especially when he covered it with ketchup. He had a nice chat with his stepdad, and Neesy was a joy.
His mother, on the other hand, wore on him a bit, relentless in her nervous chatter. She kept going on about Mia until he finally told her he hadn’t had any contact with her since a week before he reported in. That didn’t faze her. She said that of course, he had to focus on his work, but it was just a phase, and they’d be back together soon enough.
But it wasn’t just his mother. His thoughts kept going back to Tomiko, Cricket, and the others. They were about to join the war, and here he was while Grover gave him play-by-plays of last week’s game and his mother nattered on about, well, everything. It didn’t seem right.
I belong here, but I don’t. Not really.
He kept checking the time, willing the seconds to tick by quicker, and finally, he’d had enough. He stood, holding a sleeping Neesy, and told them it was time for him to go.
His mother objected, telling him he still had three hours, and Rev flat out lied, telling her he must have misspoken when he first told her. She grumbled but seemed to accept it, her eyes bright with tears.
His stepdad furrowed his eyebrows, and Rev knew he didn’t believe him. But Max didn’t call him out and said he’d take him back. Rev mouthed a silent thank you.
As he carried the sleeping Neesy back to her room, he considered Max. He’d come into their lives when Rev was six, still old enough to remember his father. The man had been good to him, but Rev had rejected Max—always Max to his face or stepdad to others, rarely Dad—at first before slowly coming around to where now, in some ways, Rev was closer to Max than he was to his mother, much as he loved her. And he was glad Max was in their lives. With the upcoming deployment, Rev’s future was far from certain, and it gave him a sense of comfort to know that Max was there to take care of his mom, Neesy, and Grover.
Rev made his goodbyes, then got into the Gazelle.
“Thanks,” he said. “I was just—”
“I know, son.”
They drove most of the way in silence, Rev lost in his thoughts, Max quiet in the moment, a mark of respect that Rev noted. It was a generous thing, small, but welcome. The Gazelle pulled into the parking lot. There weren’t as many hovers there as when they left. Rev figured that most would wait until closer to pumpkin time.
Rev reached for the door activator when Max said, “Wait a second, Rev. Son. I wish things had worked out differently. You’d be with me in the Guild, starting your life. Not with Mia, I know.”
Rev laughed. At least Max understood that.
“But with someone. That’s what I wanted for you. But this—I know we need to fight, and that means young men and women have to shoulder the responsibility. I can’t even imagine—”
“It’s OK, Max. I understand. But I’m here now, and I’m ready.”
His stepdad gave him a long, soul-searching look.
“Are you happy, though? I mean, all things considered?”
Rev opened his mouth, ready to give some smart-alec response, but he stopped.
Am I happy? I got conscripted for a bullshit charge, ripped from my future with the Guild, and for what? To lose my freedom and become a Marine Raider whose chances of survival are pretty damn bleak?
But what else would he be doing? Toiling away as an apprentice? Was that freedom?
He could still do that. All he had to do was survive three years, and all of that would be his. In the meantime, he had a chance to do something important. He thought back to the last eight months. To the training. To Tomiko, Cricket, Yancey, Udu, Fyr, Bundy, and yes, Krissy. To Tanu and Gunny Thapa. To Staff Sergeant Montez.
Finally, he said, “I’m excited, if you can believe that. I want to prove myself. I’m scared, too. But happy? Maybe. Yes.”
He was scared of what could happen, but it was as if a weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders, and he realized he wouldn’t change things even if he could. If he wasn’t going to do his duty, who would?
“I’m glad to hear that, Rev.”
“Three years, Max. Then I’ll be back.”
“I hope so. Your mom hopes so. We’re scared, too.”
“Have faith.”
“It’s . . . you said you were excited to go to war. Just don’t get yourself killed, as trite as that sounds? Make sure you come back to her. To us.”
Rev was going to give the rote answer, but he paused. He knew the odds facing him, even if they were only now sinking in. He couldn’t say that, not and be honest.
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise you anything.”
His stepdad was silent for a moment, then he quietly said, “I know, son. But do your best. Do your job, but don�
�t be a hero.”
Rev didn’t know how to answer that. He opened the door and stepped out. Around him, other Marines were returning, kissing wives, husbands, fathers, mothers. A few held babies in their arms. The families looked pensive and worried. They knew what their loved ones were facing, too. How many of the Marines and sailors wouldn’t be coming back from this mission?
