by P. A. Piatt
Fortis was an awful patient. He chafed at the attention, and Ystremski finally threatened to physically restrain the lieutenant so the medics could finish their work.
“LT, how’s it going to look if you’re hogtied when we get back to Atlas. Just relax, would you? DINLI, you fucking crybaby.”
When Cowher and Durant were finished, Ystremski chuckled as he handed Fortis a small signal mirror to inspect the results. “LT, you look like you’ve been shaving with a chainsaw and trimming your hair with a blowtorch.”
“Fuck,” Fortis mumbled.
Random tufts of hair that had resisted the razor stuck up at wild angles, and the burn cream was thick and greasy. The flesh of his face felt heavy, and, when he tried to make a face, his expression didn’t change.
“We had to give you a powerful muscle relaxer to numb your facial muscles so you don’t smile or wince and tear the wounds open,” explained Durant.
Fortis’ injured left arm was supported by a sling that was stained with dirt and blood. All of this added to his torn and dirty uniform to give him an absurdly bedraggled appearance.
“Sorry we can’t wash you up any better, sir. There’s not much to work with. But don’t worry, LT, when we get back to Atlas, you’ll have all the time in the world to get cleaned up and squared away,” Ystremski told him.
“Forget about me. What about our guys? Marx and Landis and the others.”
“They’re okay. Marx is concussed and Landis has a broken hand, but nothing worse than they might get from a good game of Calcio Fiorentino. Harrington’s wound will heal cleanly, and Modell’s fingers are just bruised.”
Fortis laid back with a groan. “Great.”
Ystremski looked over his shoulder, then leaned in close and lowered his voice. “What are you gonna tell them back at Battalion?”
Fortis didn’t hesitate. “The truth. All of it.”
Ystremski’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Are you sure?”
“I have to.”
“You know you’ll catch a lot of shit for this, sir.”
“At this point, I don’t care. I’m not going to ask these guys to lie for me; they deserve better than that. I let this go way beyond a bullshit arrest and shakedown when I agreed to the governor’s offer.”
“What the hell were you supposed to do, leave Marx and Landis to rot in jail?” The corporal shook his head emphatically. “No, sir. No way. We don’t leave ours behind, no matter what. There’s no way they’ll bust your balls for this.”
“Here’s hoping Colonel Sobieski feels the same way.”
“LT, I’ll let you in on a little secret. If you hadn’t done what you did for Marx and Landis, none of these other guys would have ever followed you again. Oh, they’d obey orders, but someday you would have found yourself all alone in a bug hole, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Damn right I’m right. They might be a bunch of ignorant knuckle-draggers, but they know who’s got their backs.”
The two men sat in silence for a moment.
“If there’s a part of the story that you want to, you know, nuance, say the word. These animals will go along with whatever you say.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not going to lie, and I don’t want anyone else to, either.” Fortis closed his eyes. “Captain Hampton watched me chop Chive in half.”
Ystremski chuckled. “Yeah, there’s really no way to nuance that.”
Fortis sighed. “Right now, I just want some sleep.”
Ystremski waited until Fortis’ breathing became deep and regular before he stood up and looked around the cargo bay. The rest of the platoon was spread out to grab some shuteye, so he moved carefully. The corporal returned to where the lieutenant had begun to snore softly and removed the officer’s kukri from his scabbard. Fortis didn’t stir as Ystremski walked to his own pack, dug out a length of crimson paracord, and went to work.
* * *
Several hours later, Lieutenant Fortis woke with a start. He opened his eyes and discovered his kukri on his chest.
“What’s this?” Lieutenant Fortis held up the weapon and examined the crimson paracord wound around the handle. “Why did you rewrap the handle with red paracord?”
Corporal Ystremski, who had been asleep next to the officer, sat up and considered Fortis through bleary eyes.
