by J. N. Chaney
“But you were too freaking heavy, and you dropped right in,” Tomiko said, not even trying to hide her glee.
“Yeah, ha-fucking-ha. Very funny.”
“You weren’t hurt, were you?” Rev said, trying to be serious.
“Nah. We’re OK. I sent Adams back to bring the retriever up.”
“That thing’s gonna be able to get you out of there?” Tomiko asked.
A retriever was just another tank chassis with a tow package and hoist, but Rev doubted it could bodily pick up a tank in a hole.
“That’s their problem, not mine,” Bundy said sourly.
Staff Sergeant Delacrie stepped up beside Rev and Tomiko, and just said, “That sucks,” in the understatement of the day. “But let’s get moving.”
“Hey, glad you’re not hurt,” Rev said as he stepped back.
“Can’t say the same about your ride, though. I don’t think they were made to take a drop like that,” Tomiko added.
Bundy gave them the finger as they moved back from the edge.
“You know we’re gonna have to give him a ration of shit when we get back, right?” Tomiko asked.
“You’d better believe it.”
They passed through the Marines guarding the tank and headed back to the spaceport, in a much better mood. For all they knew, the tank was out-of-action for the duration, and that was decidedly a bad thing, but still . . . seeing Bundy, of all people, sitting on top of a tank in a hole, was priceless.
That good mood lasted until they reached Austin Avenue and the spaceport. Across the killing field, CRA troops were supervising civilians in gathering the bodies—and body parts—that littered the area. The team stopped for a moment, taking it in.
They had no idea how many people, human beings, had died along the tarmac and surrounding grassy areas. Rev doubted that anyone knew. All of the bodies would be taken to refrigerated tents already set up on the other side of the runway where CRA forensic techs would delve into their bag of tricks to determine what information could be pulled from the remains. Each and every person possible would be identified. Not just them, but families would be traced, friends would be linked, and people across the Union would be receiving uninvited, official visitors.
The thought made Rev a little queasy, but if they didn’t have anything to hide, all they’d suffer would be an interrogation. But if they were Children of Angels, or if they’d materially supported them, then action would be taken.
The staff sergeant got them moving again, and they somberly crossed the kill zone toward their bunker. Sullen civilians eyed them, but no one said anything.
One of the CRA hovers was parked halfway across the area. A battered and torn white flag with two gold wings in the center was draped over the hood, a CRA officer sitting on top of it. He smiled and waved as the team trooped past.
A general support Marine stepped out to meet them as they reached the bunker. “Raiders?” Yazzie said yes, and the corporal continued. “We’ve got a vat of hot chow in your bunker, an ammo resupply, and water. You can molt from your PALs, but keep them close, OK? Get some shuteye, but be ready by zero-five-hundred for further orders.”
“Do you know what those orders are going to be?” Staff Sergeant Delacrie asked.
“Not a clue. I’m just here with the logistics. But everyone’s going on a port and starboard watch, so I’m guessing that you’ll relieve whoever’s out there now so they can come in for chow and rest. If you need anything, or if you’ve got any questions, we’re in Hangar 5.”
The team trooped around the bunker, and there at the door was a food vat. Hussein opened it, sniffed, and said, “Chili Mac and Honeybutter biscuits.”
Without being told to, he took the small stack of plates, filled the first, and handed it to Yazzie. Each Marine and Doc filed past, taking a plate and disappearing inside the bunker.
Rev didn’t mind Chili Mac, even the field version churned out by ancient portable fabricators. But he wasn’t hungry. It had been an emotional day, one without the revved-up feeling of victory he’d had when fighting the Centaurs. He sat down next to Tomiko and stared at his meal.
“Could be worse,” she said. “It could be turkey tetrazzini.”
Rev snorted. Yeah, it could be worse. And he knew he needed the calories if he was going to function for who knows how long.
He used the biscuit to mop up some chili mac and stuffed it into his mouth. Thinking about the bodies outside, he shrugged, chewed, and kept eating.
Choices had consequences. Even for true believers.
21
“Don’t the bastards know they’ve lost,” Hussein asked.
“There’re always going to be true believers, defenders of the faith, who’ll fight to the bitter end,” Yazzie said.
“I just wish they’d get to that bitter end, then.”
The team had paused in a small square. On one side, the two-story buildings looked untouched. On the other three sides, they were rubble. Rev idly wondered how that happened.
He agreed with Hussein, however. He was tired of this operation, tired of the killing of fellow humans, even traitors. He just wanted to get back to New Hope and unwind.
Fighting the Centaurs was a noble cause, one upon which the very existence of the human race depended. This? This was dirty. This wasn’t glorious at all.
Staff Sergeant Delacrie reminded him that as the allies of the Centaurs, fighting them was no different than fighting the tin-asses directly. And the Centaur the grunts and the Navy gunship killed, while not a complete surprise, lent credence to the team leader’s words. It didn’t matter, though. Rev didn’t like what they were doing one bit.
“Two minutes,” the staff sergeant called out.
