“Pelletier! Pelletier!”
“Wait!” he shouted, not wanting to be distracted.
With his right arm, he reached for the buddy tube. After twisting it out of its recessed sleeve, he managed to slap the nozzle into the valve at the base of her helmet.
“Give her air.”
He finally took a moment to look around. The ship was farther than he’d thought. Four troopers were bearing down on him—three from the platoon and an instructor with his bright green helmet.
“Staff Sergeant Pelletier. What is Corporal LeMay’s condition?”
Rev looked into the corporal’s faceplate. Her eyes were half-closed, but the blood was bubbling with each breath.
“Alive, but she’s bad off.”
“Can you maneuver her back to us?”
“No. Her front has been ripped open. I’m holding it closed with my body.”
“Crap. OK. You keep your hold on her. We’ll be there in a moment.”
It was a long moment, but the four matched their trajectory. The instructor got close to examine how well Rev was forming a seal.
“It’s not a great seal, but I don’t think we can risk you letting go. We’re going to have to take you in tow to the safety vessel. You three, we aren’t going to touch the corporal. Lieutenant, if you can take the staff sergeant’s right dead man’s handle, and Corporal Akkeke, you take the left. Sergeant Tims, you and I are going to daisy chain them. Staff Sergeant Pelletier, you just hold on. Her thrusters are going to be working against us.”
Rev felt the lieutenant and the corporal grab the handles on each of his shoulders. The instructor and Tims locked elbows with those two. Then, with the instructor giving orders, they slowly started turning Rev and Corporal LeMay around in an arc. Her thrusters kept trying to pull her away, but it was nothing for Rev to hold her tight.
“I think we need to hurry,” Rev said as he watched the corporal fade. The blood bubbles got smaller and intermittent.
“You just keep the pressure on,” the instructor said.
The safety vessel, which was little more than a four-man skiff, appeared, heading their way. The instructor had them swing in another wide loop so they could come around and match the vessel’s path.
The airlock was designated with a large red arrow. It was already open, a green light flashing inside.
“You’re going to have to go in with her, Staff Sergeant,” the instructor told him. “As soon as the air is pumped in, the thrusters should automatically cut. If they don’t, you just keep them pointed at the bulkhead.”
Rev knew that the little ion thrusters were not something anyone wanted to have hit them, but with all his risk for the rot, he wasn’t concerned with one more carcinogen. He wasn’t going to worry about it.
It took some maneuvering for the four to get the two of them inside. The corporal’s Oscar kept wanting to push them out. Rev had to twist around so her Oscar was pushing them inside instead. The instructor hit the button, and the door closed. Almost immediately, air started whooshing in. Rev felt the moment the thrusters cut off. At least that worked.
The inner hatch opened, and a medic reached in.
“I’ve got her,” he said.
Rev let go as the medic pulled her up and onto a white bed. He ignored Rev as he popped the helmet, checked her eyes, and then started to cut the suit away.
Rev didn’t know what else to do, so he eased out of the airlock and pulled himself to the foot of the bed. He looked but then wished he hadn’t. Her belly and lower chest were a crushed mess. Ghost white skin along her exposed shoulders and legs only made the blood seem that much brighter.
He had to look away, and his eyes went down to his front. It wasn’t much better. It wasn’t just covered in blood. Bits of her flesh clung to him. He tried to wipe them off, but it was a lost cause.
The medic pulled a meter-and-a-half long sheet of a translucent material connected to an arm over the corporal, then lowered it over her body. He pushed a button, and the sheet seemed to mold over her. Next, he lowered a mask over her face before he finally stepped back.
“Is she going to be OK?”
“Good chance of it, I’d say. She’s facing a lot of regen. Too much tissue damage, but her brain scan is pretty good, all things considered. But I’m not a doctor, so they’ll have a better idea of what her prognosis will be.”
Rev couldn’t do anything for her now, and to be honest, he was feeling uncomfortable looking at her lying there.
“Should I, you know, get out now? So I can get back to my platoon?”
The medic laughed. “It’d be a long flight back. We’re half way to the hospital now. So, settle in, and once we get her offloaded, someone will come by to get you transport back.”
* * *
It was twelve long hours before Rev got back to the company area. He debarked the safety bird at the hospital and was told to wait in the lobby outside the ER. So, he waited. After three hours and six episodes of “Sunset Dogs” that Punch played for him, he tried to raise the company through his Oscar’s comms, but there was nothing. Five more hours later, a master sergeant saw him in the lobby and asked him what he was doing there. When Rev told him he was waiting for transport, the master sergeant told him this was a hospital, not a transportation company.
“You’re going to have to take the tram to Nkomo,” the master sergeant said.
Rev somehow managed to keep from rolling his eyes. He was tired and hungry, and he had no idea where he was. Well, that wasn’t true. He had Enceladus’s magnetic field downloaded, so with his augments, he did know where he was on the moon. And if asked, he could point toward Fort Nkomo. He just didn’t know how to get there from where he was.
