by J. N. Chaney
He thought that maybe he should try and get Colonel Tolouse involved. Surely the Marines didn’t want the project known by Omega Division. But then he realized that he wouldn’t have been allowed to even meet with the agent if the Marines could have fought it.
But he really had no choice. He couldn’t fight the entire government.
With a defeated sigh, he sunk back down to the seat, twisting his head to expose his jack. The agent nodded and fit an adapter to the end of the cable.
“It really is better this way,” the agent said, connecting his tablet. “I’m putting you out as this is going to take a while.”
Rev didn’t know anything about being put unconscious, and he started to protest before the office and agent faded away.
Rev slowly opened his eyes. The agent was behind the desk, his throat twitching as he made his notes. Rev felt fine, like he’d taken a quick nap.
“You there?”
Still nothing from Punch.
“So, am I under arrest?” Rev asked.
The agent looked up and said, “I have enough here to clear you of leaking the information to foreign powers. But there is still the fact that you continued to speak of the situation despite being told not to.”
Rev shook his head. He really didn’t care at this point, now that they knew he wasn’t a traitor. He might still get in trouble, but if they tried to punish him, maybe convert him to a Ninety-nine or give him a jail term, he thought the commandant might have something to say about that. There was always a degree of competition and distrust between Omega Division and the Navy and Corps, and he doubted the military would start fresh with the IBHU program.
He’d take his lumps, whatever they were, and move on.
“From now on, I suggest you retire ‘Hank’ and forget you ever knew him.”
Rev let out a breath of relief. Maybe he did care, after all.
“So, I’m done? I’m free to go?”
The agent took a moment, then said, “I know what you did with that sniper, Mason. I know you lied to your command.”
The relief Rev had felt was gone, and he could feel the blood rush from his face. He’d forgotten about that, and now it was out. The Marines might protect him from the OD, but he’d broken military protocol. He’d lied in an official statement. They’d crucify him. Only being busted to private would be the best possible outcome, and Doctor Chakrabarti and Colonel Tolouse would be powerless to intervene. He could be put in the brig, only brought out to fight. He could be . . . his mind raced with possibilities, none of them good.
“So . . . so what now, sir?” he barely managed to get out.
The agent shrugged. “I understand why you did what you did. And it’s commendable, in its own way. But you did file a false statement.”
Here it comes.
“Luckily for you, I am Division and not military, so I don’t give a flying fig about that.”
Rev looked up in shock, not believing his ears.
“I was Corps. Ten years in the Twenty-first Marines back before the war. A grunt. And taking care of our fellow Marines, that’s what we do, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Rev said, his voice cracking.
“So, I think we can keep that between us. It didn’t even make my report up the chain.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“No, thank you, Sergeant. I’d forgotten about the esprit de corps, the brotherhood, I’ve been out so long. You just reminded me of what it was like back in the day when I was in. I miss that. So, I’ve got what I need here. You’re free to go.”
Rev didn’t wait. He jumped to his feet and said, “Thank you, sir. Thank you.”
The agent, who’d never given his name, smiled and pulled out the remote. A moment later, Rev could almost feel Punch wake up.
“No, we’re fine,” Rev said as he stepped out the door. He was grateful that the agent was letting him go, but he’d just as soon put as much distance as possible between them in case he changed his mind.
“They found out I wasn’t a traitor. But they also found out about Sergeant Mason. You didn’t do a good enough job hiding that stuff.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. The guy approved of what we did, and he’s not going to report it.”
For the first time since Rev had been implanted with his battle buddy, Punch was at a loss for words.
30
Rev reached for the coffee, his shoulder clicking. Daryll had tried to fix the sleeve, but with each day on the range, it was obvious that the entire sleeve had to be retrofitted to be able to stand up to the stressors. And with Rev now progressing to fire and maneuver instead of just standing on the range line, it was only getting worse.
Not that Rev wanted to take it easy. He was having a blast, no pun intended. He’d destroyed fake Centaur after fake Centaur, even after they’d been geared up to better mimic the real thing. True, he’d been “killed” more often than not, but that pendulum had begun to swing to favor him as he got more used to maneuvering and firing.
He sat back down to watch the holoscreen. Malaika had been released back to the regiment two days prior, and Copper had gone back to the Red Lions yesterday. The Wounded Warrior Ward was getting depleted.
“What did I miss?” he asked Bunny as he sat back down and handed her a cup. He’d only just found out she was a gunnery sergeant. That was one of the results of them all lounging around in sweats and Ts.
“Lamar suspects Titi now. He thinks she might be a spy.”
“Well, duh! About time.”
Rev was getting a little frustrated with the direction the writing was taking the show, but he’d started Season One with Malaika and Bunny, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to get to the end of it.
“You still goofing off, Sergeant?” a voice sounded from behind him.
Rev twisted to see Top Thapa walking into the lounge.
“Hey, Top! What brings you all the way out here?”
“Had to check up on my goldbricking Marine, so I caught a ride with Colonel Destafney.”