“Rev!”
He turned back and bent over to look at his stepdad.
“We’re proud of you.”
Rev straightened up. “I love you, Dad,” he said before he strode off through the dark to the gate. Words were a gift. Rev knew that now because some people never got the chance to say them.
18
“That’s our cue. Mount up,” Lieutenant Omestori said.
The stick—Navy terminology for a flight load—got up off the side of the tarmac where they’d been sitting for the last four hours. The spaceport was a madhouse, sticks lined up ready to embark, mechanical mules rushing equipment and supplies to the shuttles.
Rev had imagined they’d arrive at the spaceport and just embark, all their supplies onboard and ready to go. That’s what the general support Marines were supposed to be doing all this time. But as Gunny Thapa had said after the first two hours of sitting on their asses, it takes a lot to send a regiment off to war, even a regiment on a war footing.
Navy yellowshirts ran around in choreographed madness, using their laser-wands to direct shuttles in a ballet of confusion. Somehow, the shuttles took off and landed without collision—even if a few deployment packs and a mule were sent flying by the engine exhaust.
Following the yellowshirt who’d told him his stick was up, the lieutenant led the stick—which was made up of Third and Fourth Teams—down a line of flashing pink lights embedded in the tarmac surface, to a waiting Ibis shuttle, the back open. The yellowshirt waved the lieutenant into the shuttle. Rev followed the line aboard, taking one of the last web seats along the starboard side, and sat down. There was barely enough room for him to get his feet down between the seat and the 155 artillery piece tied down in the middle of the shuttle. One of the Ibis crew walked along the top of the cargo in the middle, yelling at the Marines on each side to buckle up.
“Our luck to get a Navy shuttle,” Tanu said. “Why couldn’t we have scored a commercial job? The Osis Line shuttles, they’ve got refreshments and everything. Not these damned web seats.”
Rev didn’t have an answer to that. He’d never been off the surface of the planet, much less gone into space, and his heart was beating hard in excitement.
The sailor started walking back up the line of cargo, checking each Marine to make sure they were strapped in. He gave a thumbs up to someone in the front—the bow, Rev reminded himself—and the back ramp started to close. Rev watched his sliver of sight get narrower and narrower until it disappeared. He twisted around to look, but there were no windows, to his disappointment.
Maybe a civilian shuttle would have been better. He’d be able to see when they took off.
There was a sudden lurch, and Rev automatically flailed his arms, forgetting for a moment that he was strapped in.
“Just taxiing. Can’t take off here on the tarmac unless we want to fry a few people,” Tanu said.
This was only Tanu’s second deployment, but he still knew a hell of a lot more than Rev did. Rev had decided he’d stick on Tanu’s ass like a burr until they were situated aboard their ride.
He looked over the cannon to where Tomiko was sitting across from him. He caught her eye, and she gave a thumbs up, a huge grin plastered on her face. She’d taken atmospheric planes twice before, but this was going to be her first time in space, too.
They taxied for about five minutes before they stopped moving. The shuttle hummed with power, but they hadn’t taken off yet—at least, Rev didn’t think they had. He would have given his left nut to be able to see what they were doing.
“Crew, prepare for takeoff,” came over a loudspeaker, and several lights started pulsing amber. The sailor who’d checked them sat on a pallet of expeditionary meals with the ease of someone who’d done this a thousand times and looked down at the Marines.
The flashing light turned to a steady green, and with a lurch that sent Rev’s heart into his throat, the shuttle leaped into the air. Within moments, the angle of the attack increased, and Rev grabbed hold of his harness with each hand to keep himself steady.
The shuttle rocked and vibrated, and Rev’s excitement began to fade. He started feeling queasy, and for a moment, he was afraid he’d throw up.
“Wake up,” he ordered.
“Give me something so I don’t puke.”
Rev didn’t know if he was going to make it. Far from the smooth flight he’d expected, the shuttle was lurching, vibrating, and shaking as it clawed its way up through the atmosphere. He could taste the bile in the back of his throat and the tension in his jaw under his chin. The saliva started to flow.
“It won’t be long,” Tanu said. “Just take it easy.”