Rev just wished he could take a break and get out of this mindset. A wandering mind was a recipe for disaster.
“Hey, you want to hear a joke?”
If it was possible for an AI to sound surprised, Punch just did.
“Yeah. You’re always asking me. Thought I’d mix things up.”
“It’s a little different than our normal fare, but here it goes: I told my physical therapist that I broke my arm in two places. He told me to stop going to those places.”
There was no reaction from Punch. Nothing.
“Like I said, it was different. I’m not asking you a question to set it up.”
Still nothing.
“It’s because I broke my arm in two places, like my upper arm and lower arm, and my doctor thought I was in two different places, like my home and the store, and in both places, I broke my arm. You get it?”
“You’re being sarcastic now. Too much time with a one hundred PQ.”
Great. Feeling grateful for an AI’s approval. Rev, you really do need a break.
“OK, boys and girls. Mount up. First, take over the lead. You’ve got our route,” the team leader said.
With a sigh, Rev stood up. The sooner they completed the sweep, the sooner they could get back, eat, and catch some Zs. He doubted they’d find anyone. This little village had borne the brunt of a battle, and it had been swept before several times. But the brass calculated that there had to be some 20,000 Children of Angels left unaccounted for planetwide, and the admiral couldn’t declare victory until a lot more of them were either captured or killed.
First Element led the patrol in a staggered column with Yazzie first and on the right, then Rev on the left, and Tomiko on the right again. It wasn’t the most secure formation, and if they were hit from the front, the three of them would mask the rest of the team. But it provided for reasonably quick movement, and given the light degree of risk, Rev thought it was the right formation.
They left the square and proceeded down the main drag, what was left of residential homes along the sides, each with a small courtyard. Rev p
eered over the walls, if there were any left standing, searching for signs of life.
There was no human life, but in the third courtyard, there was a small Earth tree, a single tattered leaf clinging to a branch, in an orange clay pot. From the leaf, Rev thought it might be a maple. Somebody had tended to the fragile sapling, and Rev wondered who that had been. Angel shit? Someone else? Were they still alive?
He had a sudden desire to step inside the courtyard and water the tree. The native flora would soon take over the village, and the little sapling would need to be bigger and healthier to fight it off.
Give me a break, Reverent. Getting sentimental over a tree?
He shook his head and kept walking, scanning for any heat signatures. Scanning for human heat signatures, that was. With a battle destroying the town, there were plenty of heat sources, from battery-powered equipment in the wreckage to banked fires, still smoldering under the rubble.
At the far end of the street, the homes showed less damage. The staff sergeant was probably going to want to clear each one, Rev knew. But it was the right move, and he’d order the same thing if he were in charge.
He approached the first home that still had four walls, scorched, but still erect. There were several hotspots, which made sense given the fire, but none were big enough to be caused by an adult human.
Beyond this house, there was a flattened area of rubble, but ahead of Yazzie on her side of the street were a few relatively intact homes. Those were the ones that really had to be cleared, and that would take all three of them while the rest of the team provided security.
He hissed at Yazzie, and when she turned to look at him, he signaled her to halt. Then it was the hand over the eyes, telling the staff sergeant behind him that he was going to take a look—not the sign to clear the building.
Tomiko asked him if he wanted her to join him, but after a moment, he signed no. The one-story home was essentially gutted, and it wouldn’t take him but a moment to look around. No use holding things up, especially as the other homes farther down the street were going to take more time.
He stepped up to the meter-and-a-half-tall wall and did a quick scan of the courtyard. There wasn’t much—just some dusty debris and a brightly colored bike on its side, still with training wheels attached.
The wall was intact but slightly skewed, jamming the wrought-iron gate. Not enough to withstand him. With a quick shove, he broke it free, sending a chunk of wall skittering across the courtyard to slam up against the front wall. Rev froze for a second, but nothing moved. He switched back to thermal, but the small hotspots seemed not to have changed.
Rev gave the rest of the patrol a quick glance, then entered the courtyard. It was small, maybe five meters deep and running the width of the house. A walkway led up to the front door. He stepped over the bike and onto the stoop. The door hung askew in the frame, and through the crack, he could see that the back wall was gone, light streaming in.
Rev leaned back and kicked heel-first, knocking the door off its remaining hinge and into what was the main room, which looked like it took up most of the small house. He stepped through the doorway, cleared to the right, then to the left—and froze.
Two meters to his left, huddled on the floor against the wall and under the blown-out window, a fearful, dirt-streaked face of a little girl looked up at him. That wasn’t what froze him, however. In her hand, held out to him like a shield, was a detonator.
Rev whipped down his M-49 to take her in his sights. She flinched, then used her free hand to cover her eyes.
“What is that?”
Which confirmed Rev’s instincts.
Rev hadn’t noticed the backpack until then, a pink and turquoise pack with a butterfly visible on the top. He didn’t know for sure there were explosives inside, but the girl wasn’t holding a detonator for nothing.
