Not Dead Yet

by Dennis Young

  “You had some serious injuries from the explosion, and oh my gosh, you’ve just returned from another mission. Your body doesn’t heal like it should, with the bugs, so until you ease off, or retire, it’s not going to change, Talice. Lift up your shirt.”

  Talice shed her top, wincing as Babs probed her ribcage.

  “Okay, here we go again. Take off your pants.”

  “Dammit, Babs, you still owe me a drink from last time.” Talice showed a wan smile as she shed her camis.

  Babs peeled away the C-12Ultra patch. “This is almost dry. How long ago did you change?”

  “Early. About 0600 this morning.”

  Babs glanced at the chrono. “A little over twelve hours.” She applied a fresh patch as Talice sat mute. “We may have a situation.”

  Talice nodded and sighed. “I know. Getting close, aren’t we?”

  “I’m sorry. We’ll keep at it, you know that.”

  “Give me the straight story, Babs. I need to know.”

  Babs gathered her thoughts. “I’m worried now about reactions to the C-12Ultra. It’s powerful. I’m afraid it’s starting to depress your immune system. C-12 isn’t just antibiotics. It’s tailored to fight the disease specifically. But the longer we use it, the more resistant the bugs become if it doesn’t kill them. That’s why we’ve had to step it up twice.” She paused. “A year at most. Once the reactions start, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Sure there is. Stop the treatment.”

  “Talice, you’re the toughest person I know. I’d hate to see you go out that way.”

  There was quiet between them for a while. Finally, Talice spoke. “Maybe it can do some good. I may know a way.” She laughed lightly. “An acquaintance of ours has offered a challenge. Maybe I should take her up on it.”

  “Jance?” Babs shook her head. “Don’t trust her, not for anything.”

  “Hua, Doctor.”

  Babs stripped off her gloves and took Talice’s hands again. “You dragged me out of that place. She was using me as bait, for everything. Against you. Against Nemesis. She’s smart, Talice, and likes the challenge.” She frowned. “I heard about Bělinka and Will Thomas. I’m so sorry.”

  Talice’s face hardened. “She’s as responsible for their deaths as anyone.”

  “She’ll kill you.”

  “That’s her plan. But she doesn’t know about my bugs. She doesn’t know I’ve got nothing to lose anymore. And that may just be the edge I need.”

  * * *

  The metrolink ride back into Anchor Prime was quiet. Icily quiet. Mac led Talice to their favorite Thai place, and they sat with chicken satay and soft-wrapped spring rolls and rice and tea. They barely touched the meal, almost afraid to speak.

  At last Mac broke the silence. “Talk to me. Bad news?”

  Talice finally raised a spring roll, dipped it in peanut sauce, and devoured it hungrily. Then drained her tea cup and sat back. “You could say that, yeah.”

  Mac picked at her meal for a quiet moment. “What do you want to do?”

  “First, go visit my folks for a few days. Can you keep the team under control while I’m gone?” Talice showed a crooked grin.

  “I’ll have the MPs round them up and put them in protective custody.” Mac shrugged. “Honestly, we all need a night at The Bloody Tavern.”

  “Let’s do that after I get back. I’ll commtext you and let you know when I’m on the way in. Hell yes, let’s do it!” Talice dug into the chicken and poured more tea.

  They ate it all, stringing peanut sauce all over the table, then dipping their fingers in it and licking them. Finally, they relaxed.

  “Jamal is going to repair my hoverchair,” said Mac. “But I need exercise for these legs. I haven’t been on my feet since we got back.”

  “Then let’s head for my place. You can walk all you want and fall down. I won’t laugh, I promise.”

  “Okay, but first, let’s talk.” Mac held a hand before her, pausing Talice’s retort. “Just… slow down a bit. Tell me what’s really on your mind so we can think on it.”

  Talice nodded absently, thinking where to begin. “Jance wants a one-on-one with me.”

  “A… what? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Part of the deal I made with her, apparently. That’s why the prisoners came out. That’s why she didn’t kill Jian and Dosu when they fired on her ship.”

