On the night day, the captain was recalled to the ship, and by now, even the scientists were done with whatever scientists do. Most of them were not even from the Federation, but one was a fellow American from Baltimore, and he and Gracie had some lengthy discussions on the NFL, something that bored most of her fellow Marines. Gracie was a Portland Sockeye fan, but Steve was a diehard Ravens fan, a club that went back almost to the very origins of the game.
“Gunnery Sergeant Medicine Crow, I have a message for you,” one of the unfailingly polite security team members said.
Gracie hadn’t even bothered to learn any of their names, so she gave him a generic thanks and took the headset.
“Gunny, you’ve got 90 minutes to pack up and get ready to leave,” the captain said.
“Ninety? That’s not enough time, ma’am. The weapons are still in the racks.”
The two of them had actually discussed packing them out, but a Marine without access to a weapon was useless, and as long as they were on a planet that had proved to be hostile, they keep the weapons handy.
“I had to fight to get that. They wanted an hour.”
“What’s up, ma’am?”
“I’ll tell you when you get up here. Go to it.”
They managed to be ready, barely, when the Porto’s shuttle touched down. The weapons may not have been packed per regulations, but they were all accounted for, and that was the big thing. Gracie’s seabag was not as neat as she usually kept it, and as far as the captain’s, that was better left unsaid. Rez had simply stuffed everything he could find in the bag whether it was known to be the captain’s or not.
With the ship in orbit, the flight took 35 minutes. Gracie felt a wave of relief as she stepped onto the hangar deck. Captain Lysander met them and told her to leave the gear with the Navy for now and to get her people cleaned up. She’d meet them in the officer’s mess in an hour. Gracie passed the word, and five minutes later, was standing blessedly under the hot needles of the shower. Shipboard showers were hardly optimal, but she thought it was the best one she’d ever had. If she never got into a HED 2 again, that would be too soon.
Before going down to the planet’s surface, they’d each left a clean uniform and sundries in a Navy laundry bag. The bag, with her name stenciled on the outside, was waiting for her on her rack. Being naked was a wondrous feeling, but pulling on a clean panties and bra, followed by a uniform that didn’t try to climb into every pore and opening on her body was sublime. She’d mist-showered at the station, of course, and she’d been out of her polymer HED 2 skins while doing that, but even within the confines of a Navy ship, this was oh so much better.
She checked her PA, then gave her short hair a quick brush and left berthing, heading to officers’ country and the wardroom. The Porto might be small, but it still followed the traditional layout of all Navy ships.
She wasn’t the last one in the Wardroom, but almost. Two minutes after she arrived, the captain and the ship’s skipper came in. They came to attention, then sat back down to hear what the captain had to say.
“That was not the easiest mission I’ve had,” she started. “And I’m sure you can all say the same thing. We’ve lost one of us for sure, and that could end up being two. Seven more are going into regen—well, maybe not Sergeant Rikoman, but you know what I mean.
“But no matter what, we upheld the honor of the Corps. We got hit, but we hit back.
“That’s not why I called you here, though. We’ll write our after-action reports. I’ll conduct your exit interviews. But that will start after we get a good Navy meal and some sleep in a real rack. Right now, I wanted to let you know just what the heck has happened.”
Almost as one, seven Marines leaned forward to hear what she had to say.
The captain took a deep breath, looked at the ship’s skipper, and then turned back to the Marines.
“As you know, Mei Shan bought the bio-rights to whatever Allied Biologicals had on the planet. How that worked, I don’t know, and it’s not important. What is important is that the planet is a bust. That is, what is on it is a bust. There is no known biological gold mine.”
“What?” Gracie muttered.
If there’s nothing there, why were we dragged here to protect the station? And why were other people there trying to steal the secret?
The captain held out both hand, palms down, to quell the murmurs.
“Whether there was ever any potential, we don’t know yet. What is pretty clear, though, is that Allied Biological knew pretty early on that the line of research was a dead end. That might have been after the initial word had been leaked, or it could have been a scam from the beginning.”
