by W. C. Bauers
“Safeties off, stay alert,” she subvocalized. The tunnel’s sides were low-lit and smooth like volcanic glass. Her feet slipped more than once. Rounding a corner, she saw a recessed floodlight and the base of a flight of rough-hewn steps. The stairs rose quickly, leveled off, and circled to the right, at which point they dropped down four more steps.
Kathy slowed, stepped blindly into the next passageway. She disappeared around the corner for a moment, before reversing direction and coming back into view. The muzzle of her rifle didn’t as much as quiver. “Clear.”
This tunnel seemed to go on forever. Promise kept looking over her shoulder, counting her Marines. She tapped a quick set of commands into her minicomp, scanned for embedded weapons pods and electronic security measures. Nothing on visual. Nothing on thermals. No energy output detected. Not very fortressy. She longed for her AI, but communicating with Bond was impossible through all of this rock. She kept expecting the enemy to appear, or a siren to wail, or a weapon to drop from the overhead and catch them by surprise. She was storming a secret military installation without challenge? Where was everyone? Mount Bane was a secure installation on a classified island, patrolled by wet-Navy destroyers, on the RAW-MC’s capital planet. First Fleet under Admiral Yi Soon Singh was out there. Not to mention the platforms strategically covering the system’s jump points, laden with weapons pods, energy beams, and myriad point defenses, and a substantial LAC screen. Nothing is getting through all of that. So why are we getting through here?
Promise was so distracted she almost missed Prichart’s all-stop and ran into her. Her guardian raised her left fist and motioned dead ahead, to the left turn approaching. A large, blind corner. Kathy skirted the wall until she was about a meter from the L. Promise followed behind her and put her hand on Kathy’s shoulder, squeezed to let her know she was ready. Then they proceeded to “slice the pie,” with Kathy in a crouch and Promise in the overguard position. They worked quickly, one lateral step at a time along a circular arc. They stepped, aimed, and cleared a piece of the pie. Step-clear. Step-clear. Until they were through. Promise’s rifle jerked upward and she nearly stroked the trigger at the woman standing in their way.
Her heart missed two beats. Warn me next time. I thought we covered that.
Sandra Paen blocked her path, no more than a meter from the business end of Kathy’s pulse rifle. She wore RAW-MC standard-issue beegees and the single gold star of a brigadier general pinned to each side of her collar. “How’s my girl?”
Busy. When did you make flag rank? Promise’s thoughts dripped sarcasm.
Sandra looked down and smiled. “What a pleasant surprise. Mother’s prerogative, I suppose.” Sandra’s bluegrass eyes glowed faintly in the low light. “Why so uptight, munchkin? I’ve seen Lieutenant Promise Paen kick in death’s door and storm Hell’s inner sanctum. This,” Sandra said dismissively, “is just a test. A little game. Bond was right. You’re nervous like an unbroken pup. Why?”
Kathy looked up and over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “You okay, ma’am? You seem, I don’t know, off.”
“Fine, just feels tight in here.” And crowded.
Kathy nodded. “Things open up ahead, ma’am. Suits in motion?”
“Let’s make some commotion.”
“Ooh-rah,” Kathy said as she motioned the column forward.
Kathy walked through Sandra Paen first, and as she passed, Sandra turned and fell in step with her daughter.
“She’s a good girl. Faithful like an adopted stray.”
We have that in common, Promise thought.
“True. The Corps became your family, and hers. Though that’s not the whole of it.”
Working in tandem, Promise and Kathy cleared two more L-turns before running into another ANDES at the next intersection.
“Things are about to get interesting, wouldn’t you say?” Promise gave her mother a do-you-mind-if-we-do-this-later look. Please.
“Roger that, munchkin. Later it is, plan on it.” Sandra folded her arms and looked down the bridge of her nose. “Just remember to keep your finger off the trigger until it’s time to shoot, okay? God help Private Atumbi. That kid’s gonna off himself if he’s not careful. Or someone else.”
Promise smiled and shook her head.
“Ah—there’s my girl. It’s about time you showed up to the dance.”
The truth was Promise did feel better. Thanks, Momma.