“It’s not red, it’s crimson, as you should know from the striping on your dress uniform, sir.” The corporal laid extra emphasis on “sir” and made it sound like an insult. “Space Marines earn their kukris after they fight in combat. They earn the crimson handle when they kill an enemy with it.” He pointed to his own kukri, with its olive-drab handle. “Most of us haven’t had that honor yet.”
Fortis shook his head. “Come on, that’s not necessary. Switch it back.”
“Can’t do it, LT. It’s a tradition. Practically a regulation.”
The rest of the platoon gathered around them with broad smiles and eyes that gleamed with anticipation.
“Here’s another tradition that’s practically a regulation.” Heisen passed a canteen to Ystremski, who unscrewed the cap and presented it to Fortis.
“What the hell is this?” asked Fortis before he sniffed the open canteen. The raw alcohol burned his nostrils. “Whew!”
Several of the Space Marines laughed and Ystremski motioned for the lieutenant to drink. “The lads we left in charge of our gear had the good sense to bring along some of Eros-28’s finest. This seems like as good a time as any for a toast. DINLI, sir.”
Fortis held up the canteen and then lowered it and looked at Corporal Ystremski.
“Go ahead, LT. If that strength enhancement hasn’t taken by now, it never will.”
Fortis nodded and raised it again.
“To the dead and the living.”
He tipped a splash onto the deck as was the custom and then took a pull from the canteen. Tears stung his eyes, and he struggled to swallow without choking as the lethal homebrew stole his breath.
“DINLI!” the platoon roared in unison.
* * *
Fortis and Ystremski debriefed the platoon in turns, and Fortis took extensive notes for the report he planned to submit when they returned to the flagship. The task took several hours, and it was several more before Fortis finished writing. When he was done, Ystremski assembled the men so Fortis could address them.
“I think it’s important that all of you know and understand what’s in here,” the lieutenant said as he held the report over his head. “What happened back there was a failure of leadership. My leadership.” His eyes flicked from face to face and he saw a lot of puzzled looks. “None of this would have happened if I hadn’t violated the colonel’s orders and allowed all of you to go on liberty in Boston. Whatever happened after that is my responsibility.”
He gestured to Marx and Landis. “I don’t know what you were doing with that prostitute, but I’m sure it wasn’t drug-related.” Guffaws greeted this remark.
“First time for everything,” a voice called from the back, and even Ystremski chuckled.
Fortis waited for the merriment to die down before he continued.
“Based on everything we learned during our time on Eros-28, I believe that Chive and the Kuiper Knights were involved in a coup against Governor Czrk. I don’t know why he chose to involve us; I guess it was an opportunity he felt he couldn’t pass up. Either way, the decision to accept the governor’s offer to conduct the raids was mine.”
Several Space Marines opened their mouths as if to protest, but Fortis held up his hand.
“I know you think you volunteered, but the simple fact is that there was no way you were not going to agree to the raids, and I knew that. I can’t share the responsibility for my decisions with you, vote or no vote. I never should have let it come to a vote. That’s not how the ISMC works.
“But legal or not, we did the right thing. I’m convinced that the destruction of the China Mike lab and that wareho
use saved lives. Maybe not mercenary lives, but the lives of people that matter.”
More smiles and chortles greeted this line, and he smiled with them.
“In about twelve hours, we’ll be back aboard Atlas. When we get there, I imagine there will be all kinds of rumors and stories flying around. You’ve all heard the truth, and I encourage all of you to stick to it. If there’s a price to be paid for what we did, it’s mine to pay. All of you conducted yourselves with courage and professionalism, and I’m grateful that there were no serious injuries—”
“Except your hair!” Private Queen quipped. The Space Marines howled with laughter, and Fortis knew he’d set the right tone with them. He could have ordered them not to say anything, but he knew the story would eventually leak, and he felt it was better to get the truth out first. The lads were smart enough to understand that wild rumors wouldn’t do anyone any good.
