by J. N. Chaney
“Which is going to be a miracle ’cause you were never right as rain in the first place, Mala,” one of the other Marines, Copper, said.
Malaika threw a wadded-up napkin at him before picking up her cards.
Rev just soaked it in. The trash talk, the ribbing. The bonding. He had no idea how long he’d be here, and he wanted nothing more than to see Tomiko and the rest of the team, but as long as he had Marines around him, he’d be able to tough it out.
He picked up his hand, looked at the cards, and then groaned. At least one thing seemed not to have changed, and that was his horrible luck playing Knock On.
27
Rev stood ready, the familiar adrenaline rush coursing through him. He’d long ago decided to stop wondering if the rush was natural or helped along by his nanos. It was what it was, and to be honest, he liked the feeling. It made him feel alive.
Which could leave him very dead if he couldn’t control himself and went out half-cocked, but that was a whole different topic.
“You ready?”
Rev shook his head a few times, jumped up and down, and then shrugged his shoulders. The weight of the IBHU still threw off his balance somewhat, to the point where he’d considered asking for counterweights strapped to his right arm.
He set his legs slightly over shoulder-width apart, took a deep breath, then let half of it out, letting his senses probe the field in front of him. And then, from the right, there it was. A paladin emerged from the trees about two hundred meters away and started to cross the open area. Rev froze, watching as it got closer on a path to cross in front of him. One hundred fifty, one-hundred twenty-five, one hundred meters. His heart was pounding loud enough that the paladin had to hear him, but still, it came.
Rev watched the numbers tick down. Right in front of him, it reached forty-seven meters before it started climbing again as the paladin continued. That was his cue.
He raised his IBHU and fired, the energy beam crossing the distance to hit the left rear heat exchanger. “Raised and fired” might be accurate, but to Rev, it wasn’t as if he was firing a weapon. To him, the best way he could describe was that he merely pointed at the paladin and twitched his forefinger.
The end result was the same, however. The beam hit the paladin, sending sparks showering out of it before it self-detonated in a spectacular explosion. Rev felt the familiar rush of victory before the scene went dark.
He pulled off his helmet and looked back where Doctor Chakrabarti and Colonel Tolouse, the Marine Corps Project Head, were watching.
“Four hundred fifty-three milliseconds,” Daryll, who seemed to be the tech jack-of-all-trades, reported.
The doctor nodded and said, “Still slow, but you’re improving.”
Rev didn’t think it was slow. If he could see a target and bring a weapon to bear in half-a-second, he thought that was remarkable. But the doctor had told him their goal was to get down in the seventy-millisecond range, which was at the very top speed that signals carried by the large-diameter, myelinated neurons that link the spinal cord to his muscles could manage. And that didn’t account for the time it took for his brain to decide to initiate the firing sequence.
But then again, he didn’t have normal myelinated neurons, at least not between his brain and his IBHU. Rev wasn’t sure why the tiny improvement would be so important to him in combat, but Doctor C had this among the top of her milestones.
“I think that’s good enough for the day. Daryll, I want to add in motion for tomorrow, and we’ll see where we are.”
“So, I’m done?” Rev asked.
“Yes. We’ll see you tomorrow at nine.”
“Good job, Sergeant,” the colonel said as Daryll left his equipment and came to help Rev take off his arm. Or his dummy arm, to be more accurate. Rev didn’t know if the hunk of metal looked like the real arm he was going to get, but this one supposedly was the same weight, which meant it was heavy. Even with Rev’s augmented strength, he doubted he’d be able to maneuver it fast enough to suit Chakrabarti, but his harness was not only for support. Servos had been implanted in some of the straps to give his movement an extra boost.
“Here, let me help you,” Daryll said.
Rev dutifully turned while the tech wheeled his framed dolly over and put the hoist straps around the arm. With the weight supported, he started undoing the harness before unjacking the arm itself. Rev bent his knees, then slipped away from the hoist.
