An Uneasy Alliance: Book 4 of the Sentenced to War Series

by Chaney, J. N.

  “I know. Those who’ve served with you guys know. But the Union is big, with people from all sorts of backgrounds. To say that some don’t trust you would be an understatement.”

  “What, they think that we’ll all run amok and wipe out cities?” Rev asked in disgust.

  “Kinda, yeah.”

  “Really? I was being sarcastic there.”

  “I know. But there is some of that fear. And if you ran amok, as you put it, here in Enceladus, it would be pretty embarrassing.”

  “So, you’re here to keep an eye on me. And since you’re my friend, they figure if I go batshit crazy, you’ll have the best shot at calming the monster down,” he said, the bitterness dripping from his voice.

  It wasn’t that anything Bundy said was new to him. But to have it blatantly thrown in his face hurt. He’d given his all in fighting the Centaurs. Hell, along with Lieutenant Vreemish, he’d helped save the Mother. What else did he have to do to prove himself?

  “And they sent you. No disrespect, sir, because I know you’re capable, but you’re coming to an elite infantry unit with no infantry experience. And again, with all due respect, you’re not really a young man.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Bundy said. “But it isn’t up to the Home Guard who’s sent. It’s up to the providing government. And with the strength of the Union, and maybe more importantly, with the percentage of financial support we send the Congress, well, if they want to send a lowly second looie to a specific platoon, then it’s going to happen.”

  And if that means firing the existing officer and sending him up to brigade, then so be it.

  Rev was stewing in his own juices. This was BS.

  “I know it doesn’t mean much, but it isn’t you alone. All of you have gotten or are getting nannies.”

  “Is that what they call you? Nannies?”

  “No, they don’t. But that’s what we call ourselves, and for the record, we think it sucks. The commandant thinks it sucks, too, but he was overruled on this.”

  Rev sat silently for a long moment. He didn’t like the fact that he was considered some sort of wild animal who had to be kept on a tight leash.

  “Are we cool?” Bundy asked, and Rev realized that his friend was nervous. Bundy, the cool, calm, and collected leader of their posse.

  Rev might be angry, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was a Marine and a trooper. That’s it. And it wasn’t just him. Bundy was equally powerless. He was trapped here out of his fields of expertise only because they’d bonded what seemed like a million years ago when they stood on the yellow footprints at Camp Nguyen.

  “Hell, Bundy. Uh, sir. We’re cool. How could we be anything else?”

  Relief flooded Bundy’s face, and for a fleeting moment, Rev wondered what would have happened if he’d said they weren’t cool. Nothing? Someone else would come in and take his place?

  But truth be told, if he had to have a nanny, then he’d rather it was Bundy. It wasn’t just because the man was capable, but that Rev trusted him.

  They sat for a moment before Bundy asked him about his family, and Rev asked about Bundy’s kids. Rev was still upset, but he was able to push that aside as the two caught up. After five minutes of talk, Rev remembered Corporal White outside.

  “Hey, can we take this somewhere else? The company clerk is waiting for you to leave so he can.”

  “What? He’s still here?”

  “That’s the Home Guard way. You’ll find out this isn’t the Corps, and things are different.”

  “If I’d realized he was there, I’d have told him to take off. But yeah, let’s pull chocks. Anywhere we can go?”

  Rev thought for a moment. They could meet the others at the Ramshead, but the dynamics, with Bundy being an officer, had now changed. Besides, he owed Bob one. He said he didn’t remember Bundy’s name or where he was from? The two had shared more than a few beers together. He was probably laughing about it right now.

  “Not many right here where we can get away, but if you’re up for a tram ride, there’re a lot of places at the commons.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’m still on Swansea time. Lead on, good staff sergeant.”

  “Aye-aye, Lieutenant.”

  A very relieved Corporal White mouthed a grateful thanks at Rev as the two left the office.

  27

  “I’m beginning to mark time by our checkups,” Randigold said to Rev as they waited at the clinic.

