The combat load made him shudder. He had power for his braided cannon, but he didn’t need to be carrying his 20mm rounds, nor did he need missiles for a parade on a safe planet. But just the thought of going out without them made him feel naked.
He rotated Pashu at the shoulder, making sure she was seated properly inside the sleeve. Everything felt right.
“Excuse me.”
Rev looked around to see four sailors standing behind him.
“Yes?”
“Um . . . can we get a pic with you?” a petty officer said.
What?
He looked around. Over where Second Platoon was prepping, he could see Randigold holding court with a few sailors. She was going through various motions while the sailors—and a few troopers—watched. She suddenly lunged at the sailors, who jumped back with momentary fear before they started laughing.
It didn’t . . . seem right, was the best way to put it. But there were no Union rules against simple holos, and he’d already been told to stand by in case the locals wanted to take some.
“Sure, I guess. With the group of you?”
The petty officer said, “Each one individually, if you don’t mind, Staff Sergeant.”
“OK. Well, who’s first?”
“Didn’t know you were a rock star,” Ting-a-ling said as he stepped out of the line of fire.
Rev went through the process as all four had a holo taken with him. Then three more came up. Rev felt decidedly weird. These were fellow military personnel, not civilian tourists. But they seemed happy to have the holos.
Rev looked up once to see Kvat scowling at the little show. But in his combat suit, there was nothing visibly different about him than any other MDS soldier other than being a little bulkier, and bulkier did not make a better holo. Still, Rev felt a little blast of satisfaction that it was him, not Kvat, that the sailors approached.
The sailors might have kept coming if the announcement hadn’t told them it was time to leave the gym and get into formation.
It was time to parade.
* * *
Well, it wasn’t quite time to parade. It wasn’t even time to get ready to parade. It was time to get ready to get ready to parade. The Takagahara’s crew and Fox company formed up in loose formations inside the gym and waited for another fifteen minutes before being told to move outside and onto the staging area. Once at the start, it was another forty-five minutes of getting in formation, then standing around waiting for the command to move out.
The company was marching nine abreast, and Rev took his customary position on the left side of the formation, leaving Pashu free from banging into someone. Both Randigold and Sign of Respect had their IBHUs on their right shoulders, so they took positions on the right side of the formation.
At least this way, as the first sergeant pointed out, all of the spectators would get a good look at them. For Rev, having gone through so much secrecy and hiding the project, this was a sea change.
And he rather liked it.
Finally, the parade started. First up was a color guard, three militiamen carrying the colors of the Congress of Humanity, the Synergy Alliance, and the planet flags. They were immediately followed by the Barclay militia’s Drum and Bagpipe Corps. Each piper and drummer was dressed in a kilt. Rev had never seen a kilt in real life and craned his neck trying to look past the Takagahara’s sailors before the parade actually kicked off. Hopefully, he’d get a better look after the parade, maybe snap a holo with some of them. Neesy would get a kick out of seeing them, he knew.
A stately, open-topped ground limo followed, carrying the prime minister and an old man who was the last living second-generation citizen of the planet.
The Home Guard colors followed behind those two. A trooper carried the Council colors, a sailor the Home Guard Naval Forces colors, and another trooper the Home Guard Ground Forces colors.
The naval forces were senior by date of formation and preceded Fox.
“This is it. Look sharp. Forward . . . MARCH!” Major Yves shouted before she turned around.
Immediately, “Left . . . left . . . left, right, left,” sounded in his helmet.
“Turn that down,” Rev ordered Punch. The cadence might help to keep troopers in step, but he didn’t want his thoughts to be drowned out.
They didn’t quite step off at the same time. It was more like an accordion. The front rank, which consisted of the three rifle platoon commanders, each in front of their platoon, started, along with the lead rank of the company’s main body. But the subsequent ranks started in fits and stops, and it took several hundred meters for it to even out. This was only the second time since Rev had joined the company that it had been in a single formation, much less marched as a unit. Adding all the attachments, this was the first time they’d been in a combined formation.
Considering that, Rev thought they were actually doing a decent job. And judging by the cheers from the crowd as the troopers came into their view, they thought Fox Company was doing just fine.
“Whoa! They love us!” Lines passed on the squad net. “Think I can score tonight with some lovely Barclay babe?”
“Keep off the net, Lines. Focus on marching,” SFC Gamay passed.
He’s right, though. Not about getting laid, but these folks really do love us, Rev thought. Sergeant Crocker had promised them that his people would welcome them like this, but Rev was surprised at how enthusiastic the crowd was. Most were waving the bright red flag with the small Union Jack in the corner, but there were still plenty of blue CoH flags in the mix as well.
They conducted a left turn onto the main drag. The movement wouldn’t threaten a real drum and bugle corps, but they got around without killing someone, and Rev took that as a win. And if anything, the crowds were even bigger and more enthusiastic. That might have been alcohol-fueled if the odor of hops wafting over the road was any indicator.
A little boy, no more than five or six years old, rushed out, and Rev had to stutter step to keep from crushing the little guy. The boy slapped Pashu as Lines almost crashed into Rev from behind.
