Corpsman

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  She seemed to have a hard time focusing on Liege’s face, but after a few seconds, everything seemed to dawn on her, and she half-sat, her elbows propping her up.

  She saw her PICS, then muttered, “Shit, Annabelle! You’re all fucked up.”

  Liege broke out laughing, receiving a scowl from the corporal in return. It just seemed too funny. The huge, frightening PICS was not only controlled by a 35 kg Marine, she called her PICS “Annabelle.” That didn’t invoke fear.

  “Sorry about that, Corporal,” Liege said, trying to regain control. “You’re a little banged up, but you’ll be fine. Three days bedrest, I think, and you’ll be as good as new.”

  “What about Anna. . .my PICS?”

  “Your PICS? I don’t know. I’m not an armorer.”

  “Doc Neves, what’s the status of Corporal Jones?” Sergeant diTora asked over the P2P.

  Liege looked up to see a PICS heading her way.

  “She’s fine. A little bruised up, and she’ll need to be checked for a slight concussion, but she’s good to go. We’ll need to get her some transport back, but this is only a Class 3 CASEVAC. No emergency.”

  “Roger that. I’ll get on it,” the PICS squad leader passed.

  “Some shit, huh?” Korf asked as Liege stood up and looked around. “One of the rockets was diverted into the ground, and another ricocheted off a PICS and hit that Wiedner. Took out half of the back.”

  “Is the driver OK?” Liege asked, suddenly remembering that she might have more work to do.

  “Not even scratched. Pissed as all git out, though.”

  Liege could see the man, pacing up and down the length of his truck, which wasn’t very long now with half of the cargo van blown off. Demolished bits of what looked to have been rolls and rolls of toilet paper were scattered around the ground, some still slowly burning, other bits still shades of subdued coral and white.

  “There’s going to be some shit to pay for that,” Liege said, not able to help herself.

  “Yeah, I know…oh, I see what you did with that,” Korf said, suddenly laughing.

  Liege was more of a sonic cleanser kind of girl, not toilet paper, but still, the opening had been too sweet to pass up.

  Chapter 15

  “You should join us,” Liege told Rene as they finished up their field rats.

  “Ah, the enthusiasm of the newly-converted,” Vic said from where he sat, pulling up his peaches pouch and draining the last of the juice into his mouth.

  Liege gave him a frown, even if she knew he was right. She’d been hitting the gym for only three weeks now, yet she was pushing it more than anyone else.

  “Don’t mind him. Just look at this,” Liege told Rene, flexing her biceps.

  Rene looked, then nodded before digging into her chili mac. She hadn’t looked convinced.

  Liege looked at her flexed bicep, then wondered if it really was more cut or if that was just her imagination.

  No, it’s more cut, she told herself.

  With Rene, there were four women in the squad—well, five if she counted Sergeant Vinter, but Vinter was in another class. She was a sergeant, and that transcended gender or anything else. Liege and Fanny were very close, and Liege wanted to bring Rene and Lassi Rassiter into the fold. Lassi, though, didn’t seem ready to reach out to anyone, so that left Rene if Liege was going to form a squad Three Musketeers. Besides, Rene was the first person Liege had ever known who came from Mother Earth, and it was almost as if by being her friend, some of that might rub off on her. That was ridiculous, she knew, but Earth was considered as almost some sort of heavenly paradise to those back in the favelas of Nova Esperana.

  Rene’s lack of enthusiasm didn’t deter Liege. She’d just keep pushing, and she’d eventually wear the girl down. She looked down at the pouch of tuna japonnaise in her hand. Half of it was still there, steam slowly escaping. She wasn’t hungry, though. Field Rations D just didn’t cut it with her. As a little girl when it was just Leticia, Avó, and her, sometimes they went without food. Back then, she would have killed for rations like these. But now, they just didn’t cut it.