The colonel had told him they were working on a better way to hook him up, something closer to what the mech Marines did to don their suits. Rev thought that would be necessary. The hoist that Daryll used was unwieldy and would be more than a little out of place in a combat environment.
He picked up his social arm and, with three twisting moves, attached it. He ran through his checks, flexing the fingers, twisting the hand, and bending the elbow. His movements were still raw and herky-jerky, but the arm and fingers did what they were supposed to do. His rehab tech said he should be fully functional and ready to return to the team in two more weeks. He didn’t know, however, how the main project would affect that timeline.
Rev stepped out of the non-descript, windowless building that housed the project. It was getting to be early afternoon. His stomach growled to remind him he’d missed lunch, something that happened too often with his leading a double life.
“How long before my rehab?”
Maybe I’ve got enough time to hit the speedline for chow.
He crossed the parking lot and entered the hospital through one of the back doors, making his way through the laundry and service halls before taking the elevator up to the main deck. The galley was in the back of the C-Wing, and from there, it was a quick trip up three decks to reach the Wounded Warrior Ward. He could stuff in a quick burger and make it in time for his social arm rehab.
He picked up the pace, banging his thigh with the arm. It still didn’t feel like “him,” as Bunny and his rehab team promised it would. His sense of touch really threw him off, but he was told that given time, his brain would be rewired to accept the arm’s impulses as his old organic sensory impulses. He’d never know the difference.
Rev didn’t know if he bought that. His prosthesis was still a hunk of metal—high-tech metal, to be sure, but it wasn’t his organic flesh-and-blood arm.
He turned down the passage to the galley, the smell of food hitting him hard. His stomach growled again, and he hurried forward. Just as he reached the door, Rafer lurched out in his mechanical gait, looking at the ground as he concentrated on each step. Rev felt a twinge of guilt for thinking poorly about his arm. Rafer was in a full body cage which bypassed his broken back to send signals to his legs. Healing a back took time, and Rafer would still be in rehab long after the rest of them were gone.
“Hey, Rafe. Anything good in there?”
Rafer looked up, saw Rev, and said, “Rev? You see your friends yet?”
“My friends?”
“Yeah, your team. They came by to see you.”
Food forgotten, Rev abandoned Rafer and shouted, “Thanks! I’ll see you upstairs,” as he bolted down to the emergency exit, ignoring the elevators.
He bounded up the stairs, taking them four at a time, and burst into the third deck. He ran down to the entrance of the ward and slammed open the door.
The nurse looked up, startled, then when she saw who it was, tilted her head to the right and said, “In the lounge.”
Rev rounded the nurses’ station to a wonderful sight. The entire team, from the staff sergeant to Yazzie, were sitting in the lounge chatting with Malaika, Bunny, and Copper.
“’Bout time you showed up,” Tomiko said, standing and coming over to give him a hug. “What, you just wandering around goofing off?”
“That’s me,” Rev said, surprised at how emotional he was getting. He reached up to wipe his eyes, which were getting a little teary. “When did you get back? How did you ge
t here?”
“This morning,” the staff sergeant said as each Marine hugged him or slapped his back. “The lieutenant said we could come check on you. He caught us a ride on a Buzzard that was coming over here anyway. He and the top will come over later if they can.”
“Top? Which top?”
“Thapa. He picked up master sergeant while you’ve been goofing off,” Tomiko said. “Congrats on your sergeant,” she added, dramatically pointing at the chevrons on her own collar.”
“Hey, congrats to you, too. Same date of rank?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, you’re still six spots senior to me.”
Hussein stepped forward and knocked his knuckles against Rev’s prosthesis. “Pretty cool. Can you do everything with it?”
“Not everything. I’ve got a couple more weeks before I’m checked out combat-ready with it.”
“Have you . . . you know? And how does it feel?”
“Have I what?”
“You know. Like when you’re lonely . . .”