“Scam?” Tenner asked.
“Yes, a scam. We are now sure that from the time we arrived, the planet was a dry well. There was scientific interest, both as a ribbon world and because of its life forms, but nothing there is of benefit to man.”
“No medical miracle?” Gracie asked. “No cure for the Brick?”
“None at all. Which should have been obvious. Have we ever discovered organics on any planet that we can make use of? The capys can eat earth products, but have we found anything we could use? We were all pulled in by the promise, an empty promise.”
“And that’s what all the arguing was about. Tantou, and I bet Polonov, they knew all along. But the others, they weren’t in the loop, and when their experiments were going south, they started to see the light,” Bomba said.
“Yes, it seems that way. And Allied Biologicals needed to keep the façade going.”
“Until they could sell the rights!” Gracie said, a curtain falling from her eyes.
“You got it in one, Gunny. We sure that’s exactly what happened.”
“What about everybody else?” Gracie asked. “Why were we getting hit if what was there was worthless.”
“That probably wasn’t known initially. It looks like it was coming out, though. The station we took? Their research had pretty much uncovered it.”
“Is it true that AB pushed that raid?” Bomba asked in disgust.
“Yes,” Lieutenant Commander Chacon said. “Too late, though.”
“What about the attacks on us?” Gracie asked, afraid that whatever the captain said would only confirm the vague thoughts beginning to coalesce in her mind.
The captain looked at the skipper, who nodded. He was back to being the mission commander now that they were off the planet, and it was evidently his call to reveal whatever the captain was going to say next.
“Sources,” she began, and Gracie could almost hear the quote marks in her voice as she said the word, “indicate that the indirect fire attacks were made at the behest of Allied Biologicals. They wanted to push a sense of urgency in the bidding process.”
“If others are desperate enough to hit Marines and FCDC, then whatever was being guarded had to be pretty valuable,” Gracie said bitterly.
The captain didn’t respond, which was all Gracie needed. She felt anger boil to the surface. Saanvi Veer had told her not to be a lackey, and that was exactly what she’d been. What they’d all been. She’d killed people for who? For a fucking company, just to increase the price on a scam. She wanted to kill again, but not the minions. She wanted to clear out the Allied Biological board of directors, starting with the chairman and working her way down.
“What about the Brotherhood? Were they here?” Bomba asked.
“Almost certainly,” the skipper said.
“We’re those Memitim that the two gunnies zeroed?”
“Probably. We’ll never know for sure, though,” the captain said.
“So we get into a sniper match with Brotherhood Memitim, and what, we just ignore it?” Gracie asked.
“They won’t admit it, and to be frank, neither will the Federation. You won’t mention it again, once we leave this wardroom.”
“That’s bullshit, ma’am,” Tenner said, finally opening her mouth. “They killed Spig. Dead. No resurrection.”
“
That’s right, they did. And Gunny Medicine Crow killed one of them. Dead. No resurrection.
“Look, I know you’re all upset. The Brotherhood is never going to come clean on this. They don’t want anyone to know they were taken in. And the Federation isn’t going to force the issue.”
“Why not, ma’am?” Tenner asked.
“Because it’s not worth a war. No single Marine is. Not Spig, not anyone else. No, according to the records, Spig was killed in the line of duty in action against criminal elements.”
“So what’s going to happen? I mean to AB? Mei Shan, they’re one of the biggest corporations in the world,” Rez asked. “They’re not going to stand by and let some two-bit company take them like that.”
“They probably will. Whatever they paid for the rights, that’s peanuts compared to the damage they’d suffer if it were known that they’d allowed themselves to be taken. If I had to guess, I’d say they’ll keep the research station open, always on the brink of making a breakthrough. Eventually, it can be closed down on a cost-benefit basis.”