  “Damn, Princess, you have a way with that woman, don’t you?”

  “Mac, somewhere inside, there’s something trying to get out that’s buried awfully deep. She keeps doing the right thing, even if it’s for the wrong reasons.”

  “Bull. She’s playing you. She plays everyone against everything, against each other.”

  “I know. But dammit, this mission, and the last, she did what we couldn’t do ourselves. Why? You say it’s a game to her, and I don’t disagree, but at the same time, bad people don’t spare others they don’t care about. She could have easily just killed them all, and us. She hasn’t done that.”

  “Except for Konee.”

  Talice was silent.

  “Jance’s problem is a lot deeper than you think, Princess. She’s not doing things because she’s a good person inside. She’s doing them to relieve some pain. Or to create pain. She’s punishing herself by punishing others.”

  Talice waved her hands. “That doesn’t even make sense. She’s… damn. She’s in so deep, she can’t get out. If she turned herself in, the Marines would put her in front of a firing squad.”

  Mac thought for a long moment. “She’s trapped.” She gave Talice a hard look. “She wants you to release her. She wants you to kill her, so she can be free. That’s her only escape. Like Aya, Talice. Jance is like Aya, but in a different way.”

  “That’s… sick.”

  “You said the same thing about Aya, until you understood.”

  Talice shook her head. “I want Jance dead for a thousand different reasons, and none have anything to do with being some sort of savior for her. Even if she’d doing the right thing sometimes.”

  They drank tea and were quiet for a while.

  “What did Babs say?” asked Mac.

  Talice shrugged after a moment. “The bugs are winning.”

  “Then there’s no reason for you to continue this work.”

  “I can’t sit around waiting to die. I need to do something. I need… I need to take Jance up on her deal.”

  “So she can kill you?”

  “Thanks, Mac. I’m a match for her, even now.” Talice grew serious. “You think I want someone like Jance running around loose after I’m dead?”

  “What, you think the team—”

  “That’s not the point! It’s me she wants. With her, it’s personal. And it’s becoming that way with me now, too.”

  “She wants to kill you herself, Talice.”

  “I know that. She wants me to suffer, too. That’s… that’s why she took Babs and killed Konee. She thinks I want to live to see her dead. But she doesn’t know my condition.”

  Mac shook her head. “I could take one look at you and tell you weren’t right. Wait, let me rephrase that.”

  They chuckled, then laughed together for a long time.

  Talice wiped her eyes at last. “Yeah, I’m a head case, that’s for sure. Just like she is.”

  Mac thought about it. “Dictate the terms, then. Tell her how you want it to go down.”

  “I’ll have to think about that. I have no idea right now.” Talice waived for the server. “Let’s get you over to my place so you can walk. I want to see fifty paces today, lady.”

  “Fifty! Slave driver, that’s what you are.”

  “Yeah, and fifty more later today. You’re gonna do this. Because I want to see you walking before I’m dead.”

  * * *

  Talice left Anchor Prime the next evening. Can’t sit still, I gotta move. Gotta see Mom and Dad. Make every second count.

  They’d dined together as a family again, Mom
’s Asian chicken tacos with mango rice a treat. They raised a glass of plum wine and toasted the Springtime coming to an end. Then cleared the table, loaded the dish auto-cleaner, and talked for a while about a bit of everything. Talice wondered if she should bring up the topic of the election in Anchor Prime, then decided to keep it for her private time with Dad. Mom cared little about politics.

  It was late, nearly midnight, when they finally retreated, Mom to her studies, and Talice and Dad to the porch swing, as they’d done so many times before. She wondered if it would be the last time.

  Talice spilled her heart out to him about the mission, the reasons, the findings after the fact, the politics, and the stupid, stupid errors leading to the deaths of Bělinka and Will.

  Dad listened without comment, sipping occasionally from his ever-present coffee cup. Talice held it together as well as she could, clutching her glass of single-malt Scotch, her voice an angry whisper. At last, she cleared her throat, took a drink, and waited for Dad’s wisdom.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  Sees right through me, doesn’t he? Talice almost laughed to herself. She took a breath. “I’m not getting any better, but not too much worse.”

