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

by Chaney, J. N.

  Rev knew that might be too obvious, but the karnan stopped. He stood facing the door for a good ten seconds, then, almost as if he really didn’t want to, asked, “And why would I be afraid of you?”

  “Because there’re four of us. You’re a soldier. You understand the advantages of picking your terrain. You sit down, and you’ve given up your advantage, and, like I said, there’re four of us.”

  Kvat slowly turned around, the sneer on his face looking awfully forced. “I wouldn’t be afraid of ten of you,” he said, pushing up a cuff so that the metal bars embedded in his arms were visible. “You remember last time you challenged me, Pelletier?”

  It was you who challenged me, asshole.

  But all Rev did was flip a hand to indicate the chair, his eyebrows raised. This was a challenge.

  Kvat stared at Rev, but finally, as if it were no big deal, he took the seat, then said, “OK, you knew I would stay to listen to your spiel.”

  Rev nodded. “You got me by using my ego against me. Bravo to you. Know your enemy, as Sun Tzu kept telling us. But, I’m not the only one with an ego here.”

  Kvat actually laughed at that. “Touché, Pelletier. I guess you aren’t as dumb as you look.”

  Rev wasn’t going to rise to any taunting.

  “So, what are we going to do now? Sing songs and pontificate on the brotherhood of man. Woman, too, so don’t get all human resources on me,” he said to Rice.

  “Well, now we are going to leave,” Rev said.

  “What?” For the first time, the karnan seemed confused.

  “We’re leaving. As for you, you can leave if you want, or you can sit here. Frankly, I don’t care.”

  “You’re crazy. I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I’m out of here.” The karnan started to get out of the chair, but something held him back. “What the fuck?”

  He tried to stand again, with the same result. “What did you do to me, yootie?”

  “To you? Nothing. Oh, I played to your ego, but I haven’t done anything to you, actually. I promised Gamay that I wouldn’t.”

  “Bullshit,” Kvat yelled, his face getting red. “Why can’t I get up then?”

  Beside him, Rice started snickering, then had to turn her head. The plan had been for the four of them to act serious, but seeing the karnan struggle was funnier than Rev had imagined it would be. He had to squash his own laughter.

  “I didn’t do anything to you. Your overalls, though, I did do something to them. Molecular bonding. I’m sure you’ve heard of that. I used Wokefield Platinum. I always did say you Mad Dogs make really good products. Your bonders are the best, and Wokefield is at the top of the heap. Really the best.”

  A look of horror took over Kvat’s face as he realized what Rev was saying.

  “That’s right. The Platinum doesn’t work on organic substances, so your body is safe. I’d be a little bit wary of those tin bars you’ve got running through your body. I’d hate to see those, you know, get stuck to that chair.”

  “You fucking squirmy!” Kvat screamed, spittle coming out of his mouth.

  “And, like you were bragging the other day, your singlets, or whatever you call them, they’re pretty tough. So tough that you don’t want to use Home Guard issue. Tough or not, though, we know you’re a big strong guy, and you can probably break through them, but I’ve got to ask. Is it true you like to go commando?”

  “You son-of-a-bitch, Pelletier,” he said, but in a voice bordering on defeat. He took a deep breath, then said, “Ha-fucking-ha. You got me. So, can you just give me the debonder now?”

  “I don’t know,” Rev said, making a show of looking at the other three as if for advice. “I guess you didn’t listen to my friend here close enough. What was it he said?”

  He turned to Bob. It was his turn to speak. “I said we had to even the playing field. I said we should try to even things out.”

  Rev had feared using the word “even” would blow the plan, but it was something he just had to ask Bob to say, making the cut that much deeper.

  “I’m not sure we’re really quite even. You got me in front of thirty or forty people. I only see four here. No, I don’t think you get the debonder,” Rev told him.

  “Then what am I supposed to do?”

  “Like I asked, do you go commando?”

  Kvat’s eyes got big. “You want me to run back to our billets naked?”