“Third Platoon, lock it up!” Corporal Ystremski roared over the merriment and the entire platoon came to attention. “You’ve had your kumbaya moment with the lieutenant. Now it’s time to get back to being Space Marines. We have twelve hours before we get back to the flagship, which gives us plenty of time to square away those uniforms. Some of your boots look like you polished them with a warm chocolate bar. Uniform inspection in two hours. Move!”
* * * * *
Chapter Thirty-Four
The transport docked with Atlas and Lieutenant Fortis led Third Platoon down the ramp and into the hangar. They were as clean and presentable as they could get after surviving the hovercopter crash, the Eolian Blast, and the battle at the mercenary compound. Fortis felt a surge of pride at their appearance. They were field Marines, not headquarters ceremonial types, and it showed.
Captain Hampton approached Fortis as Ystremski got the Space Marines formed up.
“Fortis, I don’t want you to be blindsided, but I have to report what I witnessed at the landing pad on Eros-28.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know.” Fortis patted the pocket where he’d tucked his report. “I’ve got the whole thing detailed right here.”
She nodded and stuck out her hand. “Good. And good luck to you. That was one hell of an exhibition.”
The officers shook, exchanged salutes, and Hampton disappeared back into the transport. Corporal Ystremski posted up in front of Fortis and saluted.
“Third Platoon, all present or accounted for, sir.”
“Very well. Dismiss the men.”
Fortis got strange looks from everyone he encountered as he headed for the hatch leading to his stateroom in officer’s country. He had fixed the worst of his hair and wiped off the excess burn cream, but it had left behind a bluish-green cast. The medics had urged him to leave his cheek wounds uncovered to dry and the damage was conspicuous.
“Lieutenant Fortis. Lieutenant Fortis!”
Fortis turned to see who was calling him, and an unfamiliar staff sergeant approached. The Space Marine’s eyes widened when he got a look at the officer’s injuries. His nametape read “Willis.”
“Lieutenant Fortis, Colonel Sobieski wants to see you, on the double.”
“Now?” Fortis looked down at his shabby uniform. “Can I take a minute to get squared away?”
“‘Get his ass up here, now.’ His words, sir.” Willis smiled an apology. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant; the colonel’s patience is wearing thin these days.”
“What about Captain Brickell? Shouldn’t I report to him first?”
“There is no Captain Brickell, sir. The colonel got a little pissed when he heard you were on Eros-28. He fired Brickell and Captain Reese, too.”
Shit.
Fortis sighed. “Lead the way, Willis.”
The strange looks continued as Fortis followed Willis through the maze of gleaming passageways deep into the command suite. Finally, the staff sergeant paused at a door with a large eagle insignia painted on it. An engraved plate hung below the eagle.
Colonel K. R. Sobieski
2nd Battalion/1st Regiment
Willis looked at Fortis as if to ask if he was ready, and Fortis nodded. The staff sergeant rapped three times and opened the door.
“Colonel Sobieski, Lieutenant Fortis is here.”
Fortis approached the colonel’s desk, stopped three paces in front, and rendered his sharpest salute.
“Lieutenant Fortis, reporting as ordered, sir.”
The colonel, a tall man with swarthy skin and a tight buzzcut flecked with gray, looked up from a chart that was spread across his desk.
“What happened to your face, Fortis?” He leaned in for a closer look. “Have you been dueling?”
“Not exactly, sir. A Kuiper Knight attacked me with his dueling blade.”
“A Kuiper Knight? Where did you run into a Kuiper Knight?”
“Liberty on Eros-28, colonel.”
“Why is your head blue?”
“It’s burn cream, sir. An explosive fuse detonated prematurely and burned my hair off.”
“Explosives?”
“It’s hard to explain, sir. It’s all right here, in my report.” Fortis held up the document.
“Never mind that right now, Fortis. General Gupta received a private communique from the governor of Eros-28 yesterday, and he’s been anxious to talk to you.”
Fortis froze. “General Gupta?”
“Yeah. General Gupta. The only general we have. Come on.”
