by W. C. Bauers
“Some Marines have a knack for the improbable.” Yates pulled up a chair and sat down. “When I heard you’d fought in an exo I shook my head. ‘Sounds like Lieutenant Paen’ is what I actually said. Then I replayed what happened. I watched the vids. The LAC’s pickups captured most of the exchange, and your helmet got a decent shot of it too.” Yates gave her a skewed look. “At one point, you were shooting with your off hand. Did you realize that?”
“About the helmet, ma’am. I was just—”
“Violating orders. I know. You were told to leave your armor behind.”
“Technically, I did. Ma’am.”
“Promise, I’ve already endorsed your actions. So has the colonel, by the way. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. Come again?”
“Really, Lieutenant. The fake modesty is getting old. When you took the merc’s pulse pistol from him, um, after you shot him with it, it was in your left hand. Then you fired at his partner with your off hand and as near as I can tell from the vid you didn’t have time to aim.”
“Ah…”
Yates cocked her head. “That was a compliment. I’ve tried to improve my off hand for years. I qualify with my left … barely. That was some nice shooting, Lieutenant. Not as nice as the lance corporal’s. Prichart used your senior to hit the one chink in the woman’s armor.”
“Ah…”
“A ‘Thank you, ma’am’ will do. Do you always carry your senior into battle?”
“Right. Ah…”
“You’re impossible. You know that?” Yates sat back and crossed her arms. “I’ve nominated you and Kathy for the Silver Star. I was filling out the screenwork for the Medal of Honor, for you, but the colonel reminded me that you are persona non grata with some powerful people in the Congress. We don’t want to paint too large a bull’s-eye on your back. I told the colonel you’d already taken care of that. Still, he has a point. Sorry.” Yates’s eyes were seas of emotion. Equal parts humor and mist. Yates turned away and cleared her throat.
“Ma’am, I already have a Silver Star,” Promise said.
Yates nearly choked on her words. “I know. You’ve accumulated quite the collection of glittery.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, ma’am.”
“Promise, I know what you meant. At least I think I do.” Yates took a hard look at her, like she was making up her mind or searching for something. She laid a hand on Promise’s shoulder and squeezed before pulling back. “Sometimes you try too hard, Lieutenant. You need to learn to relax.” Yates looked across the medbay. Promise followed her eyes to the bed at the far end of the compartment. She had to sit up a bit to see who was in it. Jupiter.
“How is she?”
“That’s complicated,” Yates said.
“What happened?”
Jupiter was intubated, and her head was heavily bandaged. Her arms were tied down too. Private Atumbi was sitting at her side, and both of his hands were wrapped around one of hers. Promise looked back at the captain and saw the rage in her eyes.
Yates took a deep breath, leaned forward, and gripped the side of the bed with both hands, her eyes on Jupiter. “They got away … at least Greystone did.” Yates’s words were barely above a whisper. “We lost Jupiter’s armor too. The Greys had a jump-capable LAC. One of ours was pursuing when the bastards jumped out at four thousand meters elevation.”
Shock registered on Promise’s face. You just didn’t do that. The calculations to enter jump-safe space were complicated enough. Throwing a planet’s gravity well into the mix, and the local atmospheric conditions, and the unexpected jolt of turbulence—any one of the three could throw your calculations off by a wide margin and dump you in a part of the ’verse you didn’t want to be in. Like the center of a star. “Greystone is a madman. The jump created a massive shock wave. Our LAC lost its countergravity matrix and barely made it down. If there’d been a city below…”
“Before I blacked out, I swore I saw a LAC coming down.”
“That was Captain Spears and Golf Company. It’s their LAC that crash-landed when the Greys jumped out. Captain Spears’s Marines reached you just in time. He took down the Clydesdale himself and he personally put a beam through the driver’s head when the merc refused to surrender. Spears worked the Clydesdale over with his mechboot. You’d have thought it was personal the way he went off on that thing.
“Spears commed me from the surface to check on you. He said to tell Lieutenant Paen he’d put his new leg to good use and that you’d understand.” Yates cocked a brow.