  “You can walk if you like.”

  “You asshole,” he said, but this time totally in defeat.

  Nudity wasn’t a big issue with most people, especially in the close confines of the military. When people pissed, shit, and showered in the field, not much was left to the imagination. But him running back through the company area stark naked—and Rev made sure that the conference room was where there was no back way to their cells—would let everyone know that something was up, and Kvat had been had. They might not know by who, but they would know it was someone. It was the embarrassment that Rev wanted.

  Rev was tempted to push further, but he’d won. No use going overboard.

  “And with that, we’ll be leaving you. Have a great day.”

  “Really, Rev. You won. You got me back. So, please, give me the debonder,” Kvat pleaded.

  Rev was tempted for a moment until Rice said, “Don’t even think about it, Rev. Harden up.”

  She’s right. Even Lieutenant Vreemish said he needed a lesson. It’ll be good for him.

  He led the other three out the door and closed it. They managed to hold it together until then, and they broke up into laughter and back-slapping.

  “I never thought it would work,” Bob said.

  “Yeah, no thanks to you. Two ‘evens,’ not just one?”

  “I realized that when I said the second one. I was sure he’d figure it out. Makes it sweeter, though, right?”

  “Come on. We’ve got to watch.”

  Rev led them to the adjoining room where a monitor had been set up. The bonder wouldn’t bond to the karnan’s flesh, but his warning about the bars running through and outside his body was a valid one. If he touched one of those to the affected parts of the chair, he could be stuck for real, and they’d have to go in and free him. Or he would. He wasn’t going to risk the other three if Kvat was in a fighting mood.

  And after Kvat left, they had to go in and retrieve the chair. With the MDS singlet attached, it was good for only the trash. But Rev had bought it, so he couldn’t be accused of destruction of government property. Well, the singlet, but he didn’t think the MDS government was going to try and press charges. It wouldn’t be just Kvat who would be embarrassed if it all came to light.

  “You think he’s going to come after you?” Toshi asked as they watched to see what the karnan would do.

  “No, I don’t. First, the Mad Dogs have their own sense of honor. I’ll give them that. He knows he deserves this. Second, if he does, people are going to put two and two together. They’ll wonder if it was me who got him to streak the company area, but if he comes back at me, they’ll know I did. We did.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  They only had to watch for a couple of minutes. Kvat had made up his mind. With a grunt, he tore right through the singlet, an impressive feat, especially as he didn’t let his arms or legs touch the chair. He stood there regretfully for a moment, looking back at his destroyed clothing.

  He walked to the door and stood facing it. Finally, with a sigh, he opened it and ran out. They could hear his footsteps outside their door as he ran past and headed for berthing.

  For the record, he was going commando.

  29

  “This is sure something,” Bundy said as he looked across the auditorium/ballroom.

  “That’s an understatement, sir,” Rev said. “I never expected this many folks would show up. Especially from the other services.”

  There were one hundred and forty-three Union Marines in the Home Guard on Enceladus and another eleven on Titan, one of the largest contingents from a
ny single service. Of that, twenty-six were deployed at the moment. But there had to be a thousand people gathered to celebrate the Perseus Union Marine Corps Birthday.

  It made sense that Union civilians in the Congress would want to attend, as did the fact that the other marine corps and naval infantries would send reps, but other uniforms far outnumbered the Union Marine Corps dress blues. There was even an MDS colonel sitting up at the head table. He wasn’t the most surprising guest. At a small table to the side of the main table, three Centaurs were quietly sitting. That blew Rev away, and to be honest, he didn’t know what to think about that.

  It was one thing to accept them as part of the peace. But to invite them to a traditional celebration seemed going too far. And what would they do there? Could they even eat human food?

  Rev shook his head. He was not going to let their presence spoil the evening. This was going to be his first birthday ball. All marine corps tended to embrace history and tradition, and the Perseus Union Marine Corps was no different. The birthday ball was one of those traditions. But with the war, the formal balls had been mostly suspended for the duration, with only small cake-cutting ceremonies and the reading of the commandant’s message. And on New Hope, that suspension was continued due to the devastation from the invasion and then the rebuilding effort.