“Damn, Hus-man! That’s perverted,” Nix said, rolling his eyes.
“What? Don’t tell me none of you’ve thought of it,” Hussein said defensively.
“Only you, Hus-man,” Tomiko said.
Rev wanted to change the subject and quickly. “So, what happened on Alafia? Mala here, she told me about the next few weeks after I . . . after I got hurt. But what else?”
“Nothing much to say. The battle broke their backs. Just some patrols rooting out the stragglers. One snatch mission. We’re getting replaced by the CRA in increments, and our turn came up. But that fight’s done,” Tomiko said. “Glad we’re home.”
“And our ninety-six starts tomorrow noon,” Strap said.
“Which is why we wanted to see you first,” Staff Sergeant Delacrie said. “Came to see if you need anything.”
“Shit, I’ve got rehab.”
“Blow them off,” Malaika said.
“I can do that?”
The concept had never occurred to Rev. A Marine went to where and when they were ordered.
“What do you think they’re going to do? Shave your head and send you back to boot camp? I’ll tell Doc Tyler something else came up.”
Rev hesitated. He wanted to stay with his team, but . . .
“Sit down and visit. I’ve got this,” Malaika insisted.
She’s right. What are they going to do to me?
“OK, if you don’t mind telling him, I think I’ll skip today.”
Malaika gave Rev a squeeze on his shoulder, then left to let rehab know.
“She seems nice,” Tomiko said in a neutral voice, which seemed a little odd to Rev.
But it didn’t matter. He was back with his team, even if only for a short while yet.
“Let’s sit back down. And I want to know everything that happened after I left. Everything!”
“And in breaking news, this just in from Titan. The Frisian Mantle ambassador to the Congress of Humanity, Tyk Rsbryster, has formally accused the Perseus Union of withholding vital intelligence pertaining to the ongoing war with the Centaurs. According to the ambassador, the Union has obtained the body of a Centaur and has kept that secret.”
Rev felt the blood freefall from his face. He refused to look at Tomiko, but he could feel her tense up beside him.
“I’m calling bullshit on that one,” Hussein said.
“You’re calling bullshit on what?” Nix asked.
“On that,” he said, pointing to the holoscreen, which had been on in the background.
Sergeant Nix turned around as the reporter continued with the story. All hands slowly stopped what they were doing to watch.
“No way we got a friggin’ Centaur. They self-destruct,” Hussein kept going.
“So far, they have. But even they can mess up,” Staff Sergeant Delacrie said.
Rev could barely concentrate as a panel of talking heads went on about the ramifications of the accusation. No one gave the claim itself any credence but rather thought it was politics as usual.
Hussein and Strap were full of comments, most anti-Frisian, accusing them of trying to maneuver for a post-Centaur galaxy—and ignoring the fact that the Centaurs were not only very much in the fight, but they also still had the upper hand.
“Hey, Rev, you’ve been quiet. What’s your take on all of this?” Strap asked.
Rev gave a quick look at Tomiko. She was as white as he felt. She gave him a pursed lip but said nothing.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “Probably like you said, though. Politics.”
“Ting-a-ling and his flight are good people, but their government. What a bunch of damn liars,” Yazzie said. “We can’t trust them. Once the Tin-asses are gone, the Fries will make a move, mark my words.”
Rev was happy to get out of the line of fire. He eased deeper into the overstuffed chair as if he could sink out of sight.
“Scan the net and see what else is being said.”
Rev wondered if the Frisians really knew anything or if they were just bluffing. If they did know something, then who leaked? One thing was for sure. He could expect an Omega Division agent to pay him a little visit soon. They’d want to know what, if anything, he might have said to anyone, say a certain Frisian blue-master who was in the platoon.
The charge nurse walked over from her station and sat down with them to watch the screen. She leaned forward as if to catch every word.