“Hi!” he said, hands clasped together as he looked up at Rev, running along on little legs to keep up with him.
“Hi,” Rev said over his exterior speakers.
“What happened to your arm?”
“This is my arm. I call her Pashu.”
Rev raised her, his tentacle-like fingers extended, and the boy happily gave him a high five before turning and running back into the crowd.
“Keep it tight,” Gamay passed.
Rev didn’t know if that was directed at him or not, but he closed the gap between him and Gingham. It wasn’t as if he’d had any choice in disrupting the formation. He wasn’t going to risk stomping on a little kid just to keep the formation looking good.
And while he thought it was annoying at first, the constant “left, right, left” was helpful for getting back in step.
Something flew out from the crowd, something small and pink, and landed in the middle of the formation. Rev didn’t see what it was for sure, but for the life of him, it looked like it could have been a pair of panties.
“I’m sure as hell going to like this place,” Lines said, and that confirmed to Rev that was exactly what the pink object had been.
The road opened up further, and stands started lining the way. These people were out to celebrate, so everything excited them. Local police stood in front of the people every ten to fifteen meters, but they seemed to be just enjoying their front-row view of the parade.
“Get ready for the reviewing stand,” the major passed.
A higher set of stands, covered in the gold and blue Barclay colors, was up ahead on the right. With the prime minister choosing to ride the limo, the planetary president would be in the stands along with the CoH rep, some vice-counsel whose name and exact position Rev had already forgotten. The Takagahara’s CO, Lieutenant Colonel Dupris, and the civilian d
iplomatic rep would be in the stands with him, as well as all the planetary and visiting bigwigs.
When the company commander was ten paces from the stand, she ordered, “Present . . . HARMS!”
Most of the troopers brought their weapons to a position of present arms, held vertically in front of their chests. Rev was not armed with an individual weapon, and Pashu was not really designed to render honors, so he didn’t react to that command.
Her next command was, “Eyes, right.”
Everyone from the second column on snapped their heads forty-five degrees to the right.
Just as the last rank passed the vice-counsel, the company commander ordered the company to bring their eyes back to the front and shoulder their arms. This was their one active action. From here on out, it was just march and soak up the atmosphere.
After another couple of hundred meters, someone slapped Pashu as he marched. His initial instincts were to strike out, but he withheld and turned to see a florid-faced man, trying to match Rev’s step while not spilling any of the beer he was carrying in two cups. He didn’t really do a very good job, either in the marching or in keeping the beer inside his cup.
“Love having you bluehats here. Thought you might be thirsty,” the man said, holding out one cup to Rev before stumbling and going down to his knees. Rev glanced back as the man tried to sweep spilled beer back into the cup.
“Damn, Staff Sergeant. You didn’t take the beer,” Lines said. “Alcohol abuse.”
The parade officially ended at the main park. Ten troopers were to stay in the park, where, along with the armor and military equipment in the parade, they would take part in the static display. Thankfully, Rev wasn’t assigned to that. Sergeant Sign of Respect would be the IBHU Marine tasked with that duty.
The company commander relieved the officers and turned the company over to the first sergeant to march it back to the gym. They’d stage their combat suits there, change into their uniforms, and head over the auditorium for the official ceremony. Once that was done, it was three days of liberty, and Rev wasn’t going to waste a minute of that.
* * *
“Let’s get this over with,” Rice whispered. “My throat’s getting mighty parched.”
“Shh. We’re still on stage,” Rev said. “We’ve got another hour, tops. The beer will stay cold.”
“An hour of speeches. I’ll die of boredom before that.”
“Think of it as the price we pay for the rest of the evening and the next two off. Besides, they said there will be some performances.”
“Yeah, probably the local primary school doing a traditional dance of some kind. Oh, so much excitement I can hardly contain myself.”
When she put it like that, Rev started to dread what was coming. He really didn’t care about Barclay’s history. He was a New Hope citizen, and he doubted he had much in common with these people. Sitting around listening to the speakers wax on about their pioneering spirit was something to be endured—nothing more, nothing less. But, an hour, maybe two, really was a small price to pay for what looked like would be a primo liberty port.
The entire company was seated in one section of the auditorium, the ship’s crew beside them. They’d been told to intermix, but like oil and water, there was a clear line of demarcation. It wasn’t as if the troopers disliked the crew or vice-versa. It was just birds of a feather flocking together.
“What’s the seating capacity of this place?”
“Then why does it look like half the planet is in here?”
Punch could discern between true and rhetorical questions and remained silent.
Rev wondered if the 27,000 included the folding chairs that took up half of the main floor. For that matter, if these speeches were such a big deal, why not fill the main floor with chairs instead of leaving a huge empty space.
The place was packed, though, with hundreds, if not thousands, standing between the seating. And as the company arrived after changing, there had been additional thousands thronging in the park surrounding the auditorium, crowding in front of what looked to be at least a dozen huge holo stands.
A lot of people just to hear some politicians speak.
