by J. N. Chaney
Rev grabbed Yancy’s drink out of his hand, took a large swallow, draining half of the glass, and handed it back.
“Geez, you could have left me some,” Yancy said, draining the glass empty.
Rev ordered another pitcher and some clean steins, and within twenty seconds, the order was trundling down the overhead track to the table.
“Everyone going to make it?” Rev asked.
“Who’s gonna miss it? We made a vow. They’ll all be here.”
That wasn’t quite the vow they’d made. The vow was to meet here at Leteeka’s when they reached their End of Enlistment. With all of them being involuntarily extended, that had morphed into meeting on the anniversary date of their original EoE date. A year ago, Orpheus, Cricket, and Ten had been deployed, but this year, they were all at Nguyen.
“Did you ever think we’d all still be here, five years in?” Yancy asked Rev.
“A little worse for wear, some of us,” Rev said, reaching out with his stein, which Yancy clinked.
The two of them were the only ones wounded in action out of the group.
“I wish Krissy was still with us, though,” he said. She hadn’t made the vow, but she’d been an original member of their posse.
“Respect to the fallen,” Yancy said, and they toasted again. “She liked you, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.”
There was a long pause, then Yancy asked, “Anything on that front? Any love interests?”
“Nah. Kinda hard to get anything going. We’re not all Udu and Cricket.”
“Yeah, what about them? You think they’d still be together. I mean, they’re so . . .”
“Different?”
“Yeah, different.”
“They seem happy. Miko told me they might get hitched.”
“Miko. I kinda thought you two might get together someday.”
Rev snorted, beer coming out of his nose. He grabbed a napkin and wiped off his face. “Miko? No, we’re like brother and sister.”
Yancy smiled but said nothing.
“Does he think Miko and I are a thing?”
“Shit. We’re just . . . we’re friends. Like all of us are.”
Rev was rescued when a familiar figure spotted him and started walking across the bar. He broke out into a smile. Anything to get the subject changed.
“Hey, Angel Wings!”
“I heard you were back. How’s life?” Malaika asked.
“Just trying to make it to the next day.”
“How’s your arm. You got it nailed?”
Rev held the arm out and put it through its paces.
“How about you? You’re back up to speed?”
“Docs gave me a clean bill of health two weeks ago. I’m on full duty.”
Yancy nudged him under the table.
“Oh, Yance. This is Mala. Mala, this is Yance.”
“I know you,” Malaika said. “You’re in Delta.”
“And I know you. Alpha, right?”
“Guilty as charged.” Malaika looked pointedly down at the pitcher.
“Oh, sorry,” Rev said, pouring her a glass.
She took a sip, then asked, “Are you going to invite me to sit?”
Rev gave Yancy a quick glance, then sheepishly said, “I would, but, uh . . . this is sort of a private party. Something we do every year. There’ll be eight of us.”
She stopped mid-sip, a look of . . . hurt? disappointment? embarrassment? . . . coming over her face.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, putting down the drink. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you guys.”
“No, no, no. Keep the drink. Look . . . why don’t I call you tomorrow? I’ve got to see my family, but maybe after that, we can get together.”
The embarrassed look faded a bit. “Hey, I don’t want to push myself—”
“No, really. We should catch up. I mean, we were killed together, right? We went from KIA to WIA together, death to just wounded. We’re Brothers and Sisters of . . .”
He was about to say “Steel,” but Malaika never received a prosthesis.
“. . . of the Wounded Warrior Ward!”
She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. “If you’re sure . . .”
“Hey, it’ll be good. If you’re free, that is.”
“OK. Give me a call.” She stood there for a moment, unsure of herself, then said, “I guess I’ll head off. See you.”
She drained the beer, but instead of getting a table, she left the bar.
Yancy waited until she was out the door before he asked, “So, no love life?”
“What is with you, Yance? We’re friends, that’s all. We were in the Wounded Warrior Ward together.”
“But before that? You were both dead together? What’s with that? Something kinky . . . I hope.”
“You’re sick. We both got killed in the simulator at the same time.”
Yancy just smiled as he looked over the top of his glass with knowing eyes.
“What? What are you trying to say?”
“I didn’t think she was your type.”
“I don’t have a type!” He paused, then asked, “What is my type, if you know everything.”
“I’ve heard about her. She was a stud even before augmentation. She was on the New Hope juniors rugby team.”
Which was impressive, Rev had to admit. But he didn’t know what that had to do with his supposed type.
“And?”
“And, Miko’s about knee-high to a rabbit, and Malaika there’s head-high to a giraffe.”
“Which doesn’t mean shit because they’re just friends. You’re my friend, but that doesn’t mean you’re my type, asshole.”
“Oh, be still my beating heart.”
“But if you keep up this crap, you won’t be my friend for long.”
Rev was getting pissed. He knew Yancy was just pulling his chain, but the conversation was decidedly making him uncomfortable. He took a couple of deep breaths. He was damned if he was going to let Yancy spoil the evening. Not this evening.