“That’s why I’m here.” And then she wasn’t and Promise was alone with her Marines and her doubts. They were quieter now, pushed to the side, where they couldn’t get in her way.
* * *
“He looks harmless enough,” Kathy said.
Two meters of fortified peristeel stood at attention. Officially, the RAW-MC referred to all ANDES as “it,” not “he” or “she” because ANDES were mechs, not flesh and blood. Sometimes Marines slipped. Close quarters and war bred familiarity, even when it came to tech, not to mention the ANDES’ humanoid appearance. Regarding AIs and Mules, the Regs were a bit more accommodating. Mechanized Marines were allowed to name their AIs and their Mules as long as the labels were economical, decent, and didn’t undermine discipline. AIs and Mules were also tech. But there was tech, and then there was the tech you lived, breathed, and sometimes died with. That changed things.
So, officially it—the ANDES—was standing at attention just outside the lift, and it appeared to be powered down. At least, Promise hoped it was. Her minicomp should have bathed the ANDES in stand-down codes.
It never hurts to make sure. She swiped her minicomp’s flatscreen and hit TRANSMIT again. Took a tentative step forward, and then another, until she was standing beside it, looking up.
It towered over her, covered from head to toe in gray reflective alloy. Scale-like panels covered its arms and legs. They could blunt heavy energy-weapons fire and deflect high-yield penetrators. The head roughly resembled that of a human. Instead of eyes there was a seamless visor. Embedded in each forearm were twin pulse cannons, business ends just visible above and behind the wrists.
Kathy walked up to the sentinel and knocked on its chest. “It appears off, ma’am.” Satisfied it wasn’t going to shoot her, Kathy approached the lift and stopped abruptly when her minicomp chirped. “I believe we’ve come to the end of the line, ma’am. The I-dent port on the wall just challenged me. Did Great-Grans give you a code for that?”
“No.”
“Then I guess it’s time to earn our keep.”
Down a side corridor, something metallic crashed to the deck and someone hollered out in pain. Kathy, Promise, and the other Marines instantly hugged the walls, and crouched in defensive-fire positions. They heard a male curse a blue streak. He promised to kill someone named George because George had apparently left his tools in the middle of a passageway, particularly where it was poorly lit. A female voice started laughing. “Buck up,” she said. “It’s just a little bruise and you’ve got plenty of padding. You’re a big boy. You can take it.”
Promise thought she detected a third set of footfalls too. “Remember, point but don’t shoot,” Promise subvocalized over her mastoid implant. “If we score now we give away our presence.”
The voices rounded an intersection. “You’ve never missed a meal,” said the female, “and you need to watch where you’re going.”
“I don’t intend to miss breakfast either,” said a deep male voice. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You two fight like lovers,” said the third.
“Eew!” replied the woman.
“What? I’d make a great catch,” said the older-sounding male.
“There’s so much of you to enjoy,” said the female.
“Shut up, you bi—”
“You what?”
“Blowhard.”
“Afraid to say it? You’re nothing but a fat pig and a coward.”
“All right, you two,” said the younger-sounding male. “This won’t take long if you don’t make it take more time th
an it should. Cut the chatter and fix Five and Six so we can go eat, okay? It’s probably a glitch in their programming that a simple reboot will fix. The lieutenant said to handle it and then hit the chow hall. Okay?”
“Not utility carts,” said the female.
“George should have put his gear away,” said the older man. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Oh, that’s right. He ran upstairs to get breakfast. I bet he’s hovering over a hot plate now. And I’m not, no thanks to the lieutenant.”
“Your lieutenant has a lot to learn about working with civilians,” replied the female. “I like a full stomach before the day starts. My contract stipulates three squares a day. Three squares. Starting with a hot breakfast. Technically, my shift hasn’t even started yet. I need a cup of hot caf before I get a raging migraine.”
“We’ll break your fast just as soon as the ANDES are back in the net, okay?”
“Very funny, Corporal. Roger that.”