They all sat, mostly in silence, for another five minutes before the staff sergeant stood and said, “Well, we’ve got to get back down to the pad, or we’ll have a long walk back. And There’s a lot to do if we hope to make our ninety-six start-time. You take care here, Rev. And as I haven’t personally said it yet, congrats on your sergeant.”
“Hell, yeah!” Hussein said. “And don’t think that being in here’s gonna get you out of your wetting down. As soon as you get outta here, we’re on.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Geez, Rev. Don’t act too excited about it,” Nix said, slapping his right shoulder.
“Oh, no. I’m just . . .” he started, looking up at the screen.
“It’s just bullshit. Way above our pay grade.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Tomiko stood in front of him for a moment and said, “I’ll try to get over here during the ninety-six.”
“That’s a long way to come.”
“I think we need to talk about stuff.”
Rev could read an entire novel in that one sentence.
“See you then.”
One by one, each of the team shook his hand, and then they were gone. Malaika waited until they cleared out and sat down beside him.
“Some shit, huh? Accusing us of capturing a tin-ass?”
Which wasn’t quite what they were accusing the Union of doing, but Rev didn’t correct her.
“Think that’ll change things up? You know, with us as allies?”
“We still have the Centaurs to fight. The enemy of your enemy is my friend and all that.”
“I hope you’re right.”
So do I, Mala. So do I.
28
Rev couldn’t keep his eyes off his IBHU as three Sieben techs maneuvered it close. It looked . . . impressive. About fifty centimeters in diameter, it was huge, as big around as one of his thighs. Clad in subdued armor, it was a light-sucking black that simply screamed this is death, like a scorpion’s stinger.
But this thing’s stinger packed a little more punch. From the elbow forward, the top was the barrel of a .50 caliber slug thrower. Colonel Tolouse had told him the .50 cal might be temporary. The plan was to change that out for a 20mm cannon if the initial tests checked out.
Under the barrel was the main weapon of the gun, a braided energy cannon. This confused Rev when he’d been briefed on it. Centaurs were notoriously impervious to energy weapons, but this was something new, created from scratch using �
�chaos-physics.” All of the science talk went way over Rev’s head, but the crux of the matter was that this was an entirely new type of energy weapon that put out amazing amounts of power that were extremely difficult to phase and defend against, but the same chaotic aspects that made it so effective meant it attenuated quickly. The max effective range of the cannon was estimated to be fifty meters, which explained that limit when Rev was training on the simulator.
Fifty meters was rather close to be to a paladin or courser, but it also explained why the new cannon wasn’t just being placed on Marine tanks or mech. A tank would be too vulnerable to any Centaur if it had to get that close before it could fire. The platform has to be something extremely maneuverable that could dart back and forth to be able to target the most vulnerable spots on a Centaur—and what was more maneuverable than an individual Marine?
Beneath the main tube were two ports for either a Moray or Yellowjacket and three missile magazines. A slug-thrower, a super-blaster, and missiles. Those were a lethal three-punch delivery.
“Dock the IBHU,” one of the techs said as if he were bringing a shuttle into a ship. But the three guided the arm closer and into Rev’s waiting sleeve. It slipped in with an audible click and powered up.
Immediately, Rev felt a rush of . . . presence, was how he could describe it, even if that word didn’t do it justice. It was as if something about what made Rev Rev had been missing, and now it was there.
He instinctively flexed the arm, sending techs diving out of the way.
“Stay still, Sergeant,” Doctor Chakrabarti shouted as she rushed forward, grabbing the arm as if she could hold him. She might as well have been a kitten attacking an arm.
But Rev froze. It was easy to forget that this was not his original arm, and he could hurt someone if he was not careful.
“We need to run a circuit test first before you try to move it.”
“You got all green?”
Rev was tempted to assure the doctor that everything checked out fine, but he knew she would want to check with her equipment, and if the two Mech Marines who were standing by the observers were any indication, some people were a little nervous about this test.