  “As long as they keep coming back negative, I’m good with it.”

  “I’d rather not have to be here at all. It gets my stress levels up there. The worst part is this, after they’ve done their scans.”

  Rev understood that. He didn’t like to have the rot hanging over him. He could put it aside for most of the time, not thinking about it, but when he had to go through testing—or when the karnans had theirs as they did last week, for that matter—it just brought it all to the forefront.

  The fact that getting any augments heightened the risks of getting the rot had been part of their initial briefs, but that was far down the road in thirty or forty years, so it was easy to ignore. Then, with Cali Hu coming down with it almost two years ago, coupled with the fact that the IBHU Marines were now checked every six months instead of the normal one year for regular augmentees, well, what weren’t they being told?

  “It’s just routine. They paid far too much on creating us not to keep close tabs,” Rev said with a confidence that he didn’t feel.

  Randigold looked at Rev and shyly said, “You know, while we’re waiting like this, I tell Cruella to sing songs for me. Kids’ songs.”

  Rev chuckled. Randigold called both her battle buddy and her IBHU—which Rev thought was strange in and of itself, but certainly in keeping with her unique personality—Cruella de Vil, and the idea of anyone, or anything, with that moniker singing kids songs was rather ironic, in his opinion. “Whatever floats your boat, Eth.”

  “You don’t think that’s weird?”

  “Why would it be weird? I have Punch tell me jokes sometimes.”

  Only that wasn’t really true anymore. Thinking about the change in his battle buddy was something he tried not to do. He might be being paranoid, but he didn’t know for sure that his very thoughts couldn’t somehow be picked up.

  But now that he was reminded of the change, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. It was like a song earworm.

  Trying to sound casual, he asked, “You see much change in Cruella since she got neutered?”

  “Neutered? That’s what you call it?” Randigold said with a laugh. “No, not really. All she can’t do is record what I see or hear. Why should that change her?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Why would it? Stupid question.”

  And it was a stupid question. Punch had changed after Bluebonnet Meadows, not after being neutered. But a stubborn part of him wanted to believe that it was the neutering that caused the change, and once he was back on New Hope, everything would be back to normal.

  Sergeant Sign of Respect stepped out of the office. He gave his fellow IBHU Marines a thumbs-up, but in his typical taciturn manner, didn’t say anything else and headed out the door.

  “That guy is weird,” Randigold said once the door closed behind the sergeant.

  “That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Rev said with a laugh.

  “I’m not weird. I’m lovably quirky.”

  “OK, I’ll give you that.”

  He raised his social arm, fist extended. With two prosthetic legs, a prosthetic arm, and half of her face covered by a metallic mask, there were too many choices for the clink. He always left it to her. And, of course, instead of using clinking with her arm, she raised a foot.

  Good enough.

  They clinked and said, “Sibs in Steel.”

  Quirky or weird, Rev wouldn’t have it any other way. She always made him smile. He loved his sib in steel, as a big brother to little sister.

  The door opened, and a tech stuck her head out.
“Staff Sergeant Pelletier.”

  Rev stood. “Wish me luck.”

  “Don’t need no luck, Staff Sergeant. You’re too ornery for the rot. And I say that with all due respect, of course.”

  “Just because you say ‘with all due respect’ doesn’t mean it’s respectful. I be a SNCO, by golly-gosh, I’ll have you know, PFC. I be deserving respect.”

  Randigold just blew him a kiss, and Rev laughed out loud as he turned and walked into the office while the tech looked at him like he was crazy. So, when he entered the office, he was still chuckling instead of fretting about his results.

  Maybe I don’t need Punch to tell me jokes. I can just use Eth.

  But he sobered as he stood in front of the doctor, the tech hovering behind him. Rev didn’t even know the man’s name, only that he was another Sieben employee and not a Union Navy doc. It seemed that every time, it was someone new. He hadn’t seen Doctor Chakrabarti, the Sieben head of the program, for three years.