Promise tried not to laugh because her side hurt so badly. “Captain Spears lost a leg on Montana, back when he was a lieutenant.” Promise nodded and smiled. “He got regen, and rehab, and I got field-promoted and put in charge of his company.”
“Ah, and Lieutenant Paen was born. So I have him to thank for all the trouble you’ve caused me.”
“Something like that,” Promise said. “What about Golf Company?”
“Thankfully, Golf Company came through with zero casualties. Some bruises and broken bones but nothing that won’t mend. G Company is on the surface now, guarding Combat Outpost Danny True. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be a mechanized Marine.”
“What about Jupiter?” Promise asked.
“They … hurt her, Promise, deeper than a bullet ever could.” Yates swallowed and looked away. “They … she killed her attacker and triggered her homing beacon. We found her unconscious. Half naked after … She’d lost an eye and the nerves on half of her face were gone. Last night she came to, and she wouldn’t stop screaming. She pulled the line from her arm, and tried to gouge out her good eye. Atumbi has been at her side nonstop. He’s read to her and wiped her brow and told her it’s going to be okay. She was awake this morning, briefly, but she’s heavily drugged. He’s a good jack.”
The full implications of what Jupiter went through hit Promise like a maglev.
Yates looked away. “Jupiter was my guardian, Promise. She was my protector and look where it got her.” Yates closed her eyes and shuddered. “She’s headed home, to Hold, tomorrow. So are you and Kathy. So am I. We all are.”
“Hold? Ma’am, I don’t understand. We just got here.”
“And now we’re leaving on the Nitro. She jumps out in the morning.” Yates’s voice turned flat, lifeless. “You’re missing one finger and most of a second, on your dominant hand—your trigger finger—and you’ve got broken bones and substantial organ damage, and your second traumatic brain injury of your career. Most of your injuries will heal in a matter of weeks, but you’re still looking at multiple regen treatments and therapy for the hand, and that’s at least a couple of months. Kathy’s in for twice as long for the arm because she doesn’t regen, and I’m probably being conservative. And Jupiter. Well, only time will tell.”
I can still shoot with my left. It probably doesn’t matter now. “What about Victor Company?”
“Victor Company is down to half strength. Again. A year ago it was nearly decimated on Montana when you went to the mat with the Lusies.”
“Ma’am, we were up against—”
“Now hold on, Lieutenant. I’m not criticizing your actions. Keep your mouth shut and hear me out.”
Promise hated when she wore her emotions on her sleeve. She could lock them down in combat easy. That was no problem. Or push them aside when they’d taken casualties and the explosions and shell shock were overwhelming, and her Marines needed her to tell them what to do. Put her under the microscope and she lost all perspective, and wore her feelings like a festered wound, raw and oozing for all to see. Victor Company had been through a lot, and much of that was on her shoulders, and it always would be. Her orders had sent Marines to die. And not just any Marines either. Hers. They’d followed her orders because they’d trusted her to get them in and then get them out. Every death felt like a failure on her part. She didn’t need to be reminded about it by her superiors. Promise knew that wasn’t Yates’s point at all. It sure fee
ls like it is. The unit had pulled through before, buried its dead, welcomed new boots, and reorganized. Victor Company had done its best on Sheol when a knife in the back had nearly done it in. Promise was proud of her boots. She’d asked as much of them as any commander could hope for.
“For now, the company is returning to Hold.” Yates met Promise’s eyes directly. “This time the unit’s losses are on me. I’m responsible for what happened on Sheol. This was not your fault.” Yates’s voice wavered. “It’s mandatory counseling for everyone and extended special passes. Our people need to see their loved ones and find some sense of normalcy. Beyond that, we’ll see.”
“Captain, there’s more, isn’t there. What aren’t you telling me?”
Yates met her gaze evenly. “I wasn’t going to say anything. It’s the colonel’s job and I was glad to leave him to it. Look,” she said, opening her hands. “The company is a mess. Too much trauma does something to a unit. Jupiter tried to kill herself when she came to. Yesterday, Corporal Youseff from Third Platoon hanged himself in the head. Maxi found him just in time, and cut him down before it was too late. That young man suffered brain damage and he may not recover. Do you know why he did it? PFC Bohmbair was his best friend.”