  The platoon was in the playground of Tracy Heskett Junior School. With high, strong walls and positioned alongside Camino al Norte close to its intersection with Route Gazelle, it made a good secure area for patrols to stop or for Marine staff to meet local bigwigs. For two months now, the battalion had been sending a platoon to take up residence at the school, for a week at a time, as a forward CP.

  “The lieutenant’s coming,” Corporal Sativaa told the rest of the Marines as he stood up. “Time to boogie.”

  Liege folded shut her rations, activating the seal, and putting them in her assault pack. She told herself she’d save the food for later, but “later,” they’d be back at the camp where Gunny Coventry could run them some fresh fab-chow, not this petrified crap that had probably been processed back during the War of the Far Reaches.

  The platoon had been on a patrol-in-force, leaving the battalion lines last night at 1930. Surveillance had indicated an increase of subversive activity, and the platoon had gone out as a reminder that the Marines were ready and willing to respond to any provocation.

  Three other platoons from the other rifle companies were on their own patrols-in-force throughout the AO, and two of them had contact during the night. Surprisingly, one of the attacks had been on India’s PICS platoon, which had been entirely ineffective and had cost the attackers at least four KIA and an unknown number of WIA.

  There had been no challenges to Second Platoon during the long night, however, and the short break at Tracy Heskett had been a welcome interlude to get off their feet and get a bit of chow into their bellies. Now, they had a decent-enough hike down Camino al Norte, then a right turn to get back to port. Four hours tops, and they’d be back in their squadbays.

  “Naptime’s over, children!” Staff Sergeant Abdálle shouted, making the rounds of the three squads. “Let’s start earning our salaries.”

  It took a good three minutes, with the platoon sergeant pushing hard, for the platoon to be ready to step out. Lieutenant Alamien twirled his forefinger in the air, and the platoon sergeant shouted, “Step it off, Sergeant S.”

  Sergeant Sasoon, the Third Squad leader, didn’t have to say a thing. His lead fire team stepped out the school gate and onto the road. First Squad was second in line, and the lieutenant positioned himself with them. Behind Liege, Second Squad would pull up the rear.

  The morning air was clear and crisp as Liege stepped through the school’s gates. Once again, she was struck by the beauty of the city. It wasn’t just the bay and the tree-covered hills; the city itself had been carefully planned. Camino al Norte in this sector was a wide, lovely boulevard with stately buildings on each side of the road. A center median had been landscaped with statues and vegetation. There were signs of the violence with more than a few destroyed buildings, but it was easy to see how nice it must have been before the fighting. Closer to the center of town, the east side of the boulevard would be taken up by the massive Barrio Blanca, but up here was a different story. Even the barrio wasn’t that bad, at least to the favela-raised Liege (although most of the Marines said they found the place oppressive).

  The platoon was in a dual column as it marched. There were far more secure formations, but the intent of the patrol was to be seen. Still, the Marines weren’t stupid. Flank security was running parallel to them as they marched, drones and nano-drones flooded the air, the Marine’s lone Wasp was on station, and up above in orbit, the Josh had her eyes along every centimeter of the route.

  The street was fairly busy with pedestrians. People were going about their daily lives. Some of them glared at the Marines from windows and backed up alongside the buildings, but others either ignored them or even smiled. A handful of youngsters seemed to get a kick out of marching along the median and between the two columns.

  Still, the Marines couldn’t let their guard down. This was primarily a Svea area, and the Arm of the
North was the newly formed Svea militia that had instigated a number of attacks, including the firefight with Hotel Company that had resulted in ten WIAs, four of them serious. Things might seem peaceful and routine, but the platoon could not be complacent.

  Many of the landmarks in the city had designations to help their identification. The outward-leaning plastiglass bank that Liege walked past was the “Glass Cliff,” and just up ahead, she could see the top floors of the “Pyramid.” Liege had thought it somewhat silly, at first, that in the era of electronic identification and individual battle AIs, they needed nicknames for landmarks, but she quickly learned that in basic conversations, the nicknames worked well. Humans were humans, and they still used speech as their main means of communications.