The trio stepped into view. They were turned away from Promise and her Marines. One was dressed in tan Marine utilities and jackboots and wore the rank of corporal. The other two were dressed in civvie coveralls. Promise couldn’t read the corporal’s last name from her position, but she could see two gold half Vs on his shoulder set against khaki flash. The corporal held his minicomp to the I-dent port and turned to the side, motioning the others to enter first as the lift doors opened. That’s when he caught sight of the business end of a Marine Corps standard-issue sidearm leveled at him. His eyes went wide as his hand jerked to his holster. Staff Sergeant Go-Mi rushed the lift, weapon trained on the corporal. “Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” But the corporal was faster. He pivoted to the side and struck Go-Mi’s wrist, knocking her pulse pistol from her hand. As the corporal drew, Go-Mi rushed him and the two grappled for control of the weapon. A second later it discharged.
Promise pushed between the corporal and Go-Mi as the other Marines took up flanking positions on either side of her, weapons trained on the corporal. “Enough! Corporal, stand down,” Promise ordered. “We have you outgunned.”
“Fan-frogging-tastic. I’m dead,” the corporal said as he looked down at the games tag on his chest, which was blinking red. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, you’d better explain yourself before I comm this in.”
Eighteen
APRIL 24TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 0617 HOURS
REPUBLIC OF ALIGNED WORLDS PLANETARY CAPITAL—HOLD
PUGILIST SEA, CORREGIDOR ISLAND WARFARE TRAINING CENTER
“Welcome to the afterlife, Corporal,” Promise said dryly. She offered him her hand.
He stood his ground and raised his chin in defiance.
Promise dipped her head. “Fair enough.” Then to both civilians: “Please stay calm. I swear not to kill you.” She gave the woman and a heavyset man a thin smile before returning her attention to the simulated casualty. The corporal’s name tab said FENWAY. “I’m Lieutenant Paen, commander of Victor Company.” Promise ignored etiquette and stuck out her hand. After all, as far as today’s game was concerned, the corporal was technically dead and the Marine Corps bible said nothing about saluting corpses. “I’m sorry to drop you this way. Unfortunately, it was necessary. If you’re a willing soul, your death can service a higher call.”
The corporal formed her last name silently, and then his eyes narrowed in thought.
“Pythons don’t bite, Corporal.”
Recognition hit the corporal’s eyes and he came to attention.
“Lieutenant Paen, it’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.” Corporal Fenway’s arm rocked upward, his eyes focused in the distance at a regulation three centimeters off her right ear. “You did the Corps proud on Montana, ma’am. It’s about time we stood up to the Lusies.”
“Thank you, Corporal. As you were, um, before I shot you.”
The corporal’s brows knitted together. “How did you get in here? We beat you. I watched your Marines splash down on the scanners. No disrespect meant, ma’am.”
“None taken, Corporal. The Marines before you are what’s left of my company. I should be saying ‘well done’ to you and the island’s defenders. As you can see, there’s still a remnant of Victor Company, and we have an op to complete. I intend to take this mountain and push the little red button.” Promise cocked her head in thought. “Care to be in on it?”
The gunny stepped to the front and cleared his throat. “Tell you what, Corporal. You let us pass and I’ll explain it to you over a round of beer. On me. Name the drink. Do we have a deal?”
“I’m sorry, uh…” With the gunny’s rank insignia and name tab blacked out Fenway was at a loss.
“That’s Gunnery Sergeant Ramuel,” Promise offered. “We had to take precautions.”
Fenway stuck out his hand. “Gunny, even if I wanted to, you know I can’t officially help you, or the lieutenant.”
The corporal’s eyes fell out of focus, a telltale sign that he was being commed. “Too late, ma’am. That’s the lieutenant wanting to know why I got shot.” The corporal looked down at his weapon, which was now locked down and useless, and shook his head in disgust. “I’ll be on KP duty for a month.”
“Then you’d better take that comm and change his mind, Marine,” Promise said.
“Aye, aye, ma’am.” The corporal actually came to attention again and took a deep breath before looking away. “Lieutenant, this is Corporal Fenway, go ahead, sir.”
Corporal Fenway winced, seemed to shrink into himself. After an agonizing minute, Promise made a knifing gesture across her throat.