Gracie sat quietly seething. She didn’t say anything else, barely listening while the captain went on for another five minutes, closing with the “keep your lips sealed stricture.” She told them the consequences of breaking security, then had them all retinally scan their understanding.
Gracie almost refused, but she realized the scan was only a formality. Acknowledging understanding or not wouldn’t matter if she broke security.
“May I speak with you privately, ma’am?” she asked as the others filed out of the wardroom.
The captain agreed, and Gracie followed her to her stateroom. The captain closed the hatch, then pointed to the fold-down stool in its slot in the bulkhead. Gracie didn’t take it but remained standing.
“Captain, all of this is so much bullshit, I don’t know where to start.”
“You think I don’t know that, Gunny? You don’t think I’m royally pissed?”
“I killed for them, ma’am. I killed three people, not to protect the Federation, but so the Allied Biological CEO can buy a blue Lambo to match his red one. In my book, that’s murder. You don’t have that on your hands, ma’am, with all due respect.”
The captain’s eyes hardened, and in a dangerous tone, she said, “Because you pulled the trigger, you think that makes you more liable? I’m the one who order you into the fight. I’m the one who ordered Marines to kill and die. I’m sorry Gunnery Sergeant, but you don’t have a flying fuck of an idea on how heavily that weighs on a commander’s shoulders. You were obeying orders. I gave them!”
Gracie seemed oblivious to the captain’s tone, and she said, “You should know, of all people. Your father led the Evolution, so we could escape the yoke of corporations, yet now you seem to be surrendering to them. How can you do that, you of all people?”
Captain Esther Lysander stared at Gracie for a moment before she slowly stood up, towering over the shorter woman. Her eyes dance with fire.
“How dare you, Gunnery Sergeant! You don’t know the first thing about my father, what he believed in, what he fought for, what he died for! He believed in the Federation, all of it. And that includes the corporations. He did what he did to save the Federation, and some of what he did was horrible. He killed 11,000 people on Watershed. Men, women and children. How the fucking hell do you think he felt about that? He was devastated, but without a doubt, he’d sacrifice another 11,000 in a bleeding second if that was what it would take to save the Federation. Eleven-thousand more innocent souls.
“Let me tell you this, Gunnery Sergeant! If you try and bring my father into this to shame me because you don’t have a clue as to what sacrifice means, I will fucking crush you like a cockroach,” she said, her nostrils flaring.
Gracie stood up to the captain. She knew she might have crossed the line, but she didn’t care.
“With all due respect, ma’am, I’ve 22 years in, so I’ve got my validation. I can resign today, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You can write me up, you can court martial me, but when I’m 70, I get my retirement one way or the other.”
A validation was nowhere near as valuable as a regular retirement. With eight more years, she could retire and begin to draw full retirement pay and benefits. With only a validated service records, she’d have to wait until she was 70, and both the pay and benefits would be far less. No one was stupid enough to leave the service after 24 years unless they had something sweet already lined up, but Gracie was angry, and she felt used.
The captain stared at her, and with a visible effort, gained control.
“If that is your wish, Gunnery Sergeant, so be it. Head down to personnel and fill out your resignation. I’ll approve it and forward it out today.
“You’re dismissed.”
Gracie almost said something, probably something she’d regret, but she came to attention, performed her best about face, and marched out of the captain’s stateroom.
EARTH
CROW NATION, MONTANA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Epilogue
144
Gracie pulled to a smooth stop under the broad new-oak overlooking Greasy Creek, cutting the power. She’d never tire of Isá. The machine was beautiful, and as she flew across the plains, she felt freer than she’d had in a long, long time.
She’d been extremely surprised to find the Palomino waiting for her when she’d returned home. Surprised and touched. When Rez and Hamilton had pushed it into the shuttle, it was not under orders to send it to Intel. They’d just done it, unwilling to leave it to the Mei Shan crew. They hadn’t told Gracie a thing about it—she couldn’t be held liable for what she didn’t know. Somehow, they’d gotten the bike back to Tarawa, then back to Earth where it sat in her parent’s garage waiting for her. When her parents reminded her that it was there after she got back home, they didn’t understand the tears that flowed down her cheeks.