He refused to catch Yancy’s eye and stared out into the weekday evening crowd. He was rewarded when Udu and Cricket walked in together. He stood and waved them over.
Yancy had been right about one thing. Udu and Cricket didn’t seem like a logical couple, but it was working. And that got him thinking. For all of Yancy’s BS, what was going on with Rev’s love life, or lack thereof? He told himself that it didn’t make sense to get involved with anyone when he could get killed on the next mission, but was that just an excuse? Did he even have a type, as Yancy put it?
But that was something for another time. Bundy walked in, spotted them, and started over. Within a couple of minutes, they were all there: Rev, Tomiko, Yancy, Cricket, Udu, Orpheus, Fyr, and Ten.
“How’s Kat,” Tomiko asked as she wedged herself on the seat between Yancy and him.
Rev refused to look at Yancy. “She’s fine. She and Neesy are getting along well.”
“Is your family going to get custody?”
“I talked to the administrator. They don’t make the decision at Happy House, but she said that it looks good.”
“I’m happy for her,” Tomiko said, squeezing his arm. “Your family is good people.”
Bundy made sure everyone was charged before he stood and tapped on the side of his glass. “As the senior Marine in this motley crew, I want to welcome each and every one of you to our annual reunion, or as we should call it now, our Extension Day celebration.”
There were cheers and “ooh-rahs” from the others until he tapped on his glass again.
“I never thought . . . when we met more than four years ago, and Rev there made us promise to meet at your End of Enlistment . . . I never thought . . .”
He paused, a hint of tears glistening in his eyes. “I never thought that all of us would make it to that one, much less this one, two years later. The chances . . .”
; Cricket put an arm around Udu’s shoulders as the rest sat quietly.
“Not to get all maudlin on you, but we’re in a dangerous profession, fighting for humankind’s very existence. The chances for any of us to survive a year is low enough, but for all of us? Sometimes I think the gods of war really might have their eyes on us.
“Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Who knows where our next battle will be? But I just wanted to say that no matter what happens in the future, I’ve been proud to know . . .”
He had to take a moment to gather himself. “Look, you all know I lost my Lara just before I enlisted. I still have my kids, and I love them and the grandkids. But you . . . you’re my family, too. And no matter what happens, no matter how much longer we’ll have on this corporeal plane, I want to say that I’m honored to know you, and I love you all. That’s all.”
Fyr stood up and hugged Bundy. Rev didn’t even try to stop the tears from flowing. Bundy had nailed it.
“To family!” Yancy shouted, standing and raising his glass.
“To family,” they all shouted in return, arms around each other as they toasted to the last five years.
It was a more subdued gathering than two years ago—subdued, but not diminished. With fewer people in the bar, it was quieter, and the eight had more time to talk, to reminisce, to tell stories. Not as much alcohol was downed, but no one seemed to miss it.
With Rev and Tomiko in the Raiders, they did not fight with the others, so it was interesting to hear some of the details from the infantry, mech, and armor Marines. Things Rev had assumed about armor, for example, weren’t necessarily the case.
Very few armor or mech Marines were wounded to the degree they needed prostheses—with both, it tended to be either killed or not touched—so Rev’s arm was a hot topic of discussion. And he was fine with it. He had no problem with being open with his experiences, even if he had to watch that he didn’t accidentally drift from his social arm to Pashu.
“So, how sensitive? Can you say . . . pick up this?” Fyr asked, pulling a thread from his shirt and setting it on the table.”
Instead of pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, Rev just pushed the tip of his forefinger on top of it and lifted the hand. The thread was stuck there.
“Suction.”
“Woah. Righteous,” Yancy said, reaching out with his own forefinger raised.
Rev complied, touching it with his finger, activating the suction function.
“Oh, wow. I can feel it.”
Which meant Rev had to go around the table, letting each person feel the slight suction.
The talk gradually lessened, as each of them was happy to just be with each other.
Patrons started leaving the bar until there were only their posse and two lone civilians nursing their drinks.
The evening hadn’t gone as Rev had envisioned. It wasn’t as boisterous, but it was probably better. Mostly, the evening was a time to catch up and bond.
Rev had five years in uniform now, and in some ways, he barely remembered any other life. He’d fought to stay out of uniform, to take that apprenticeship with the Benevolent Order of Crystal Technicians. All he’d wanted was to stay low and do his time so he could get out. But now, he was comfortable where he was.
“We hate to be the party-poopers,” Cricket said after a long, mutual silence. “But I’m going to the field at zero-five in the morning. We’re going to head off.”
“Hmph, lightweights,” Yancy said, but without being serious.
“I’m with you,” Fyr said.
Everyone exchanged hugs, then three left to go back to Nguyen.
“One more round?” Bundy asked.
“If you’re buying, sure. I’ll hang around,” Ten said.
Bundy ordered a last pitcher and topped everyone off.
Rev leaned back, the beer in his hand, but he didn’t drink. He slowly took in the table. Bundy was right. This was his family. One of them, at least. His Raider team was his family, too. He’d fought with them, bled with them, mourned with them.