Rev gave a quick glance behind him. Tomiko was across the street, her head just visible above the wall. He considered his options. He was still in the doorway, and he could dart outside before the girl could drop the detonator. The wall might protect him from much of the blast. But then what?
“Rev, what’s going on?” Tomiko shouted.
Rev stuck his left arm out of the doorway, signaled Tomiko to halt, then gave her the sign for enemy.
Sorry state of affairs if this girl is the enemy.
“I’m coming over,” Tomiko shouted.
“No!”
The girl flinched at his shout, then started softly crying into her arm.
“What’s your name?” Rev asked, then berated himself.
That’s the best you can do, Reverent?
But a soft voice said, “Katerina Psalki,” her face still hidden, her right arm still holding the detonator.
He retracted his face shield. A flurry of smells hit him, not the least being urine. The girl had been sitting there long enough to befoul herself.
“Katerina, my name is Rev, and I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, eyes locked on the thumb holding the red button down.
“Yes, you are. You hurt little girls.”
A surge of anger flared through Rev, but he pushed it down and calmly said, “No, I’m a Marine. We don’t hurt little girls.”
A single reddened eye looked over her arm, taking him in. Her blonde hair was disheveled and dirty. “You have a gun.”
Which he still had trained on the girl. He hurriedly lowered it. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
He racked his brain for something to say when she said, “Mr. Mark said you kill little girls and boys and eat them.”
“Mr. Mark is wrong. We protect children.”
She raised her face for the first time to look at him. The dirty streaks had been caused by tears, but the hand holding the detonator was steady.
“Mr. Mark says I have to kill you,” she said in a resigned voice.
Rev’s heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. The backpack was bulky, and it could easily carry enough to destroy what was left of the house, the girl, and him. There was no telling for sure.
“How were you supposed to do that?”
“Wait until one of you came into my home. Then let go of this,” she said, raising the hand with the detonator.
Rev almost dove for it, but he restrained himself. He couldn’t afford to startle her.
“Why haven’t you done that?”
“I don’t want to die,” the girl said, breaking into tears again. “I know Mr. Mark said I won’t, but I’m not a baby. I know!”
“I know you’re not. You’re very brave. How long have you been here?”
“Since yesterday morning. I haven’t moved, just like Mr. Mark said.”
Crap. Since their assault broke down. And she’s been here for that long, holding that friggin‘ detonator.
His opinion of the little girl, as well as his pity, went up several notches.
“Corporal Pelletier, what the hell’s going on in there,” Staff Sergeant Delacrie shouted from the wall.
The girl looked startled and tried to crane her head to see out the window.
“Wait a moment, Kat. Can I call you that?”
“My friends call me that,” she said, wiping her snuffles into the crook of the arm holding the detonator.”
Shit. Be careful!
“OK, Kat. Just sit still.”
He took a step back and onto the stoop. “I’ve got a little girl in here, wired to blow her and anyone near her to kingdom come.”
“Fuck!” the staff sergeant said. “The bastards! OK, here’s what we’re going to do. Step back, and get on this side of the wall here. I need you out of the blast area. We’ll decide what to do once you’re in the clear.”
Rev looked back, but the girl, Kat, was just around the sill and out of the team leader’s sight. She could undoubtedly hear what was
being said.
“I know what you’re going to do,” Rev said quietly.
The staff sergeant closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said, “Remember that exercise aboard the ship? Remember our talk?”
“Yes, I do. But this is different. She’s just a kid, and she doesn’t want to hurt us.”
OK, she said she didn’t want to die, not that she didn’t want to hurt us.
But that was close enough to the truth, he told himself.
The staff sergeant took a moment to pick his words. “It sucks, Rev. I know it does. But this isn’t our fault. This is the fault of the asshole who set her up as a weapon. I’m assuming she’s got a dead man’s switch?”
Rev nodded.
“Then she’s already dead. Take it from her, and she blows up. Try to remove the bomb, she blows up.”
Which was true, he knew. And the staff sergeant was right. That had been the entire lesson of that training module.
“She was murdered by her own people, Corporal. Not you. Not me. Look, you just come clear. Maybe there’s something we can work out. Call EOD or someone.”
Fat chance. EOD is working overtime as it was, and from a strategic standpoint, how important was one little girl, a child of traitors? She’d be so far down the priority list that it just wouldn’t happen.
“You know that isn’t going to work.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s out of your hands. I’m giving you a direct order. Step out of the courtyard now,” the staff sergeant said, leaving no doubt that he was serious.
Rev knew what he should do. It really wasn’t something up for debate. He was a Marine, and he’d received a lawful order, and not only that. It was the right order.
But he was a convict, right? They conscripted him into the Corps because he couldn’t follow the rules.
“Shit, Staff Sergeant. You know I got my head knocked yesterday, and my ears are still ringing. I can’t quite hear what you said. I think it was to go back inside.”
He spun on his heels as Tomiko shouted, “No, Rev!” and the staff sergeant started yelling at him to stop.
Rev stepped back inside, and Kat squeaked and held the detonator out at him, a priest holding the cross to keep back the devil.