  The Pyramid was on the west side of the road, still in a Svea area, but it pretty well marked the beginning of Barrio Blanca on the east side of the boulevard. As the patrol wended its way past the building, Liege could feel her stress level lower. She knew that the Tinos were not really friends of the Marines, but the two attacks during the night on the other platoons had occurred in Svea neighborhoods.

  Even without the Pyramid, it was pretty evident that the complexion of the area had changed. The buildings on the east side of the road became more uniform with less architectural variety. The median lost its trees and major pieces of art. Some art remained, but most of it looked rather worse for wear. The “Duck Walk” was a good example of that. The first piece of art after passing the Pyramid from the north, it consisted of a meter-tall mother duck with nine baby ducks following her. Liege didn’t know how many ducklings had been originally sculpted as there were a number of gaps in the line, and in one of the gaps, two little legs still rose from the ground. Two ducklings were missing their heads, and another duckling had been torn out of place and was now mounting the duckling ahead of it. The Marines had named that duckling “Hank,” and they saluted him each time they marched past. Most of the buildings were in pretty good shape, but Liege guessed that with the Tinos on one side and the Svea on the other, no one wanted to take ownership of the median.

  There were fewer people on the street in this section of the boulevard. More of them ducked into doorways as the Marines patrolled past.

  Liege brought up the patrol route on her display. Another 1200 meters of march, then the column right that would bring them back to camp. She was focusing on the route when a cloud of dust shot out of the bottom of a building just ahead of her. She immediately cleared the display a split second before the low rumble of an explosion, followed by a blast of pressure, reached her. Almost in slow motion, the entire side of an office building up ahead seemed to fall over onto the boulevard. Liege watched in shock as the road ahead disappeared into the rising dust and smoke.

  It wasn’t just the road that had been covered with debris. There were Marines there!

  She toggled her bio-scans. Wheng was greyed out, Korf, Fanny, and Goodpastor were light blue.

  Without thinking, she broke into a sprint, barely acknowledging the firing that erupted around her, both incoming fire and outgoing as Marines took cover and engaged. Her mind was on one thing: get her Marines.

  The dust was still heavy as she reached the rubble. She saw Fanny first, sitting on the ground, looking dazed. A quick scan showed she was not seriously hurt, but rounds were pinging around them. Liege grabbed Fanny by the shoulder harness and pulled her to the cover of a big piece of wall.

  “You’re OK. Just stay down,” she yelled at her.

  She ran back to see another Marine helping Goodpastor out of the fire. A quick scan and she could see his injuries weren’t life-threatening.

  “Doc, take cover!” someone shouted as she tried to get a picture of the rubble covering the street.

  She switched to her battle overlay. She could see where Wheng was—under the deepest pile of rubble. His bio-scan showed nothing, no signs of life. Korf, though, while he was in big trouble, was still hanging on to life. Liege oriented her display, then started scrambling over the broken chunks of building.

  A heavy chatter of fire sounded overhead, and she ducked, but it was the Wasp, its 20mm chaingun chewing up one of the buildings on the barrio side.

  Liege reached where Korf should have beeen, but she saw nothing. Two rounds hit the slab of plasticrete upon which she was standing, sending small splinters into her calf.

  “Keep them off me!” she shouted into the squad circuit, hoping someone would cover her.

  She took in a deep breath, then bent over to start heaving off whatever piece of rubble she could. Korf’s vitals were on her display, and she could see him fading quickly. The display couldn’t tell her everything, but the readouts were pretty indicative that he didn’t have much time.

  “Doc, I’m coming to help,” Pablo passed to her.

  “No! I’ve got it. Just cover me.”

  Liege knew she could use the help, but there wasn’t much room where she was balanced precariously between two plasticrete slabs. But more than that, she didn’t want anyone else exposed. She could feel enemy crosshairs centered between her shoulders, and she expected to be hit at any moment.