Fortis’ heart sank. He’d lost the initiative, and now he’d be playing defense.
“Sir, I can explain—”
“Not to me, you won’t.” The colonel walked around his desk to the door. “Let’s go. The general is waiting.”
The lieutenant forced his legs to carry him up the ladder behind Colonel Sobieski to the flag deck. The first time he’d encountered General Gupta had been the day Fortis was both court martialed for Failure to Obey an Order and awarded the L’Ordre de la Galanterie by direction of the president of the UNT.
Maybe he forgot?
When they arrived at the general’s office, the shapely flag aide nodded and waved them to the general’s door. Sobieski rapped three times and entered with Fortis in tow.
“Sobieski and Fortis, sir.”
The general was engrossed by a holograph of a planet hovering over his desk. Fortis recognized symbols for various Fleet vessels in orbit around it, including Atlas. When he finally looked up, his eyes widened in surprise.
“What happened to your face, Fortis? Have you been dueling?”
This time, Fortis was ready for the question. “A Kuiper Knight attacked me with his dueling blade while I was on Eros-28, General,” he replied. “I killed him with my kukri.”
Gupta cocked an eyebrow at him. “With your kukri?”
“Yes, sir. It was the only weapon I had available.”
“Hmm.” General Gupta stared at him for a long moment. “I received a private message from the governor of Eros-28 yesterday.”
“Sir, I detailed the entire situation here, in my report.”
“The governor tells me that my Space Marines got involved in a local law enforcement matter without my authorization.”
“Sir, I can explain.”
The general retrieved a sheet of paper from his desk and began to read.
“‘When he learned of the situation, Lieutenant Fortis volunteered his platoon to assist GRC security in a mission to eliminate a powerful Kuiper Knight China Mike cartel operating on Eros-28.’ The Kuiper Knights? What the hell is that about, Fortis?”
Fortis felt a twinge of panic. He didn’t know what else the governor had told the general, so he was unsure how to respond. He decided a non-answer was the best course of action.
“The colonial police force was unable to deal with the cartel by themselves so we assisted them.”
“Assisted them? The governor said you killed or captured the entire cartel and destroyed their lab. Is that true?”
“Yes, sir.”
General Gupta shook his head and scowled a
s he studied the message.
“Lieutenant, did you know that after the United Nations of Terra was formed there were several member nations that objected to the formation of the ISMC?”
“No, sir.”
“They were concerned about a military force operating far beyond the reaches of UNT authority on behalf of one member or another, perhaps even against one another. Now do you understand why the ISMC isn’t authorized to get involved in local law enforcement matters?”
“I do, sir, but there are five thousand UNT citizens who live and work on Eros-28, and they deserve our protection, too.”
“Why didn’t you request guidance from your chain of command?”
“Given the significance of the industrial operation there and the exigency of the situation, I felt it necessary to act without delay. I mistakenly assumed that with the division on liberty on Eros-69 the necessary authorization might arrive too late.”
“You assumed.”
Fortis felt his blood rushing to his face, and his wounded cheeks stung.
“General, the Kuiper Knights planned to destabilize Eros-28 to get their man appointed governor. Once they had control, they’d be free to do what they wanted.
“The China Mike lab might have begun as a local law enforcement matter, but we destroyed an entire warehouse full of the drug, bundled up into kilos and ready for transportation. Several metric tons, at least. They manufactured the drug and smuggled it out hidden in heavy equipment all over the sector. It wasn’t going to stay a local law enforcement matter for long.”
“That bad?”
“Yes, sir, it was.”
Gupta stroked his chin. “Any injuries?”
“Mostly scrapes and bruises, sir.” He motioned to his cheeks. “And this, of course.”
Gupta leaned forward and studied Fortis. “Why is your head blue?”
Fortis felt the skin on his face tighten as he struggled not to grin. “Faulty fuse on an explosive charge went off prematurely. Burned off my hair.”