Still sitting on the bike, she looked up into the massive branches of the tree. Once, there had been hundreds of the trees along the creek, part of a soil conservation project. Two hundred years ago, most had been cut down as non-native (and non-natural) species. The massive tree was one of only a handful that had survived the purge, and it had been a major reason she’d bought the plot. Gracie felt at home in the wide-open plains, but the tree gave the plot a more homey feel.
She looked over to where the foundation had been laid. It looked small and bare, but she knew that once the house was erected, it would be a pretty good-sized home. The support beams were scheduled to arrive next Wednesday, and once they were snapped into place, the rest of the components would quickly follow. In two weeks, Gracie was hoping to move in to her first, and hopefully last, home.
She checked her watch, noted the time, and powered up Isá. She had to get a move on. She turned and started to the dirt track that served as the temporary driveway, but stopped before going 50 meters. Looking over her shoulder, a wicked grin came over her face.
Go for it! she told herself.
She turned Isá around once more, sat for a second, then gunned the bike, the G-force shoving her back into the seat. Within seconds, she was at 80 KPH and approaching the creek’s high banks. Just before the front repeller cleared the edge, she hit the powerboost, and the bike literally jumped into the air.
Sunlight flashed on the slow-moving water as bike and woman flew over. Gracie landed with a thud on the far side, back repeller fishtailing before she brought the bike under control. This was one of the many Coups girls’ properties, but Gracie didn’t think the young woman would mind if she used it as a shortcut to the main road.
Ten short minutes later, Gracie was pulling into her parent’s front yard. A strange hover was in the drive, and Gracie got off her bike and hurried to the enclosed porch.
“Gracie, your friends are here,” her mother said, but Gracie was already rushing to get a hug from Tiggs Gittens.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Gracie said. “It means so much to me.
All this way, too.”
“Don’t fret, sista. We’ve been planning to see the Mother Planet for a long time. Let the little ones visit our roots.”
“Little ones?” Gracie said with a laugh. “Not so little to me! Henri, come give your Auntie Grace a hug,” she said to the gangly young man standing behind his mother.
“What are you, two-point-three?” she asked him.
“Two-point-three-five,” he said with a smile as he allowed Gracie to pull him in. “Eli’s only two-point-three,” he added.
“But Eli’s got 20 kilos on you,” she said, pinching Henri’s ribs.
“Junior’s just been made a team leader with 3/13,” Sergeant Major Eli Gittens, said, coming out of the front door, a leading a small girl by the hand. “Electra, say hello to your Aunt Grace.”
“Hello,” the little girl said, moving half behind her dad’s leg.
Gracie hadn’t seen the Gittens family for almost two years, and little Electra probably didn’t remember much about her.”
“Eli Junior’s a fire team leader? What, they’re letting children run the Corps now?” Gracie said with a smile.
“I know. I can’t believe how old he’s gotten, how old all of the kids have gotten,” Eli said.
“Where are—”
“Persephone and Jared are down running by the creek, trying to catch frogs or something,” Tiggs said. “Jared wants to know if he can ride a horse before we head off to Los Angeles.”
“I told him we don’t have any horses,” her mother said, a worried look on her face. “Maybe if we talk to Jerry, he’d let us head over this afternoon?”
“Oh, no trouble,” Tiggs insisted. “We’ve got seven stops on this trip, and with Cairo the last, he also wants a holo of him on a camel.”
Gracie didn’t know how to ride a horse—the only one she wanted was her Isá. But how could she retain her title of favorite auntie unless she could ask Jerry Not Afraid if the kids could ride around on one of his horses? Besides, after this morning, Jerry would have a hard time saying no.
Sniper (Women of the United Federation Marines Book 2) Page 28