  This one had a forced smile as he stood and reached across the desk to shake Rev’s hand. “Staff Sergeant Pelletier,” he said, mispronouncing Rev’s name as “Pella-tar.” It’s good to meet you in person. I’ve been following your case since the beginning. Please, please, have a seat.”

  Rev took the chair in front of the desk.

  “Well, we’ve got the results back. Mostly good, I’d say.”

  Mostly?

  “Your SKRs are a little high, but they’ve leveled off from your last check. The Peshows, however, are still rising.”

  “Is that bad?” Rev asked. He’d heard the terms before, but even after getting Punch to explain them to him, he wasn’t sure he had a firm grasp of what they signified. What Rev wanted was a simple “you’re good to go” or a “you’ve got the rot.”

  Well, I don’t want the second one, but just say it so I understand.

  “Not bad, but not good. But you’re still well within the accepted parameters, so I wouldn’t be too worried. We’re looking way down the road where that could be a concern,” he said, a huge fake-looking smile plastered on his face.

  The guy was trying really hard to have a pleasant bedside manner, but it didn’t do much to calm Rev.

  “What I’m going to do is give you an N-108F booster. They’re experimental, but they’ve shown lots of promise in the simulations.”

  Rev had been subject to more than his fair share of experimental procedures, and they were the reasons he was susceptible to the rot. He wasn’t sure he wanted any more.

  “They’ve never been tested on people yet?”

  “Not this build. But it’s based on the N-108D. There were a few tweaks we made to address the Peshow percentage issue. You’re not the first IBHU to show the elevated readings.”

  If the 108F was based on the 108D, then what happened to the 108E? Another “tweak” that went awry?

  “Ms. Declatare has already prepared the injection. We’ll see what happens over the next six months, but I’m guessing that we’ll be pleased. Do you have anything for me before I turn you over to her tender ministrations?”

  Yeah, can I refuse? And tender ministrations? You’re trying too hard to be funny or something. Why?

  It wasn’t that Rev didn’t trust the staff of Sieben Intergalaxy . . . or maybe it was.

  But he really didn’t think he had a choice. Sieben was contracted to the Marine Corps, and he knew the Corps had full authority to implement medical care as it, through Navy medicine, deemed fit.

  “No, no questions.”

  “Good. But if you have any, I’ll be here until tomorrow, and Ms. Declatare will give you our contact. Feel free to reach out.”

  He stood and reached across the desk to shake hands again, the smile still plastered on his face.

  “If you’ll come with me?” the tech asked, one hand firmly on his arm as she led him to the far side of the office where a small exam room had been set up.

  What, you think I’m going to bolt? And if I do, you’re really going to be able to stop me?

  But he meekly allowed her to lead him. She wiped down the base of his neck before she picked up the injector.

  “OK, you’re going to feel a buzz, then some pressure,” she said as if he hadn’t had medinanos injected before.

  She placed the mouth of the injector over his neck, then activated it. The skin under his neck tingled as the site was prepared, then the puff of pressure forced tens of thousands of the tiny medinanos into his body. Within ninety seconds, they’d be everywhere.

  “There may be some tenderness at the site for an hour or so until your existing nanos can reduce the inflammation. If you have any side effects such as nausea, numbness, or loss of consciousness, please call me right away,” she said, handing him a small card.

  “How can I call you if I’m unconscious?”

  She just looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

  Damn! No sense of humor?

  “Uh . . . OK, I guess I’ll figure it out then.”

  She led him to the door. He didn’t bother to say anything to the still smiling doctor who watched him leave.

  Randigold looked stressed when he came out. Maybe the kids’ songs were losing their effect. Rev gave her the same thumbs-up that Sign of Respect did.

  “Like you said, I’m too ornery for the rot.”

  Instead of leaving, he sat down next to her and put his right, organic hand on her left, organic hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. From all reports, Randigold was fearless in combat. But this had her scared. Daryll had once told him that she thought with so many prostheses, she was more susceptible to the rot than others. It wasn’t true, Daryll also told him. It was the augments that created the risk, not the prosthetics. But sometimes, the brain believed what it wanted to believe.