  He shifted his attention to his table. They were in the back and to the side, a long way from the head table up on the stage, but he was OK with that. It was the company that mattered. This was the New Hope table. Lieutenants Bundy and Macek, PFCs Del Mar, and Randigold, and the newly promoted Corporal Thassom. All they were missing was Sergeant Tsao, but they had a seat for her to join them later.

  Damn, we look good.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please find your way to your seats. The ceremony will begin in five minutes,” the announcer said.

  Most of those in the hinterlands tables were already seated, but up front, with the higher-ups, people were mingling, shaking hands and doing whatever higher-ups do. They slowly started to make their way to their seats.

  Randigold slid her quantphone across the table to Rev. “Hey, Staff Sergeant, can you snap a holo of us?”

  She put her arm around Thassom, and they mugged for the shot. That started a round of shots as everyone wanted one until the lights went down and they were interrupted by the announcer.

  “Marines and honored guests, welcome to the celebration of the seven hundred and sixty-ninth birthday of the Perseus Union Marine Corps!”

  There was a round of applause.

  From outside the room, a single drum started a slow beat. A spotlight flashed on the entrance.

  “Please rise for the presentation of the colors.”

  Six Marines marched in abreast. The outside two held Union M-49s at shoulder arms. The middle four held the Home Guard colors, the Marine Corps colors with too many campaign streamers to see much of the flag itself, the Congress of Humanity flag, and the Perseus Union flag, being carried by none other than New Hope’s own Sergeant Tumeric Tsao.

  She looked amazing, her blues immaculate, the Platinum Nova nestled at her throat. Rev felt pride surge through him—a provincial Marine, a New Hope Marine, and an IBHU Marine at that, having that honor. He wanted to hoot and shout despite the solemnity of the occasion.

  The spotlight followed them as they marched up the center aisle. If they didn’t quite have the same exact coordination as the Barclay color guard during their Landing Day celebration, Rev didn’t care. This was his Marine Corps, his nation.

  The guard performed a countermarch in front of the head table, and the CoH and Perseus Union’s anthems were played. Then came the Marine Corps Hymn. If possible, Rev stood even straighter at attention, and as the last strains died, there was a spontaneous “ooh-rah” bursting from over a hundred throats.

  “Post the colors!”

  The color guard moved to the stands and put the flags in place. At the command of the gunnery sergeant—Sergeant First Class in Home Guard ranks—they marched out of the hall.

  The lights came back on, and the announcer said, “Please remain standing for the reading of the message of the commandant.”

  To All Marines Throughout the Galaxy,

  Seven hundred and sixty-nine years ago today, in an old warehouse, while our founding fathers hammered out the Perseus Arm Compact, fourteen members of the charter nations’ militaries signed the Perseus Union Marine Corps into being. From those humble beginnings, the Corps has grown in number and capabilities, and, together with the Navy, has defended the Union from all her enemies.

  Over those centuries, our responsibilities, capabilities, battlefields, and enemies have changed, and we have adapted, prepared to fight and defeat any threat to our Union. One thing hasn’t changed, and that is the warrior spirit that has carried us through every conflict.

  Humanity has just emerged from a devastating war against a technologically advanced race, and it was the Union Marines who led the fight, paying with blood so that the invaders would be defeated. We showed our ability to adapt with rapid and decisive innovations, and armed with these, it was our fighting spirit and will that carried the day. It was Marines who landed on the Mother herself to repel that sacrilegious invasion and bring an end to the war.

  Now, as we enter an era of peace, let us not become complacent. Let us not lower our guard. If one enemy can appear from the center of the galaxy, so can another, and only by maintaining a robust, professional force, can we protect the very existence of the Union and humankind.