  “And what is that in doctor terms?”

  Talice’s eyes filled. “Dad, I may not have much more than a year.”

  He took a long drink from his cup and nodded. “I knew a Marine who was given a year to live once. Shrapnel in the chest, near his heart. Doctors told him if they operated, it could kill him.”

  “Even with all our tech? That’s… scary.”

  Dad nodded. “I didn’t question him, and I didn’t pretend to understand the medical explanation, but his doctor confirmed it.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Went back to work. They put him behind a desk, like they tried to do to you. He stayed there. Turned out, he was a pretty good administrator, and a good leader.”

  Talice was quiet for a few minutes, thinking.

  “Dad…”

  “No, it wasn’t Colonel Fawkes, if that’s what you were thinking.” He chuckled. “But I could have said it was anyway. Would you have asked him?”

  Talice shrugged sadly. “We’re not really… an item anymore.”

  Now it was Dad’s turn to be silent. “Sorry to hear that,” he said at last, with a bit of feeling.

  “It was just… too much business between us. Marine stuff, you know. Dealing with the hired guns.” Talice sighed. “And like I said before… he wants a family, and I won’t have kids. I’d just pass the bugs along to them. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I’d be condemning my own children to… this.”

  Dad drank again, nodding.

  “So, you’re saying maybe I can live longer if I find a good desk job? Think it’ll work this time?” Talice gave him a weak grin, then looked at him, more serious. “How long did he live?”

  “Sixty days or so. The point is, he was doing what he wanted to do. What he loved.”

  Talice dropped her eyes away to her glass. Trying to make sense of her father telling her to keep going. Keep pushing. Keep being a merc, if that’s what she wanted to do. Not… quit. She nodded to herself in understanding.

  “Dad… don’t say anything to Mom. Not yet. And I promise, if the time comes… I’ll be here for the end.”

  “It’s your life, Princess. You live it the way you want to. Don’t do anything on anyone else’s account. I’ll always be there for you.”

  Talice caught the glint of a tear in his eye, but said nothing. “You always have, Dad. You always have. Thank you.”

  She set away her glass and crawled across the swing into his arms, like she was five years old again.

  * * *

  Two days later, Talice returned to her apartment. She knew Mac had stayed a couple of days, because there were fresh flowers in a vase and a note about the get-together planned at The Bloody Tavern. She checked her patch, changed it just in case, and downed a bottle of S-H. Then ate the leftovers in the fridge, also supplied by Mac. Then sent her a message. Home again, home again, jiggity-jig. Talice.

  She sat on the deck, turned off the weather screen, and breathed in the evening air. Drifted off to sleep.

  She woke with a start. Looked around, then at her wristcom. Thought about what Dad had said. And Mac. And Babs. Picked it up and typed out a message. If you’re there, Jance, we need to talk. You want a piece of me, then put your big girl pants on. Talice.

  She set the device away. Now, bitch, let’s see how tough you really are.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It’s Not Just Me Who’s Crazy

  (Part Two)

  First Blood

  “It is the unemotional, reserved, calm, detached warrior

  who wins, not the hothead seeking vengeance

  and not the ambitious seeker of fortune.”

  Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”

  The Making of a Plan…

  The funerals were held the day after Talice’s return to Anchor Prime; Bělinka’s in the morning, Will’s in the afternoon. The entire team attended, all in full Dress Blues. Talice had been horrified when donning hers. They simply didn’t fit anymore. Her shoulders were too wide, her hips too narrow, her arms too muscular.

  Look like a man, I do, she thought to herself. Then she noticed her trousers were a bit too short. And her thighs tight in the legs. Like a damn sports-baller or something.

  Both services were full Marine tradition. The flag-draped casket, the caparisoned horse following the caisson, the rifle salute, the playing of Taps, and the tears. Always, there were tears.