And Bohmbair died on my watch.
“Marines from the other companies in the battalion are talking about us like we have a death wish. Some of the religious types think we’ve been cursed. Like the snake on our unit patch. Maybe they’re right. I don’t know anymore. The colonel believes the company should be disbanded, at least for now. The final decision isn’t up to him, but if I’d had to guess, it’s probably going to happen. What else can we really expect?”
“I expect to do my duty, ma’am. It’s just talk and superstition and it’s all nonsense.”
“Not if people believe it, it isn’t. The wounds are real. Promise, the Pythons have run their last op. You’re to be reassigned. All of us are. The colonel already made some transfers to shore up the holes in his remaining units. Most are staying behind, on Sheol. Lance Corporal Van Peek went to Golf Company under Captain Spears. Fourth Toon needed a new heavy-weapons expert. Atumbi went with him and you’ll be happy to know he just made PFC, too. Sergeant Margolease is the new platoon sergeant in India Company, Third Toon. The gunny is headed back to Hold to teach at the School of Infantry. For now, it’s back to Hold with you and Kathy too, for rehab. You’ll both be reassigned to a new unit at a later date, once you’re off the wounded list.”
“Ma’am, what about you?”
“I’m headed back to Hold to assume command of Lima Company, Charlie Battalion.” Promise nodded. That meant the captain wasn’t going too far from home and that she’d be back. “I asked to take you with me, but was told no. You won’t be cleared for duty in time. My new lieutenant is already working up my Marines back on Hold. I’ll be there for a month and then it’s back to Sheol to bring the battalion up to full strength.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Promise said. “Your faith in me means a great deal.”
“We haven’t worked together long, and we’ve had our differences. But I’ve come to respect you, Promise. I still believe you’re brash and ill-tempered. Inspite of that, there’s no one I’d rather have covering my six in a firefight. Just remember to hold your tongue and don’t say everything that comes to mind. Okay? Do that and you’ll be fine.”
“What about Maxi?”
“Sergeant Sindri stays with me. He will command Lima Company’s Fourth Platoon. I need a veteran like him to keep watch over all the unblooded cubs I’ll be inheriting. Lima is going to be as green as they come; probably greener than the Pythons were before we deployed to Sheol.”
Yates looked at her chrono and yawned. “I need to get some rack time.” She stood and arched her back, and looked over her shoulder. “So do you. First you have some visitors first. I hope you don’t mind.”
Sixty
MAY 26TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 1322 HOURS
RNS NITRO, PLANET SHEOL, GEOSYNCHRONOUS ORBIT, DAYSIDE
Suddenly Promise’s bed was surrounded by a wall of Marines dressed in beegees and somber expressions.
Race Atumbi held out his hand first. He was wearing the single gold flat stripe or runway of a newly minted private first class, set against khaki flash, on both shoulders of his beegees. His unit patch was noticeably absent. She supposed that made sense with Atumbi’s reassignment. The revelation still stung. Victor Company—aka the Pythons—had paid for their nickname in blood. Knowing the name wouldn’t continue created a swirl of confusing emotions inside of Promise, and she had no idea how she was going to sort through them. Guess I’ll have time for that later while I convalesce. Right now I’ve got a promotion to celebrate. Promise was happy for Atumbi. Sheol was his first deployment and he’d already been through so much death and destruction. Promise saw confidence rising up in the young man, and something told her he’d forever shed the nickname “Trip.” She could tell by the way he held his shoulders back and how he held his head high; those attributes hadn’t been there before. Maxi cleared his throat and nodded toward Atumbi’s outstretched hand.
“Ma’am, it’s been an honor.” Atumbi hesitated when he realized he’d just tried to shake the lieutenant’s bum wing. He quickly stuck out his left.
“Congratulations, Private First Class. You deserve it.”