He rounded the couch and caught sight of Bunny, who was in shorts instead of sweats. As he reached down with his prosthetic arm, she twisted her legs just a bit, exposing the sides. Top clinked the outside of his wrist on the side of her knee as if they were toasting each other.
Top turned to Rev and reached out to him. Rev started to shake his hand when Bunny grabbed his arm and twisted it. Top then clinked again, this time his wrist to Rev’s wrist.
“He’s new to the life, and I haven’t shown him yet,” Bunny said.
Rev felt like he’d just been shown the secret handshake, and it confused him. He’d have to ask Bunny later.
“Top? This is Gunny—”
He suddenly realized he never knew her last name. She was Bunny, and Gunny Bunny wasn’t going to cut it.
“Analisa duLait,” Bunny said.
“Jack Thapa. I’ve got the misfortune of being this miscreant’s platoon sergeant.”
“I am what you trained me to be, Top. So, anything I’m not is on you.”
“Kids nowadays,” Bunny said with a laugh.
The top sat down beside Rev. “The lieutenant gives his regards. He’ll try to make it out here someday.”
“Then he’s going to miss me. I’m getting discharged on Friday.”
The top raised his eyebrows. “Friday? We were told it might still be weeks.”
“I convinced them to let me go.” He waved his social arm. “I’ve got this baby licked.”
“Convinced” was more like “blackmailed.” The accelerated plan, hatched by the doctor and Colonel Tolouse, was to transfer Rev to Second Raider Platoon at Camp Kamachi to start some more realistic training. Rev hadn’t exactly staged a sit-down strike, but he emphatically pointed out that he should train with his own team, thereby eliminating the need to build teamwork. That
still wasn’t going anywhere until Lieutenant General Trejo weighed in during a conference call. Trejo was a mustang grunt, moving up the ladder from private to three stars, and he understood a grunt’s mentality.
So, over the objections of Doctor Chakrabarti and Colonel Tolouse, who would now have to move the shop to Nguyen, Rev was going back home.
Colonel Tolouse came around sooner than the good doctor when he realized it would be easier to keep Rev out of prying eyes back at Nguyen and Swansea than the larger Camp Kamachi and surrounding city of Anastasia.
“Good to hear. We’ll be glad to get you back.” The top paused a moment, eyes blankly looking at the holoscreen. “Rev, I know you’re raring to go, and you want to prove to everyone that you’re up to speed. But you need to pace yourself. You’ve got that great Rycroft arm and all, but you still need to adjust. And if you ever need someone just to talk to, I’m there.”
Rev held back a smile. He knew the top was trying to help, but he had no idea the transformations Rev had gone through. Not only did Rev not need time to get “back up to speed,” but he’d also already surpassed where he was before Alafia.
The top would almost certainly find out if his accelerated training kept to the plan, but for now, Rev wasn’t at liberty to tell him anything.
Still, he appreciated the thought, and he knew when it was time, he’d welcome the opportunity. There were still things Rev hadn’t come to grips with, such as killing fellow humans. The minute he brought that up within an official channel, people would have a panic attack for having given a super-weapon to a confused young man. He knew in his heart that the top wouldn’t turn on him.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Top. Anyway, how’ve things been going? We going to get a real team leader anytime soon?”
Not that Rev really wanted to break in a new lieutenant, and Staff Sergeant Delacrie was getting better, but sometimes having an officer around helped grease the skids.
“Not likely, at least not that I’ve heard. I told the lieutenant that I’d be happy to take over, but he wants me as the platoon sergeant.”
Rev hadn’t considered that, but now that the top had mentioned it, he could certainly get on board with it. No dis on Delacrie, but the top had more knowledge on fighting in his little finger than Delacrie had in his entire body. He knew more than Delacrie and Rev combined.
“Other than that, same-old, same-old. Got the problems with the Fries, of course.”
“What problems?”
“You haven’t heard? They think we have some Centaur prisoners.”
Rev kept a straight face. Last he heard, the accusation was that they had a body, singular. The one he and Tomiko had found.
“Yeah, but that’s all talk. How does that affect Ting-a-ling and his crew?”
“Lots of people think they shouldn’t be with us. Like they’re spies or some shit.”
“But they’re good people,” Rev protested.
“I know that, and you know that. But not everyone’s so accepting.”
“You’re serving with Fries?” Bunny asked. She’d been quiet, letting the two talk, but that evidently piqued her interest.
“Yeah. One of our teams is a Host flight, as they call it.”
“I’ve heard they’re pretty good fighters.”
“They’ve done their fair share with us. Bled with us,” the top said.
“Can’t ask for more than that,” Bunny said.
When Rev heard about the accusation, all he’d really thought about was if anything was going to come down on his, Tomiko’s, or the lieutenant’s head. He hadn’t considered how it might affect the sixty or so Frisians still with the regiment.
“Maybe it’ll all blow over and nothing will come of it,” the top said, stretching out his legs. “Oh, before I forget, the lieutenant wanted me to say you’ve been put in for an HSM.”