And then, like getting washed out in a wave, his nausea was gone.
“Thanks. That’s much better,” he subvocalized automatically.
Duh! Of course, I don’t have to thank it. Nothing wrong with manners, though, I guess.
“Sleep,” he ordered the AI.
Rev shook his head and looked around the cabin. There were a few green faces, but several Marines had their heads back, eyes closed as they caught a few Z’s. Gunny had told Tomiko and him that a good Marine always sleeps, eats, and shits every time they have the opportunity because no one knows when they might be able to again.
Maybe old hands could do that, but with the nausea a fading memory, Rev was too excited to sleep. The flight up was on a tactical approach, not the normal civilian approach, which would climb in a spiraling orbit to reach space. In the Navy boat it was pretty much straight up.
Rev shifted in the seat. The extra G as the shuttle accelerated, coupled with the high angle of attack, was making him slide, despite the harness. He lifted his feet and braced them against the cannon in front of him.
Suddenly wondering if he was breaking some sort of regulation, he looked up to the sailor who was sitting casually like a king on top of the rations, overlooking his kingdom. He caught Rev’s eyes, then gave him a half-smile and nod. With that assurance, Rev shifted his feet a bit, then braced harder, shoving his ass back into the seat and keeping himself secure.
“Hey, what happens—” he started to ask Tanu, turning his head.
But the other Marine was fast asleep. Rev shook his head, wondering if sleeping at will was some augment he hadn’t employed yet.
A few minutes later, the vibrations smoothed out, and the weight left him. He had a twinge of queasiness, and he was glad he’d taken the antiemetic. And then he realized what had happened. He was in space!
He looked across the cargo bay, and Tomiko gave him another thumbs-up. She took a stylus from her shoulder sleeve and held it in front of her before letting go. It didn’t fall. She flicked the top with her finger, spinning it in place. At least he wasn’t the only one who was excited.
It was another ten minutes or so before the shuttle started matching orbits with their ship, tiny adjustments that gave Rev slight intervals of weight, of what was up and what was down.
“Crew, prepare for docking,” came over the intercom.
The green light turned amber again, and the sailor did a sort of flying flip off the pallet of rations, shooting himself down the length of the cargo bay to the back ramp. He twisted in mid-air to hit the ramp feet-first.
“I’m going to need you off my boat ASAP. We’ve got the cargo to offload,” he yelled.
Marines around Rev opened their eyes and stretched.
“Normal weight in ten,” the sailor said.
Ten s
econds later, it came on instantly as the shuttle breached the ship’s artificial gravity field. One moment, they were weightless, the next, they were at Earth Normal, which was slightly less than Safe Harbor’s gravity.
Rev felt a momentary pain in his chest, and for a second he thought something was wrong, but a huge burp burst through him, and the pain was gone. Around him, some of the others were burping, too. And not just burping. There were some farts as well, and Rev was sure Tomiko had let one loose.
There was a final jolt as the shuttle docked with the ship.
“Unstrap!” the sailor ordered.
The intercom came to life. “We want to thank you for flying with the Union Navy today. Please remember us in the future for all your travel needs.”
“They say that every time, and it’s never funny,” Tanu said as they all stood up.
The ramp slowly opened, revealing their first look at the ship that was going to take them into battle. From the shuttle, all Rev could see was a generic space. Equipment and supplies were being shifted around by automated mules.
“OK, it’s been real, but time to get your asses off my boat,” the sailor said.
As the last one on at the starboard side, Rev would be the first one off from that side as well. He started to look around for the gunny or the lieutenant, but Tanu gave him a shove.
“You heard the man. Let’s go!”
Rev stepped down the now flat ramp and into the ship. A major in a blue jumpsuit—no, lieutenant commander, Rev reminded himself—was waiting just inside, a chief beside him.
“Welcome to the PUNS Amethyst,” the commander said as they filed on.
The bulkheads were bare gray steel and more than a bit foreboding. This sure wasn’t one of those the passenger liners that was advertised for the wealthy.
But then again, this wasn’t a vacation cruise. The Amethyst was there to take them into harm’s way.
It was time to go to war.
For all the chaos in getting the regiment deployed, things quickly settled down to boredom. Coupled with the fact that the team still didn’t have a mission, much less even know where they were heading, and the rumor mill started running rampant.