  Talice had seen funerals where family and loved ones themselves collapsed of grief, or anger, or sadness. Sometimes fear. Fear of being without the comfort of the departed, or the emotional support, or simply of being left alone. Alone to face the world. One thing the Corps always taught us. Even in loss, we’re never alone. We’re always Marines. Always together. Even if we’re the last one standing.

  Mac had stood at Talice’s side through it all. Stood. On her own two brand-spanking-new legs.

  Rory had managed as well, though she knew his days on the line were likely done. His right leg was seriously numb. “Like a fucking block of wood,” he told her after Will’s service. “I’ve put in for a new leg, but they’re saying two years. What can I do now, Captain?”

  They all had gathered at The Bloody Tavern once more that evening, for the closeness, for the reminiscing, for the camaraderie.

  “That place you bought? Still got it?” Talice sipped tea as Rory ruminated over his beer. Mac was with them, in her hoverchair, holding up pretty well. Standing for an hour at each service had worn her out.

  Rory nodded. “Nikolay and Bělinka were… hell, Captain. They were gonna be my farm managers.”

  “Stay with the plan. Take Niky with you. Retire, big guy. You’ve earned it.”

  “Gonna raise cattle?” asked Mac.

  “Goats and sheep,” replied Rory. “Easier and more profit. And a whole lot less land required.”

  “Seriously,” said Talice. “It’s time to hang up your pulse rifle. And Niky will need something to do, Rory. This way you guys can stay in touch.”

  He shrugged after a moment. “Yeah, I’ll talk with him in a few days, but you’re likely right. What about the team?”

  Talice looked around the tavern. Briggs, Ollie, Dosu, and Tooley were at the dart boards, Jian was sitting aside and watching. She caught his eye. “Back in a few minutes.”

  Talice made her way through the evening crowd to Jian’s table and pulled up a seat. They said nothing for a few moments, just keeping their gazes locked.

  “Creditmark for your thoughts,” said Talice, at the last.

  “Wondering if this is the last go-round. Sure feels like it.”

  Talice caught a server’s attention and ordered two single malt Scotches, neat. They were quiet until the drinks arrived. She raised her glass. “If this is our last time together, let’s be sure it’s a good
one. And that we remember.”

  They touched rims and drank.

  “Tooley and I want to talk later with you and Mac, when things have calmed a bit.”

  Talice nodded. “I know. But will there be any work for another team like this? Jian, with the politics now coming into play, merc teams may be under a lot more scrutiny.” Talice leaned forward, nearly whispering. “You know how close what we do is to being illegal? Don’t think politicians wouldn’t think of that eventually. It could get the Marines in a lot of trouble in the right political climate. Used as a tool by someone who doesn’t understand. It could cost good officers their careers.”

  “Like Colonel Fawkes?” Jian considered. “Especially if it’s happening here on Theia. Off-world is not so much an issue. If that’s the case, we could simply relocate.”

  Talice frowned. “I’d hate to see you go. I’d miss you.”

  Jian smiled slightly. “What about you? Big plans?”

  Yeah, I’m just gonna sit around and wait to die, she thought. Then, “I have something in the works I’d like to talk to you about later.” She paused for a breath. “What do you think about Tooley?”

  Jian shook his head after a moment. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders. But if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking…”

  Talice gave him a look of “who, me?”

  “You want to go after Jance. Any idea where she is?”

  “Funny you should bring that up.”

  “And you’re looking for a couple of compadres.”

  Talice hesitated before she replied. “Actually, I’m just trying to understand why she’s singled me out.”

  Tooley dropped away from the dart game and pulled up a chair at the table. “My ears were burning.”

  Talice gave him a look and shook her head.

  “Olde Earth myth,” he said. “When your ears are burning, it means someone is talking about you.”

  Talice gave him a quick once-over. Even in the short time he’d been in the team, he’d changed markedly. Filling out a bit. Calluses on his hands that hadn’t been there the first time she’d met him. A bit of strictness in his face, as well. Damn. Looking like a man instead of a kid. Or maybe he’s just growing up. Same thing.