  Tonight, however, for the first time in sixteen birthdays, we are gathering in the traditional balls to celebrate our formation. Over seven hundred and sixty-nine years, Marines have created a history of heroes that humankind has never seen. Now, every single Marine and sailor has created their own history to what makes the Marine Corps what it is. Sit back, enjoy the company of your fellow Marines, families, and friends of the Corps, knowing that you are the very best.

  Semper fi,

  Jack O. Echo

  General, Perseus Union Marine Corps.

  “Please, be seated.”

  Rev had heard birthday messages before, of course. But it was somehow different listening to it in this kind of setting. More poignant, more direct, maybe. The commandant even mentioned the Mother, and that had been the New Hope Raiders. It was as if he’d mentioned Rev by name.

  Sergeant Tsao quietly slipped into the empty seat beside Rev. She’d be able to eat and enjoy the rest of the ceremonies with her fellow New Hopers until it was time to retire the colors.

  “You guys did great out there,” Rev whispered to her.

  “Dinner will now be served. Upon completion, we will begin the formal ceremony.”

  About a dozen Union sailors stepped into the room, each carrying a silver tray. They marched up to the head table, and with a precision that would put most Marines to shame, presented the head party with their meals. Using sailors was a tradition that the Navy started themselves. One of the sailors was a rear admiral, if what Rev was told was true.

  The Marines returned the tradition during the Navy Birthday Ball, and Rev told himself that if he was in the position, he’d have to make sure he volunteered.

  Once the last person at the head table was served, a swarm of serverbots flooded the ballroom. Within three minutes, every single person was served. The head table waited until the last person had their plate, then the Guest of Honor, the Union ambassador to the Congress of Humanity took the first bite.

  “I declare this meal fit for human consumption!”

  Having the senior person in the room take the first bite was against normal Marine Corps procedure where the senior always ate last. Maybe things changed for a ceremony like this. It wasn’t a big deal, but it did stick in Rev’s craw just a bit.

  There was a rise in background noise as a thousand people attacked their plates. Rev, included. His prime rib, broccoli, and oven-roasted potatoes with a side salad were pretty typical banquet fare. Mass fabri
cators put out the meals, each specific meal the same as every other of the same kind. Each prime rib was the clone of the next, each salmon fillet the same as every other one, and each ratatouille had the exact number of veggies as the next.

  That didn’t mean it was bad. Rev’s first bite was fine. But the food wasn’t the reason for the celebration, and it would do.

  Looking at Randigold as she attacked her ratatouille with gusto, though, he might be mistaken. He nudged Sergeant Tsao and pointed across the table.

  “Hey, Randigold. Hungry much?” Tsao asked.

  Randigold looked up in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry. I missed lunch with the rehearsal.”

  “No, you go, girl. Glad you like it.”

  “So, how’s life in the Praetorian Guard, Sergeant?” Bundy asked Tsao.

  “Kinda boring, sir. We dress up in the uniform, then stand around. We’re basically props for tourists’ holos.”

  “That’s it? No real military work?”

  “We get to the range once every two weeks and pop a lot of caps. And we hold drills. But anything else? Not really. Not like the three in Fox Company who got to go off and fight pirates.”

  First Brigade, and especially Alpha Company—that’s the company nicknamed the Praetorian Guard—was considered the elite of the elite, but Rev was glad he was here on the Big E, not on Titan. He’d be going crazy having to stand guard all day, out in the public eye.

  The talk drifted to more mundane things as they ate, with the table evenly split on who was going to win the New Hope flipball championship. Not surprisingly, Rev and Bundy were sticking with the Anastasia Ants while the others, all from the main continent, were betting on the Homer Centurians.

  Their chatting—with more than a little gossip—was cut short with “Ladies and gentlemen, the official ceremony will start in five minutes. Please finish eating as your plates will be removed before we begin. All participants, please take your positions.”

  “Oops, that’s me!” Randigold said, taking another piece of bread before stepping away from the table. Sergeant Tsao and Bundy followed her off.