But even if it didn’t matter much for him, this was an important day for every planet. Rev’s New Hope had its own Landing Day—but from the looks of it, the Barclayans took the celebration a little further than his own planet did.
“Here come the VIPs,” Toshi Gant said, pointing to where the ship’s CO, Lieutenant Colonel Dupris, and a host of other people crossed the main floor to a section of seats separated from the rest by meter-tall gold curtains.
Rev, Ting-a-ling, and Rice had become a de facto team over the last couple of months, but after the rescue mission, Toshi had latched onto the other three. He was good people, and he’d performed well on the Nightingale’s Song, so he was welcomed into their little clique.
“Maybe we’ll get started soon, then. I’m with you, Rice. Let’s get the party going,” Ting-a-ling said.
The VIP party stopped short of sitting down as they mingled, shook hands, and chatted. It was a good five minutes before they finally took their seats. The lights over the stands and chairs out on the floor dimmed, and a voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Barclay and visitors, welcome to the 154th Landing Day Celebration of the place we call home!”
Cheers and applause filled the hall.
Maybe that’s why they celebrate so hard. They’re still a young planet.
“If everyone will rise for the presentation of the colors.”
A single militiaman, dressed in a kilt and what looked like a leopard skin draped over his shoulder and covering most of his uniform, marched the length of the floor, pounding out the beats on a drum that hung on his side. His face could have been hewn out of granite, showing no emotion at all.
He marched to the front of the VIPs, and in very precise, almost mechanical movements, he performed an elaborate about-face, his arm steadily pounding a slow beat. He froze with his right arm at its highest, the rest of his body completely still. The crowd quieted.
The drummer drew out the moment, and Rev could almost see people lean forward in anticipation. With a sudden flurry, both of the militiaman’s arms flew into a blur, beating out a staccato flurry.
“Color Guard, forward, march!” a high-pitched voice rang out but with authority, and the drummer returned to a steady cadence.
Rev turned slightly to his right to see two young people marching forward, one holding the CoH flag, one the Barclayan flag. They had on what looked to be a version of the Galaxy Scout uniform, very similar to what the Galaxy Scouts wore on New Hope, at least. Rev could see the pride in the young woman and man as they marched forward, knowing that the eyes of the planet were upon them at that moment.
Rev joined all the military in coming to attention as the color guard made its way to the dais and performed a smart-looking reverse march move to finish up facing the crowd, backs toward the VIPs. The crowd broke out into applause.
A man and a woman climbed onto the stage. The woman held back while the man took center stage. Music started playing, and the man sang the planetary anthem. The crowd sang along with him, making the auditorium shake. The crowd cheered as the song finished.
“Damn,” Ting-a-ling said. “Pretty stippy-do impressive, I gotta say.”
The man retreated, and the woman, dressed in a full-length, peach formal gown, took her place in the center.
The music started again, but this time the familiar strains to the Congress of Humanity anthem, “One Galaxy.” Rev had heard the anthem a thousand times, and it had never resonated much with him. So, it surprised him when emotions started welling up, and he started singing along with her, for the first time feeling the words. Maybe it was just having completed the mission on the Nightingale’s Song. Maybe he was finally buying into the mantra of transcending planetary affiliations. Whatever it was, Rev was getting choked up as he s
ang the final refrain:
From the embrace of the Mother,
We reach for the stars.
From the embrace of the Mother,
We show who we are.
One people, united in destiny,
Inheriting the universe.
Our birthright.
As the last strains faded away, Rev reached quickly to wipe away a tear. The crowd’s applause was a little more muted than it was with the planetary anthem, but Rev didn’t care. For him, something had changed at that moment. Something for the good.
The two color guards performed opposite facing movements and then marched around to set the flags into holders on either side of the raised dais before they retreated out of sight in the wings. The first speaker stepped up to the podium in the middle of the dais.
“OK, here comes the pablum,” Rice said.
“Citizens of Barclay and honored guests, as prime minister of this special place we call home, I want to welcome you here to our Landing Day ceremony, the first since our victory over the Centaurs.”
There was a raucous standing ovation, and the prime minister let it carry on for a good twenty seconds before he spoke again. “And I’d like to offer a personal welcome to our special guests, the crew of the MCS Takagahara and Fox Company, Second of the Second. They arrived a day late, but for a good reason. They are here immediately after rescuing the Nightingale’s Song from criminal forces. While we are enjoying the peace, the Home Guard, made up of citizen-soldiers from throughout humanity, are risking their lives to protect us all. How about we give them a Barclay round of applause?”
He turned to where they were sitting and asked them to stand up. Rev felt a little self-conscious as he stood, waves of applause rolling over them. This time, the prime minister let it last longer until the ship’s XO and Major Yves sat, followed by the rest of the sailors and troopers.
The prime minister looked out over the crowd for a moment and cleared his throat. “One hundred and fifty-four years ago, the Wayward Star arrived in system with 4,322 settlers. The first shuttle, with eighty-two people aboard, touched down at Landing Point . . .”
An Uneasy Alliance: Book 4 of the Sentenced to War Series Page 21