But he didn’t want to get into a pissing contest with a master sergeant. So, he stood, but before he left, he asked, “Any way I can get an update on the trooper I came in with?”
The master sergeant frowned, and Rev thought he was going to say no, but with a grunt, he asked, “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know. I think they said Corporal LeMay. I’m new to the unit, and I don’t know her. But she’s in Fox, Second of the Second. There was someone else, too. He came in after we did.”
The master sergeant went to the registration desk and asked the medic there, standing and nodding as he listened. Twice he looked back to Rev. Finally, he thanked the medic and came back.
“Corporal LeMay is going to pull through. I won’t lie to you, though. She’s got a long row to hoe. Sergeant Willis over there just told me what you did out there. Smart thinking, Staff Sergeant. You kept her brain oxygenated and her exposed tissue from freezing, so you cut off a year of regen and rehab, at least.”
Rev felt a wave of relief. Just sitting there for eight hours, not knowing, was the worst thing. Maybe he should have asked earlier.
“And the other trooper?”
The master sergeant grimaced. “I’m probably not supposed to tell you this, but it’s a real long shot that they’ll be able to bring Sergeant Wuhing back. Too much brain matter lost, and what was left was exposed to the vacuum for too long. The docs won’t know if they can zombie him for a couple of days, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”
Rev didn’t know the sergeant, but they were brothers in arms, and that was a gut punch. He’d seen more than his fair share of death as a Marine. He’d lost close friends. But not in training. It somehow seemed obscene.
“Hey, I wish I could get you a ride back, but like I said, we’re a hospital. You’ve been here how long?”
“About eight hours, Top.”
“Hell, you must be starving. The chow hall is closed now, but if you don’t mind venfab, I can hook you up. I guessing you don’t have your credit wand.”
“No. We were in field training. And venfab would be fine right about now.”
The master sergeant crooked his finger, motioning Rev to follow. They went through the doors into the ER. Rev looked into some of the b
eds as they passed, but he didn’t see Corporal LeMay. The top led him to the machine by the nurses’ station. There were some vending fabricators that had programs for thousands of dishes. This wasn’t one of them.
With limited choices, he selected spaghetti with marinara, and the master sergeant paid for it.
“I’ve got to get going, Staff Sergeant. You can eat here, then I’m afraid you’re on your own in getting back.”
“I’ll find the way. And thanks for the meal.”
The master sergeant took a long look at Pashu. Rev could see he was curious, but he didn’t ask anything before he turned and strode off. Which, Rev had learned by now, was a pretty common reaction in the Home Guard. Given his instructions to try and learn about the other services while keeping Union information close to this vest, Rev wondered if the mind-your-own-business nature was just part of Home Guard culture.
He downed the spaghetti within a minute and asked one of the nurses how to get to the tram. Whatever he had just concluded about Home Guard culture ignoring others, he could throw that out the window. As he walked down the hospital corridors in his Oscar, Pashu hanging from his shoulder, he drew plenty of stares. Half of the people got out of his way and stopped dead to look at him.
He found the elevator down to the lift, surprising two people who were coming down from an upper floor. He stepped inside, crowding them with his IBHU.
“Evening,” he said as if nothing was unusual.
“Evening,” the woman said, while the man just gawked.
Rev was getting a little self-conscious with all the stares. He cracked his neck, then stretched out both his organic arm and Pashu, and the man jumped. Rev was being a jerk, he knew, but what was the real harm?
“I’ve heard about you. Union, right?” the woman—Rev could see the gold leaf of a major on her scrubs pocket—asked.
“Union Marines, ma’am.”
“Boy, I would love to pick your brain,” she said before she turned to the lights as they indicated the changing floors.
Rev didn’t know what she meant. It could be professional curiosity, given her scrubs, or she could be from a nation that wanted the tech. He just stared ahead and was relieved when the door opened.
He checked the map of the system. He’d have to change trams once, but he should be back at Fort Nkomo in less than an hour. As he started to his track, a drone flew in front of him and ordered him to stop.
“You are not allowed on the tram in a combat suit.”
“What? I’ve got to get back to my base.”
“Well, you need to either ditch the Oscar somewhere or find somehow else to get back.”
Rev realized it wasn’t the drone’s AI speaking. A real person was on the other side of the transmission.
“Can’t you give me a break? I need to get back. I came here on a medivac from the field.”
“Sorry, but no. And it’s not just your Oscar. You’re carrying a weapon.”
Rev lifted Pashu. “I’m not carrying her. She’s a part of me.”
“Whoa. I guess it is. What’s your name and unit?”
“Staff Sergeant Reverent Pelletier. Fox Company, Second of the Second.”
“OK, wait one.”
Rev stood there, feeling stupid with the drone hovering right in front of his face. People flowed around him, giving him a wide berth.
After about three minutes, the voice came back. “Wow. This is a new one for me. I contacted your unit. They wanted to know why you haven’t called back to them.”
“I tried. The comms on this Oscar suck. Can’t do anything with the curvature of this moon.”
“You never tried to call from the hospital?”
