by J. N. Chaney
“No, this isn’t happening!”
Rev snapped off a prayer shot, but the quake jerked the missile high and to the left. Using both his right arm and Pashu, he got to his knees, but he couldn’t fire like that.
The riever had him dead to rights when a Yellowjacket shot in from the left and glanced off the top of the Centaur. That seemed to surprise the riever, and the pedestal shifted ever-so-slightly in the direction from which the missile came.
That was the break Rev needed. He pulled his legs under and through, so he was sitting. Without thinking, he raised Pashu, shouted “Get down” to whoever had fired the Yellowjacket, and fired another Moray.
He immediately rolled over backward into the gash in the ground and landed heavily on the bottom as the Moray hit. There was an explosion, followed a moment later by a larger explosion caused by the riever self-destructing. The shock wave rolled over the ditch, barely touching him.
“Did I do it?”
Disregarding his Optisight, Rev raised his head. Leaves were settling to the ground. Where the riever had been, trunks were shattered, and there was a small crater.
He felt a surge of victory before he remembered the other Marine, the one who’d fired the Yellowjacket. And without whom, Rev might not have made it.
“Are you OK?” he asked, clambering out of the hole.
Some forty meters to his left, in a small depression, Sergeant Gizzy Incrit-Kole gave a shaky thumbs up.
The lieutenant shook his head in disbelief. “I just got my ass chewed for you taking out all five of the tin-asses.”
Rev looked up from where he was sitting. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“I shit you not. It was Trejo himself. Seems like they had other plans for the rest of them.”
Rev wiped some drying blood from his face. The near miss by the riever had done more damage than he’d thought at the time, and he was dead tired, so the lieutenant’s revelation didn’t elicit an angry outburst. He just didn’t have the energy.
He looked across the small clearing where Hussein had a black bag attached to his harness. Inside were parts of Yazzie’s skull and whatever else had been scrounged up. He doubted that everything there massed four kilograms.
To Hussein’s side, Doc Paul was kneeling alongside Nix and Minnow Krill. Minnow was in bad shape, really bad. And at the edge of the clearing were four bodies. Greenie Sjberic, Gunny Lupe, Cujo Lim, and Private Lena Ballesteri, too boot to even have a nickname yet. Nothing was recovered from Bambam.
“Screw them,” Top Thapa said. “Six KIA and two WIA? What the hell were we supposed to do?”
Tomiko reached over from where she was sitting and put a hand on Rev’s leg. It was such a small gesture but welcomed.
Rev had done this. No, he understood that it was the Centaurs, but it was because of Rev that it had been these specific Marines. They were going to send him to Second Raider Platoon, but no, he just had to push and blackmail to get back to First Platoon. These Marines beside him. If he hadn’t been so self-centered, Yazzie, Bambam, and the rest would be alive now.
He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that this would have worked out any differently if he’d been with Second Platoon. Marines would have died. Maybe even more. But the fact was that he barely knew them, and he knew all of these Marines. He was human, after all, and he mourned his friends.
“I have to see the general and the rest when we get up to the ship,” the lieutenant said.
“Better you than me, sir,” the top said. “But I wouldn’t worry too much. They can’t deny that what we did, what Pelletier did, was a success. None of those brass are going to let this be anything other than that.”
“I’m not worried. Like you said, screw them.”
Master Sergeant Thapa was probably right. They would be crowing about their success, and how the proof of concept was checked off the list. More and more Marines would be getting their IBHUs—maybe volunteering to get their arm hacked off to get them.
Gizzy Incrit-Kole had been watching Rev for the last five minutes from across the clearing. He could feel her eyes burn into him. The sergeant finally got up and started across to him.
Not now, Gizzy, please.
She hadn’t liked the mission from the beginning, and now she’d lost four of her team. She probably blamed him.
With a sigh, he turned to face her, but she sat down, picking a piece of grass and putting it between her teeth.
“You did good, Rev,” she said, to his surprise. “I thought . . . I thought this was some bullshit, you know. But you kept us alive. Gunny, he said he had to hold the line to let you all get away, and we agreed. If you hadn’t charged down like some fucking avenging angel, well, we all would have bought it.”
Tomiko stood and went to Gizzy to give her a hug. No words because none were needed.
A high whine reached them, and twenty-seven sets of eyes looked up.
“That’s our ride,” Top Thapa said. “Clear the LZ, and let’s get off this ball of shit.”
36
“Person to be recognized, front and center . . . HARCH!”
Rev performed a right face and marched behind Special Augment Company—comprised of Second Reconnaissance Platoon, First Raider Platoon, Second Sapper Platoon, and Second Combat Engineer Platoon. He turned left at the far side of the sappers and marched up the depth of the company.
“Keep me on beat.”
Punch sent a measured drum beat directly into his auditory cortex, giving him a guide to time his march. He passed the front ranks of the company. Ahead of him and centered on and facing the company, Colonel Destafney and the sergeant major stood at attention. Behind them, the bleachers were filled with guests, and the air above was crowded with newsdrones. Rev didn’t search the bleachers for his family. He kept his head forward, his body stiff.
