42
“Lieutenant?” Rev asked, sticking his head into the office. “I’m going down to admin to start my out-process.”
“Hell, it’s that time already?”
“Yes, sir. Fifteen-and-a-wakeup.”
“Come in and sit for a second.”
Rev wanted to get the process started before noon chow, but the lieutenant was still his boss, and if he wanted to chat, that was his prerogative.
The lieutenant interlocked his fingers and held his hands in front of his face, his elbows on the desk. Rev could see him marshaling his thoughts.
Oh, great. Not again.
“I know we’ve gone over this, but let me try again,” the lieutenant said. “I asked you to think about it. Did you?”
“Yes, sir. I did. And I’m still in that frame of mind.”
The lieutenant stared at him for a long moment, then asked, “Is it because of the award? I mean, it isn’t dead yet.”
“Yes, it is, sir. You told me it was.”
The week before, his platoon commander had told him that his and Tomiko’s awards had been quashed. Security issues had been the excuse. He’d actually expected that, after all they went through as guests of the OD. How could they write up a citation without revealing the fact that the Union had a Centaur body? And even if the citation was blank, how would he and Tomiko explain their medals to everyone else? But it still disappointed him, if he was being honest with himself.
“I mean, when this all gets declassified, that can be rectified. I’ll make sure of that.”
“It’s alright, sir. That’s not why I’m not reupping. It’s just time for me to move on.”
“Look, Pelletier. You’re a good Marine. What am I saying? You’re a great Marine, and we need you. You’ll be eligible for meritorious corporal in another month, and I can guarantee you I can make that happen.”
“I appreciate that, sir. But . . . look, there’s a lot I’ll miss when I leave, and the job’s not done. The Centaurs are still coming. But I’m a conscript. A convict. I had a traffic violation, and for that I was forced into the Corps.” He held up a hand to stop the lieutenant from breaking in. “You never treated me any differently than the volunteers, and I appreciate that. No one on the team did, in fact.”
Rev rubbed his hands on his legs, thinking. The lieutenant did that most difficult thing—he stayed quiet until Rev spoke again.
“I don’t regret serving now, really. Oh—maybe a bit. It sure screwed up my plans, but in the end, it made me a better person. And, I don’t mean to toot my own horn here, sir, but I think I paid my dues. Both on Preacher Rolls, and . . . you know.”
Even with the lieutenant and alone in his office, he wasn’t going to mention dead riever aloud.
The lieutenant looked down at his desk for a moment, sighed, and looked back up. “I’m sorry I can’t convince you, but you’re right, Pelletier. You’ve paid your dues. No one can deny that. Gunny told me you still have your Guild opening?”
“Yes, sir. I got that confirmed last week. I start the day after I’m discharged.”
“Well, all I can say is thank you for your service, and good luck in the next chapter of the Reverent Pelletier story.”
The lieutenant stood, hand outstretched.
Rev took it, giving a firm shake. “Thank you, sir. It was an honor serving under you.”
“Likewise.”
“Well, then, I guess you need to get to admin. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
Rev came to a position of attention, then despite the fact that Marines don’t salute uncovered and indoors, he raised his right hand in a salute. The lieutenant came to attention and returned it.
Rev felt a twinge of guilt as he left the office and headed to regimental admin.
“How many of my fellow conscripts from my class are re-enlisting?”
<I don’t have access to that number.>
“Really?” Rev asked, surprised. His AI seemed to have about everything else at its virtual fingertips.
<Personal data are blocked from me until they become public record.>
I guess that makes sense.
He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty. He’d been conscripted to serve three years, and he’d fulfilled that. He shook his head as if to clear it of any lingering doubt, then marched into admin and up to the counter where a bored-looking corporal glanced up and asked, “What can I do for you?”
“I need to start my out-processing.”
The corporal turned around and called out, “Staff Sergeant, I’ve got another one.”
Two desks back, a staff sergeant looked up from her screen, saw Rev, rolled her eyes, and almost reluctantly stood up and made her way to him.
“We’re not processing any discharges right now,” she told him with the look of someone who’d done this more than once this morning.
Rev looked at her in confusion. “When, then, Staff Sergeant? Do I need to come back this afternoon?”
