by J. N. Chaney
Rev felt the loss, but Tomiko was downright fond of hers—Pikachu—and she hadn’t taken it very well. She was as bad as the jackheads he’d so derided back on Safe Harbor, going through withdrawal.
They’d both been told their AIs would be returned, but Rev didn’t know why it had taken this long. At least, no one had chewed his ass for the selfie. His AI would have to reveal it, but only if the right question was asked.
“Any rumors on our friend?” Tomiko asked him.
He was tempted to give her shit as payback, but he let it slide. “Same old, same old.”
None of them expected to be told much. The mere fact that they’d been locked away from everyone was proof enough that this was some no-shit classified stuff, and none of them had the need-to-know. But it was pretty hard to keep every bit of information away from them, if only by interpreting the questions asked. Collating all that information and discussing it had become the group’s favorite sport.
What they’d agreed to so far was that the Centaur’s riever mech hadn’t self-detonated when the Centaur had died because of a mechanical problem. As advanced as they were, it was good to know they still had glitches like that.
As for the Centaur, the leading theory was that this one wasn’t sick, as far as that went, but that the entire species was on decline. Rev wasn’t sure about that. How could they tell that from one specimen?
The one thing that seemed certain, however, was that the Centaur hadn’t been killed by the Marines, at least not directly. The mech had been shot down, but the Centaur inside had survived until impact. Even then, it was alive, but it died because of a lack of oxygen.
It had been asphyxiated.
It sort of made sense. Rev himself, with all his augments, had needed a supplemental O2 supply on the planet.
Then again, all of that could be bullshit. How would any of them know for sure? The Omega Division was undoubtedly listening in to their chatter, and who knew what they’d do if the group hit a nerve?
“I just hope the eggheads know what to do with her.”
No one knew if the Centaur was male or female, or if it even had a gender, but Tomiko insisted on referring to it with the feminine pronoun.
“Yeah. Otherwise, this great vacation of ours will all be wasted,” he said, sweeping an arm to encompass the room.
Tomiko just snorted. The facilities matched up to any resort, but both of them—all of them—wanted to get back to their units. Which in a way made no sense. Both Rev and Tomiko were conscripts, serving only because of a corrupted system. All they wanted to do was to get to their End of Enlistment in one piece, and as long as they were guests of the OD, they weren’t out there getting killed. Each day here was one more day crossed off until their discharge.
Still, Rev felt guilty for being here when the others could be on their way to another fight. All they knew was who had survived the last fight. They’d been able to ask that, at least. And to his amazed pleasure, none of his crew had bought it. That was two major battles, and except for Krissy, they had all still been in the land of the living at that time. But since then, they were in the dark.
“You think they know we’re still alive?” he asked.
“Maybe, maybe not. Probably not, in case, you know, they have to disappear us.”
Rev gave a mental grimace. He’d actually considered that as they were ferried to wherever they were now. That concern had faded over the last two months. If they were going to do that, it would already be done. But gallows humor was part and parcel to those in uniform.
“I’d rather they disappear us than have us sitting around here with our thumbs up our asses.”
“What, and miss my sterling company?”
The hatch into the common roof opened, and the two lieutenants barged in, cutting off whatever snappy comeback Rev might have had.
Lieutenant Omestori put two fingers into his mouth and blasted a piercing whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lieutenant Sampson started.
“Ain’t no ladies here,” Lyra said to everyone’s laughter. “Nor goddamned gentlemen.”
The Navy lieutenant waited for the laughter to die down, then said, “You’re going to want to hear this, so pipe down. We’re finally done with this little mission. We’re going home.”
41
The XM-554 barely kicked as the laser sent the warhead downrange. Several seconds later, the target, an old transport trailer, exploded in a satisfying shower of sparks.
“Righteous,” Rev muttered.
“Hey, you Recon pukes better leave some targets for us!”
Rev didn’t turn around but raised his right hand, middle finger extended. By pure scheduling happenstance, Yancey’s Charlie Company was next, and his old friend had been giving him shit.
Not that Rev cared . . . much. This was just too much fun.
“Some shit, huh?” Tomiko asked from the next firing position.
“I wish we had these at Roher.”
Hus-Man fired his weapon, destroying the last target. All that was left were scattered bits and pieces, many still smoking.
“Cease fire, cease fire on the firing line,” the range NCOIC passed over the loudspeaker. “All shooters, place your launchers on the mat and move back from your firing positions.
Rev didn’t want to give up the experimental weapon, but he regretfully placed it on the mat, then stood up. Nineteen Marines and one Navy corpsman turned away from the range, smiles plastered on every face. Making little tiny pieces with big booms was a favorite pastime of anyone in uniform.
Kyocera-Linstrum techs rushed forward to reclaim the weapons and load them for the next group of Marines. The Marines could fire them, but evidently they weren’t trusted with loading the warheads into the launchers.
“Let’s do it again,” Hus-Man said as he came alongside Rev.
“Got to let the mudeaters get their turn to play,” Rev answered, pointing to the eager infantry Marines waiting their turn.