A couple of meters short of the colonel, Rev performed column left movement and marched forward, eyes locked ahead. He was surprisingly nervous.
“NO!” he almost shouted aloud.
“Let me focus. Can the humor for now.”
And then Rev was in front of the colonel. He came to a halt, performed a right face, and saluted. The colonel saluted back.
“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please rise for the presentation of the awards.”
The guests stood as one. For a moment, Rev caught a quick glance of Neesy waving over the colonel’s shoulder. He quickly focused on the colonel’s nose, afraid that his little sister would make him laugh.
“Colonel Rictus Destafney, Commanding Officer of the Eighth Marines, the Gryphons, will first present Sergeant Pelletier with the Bleeding Heart Medal for wounds received during combat on Alafia, March 19, 3829.”
The sergeant major handed the colonel the Bleeding Heart. The colonel stepped forward and pinned the blood-red medal to Rev’s chest. This was Rev’s second award, the first being awarded after the paladin he’d killed almost took off his foot. That, along with his Marine Expeditionary Medal and the Gold Achievement Medal that he’d gotten when his Platinum Nova was pulled, were the extent of his achievements in four years as a Marine.
Rev had single-handedly taken out a paladin. Along with Tomiko, he’d found a Centaur body that might be changing the course of the war. And a few weeks ago, he’d taken a new weapon and killed five Centaurs in single combat. All he had to show for that was a single three-ribbon bar.
Rev wasn’t a medal chaser, but he held a bit of a grudge for that. And now, as a consolation prize, he was being used by the New Hope Marine command for a public relations campaign and being awarded the Humane Service Medal for saving a small girl from becoming an involuntary suicide bomber. He didn’t regret his actions, but all this attention for what was really a mid-level award was overblown. As far as he was concerned, t
hey could have mailed him the certificate, and he could have picked up the ribbon at the base exchange.
“That’s two of these, Sergeant. You might want to learn to duck,” the colonel said before he stepped back.
Not really that funny, and Rev knew he was going to have to explain the humor to Punch when all this was done. But it was still a human touch, colonel to sergeant version.
And then it was time for the main event. A tiny newsdrone dropped lower, just behind the colonel, so it could record Rev’s face.
He tried to look solemn as befitting getting an award, but he thought he probably looked constipated instead.
The announcer, one of the recon lieutenants, started again:
The Director of the Perseus Union Armed Forces takes great pleasure in presenting the Humane Service Medal to Sergeant Reverent R Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps, for service as set forth in the following citation:
On March 19, 3829 Earth Standard, the then Corporal Pelletier was assigned to the First Raider Platoon, Alpha Company, attached to the Eight Marines, during combat operations on the planet Alafia. During clean-up operations after the Battle of Natividad, Corporal Pelletier was on patrol in the Brecca Cordon, which had been heavily damaged during the previous day’s battle. Observing the remnants of a home, Corporal Pelletier moved forward to clear it when he discovered a young girl who had been involuntarily rigged as a suicide bomber. Without regard for his own safety, Corporal Pelletier calmed the young girl so he could examine the bomb. It had been set so that removing it would detonate the bomb. Seeing the fatigue in the girl, Corporal Pelletier knew that she could not last until EOD could be summoned, so with complete disregard for his own safety, he determined a method to interspace his own body between the bomb and the girl. Then, with no other option and understanding that doing so could cost him his life, he detonated the bomb, absorbing the full impact of the blast, shielding the girl at grievous cost to himself. Corporal Pelletier’s selfless actions saved the life of the girl, reflected great credit upon himself, and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the Perseus Union Naval Service.
Given under my hand,
Locklear Begay
Lieutenant General, Perseus Union Marine Corps
Commanding
That made it sound like he’d done more than he really had. In reality, he’d been swept up by events that were beyond his control. He could let the little girl die, or he could take action, relying on his armor to keep him alive.
He took a quick glance at the stands, and there in the front row, he caught his father beaming with pride. Rev didn’t put too much weight on the ceremony, knowing it was for public consumption, but if his family got anything out of it, then he was OK with the pomp and circumstance.
The sergeant major opened the case and removed the silver anchor hanging from the pink ribbon with two vertical silver stripes. He handed it to the colonel, and Rev stared at him, ready to have it pinned on his chest.
To his surprise, however, the colonel didn’t reach out. Instead, he said, “I think I’ll have someone else pin this one.” He gave a half-turn, sweeping out an arm in invitation.
What’s going on?
Then, from the front row, right beside his mother, a small girl with blonde braids and in a periwinkle blue frock started marching forward.
“Who is that?”
And then it hit him. She was cleaned up and looking much better than the last time he saw her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the Humane Service Medal to Sergeant Pelletier will be Kat Thiessen, the young woman whose life the sergeant saved.”
There were gasps from the observers, then cheers. They were obviously as surprised as Rev was.
How did she get here? What are they doing?