Rev shrugged. The Humane Service Medal was given to Marines or sailors who exhibited bravery while saving someone’s life. Evidently, saving Kat filled that description. But Rev was somewhat soured on medals. His own Platinum Nova had been yanked from him for political reasons, and his and Tomiko’s Silver Novas had been buried for security reasons. This medal really wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things.
Master Sergeant Thapa’s eyes finally seemed to register what was on the screen. “What season is this?”
“What are we at, Rev? Four?” Bunny asked.
“Yeah, four.”
“I only got up to Season Three. Mind if I hang out here until the colonel heads back?”
“Let me get you a coffee, Top,” Rev said.
“And I’ll catch you up,” Bunny said eagerly. “You see, Lamar left Heartland Station. You got that far, right? Well, what they didn’t know was . . .”
Rev’s training the next day was canceled. At first, Rev thought it was punishment for forcing the issue about going back to Nguyen, but then he realized that Doctor Chakrabarti was too centered on the project to get that petty. When Daryll told him that she was already moving to Nguyen, he decided to take it at face value.
But that left him with nothing to do and no one to do nothing with. Bunny and the rest were in rehab or at appointments, and he wasn’t in the mood to turn on the holo screen. He chatted up Lieutenant (JG) Wosley, the duty nurse, for fifteen minutes until he realized he was keeping her from her work. Then, with nothing else to do, he started wandering the halls.
There were no rules about keeping to the ward, but as a practical matter, the patients were either there, at the galley, at the hospital store, or at their appointments. But Rev was bored, and he realized that he really hadn’t seen much of the hospital. No one gave him a second look. With his hospital sweats and T, coupled with his social arm, he was just one more patient. He stopped to read the posters that lined the passages, most with hints on keeping healthy. Some were more interesting. The holograms of military life on the planet since the initial landing were fascinating. There were even some of Swansea when it was little more than a dozen temporary barracks. He took time with that one, trying to identify where things now stood based on terrain features.
More interesting were the plaques dedicated to Platinum Nova awardees, as well as corpsmen or other medical staff who earned Gold and Silver Novas. These were some real heroes, and they made Rev feel a little guilty for resenting the fact that his Platinum Nova had been quashed. He’d been lucky and just did what he did to survive. Some of these corpsmen so honored braced certain death to treat the Marines in their charge.
He just finished reading about a corpsman who was posthumously awarded the Platinum Nova on Breaker’s World and turned the corner to see a closed ward, a single letter F above the door.
Technically part of the Wounded Warrior Battalion, it was nevertheless kept separated from the Wounded Warrior Ward. These were the Marines and sailors who needed long-term care and therapy—or permanent hospice care beyond a Marine or Navy House. Those people had the ability to take care of some of their needs. Ward F hospice patients didn’t have that ability.
Rev gulped. He believed in science. He was a rational being. But traditionally, Marines tended not to talk about the severely wounded as if mentioning them would remind the gods of war that they’d been lucky so far. No one wanted to catch the gods’ attention if they could help it.
Still, he was curious. He walked up to the glass and looked inside. There was the nurses’ station, just as in his ward. An empty lounge was off to the side, and rooms stretched out down a passage behind the station.
Above the lone nurse was a board with names on it. It looked like a schedule of sorts. Rev glanced at the names when one caught his eye, and his heart jumped.
Mason | Pace | 1300
Mason was the patient, Pace was the nurse, and 1300 the time for whatever was supposed to take place.
Could it be? Mason is a pretty common name after all.
“Is that Sergeant Mason? Our Sergeant Mason?”
Rev stared at the name. It couldn’t be, right? He’d been told that the sniper wasn’t going to make it. Too much brain matter had been lost.
But . . .
Without thinking, Rev pushed open the doors and walked up to the duty nurse.
“Can I help you?” the nurse asked.
“Yes, I hope so. Is that Sergeant . . .”
He couldn’t remember Mason’s first name.
“. . . Yuri Mason? A sniper. From Eighth Marines?”
The nurse’s eyes narrowed, and he asked, “Who wants to know?”
“I’m Sergeant Pelletier,” Rev said, holding up the hospital ID snapped to his waistband. “I was his spotter when he . . . when he got shot.”
The nurse’s eyes softened. “I’m not supposed to release that kind of information to anyone other than his command or family. You’re not family, are you?”
Rev sighed, then the nurse asked, “Any kind of family? Anything at all?”
Is he trying to give me a hint?
They say that the Corps is family, right?
“Yes, I am! We’re brothers . . .”
. . . in arms.
“Good enough for me. Yes, Yuri’s in Room 1408.”
“Thanks!”
The nurse reached over the station counter and grabbed Rev by the arm. He looked over his shoulder as if searching for someone who could overhear him. “Yuri’s in bad shape. His memory . . . not much is there. Maybe, if you see him, that could give it a little boost. If you can talk to him, who knows? But I’m going to be watching the monitor. If he starts to get agitated, I want you to stop and leave. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“And one more thing. Family or not, no one hears of this, right?”
“Right.”
Rev could feel the nurse’s eyes on him as he walked down the passage, stopping in front of 1408. The tag on the door said “Mason, Y.”