“It’s gonna be a while,” Tomiko said, looking back over her shoulder and downrange where new hulks were being dragged out as targets.
“How was it,” Yancey asked as the three passed the bleachers, his eyes alight with excitement.
“You saw it,” Tomiko said. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of one of these babies.”
“You guys going to be at the club?” Yancey asked.
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Rev asked, putting his arms around the shoulders of his two fellow lance corporals.
The three of them had become tight after their jail time. Sergeant Nix, too, to an extent, but he was an NCO, and that made a difference. What they knew, and could not tell anyone, created a powerful bond. Rev was glad he had them both. They’d signed more documents than they could count binding them to secrecy, and it was a hell of a lot easier to keep to that with mutual support.
They’d all been grilled, of course, once they returned to Nguyen, but the OD folks had manufactured a detailed reason they were two months late, a somewhat convoluted tale of missed connections, wrong destinations, and awaiting transport. With how logistics could be, it wasn’t probable but within the realm of possibilities.
The others seemed to buy it, giving them crap for an extended vacation, saying it shouldn’t count for the EOE. All except Bundy. He never said anything, but Rev thought he was suspicious.
With this group of twenty, the cattle car was filled, and they started back to mainside. The compartment was full of chatter of happy Marines.
“So, it can sure kill a truck. But is it going to work against a Centaur?” Tomiko asked as they bounced down the dirt track.
“They say it will,” Hussein said.
“And you always believe them?”
“I’m kinda thinking it will work. No real electronics to jam,” Rev said.
“Except for the laser.”
“But we can be remote. What did they say? Forty klicks or more with that sight. And it’s s
hielded.”
“You are so trusting.” Tomiko sniffed.
Rev wasn’t sure why she was being so cynical. He thought the experimental weapon was brilliant. The mechanical warhead couldn’t be taken out with an EMP or jamming. The propulsion was steam, for God’s sake. Not steam like an old-time locomotive, but steam nonetheless. The laser impacting in the bell boiled away the liquid in the chamber, which exited through vents and gave it both propulsion and a degree of course correction. Crystals detected changes in the laser’s focus and vibrated in some convoluted way beyond Rev’s understanding to shift the direction of the warhead.
These were the same type of crystals that his dad made, the ones in a hundred different military applications. When they received their briefing on the weapons, he wondered if they might have been made in his dad’s factory, the one where he was supposed to be working now, if things had gone differently.
In a way, the new weapon was primitive and convoluted, lacking the high-tech electronics of most modern weapons, but as the master sergeant in charge of the range had said, a spear can kill you just as dead as a beamer.
“What do you think?” he asked his AI.
“Well, what are the probabilities that they would?”
Despite the wishy-washy answer, Rev was glad that his AI had been reactivated. He didn’t know if the OD had inserted some little spy program first, and that had kept him somewhat distant, but the thing was too useful to ignore. If they were spying on him, then screw them. He couldn’t do anything about it.
“Trusting? Hell. We can just ask Hus-man here after the next fight if it works. That is if he doesn’t get his ass shot off,” Rev said.
“Eighty-one days and a wake-up,” Tomiko said, high-fiving Rev.
“Convicts,” Hussein said.
“Hey, you didn’t have to re-up,” Rev said.
“The war’s still going on.”
The three had gone over this ad infinitum while guests of the OD. Hussein had tried to convince the other two that they should re-enlist. Sergeant Nix and the lieutenant had, too. Whatever award would be approved for the both of them would pave their way forward, even to getting commissioned.
Rev wasn’t totally against the idea. Being a Marine had some good points . . . if you just forgot about the chances of getting killed. But he’d planned from the beginning on getting out and hoping his spot with the guild was still open. It was just the way it was going to be, and he didn’t see a reason to change that. Tomiko was in the same vein.
Rev gave Hussein max respect, but he’d served his time, and it was going to be on to the next chapter in his life.
“Your pitcher,” Ten said, pushing the empty across the table to him.
Rev wasn’t so sure about that, but he picked it up and took it to the dispenser, dialing up a Hausner Ale. He was feeling in a generous mood, so he didn’t mind going premium—not that he thought his friends would notice.
Screw them. They’d better notice!
“Hey, all you negats. Drain those cups. I’m not mixing Hausner with that swill Yancey got us.”
“Hausner? What, you just got promoted to Corporal?” Bundy asked to the laughs of the others.
“No, we all know you’re going to be first to make NCO. Now, drain them!”
All of them tilted their cups back and slammed them on the table when empty. Rev made a show of refilling each one with a “I hope you enjoy your ale, ma’am,” or as “It’s my pleasure to serve you, sir.”
“I don’t care what everyone else says,” Fyr said after Rev filled his cup. “You’re OK in my book.”
He only managed to fill his own cup halfway before the pitcher went dry.
“Give me that,” Bundy said, reaching for the pitcher. “And I guess you’re forcing me to go premium, too.”
“Up to you.”
“Yeah, and if I don’t, I’m a cheapskate.”