Well, shit, Rev thought as he could feel his face getting red. Yeah, I guess I should have asked someone there to tell the company what was going on.
He’d just acted like a private, sitting and doing what he was told. But he wasn’t a private. He was a Marine SNCO, and they were supposed to take the initiative and adjust to the situation.
“No matter. They told me to tell you to go back to the hospital and get them to give you some scrubs to wear. You’re going to have to leave your combat suit and . . . arm there. You’re not getting on the tram with that thing.”
“My IBHU? Leave it?”
“Yeah. They have an armory. If that isn’t big enough, then you’ll need to have them contact your brigade for an armorer to come and pick it up.”
There was no way Rev was going to give up Pashu to some unknown armorer. There was a reason the Second Brigade IBHUs were all being kept together with Daryll in a separate armory. Certain nations would love to be able to examine them, and despite the kumbaya-era of humanity, the Union was not giving up their IBHU secrets that easily.
And from a personal level, Rev wouldn’t give Pashu up anyway. He didn’t want her to be a quarter of the way around Enceladus with no surety when he’d get her back.
Nope. No way.
“Look, that’s not going to work. I can’t get separated from my IBHU. Can’t you just make an exception here? I’ll sit quietly and not bother anyone. And it’s not like people haven’t seen a trooper before. That’s what this moon is for, right? It’s a military base?”
“No can do, Staff Sergeant. This is Encelasucks, where there’re regulations about other regulations. If you get on the tram like you are, some flag officer paper-pusher or civilian bigwig’s going to have a heart attack. Unless your company wants to come get you, you’re going to have to ditch that weapon if you want to get back.”
Fat chance on that. They’ll tell me the same thing.
But someone might.
“Look, can you do me a solid? I need you to contact Mr. Daryll Begay. He’s a Sieben contractor. He’s at . . .”
Rev had to pause to ask Punch for Daryll’s number. It was saved on his quantphone and tablet, and he didn’t know it from memory.
“ . . . Four-four-three-one, six-two-nine, five-four-eight. Tell him what’s happened and that you told me I have to leave my IBHU here to get back.”
“Uh, I’m just monitoring the terminal when there’s something flagged. I can’t spend my time connecting calls.”
“Please? I really need this favor here.”
Rev felt ridiculous begging a small drone while people gave him weird looks as they streamed by, coming and going to the tram.
“You’re one of those Union supersoldiers, right? That’s what that arm is.”
“Yeah. Union Marines.”
“Hell, I’m from Paxus. I guess I can do a favor for a fellow outer reaches soldier.”
Rev almost corrected him with “Marine,” but he bit his tongue. He also didn’t mention that while Paxus was historically a Union ally, it was hardly an outer reaches world.
“Wait one.”
This time it took five minutes before the still-unnamed voice returned. “Hey, man. I called this Begay guy. I don’t know who he is, but it looks like he can get things done. He said do not—and he told me to say it again. Do not—leave your weapon. Go back to the hospital and wait. It might take a while, but someone will come to pick you up.”
A heavy load rolled off his shoulders. He hadn’t been sure that Daryll could do anything. Evidently, working for a major defense contractor meant he could contact those with real pull.
“Thanks. I really appreciate your help.”
“No problem.”
Rev started to turn away, but he stopped. “Hey, what’s your name, anyway.”
“Iridi Tamay. No rank. I’m just one of unwashed masses of civilian support here.”
“Well, thank you, Iridi. If you ever need anything, you know how to reach me.”
The drone did a little dip like a nod. Rev gave it a half-salute and started back to the ER.
Rev had always thought the Marines were often too hidebound and restricted by regulations that made little or no sense. But in the short time he’d been with the Home Guard, they’d put the Marines to shame, making the Corps look like
a lawless anarchy.
This whole thing with not being able to board a simple tram because he was in an Oscar and was armed was ridiculous. This was a military base, after all.
But as he looked around, not many of the people who were entering and exiting the tram station had been in uniform.
“How many troopers are on Enceladus?” he asked Punch.
“And how many civilians.”
“What? A hundred and twenty-five thousand? All to support two brigades?”
If Rev had wondered about the bureaucracy before, this just cemented it for him. It was surprising that the Home Guard got anything done at all.
He stepped off the elevator and made his way back to the ER. The same nurse behind the desk who’d given him the directions looked up as he came back in, then ignored him. Rev went to the corner and took a seat. There was only one other person in the room, and she was engrossed in her pad.
And, of course, Rev didn’t have his pad. Following orders, he’d left his pad and quantphone back in his cell. Next time, orders be damned. He was taking his phone.
But, luckily, he didn’t need a quantphone to take up the time.
“So, where were we with ‘Sunset Dogs?’” he asked Punch.
“It looks like it’s going to be a while, so let’s get it going again.”
12
Daryll was waiting for Rev when he finally dragged in. He brought over the hoist and detached Pashu.
“Any issues?” the tech asked.
“If you don’t mean someone getting killed and another crushed, then no, no issues.”
An Uneasy Alliance: Book 4 of the Sentenced to War Series Page 10