  After a couple of minutes, the tech opened the door and asked for her.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Rev told her, squeezing her hand.

  “Of course, I am. The rot doesn’t like quirky.”

  Her eyes were not as confident as her voice.

  Rev had been planning on leaving as soon as she went inside. But instead, he settled in to wait. Another ten minutes was a small price to pay to offer a little Sibs in Steel moral support.

  28

  “You ready to get him?” Rev asked.

  “Yeah, I guess. You sure he’ll come?” Rice asked.

  “No, not really. But I think he will. He’ll want to see what’s up, and, arrogant asshole that he is, he’ll figure he can handle anything that happens.”

  She didn’t seem so sure, but she nodded her head and left the small conference room.

  “You really think he’ll be here?” Bob asked.

  “Fifty-fifty. But if he doesn’t come, I’ll think of something else.”

  “And if things don’t go as planned? He can be, well, you know,” Toshi said. He wasn’t completely on board with this but was there to support Rev.

  And Rev understood some of his reticence. Toshi was a Mezame Naval Infantryman, and like Bob, had no overt augments. If things got ugly, he’d be outmatched. Which made it all the more meaningful to Rev that he was there.

  “OK, I think we’re ready,” Rev said, checking the room one more time. They’d moved the conference table aside and placed four chairs in a row facing a fifth chair. It looked a little like an interrogation was being set up, though definitely it wasn’t, but they didn’t have many options for this.

  “Does anyone else know about this?”

  Rev shook his head. “Not exactly, but I got tacit approval earlier.”

  That’s stretching the truth just a bit.

  It wasn’t a lie, and he could prove that, but still, it wasn’t exactly as he’d inferred.

  “Let’s get ready,” Rev said.

  The three took their seats. Now it was a waiting game. Either this would go down as planned or not, and Rev was anxious to see what was going to happen.

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Toshi said, �
�I can’t believe you sprang for a new chair.”

  “All in the cause of the mission, Tosh. Besides, what else am I going to do with all those extra CoH credits sitting in my account? Hard to spend it while we’re on alert.”

  “What did it put you back, anyway?”

  “Nine-sixty-nine.”

  “Shit? That much? You really are a dedicated son of a bitch.”

  “We are what we are,” Rev said with a smile.

  I just hope it wasn’t wasted.

  The time ticked away as the three sat waiting. After twenty-five minutes, Rev thought it was a bust. He’d wait for Rice to confirm it, but it wasn’t looking good.

  Four minutes later, Rice opened the door and stuck her head in.

  Ah, hell. Back to the drawing board.

  But then she stepped inside and motioned. Over Sergeant Lincoln Kvat walked into the room. He hesitated just the slightest bit as he spotted the three but continued until he was standing in front of them. Rice squeezed past and took the fourth seat.

  “What the fuck is this?” Kvat asked, hands on his hips.

  Bob was on deck. “As you are well aware, there’s been tension between you and Rev here. As fellow staff sergeants, we want to see if there is some way we can even things out a bit.”

  “I’m an over-sergeant. You’re a who knows what color thing. Gant is a Mezzie . . . hell, I don’t know what. Pelletier and Unifora are the only two staff sergeants I see here.”

  OK, so he’s going to play asshole. Like I expected.

  “Regardless, we need to work together, so we were hoping you’d sit down with us and discuss what we can do to get both of you to an even playing field without bringing in anyone higher up.”

  Kvat stood there for a long moment, and Rev could see the gears turning. He was assuredly weighing his options and trying to determine which one would give him the best advantage.

  He finally turned to look at the chair set up for him. “Nah, I think not. You can play your touchy-feely kumbaya-whatever with someone else. If Pelletier stays out of my way, I’ll let him be.”

  He turned to stalk out when Rev said in a low voice, “I told you he’d be too chicken to do this.”