Rev tilted his head back and drained his cup. “OK. Now I’m ready.” His smile was wide and genuine. He was going to miss this. Not the routine. Not the fighting, for sure. But the camaraderie. He was going to miss them all as they scattered to the wind.
It was amazing that they’d all survived. It had been a miracle that they’d all made it through Preacher Rolls when so many hadn’t, but then add on Roher-14. Rev didn’t know what the odds were, and he was a little tipsy to ask his AI, but he knew they were very fortunate to be going home.
Not everyone. Bundy, to no one’s surprise, had already put in his package. And Rev had a sneaky suspicion that Yancey, despite his protestations to the contrary, was going to re-enlist, too.
But they were in the home stretch now. Sure, they could be called out in the next eighty-one days, but they were still in the rebuilding phase. Roher might have been a victory, but it had cost the regiment dearly.
“Hey, Orpho, you haven’t told us what you thought of the XM-554, yet,” Yancey said.
“Hey, no shop talk,” Fyr yelled, throwing a crumpled-up napkin at him. “We’re here for drinking.”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
Three more napkins and a cup flew across the table at him, shutting him up.
“Yep, he’s re-enlisting,” Tomiko said, tilting her cup to point at Yancey.
“You ever have second thoughts about that, Miko?” Rev asked.
“Nah. I mean, maybe fleetingly. But I’ve got my gig lined up with my uncle, and as they say, we’ve done our time in hell, right? Why? You thinking about it?”
“No. We’re lucky to have made it this far, and I’ve pushed that luck about as far as I can, I think.”
Tomiko raised her cup for Rev to clink.
“Check out Cricket,” Tomiko said, changing the subject. “He wants Udu so bad I can smell his woody from here.”
The two friends were huddled together at the end of the table, their heads almost touching.
“I think Udu wants it just as bad,” Rev said with a laugh. “I wonder when they’re going to just do it. It’s not like we all don’t know what’s happening even if they don’t.”
Since their return from Roher, the two had been getting closer and closer. It wasn’t surprising. Both had had close calls during the final assault, and people tended to react in different ways. Some people withdrew from their companions, while others seemed to want something closer, as if they realized they needed to live life to its fullest. Udu and Cricket, as unlikely a looking pair as there was, were evidently in the latter group.
What kind am I?
Rev gave Tomiko a sideways glance. He loved her, sure, but like that? And she’d never given any indication that she was romantically interested in anyone, much less him. Then again, neither had he. After Krissy, he just thought it better not to get involved with anyone while still in. He’d be out soon enough, and that would be the time to pursue more romantic—OK, carnal—relationships.
The thought of Krissy hit him hard all of a sudden. Maybe it was his beer-soaked brain. He hadn’t even had any real feelings for her. It had been more of wanting a fling at the time. But she was one of their original crew, the only one to get herself killed. He felt guilty for surviving when she hadn’t. Hell, he felt sick thinking about all of the names and faces, gone forever.
Rev stood up, lifted his cup, and yelled out, “For Krissy. Respect to the fallen!”
“Respect!” the others shouted, raising their cups.
42
“Lieutenant?” Rev asked, sticking his head into the office. “I’m going down to admin to start my out-process.”
“Hell, it’s that time already?”
“Yes, sir. Fifteen-and-a-wakeup.”
“Come in and sit for a second.”
Rev wanted to get the process started before noon chow, but the lieutenant was still his boss, and if he wanted to chat, that was
his prerogative.
The lieutenant interlocked his fingers and held his hands in front of his face, his elbows on the desk. Rev could see him marshaling his thoughts.
Oh, great. Not again.
“I know we’ve gone over this, but let me try again,” the lieutenant said. “I asked you to think about it. Did you?”
“Yes, sir. I did. And I’m still in that frame of mind.”
The lieutenant stared at him for a long moment, then asked, “Is it because of the award? I mean, it isn’t dead yet.”
“Yes, it is, sir. You told me it was.”
The week before, his platoon commander had told him that his and Tomiko’s awards had been quashed. Security issues had been the excuse. He’d actually expected that, after all they went through as guests of the OD. How could they write up a citation without revealing the fact that the Union had a Centaur body? And even if the citation was blank, how would he and Tomiko explain their medals to everyone else? But it still disappointed him, if he was being honest with himself.
“I mean, when this all gets declassified, that can be rectified. I’ll make sure of that.”
“It’s alright, sir. That’s not why I’m not reupping. It’s just time for me to move on.”
“Look, Pelletier. You’re a good Marine. What am I saying? You’re a great Marine, and we need you. You’ll be eligible for meritorious corporal in another month, and I can guarantee you I can make that happen.”
“I appreciate that, sir. But . . . look, there’s a lot I’ll miss when I leave, and the job’s not done. The Centaurs are still coming. But I’m a conscript. A convict. I had a traffic violation, and for that I was forced into the Corps.” He held up a hand to stop the lieutenant from breaking in. “You never treated me any differently than the volunteers, and I appreciate that. No one on the team did, in fact.”
Rev rubbed his hands on his legs, thinking. The lieutenant did that most difficult thing—he stayed quiet until Rev spoke again.