  She renewed her digging, and when she pulled up a piece of sheeting, she saw 30 centimeters of Marines between her feet.

  “Korf!’ she yelled out, despite knowing he was unconscious.

  She bent over to tug on him when she was hit with an agonizing shock. Her head flew back as her body arched in agony. She wanted to scream, but her lungs wouldn’t cooperate.

  And just as suddenly, it was gone.

  She knew she’d been hit with an energy weapon of some sort—luckily by a side lobe of the beam. A direct hit, with only her skins and bones for protection, and she’d have been completely scrambled.

  Liege tried to take some deep breaths to gather herself. She brought up her right hand to her face. She couldn’t keep it still. The shaking told her that she’d suffered some serious damage.

  Screw it!

  She bent back down. Liege couldn’t hold her hand steady, but by forcing it into movement, she could mitigate the effects. She tore into the rubble like a badger, throwing pieces of building around like they were made of polypuffs.

  Maybe the gym’s paying off, she thought, almost as an observer as her body simply went on autopilot.

  She was only dimly aware of the fight going on, of the Wasp making run after run. She was hit four times by kinetics, her bones hardening and protecting her. The rounds felt like mule kicks, but except for the round that hit her shin and might have done some damage, she doubted that she’d been hurt by them. She was kissed by another energy weapon, but either the beam had ablated too much to have a significant punch, or she was even farther out from the main beam.

  She’d cleared Korf’s back first, so she focused on his head. A huge piece of plasticrete had his head trapped, and Liege couldn’t budge it. She was about to call for Pablo to help when she remembered her M99. She’d slung it over her back when she started clambering over the pile. She pulled it back around and jammed the muzzled between the bottom edge of the piece of the wall and some rubble underneath it. She took a deep breath, and then bracing her feet, pulled down with everything she had. The slab lifted ever so slightly, and still straining to hold it up, she quickly grabbed Korf’s harness and yanked him back. His head came free, and Liege pulled him upright.

  I’m probably doing all sorts of damage here.

  For injuries such as his, the protocol was to keep a patient as still as possible and secure the neck and head. But that protocol didn’t consider people trying to kill both the patient and caregiver.

  She put her arms around Korf from behind, locking her hands across his chest. Her nerves were on fire, but she pushed up with all the force she could muster. There was a nasty crackling sound from one of his legs, but he jerked free, sending Liege down on her ass with him on top of her. Liege pushed him aside, stood, and managed to get him into a fireman’s carry. She stumbled off the rubble pile whe
n a string of automatic fire laced both of them. The round that struck her side was a much bigger round than what had hit her a few minutes ago, and the force drove her to one knee. She knew that Korf had been hit as well, and she hoped his bones were still functioning.

  Liege got back up just as Pablo and Vic rushed out from cover and pulled Korf from her shoulders. Vic took Korf, and Pablo helped Liege escape the line of fire.

  They almost dove through the broken door of the adjoining building. Liege didn’t know if the explosion next door had blasted the plastiglass door or if the Marines smashed it, but she didn’t care. Korf and she were out of direct fire.

  What she’d done suddenly hit her. She’d been working almost from muscle memory out there, somehow ignoring the fact that she’d been a very obvious target. She shouldn’t have survived.

  Liege leaned over and vomited the small amount of field rats she’d eaten.

  “That’s our Doc,” Vic said, a smile on his face, as he leaned over to hold her head so she wouldn’t get the vomit on herself.

  She hadn’t eaten much, so after a couple of heaves, she was able to sit up and wipe her mouth.

  “You both OK?” she asked as she pulled out her scanner to check Korf.

  Her hands were shaking, but whether from the energy blast she’d absorbed or from simple relief, she didn’t know. She tried to focus on the readouts, which didn’t look good, but she was having a hard time concentrating.

  “What do we got?” Doc Gnish asked, rushing into the store.

  “Korf looks fucked up, and I don’t think Doc’s in too good a shape,” Vic said.