Staff Sergeant Montez, Yazzie, Kel, Tanu, Krissy. They were his brothers and sisters. They were part of him.
Then there were his mother, father, Neesy, and Grover. Maybe little Kat, now, too. They were his anchor in the real world, a reminder of why he was fighting.
“I guess I should thank the judge, too, while I’m at it,” he muttered.
“What judge?” Tomiko asked.
Damn those augmented ears.
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the judge who conscripted me. I wasn’t eighteen yet, and she could have let me slide. But because of me and my big mouth, she still put me in.”
“Sorry?”
“No. This is where I was meant to be. Mr. Oliva told me that might happen. I didn’t believe him then.”
“Oliva? The old man at the VGW?”
“Yeah. He said I might end up liking it. Well, he said a lot of things. Sleep whenever you can. Eat at every opportunity. Never volunteer. Jump when the DI said jump. But he also said that the Corps might be right for me.”
“Smart man.”
“Yeah, he was. Is.”
And it hit him.
“I think I’m heading out.”
“Share a cab?”
“No. I’m not going back just yet.”
“But you just said you’re heading out.”
“I just want to get a little air first.”
Tomiko scrunched her eyebrows together as she regarded him. “OK, I guess. You want some company while you get your air?”
Yancy looked over, but for once, he wasn’t making a weird face or a snide crack.
“No. You go ahead and go back. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Rev got up, hugged everyone, and left the bar. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking up in the sky. Neither of the moons was up, so the stars were bright. They couldn’t hold a candle to the Witch’s Broom above Alafia, but it was home.
Rev considered ordering up a cab, but the night was comfortable, and his destination wasn’t far. Walking was fine.
He passed a few people on the street, other night owls out on a weekday. He wondered about them, about their families. Were they happy in their lives?
“Are you happy?” he asked, surprising himself with the question.
“You’re sort of human, aren’t you?”
“But you seem human. You tell jokes.”
“I don’t buy that. But OK, let me put it this way. Is your programming, as you put it, fulfilled by being my battle buddy?”
Rev was taken aback. That was a pretty definitive answer.
“So, you’re happy then.”
It was a statement, not a question.
Rev stopped walking for a moment.
“I’m glad,” he said.
He turned down Granite Street and over two more blocks until he was standing in front of a single-story red brick building. The sign over the door said, “Veterans of Galactic Wars, Post 747944.”
Rev pushed open the door. It was dark inside, but his night-vision capability was more than enough for him to check out the handful of patrons. The bartender, an older woman with a lot of kilometers behind her, eyed him, but she didn’t say anything.
For a moment, Rev thought it was a wasted trip, but then he saw him, back around the corner of the bar. He walked over and took the seat next to him, reaching out with his social arm and tapping the man’s leg.
“’Bout time you showed up here,” Mr. Oliva said as he nursed a small glass.
He slowly turned his head and said, “I saw you on the holo a couple weeks back. You and that little girl. I thought I told you never to volunteer.”
Rev shrugged and motioned for the bartender to refill Mr. Oliva’s drink and get him one of the same.
“I
t’s OK. I never followed that rule myself. You done good. That how you got your arm?”
“Yeah.”
“Brothers in Steel, Brothers in Steel.” He looked over and took in the prosthesis. “Looks pretty newfangled, there. A Thermapole?”
Rev held it out for inspection. “Rycroft.”
“Didn’t have no Rycrofts back in the day, and I’m used to the Thermas. Too old to change now.”
The bartender brought the drinks. Mr. Oliva downed his old one and handed the glass back.
The two clinked glasses, and Rev took a sip . . . and had to struggle not to choke. He wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or aviation fluid. The corner of Mr. Oliva’s mouth twitched up in the slightest of smiles.
Rev steeled himself, downed the rest of the drink in one gulp, and signaled for another.
They sat quietly for a few minutes before Mr. Oliva asked, “So why did you come over here to see an old man? Can’t be because of my sterling personality.”
“I just wanted to tell you that you were right.”
“Of course, I was right. I always am. But what specifically was I right about?”
He tapped the edge of his glass with a finger, and Rev took the hint, motioning to the bartender.
“You said I might like the Corps.”
“I knew it. You seemed the type.”
And that was it. Mission accomplished.
Rev stared at the man sitting next to him. What had he done in the Corps? How had he lost his legs? Did he have a family? Why was he here at the VGW every night, downing aviation fuel?
He realized he knew nothing about the man, and he had so many questions. But he also knew now that it didn’t matter. They were Marines. They were Brothers in Steel. That was enough, and his questions would remain unasked.
Well, except for maybe one, something that had been asked of him so many times by someone else.
He turned to face the old man and asked, “Hey, you want to hear a joke?”
REV and TOMIKO will return in SONG OF REDEMPTION, available for preorder on Amazon.
For updates on this series, be sure to join the Facebook Group, “J.N. Chaney’s Renegade Readers.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you to our amazing beta readers!