“One moment, sir.”
“All right, ma’am. I’ve just put Lieutenant Cahill on hold.” Fenway’s expression made it obvious he didn’t think much of Cahill. “I’m going to pull a crap assignment after this is over. Something tells me you’re going to make it worth my while. Aren’t you, ma’am? That bit about my death serving a greater purpose, right?”
“Don’t worry, Corporal. When this is over, I’ll tell Lieutenant Cahill I held a pulser to your head and made you do it.” Promise drew her sidearm and waved it in the air. “See.”
Promise had been an NCO before the field commission was thrust upon her, and her company lieutenant had been a wise man with an ear attuned to his noncoms. When he spoke, she’d listened. It had worked both ways. Respect was the foundation of the Corps and it flowed like time in both directions. Wise officers—especially inexperienced lieutenants—knew they knew next to nothing about the RAW-MC. The Corps had its share of puffed-up officers who thought they knew it all, and made sure everyone else knew it too. If Promise had to guess, Cahill was one of those.
“Lance Corporal,” Promise said to Kathy, “please relieve the corporal of his weapon and minicomp. Corporal Fenway is now our prisoner. Zip-tie his hands and feet until the end of the exercise. Sorry, Corporal, now you have absolutely no choice in the matter.”
Fenway gushed relief and thrust out his hands. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m grateful.”
“Now, Corporal, we need to take the lieutenant off comm-hold. Wait one.” Promise looked over at the female civilian who’d been standing in the corner with her arms crossed, taking it all in. “Would you kindly remove your laser cutter from your belt, set it to its lowest setting, and shoot the corporal?”
“You want me to what?”
“Shoot the corporal,” Promise said. “Just do it and I’ll explain after, okay?”
“The corporal did keep me from my breakfast. Fenway, hold still.” She hit the button. “There. Happy?”
“Thank you,” Promise said. “Just humor me for a moment.” Then she turned to Fenway. “Corporal, here is what you are going to say, ‘sir’s all the way.” The corporal’s smile spread over his face as Promise told him. “Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Good Marine. Take the lieutenant off hold … now.”
The corporal immediately winced again. “Sir … yes, sir. Sorry, sir! If you’ll allow me to explain, sir? No, sir, I am
not trying to rain piss on the lieutenant’s otherwise pleasant morning or ruin his fresh-brewed caf, sir. No, sir, I did not just off myself with my own pulser, sir. Sir, if I may … I can explain, sir. Sir, the civvies you assigned me are upset about missing breakfast. My tag recorded two direct hits, sir. I was shot with a laser cutter, sir. That’s pretty creative if you ask me. No, sir … you didn’t ask me, sir. Yes, sir … I’d say she’s quite mad, sir.” The corporal smiled and relaxed his shoulders. “Yes, sir. I will make a full report of the incident. No, sir, I don’t intend to press charges, sir. I’m sure I can patch things up with her on my end, sir. Yes, sir, I will remind her of that, sir. Roger that, sir. We are headed to fix the ANDES at the lieutenant’s leave. Yes, sir, we will get them back in the net. Thank you, sir. And thank you for your understanding, sir. Corporal Fenway, out.” The corporal wiped his brow with his shackled hands and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath.
“Well done, Corporal,” Promise said, slapping Fenway on the shoulder.
“Ma’am, I just lied to a superior officer.”
“Did she or didn’t she just shoot you?” Promise reminded Fenway. “Now shut your trap so you can’t incriminate yourself.” She turned to the civvies and gave them a once-over.
“You’re not tying me up.” The female holding the handheld laser cutter was still pointing it at Fenway. “Corporal, just what is going on here? You just incriminated me. Thanks a lot. You too, Lieutenant. Who are you anyway?”
“Sarah, this is Lieutenant Paen,” said Corporal Fenway matter-of-factly.
“So what? Her name means nothing to me. Should it?”
The corporal pursed his lips. “How many Marine Corps lieutenants do you know named Promise Paen?”
“Corporal, I said shut it,” Promise said with a smile. “I appreciate your courtesy, but I will take things from here.”