This was theater. Good theater, true, though still done for public relations. But Rev didn’t care. Tears formed in his eyes as Kat trooped forward, her face screwed tight in determination. She marched through the swarming newsdrones, her eyes locked on Rev’s.
“Record, record this.”
She got to the colonel and reached up for the medal. He gave it to her, then picked her up by the arms. She gave his metallic face an anxious look, then tore her gaze away to look at Rev.
“Thank you, Sergeant Pelletier,” she said, carefully pronouncing his last name.
She stretched out and placed the medal on his chest, shifting it until the magstrip caught.
Kat gave him a little salute, which was difficult with the colonel holding her under her armpits, and Rev broke. Military decorum be damned.
He stepped closer and took the little girl in his arms, crushing her tight. Tentatively, two little arms reached out to encircle his neck.
Whatever he’d been thinking about the Humane Service Medal a few minutes ago vanished. As far as he was concerned, right here and right now, he’d rather have this one silver and pink medal than a hundred Platinum Novas.
Epilogue
“And then we can go to Pizza Castle. You’ll like that,” Neesy told Kat. “They’ve got the Kid’s Castle there. It’s lots of fun.”
Rev just sat back and watched the two girls. Neesy was older by two years, and she was taking the older sister role to heart. Not that anything was official, but his family was hopeful. Kat’s presence in Swansea had been pure, unadulterated politics, a PR stunt. But now that she was here, the Pelletier family wanted to take advantage of the situation.
Kat was one of fourteen hundred Children of Angels children from Alafia taken into government custody. For most of them, they would eventually be returned to surviving parents or families once they were released. Kat, however, was one of more than three hundred whose parents were dead and who had no families to take them in.
If Kat’s parents hadn’t been killed in the fighting, and if Rev hadn’t been CASEVAC’d, he might have done the deed himself. It had been her parents who had given her to the still unknown Mr. Mark to rig her up to become a human bomb.
Across human space, there were tens of thousands of Children of Angel Orphans, or “CAOS,” as they were called by the press. Kat was just one, but she was one who Rev and his family wanted to take care of.
Most of the CAOS from Alafia had been taken to Bugatti’s World, and Kat was supposed to be returned to them, but after she had spent time with his family, and with the help of General Begay, they had gotten a judge to issue a restraining order, keeping her on New Hope.
Rev had thought it would be easy after that. Kat was a ward of the state. She had no family, Rev’s family wanted her, and she wanted to stay with them. But he’d underestimated the fervor of the Childrens’ Protective Agency. They were willing to stand up to anyone—the Marine Corps, the planetary governor, it didn’t matter who—to fulfill their charge to make sure every child was protected. There were forms to be filled, interviews to be taken, inspections of the family home, and a galaxy-wide search for distant family who might want to press a claim.
So, two weeks later, Kat was in the Swansea Happy House while the paperwork started to grind on, a process that might take three months before a decision could be made.
Every day, someone from the family came to visit her, and today, it was Rev and Neesy.
“I’ve had pizza before,” Kat said. “With pineapple.”
“I love pineapple!” Neesy exclaimed.
Rev just sat back and listened to their chatter. He might as well not even be there as the two girls were engrossed with each other. But he was fine with that.
As Tomiko had said on Alafia when he’d almost gotten his head blown off, there were cultures where saving someone’s life made them your responsibility. Tomiko was joking when she disavowed any responsibility for Rev, but in this case, with Kat, Rev was happy to accept it.
Kat had a rough life and parents who were willing to sacrifice her. But she was young enough to adjust, and while he might be biased, he thought his family was just the r
ight place for her.
One of the attendants, a pleasant-looking young woman in bright pink, entered the rec room. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s dinner-time. I’m afraid I need to take Kat.”
Both girls erupted into protests and asked for five more minutes, but the woman expertly, with compassion, managed to separate them and start to lead Kat away.
“Did you have fun today?” she asked Kat as they walked, hand-in-hand, through the door.
“Yes! That’s Neesy! She’s gonna be my sister.”
“I like her,” Neesy said, watching the two leave.
“Are you going to be OK with her as a sister? You won’t be my only little sister then.”
“But I’ll always be your favorite sister,” Neesy said, giving him a hug.
“Well, favorite sister, let me take you home.”
“Are you gonna have dinner with us?” Neesy asked.
“’Fraid not. I’ve got to go see some friends.”
“You’re going to drink,” she said, screwing her face into a pout.
“You’re probably right, sis,” he said with a laugh.
He called up an autocab and gave it the home address. Neesy started listing all the things she was going to show Kat, and she hadn’t gotten to the end of her list when the cab reached the house.
“Give me a hug,” Rev said. “And give everyone my love.”
“Don’t get drunk!” Neesy said as she slipped out of the cab.
Rev just snorted. Punch stayed out of his thoughts when he was busy or with others, but he’d started to interject comments like that at odd times.
And Rev sort of liked it.
“Leteeka’s, please,” he told the autocab.
“Way to be on time,” Yancy said sarcastically.
Rev looked around. No one else was there yet. He raised his eyebrows in a question.
“On time means early, Rev, when there’s drinking to be done.”