Atumbi beamed and cleared his throat. “This is for you, Lieutenant.” He pulled something from the pouch on his utility belt. It was his missing unit patch, the python coiled around a warship, constricting it to death. Promise’s eyes started to mist up against all of her objections. “I wasn’t a Python for long, ma’am, but in some ways I always will be.” Promise turned the patch over as her vision blurred. He’d added a white interface to the back of the patch, and added his signature and a short message: Semper paratus, always faithful.
“Thank you, Race. I…” Promise looked hard at the patch and swallowed. It was something Marines did when they sent off a beloved commander. Signed the unit patch. The sentiment overwhelmed her. She’d lost Victor Company—she’d lost the Pythons—when Captain Yates was put in charge. The patch should have gone to the captain, not to Promise. Her hand closed around the patch, knowing she didn’t really deserve it.
“It’s okay, Promise,” Yates said from the corner of the room. Promise hadn’t realized the captain had stayed. “They asked me if it was okay. This entire situation has been, well, it’s been less than optimal, and the Pythons never really were mine to begin with. What happened to you wasn’t right. The way they took the company from you—I see that now.” Yates looked a bit flushed. “Your Marines, well, they followed me but they admired you. Here, I signed mine too. After all, the Pythons were yours first.”
One by one, they each said good-bye. Lance Corporal Van Peek mock-punched Promise in the arm before handing her his patch.
“Thanks, Nate.”
Sergeant Jesus Margolease hung back a bit and Promise had to urge him forward. “I feel like I’m intruding, ma’am. I was a last-minute replacement, you know.”
“I’m glad you came to say good-bye. Good luck in I Company.”
The gunny passed shots to toast the occasion. “Gunny, what is in this?” Promise said as she took hers in hand and ran it under her nose.
“An energy drink, I believe, with some restoratives and vitamins. You don’t think the doc let me in here with the good stuff, do you?”
They all shared a good laugh over that, and the gunny added his patch to the growing pile. “Gunny Ramuel, Godspeed” was written in bold lettering on the back. Ramuel wrapped her hand in both of his massive paws. “I won’t be too far away, Lieutenant. You need anything you comm me or just drop by, understood?”
“Yes, Gunny.”
They chatted a few minutes more and then each Marine departed with a final handshake and a warm smile. Promise was nearly worn out by the time they left. And then there was just Maxi.
“Well, P, it’s been a good run
.”
“Almost six years, right?” Promise said in a thick voice.
Maxi nodded and looked at the unit patch in his hand. He seemed reluctant to give it to her, and when he did his face became flushed. It said, “Sergeant Sindri, I was the lucky one.”
“I didn’t know what to write.…” Maxi looked down at his boots.
“You said it better than I ever could. I was the lucky one. We’ve been through a lot, Maxi. And you’ve been the best friend I could have hoped for.” Promise grabbed a tissue by her bedside. “This isn’t good-bye, okay? Just see you later. Take good care of Captain Yates. Comm me before you deploy with your new company.”
“Will do, P. You get better and get back in a mechsuit, soon.”
“Roger that,” Promise said.
As Maxi walked out of the room a piece of her heart walked out with him. She heard stirring from the other side of the bed and turned over to see Kathy awake and staring at her with puffy eyes. Kathy yawned, gave her a puzzled look, and then glanced at the mound of unit patches on top of Promise’s bedsheet.
“What’d I miss?” Kathy’s stomach rumbled like one of Sheol’s volcanoes. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”
Sixty-one
JULY 18TH, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 0902 HOURS
REPUBLIC OF ALIGNED WORLDS PLANETARY CAPITAL—HOLD
NEVERFAR MANOR
Heavy rain pelted the windows of Neverfar Manor. The weather was unseasonably wet and humid, and dark-gray clouds had blunted the morning light. Promise gazed out the kitchen window of Lieutenant General Felicia Granby’s country home as raindrops streaked down the checkered windowpane. It wasn’t much of a way to pass the time, but she didn’t have anything better to do, and she’d volunteered to man the oven until the timer beeped. Sephora and the general’s husband, Roman, were playing a game of chance in the den. The general had opted for her morning paper by the bay window and a cup of hot tea. The weather didn’t seem to be an issue for any of them. For Promise it was another reminder of everything that had gone wrong in the past two months. That, and she was bored out of her mind.