“We’re not processing anyone today or tomorrow. That’s from on high.”
“Why? I’m out of here on the twenty-second.”
“I don’t know why. We were just told this morning, and the word hasn’t gotten out to the companies yet.”
“But I’m—”
“Yes, I know. You’re out on the twenty-second. Don’t worry. We’ll still process you out. Still plenty of time for that.”
“Staff Sergeant Willis, here’s another one,” a Marine called out.
Rev looked down the counter where another lance corporal, looking as confused as Rev, was standing.
“Look, this will all get straightened out. Just go back to your company and stand by. We’ll pass the word when you can come back.” With that, she turned to explain the situation to the other Marine.
Rev stood there for a long moment, but the corporal who’d first asked what he wanted was studiously avoiding his eyes, so he turned and left the building and started back to the platoon area. He didn’t know what glitch was up, but even if he wasn’t given his official check-out sheet, he could get a jump on things by hitting the armory and supply to return what he didn’t need anymore.
As he started up the steps into the barracks, he met the lieutenant coming down.
“That was quick. You change your mind?” the lieutenant asked with a forced laugh.
“No, sir. They’re just not processing discharges right now.”
“I didn’t hear that admin had a stand down today.”
“They don’t, but the staff sergeant there said there was a hold for now. Didn’t say more about it, sir, unless it’s at HQ.”
“And our company headquarters is at Falcon, of course. Let me see what’s going on.”
“It’s fine, sir. Probably be all set by Monday.”
“Well, let’s make sure of that. Come on.”
Rev followed the lieutenant back to the platoon office.
“You hear anything about discharges being held up?” he asked the gunny in the outer office.
“No. Why?”
“Pelletier here couldn’t start his out-processing just now. I’m going to see what I can find out.”
“Probably some glitch at Big Corps. They’ll unfuck it. If not, I will.” He tapped his silver-colored arm on the desk for emphasis. He’d only been back with the platoon for a week, and he was getting antsy to start being a full-throated force again.
They entered the office. The lieutenant sat back at his desk and motioned Rev to sit as he made a call.
“Hey, Hath, I’ve got a Lance Corporal Pelletier here, about ready to get out, but one of your staff sergeants told him you aren’t out-processing anyone right now. What’s up?”
Rev watched the lieutenant listen to the response, wishing he could hear it as well.
“That’s kinda messed up, you know. . .Fine, then, when are you going to be able to process him? He’s a good Marine, and he deserves proper support.”
The lieutenant listened for a moment before the smile on his face faded, his eyebrows scrunching together.
“Is that . . . uh, official?” he asked in a hushed tone.
Rev sat up straighter in his chair, wondering what was going on.
“Yep. There are going to be a lot of pissed off Marines. But thanks for telling me . . . no, I’ll keep it close to the vest until there’s an official announcement.”
The lieutenant slowly looked up to Rev’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything, as if he was trying to decide on the words he wanted to use.
“What did he say, sir?” Rev prompted, suddenly feeling the pit of his stomach.
“This isn’t official, yet, so it has to be kept between you and me until then.”
“Sir?”
“You’re not getting out.”
“SIR?”
“At least not on your EOE. You’re being extended.”
“I am? Why?” Rev asked, totally blindsided.
“Not just you. Everyone who thought they were getting out. You’re all being extended a year.”
“But . . . can they do that? Can Big Corps just take that on themselves?”
“This isn’t Big Corps. This is from the Union. Navy, too.”
Rev sat there, dumfounded. He was at a loss for words.
“If it makes any difference, I think it sucks. And who knows, maybe it won’t go through. Like I said, it’s not official yet.”
“With all due respect, sir, ‘yet’ is the relevant word. It’s going to happen. I can feel it.”
The lieutenant was smart enough not to feed Rev any more bullshit.
“Here,” he said, reaching into his desk and scribbling out a day pass. “Take the rest of the day off. Go see your family. Just, don’t—”
“Don’t tell them anything, right, sir? And what do I tell them about why I’m home on a Thursday?” Rev asked. “But I’m good, sir. I don’t even know what’s on the training schedule today.”
“Your team’s on Range 103.”
“Think I can get a ride out there, sir?” Rev asked.
“Really, you don’t have to go. Take it easy.”
“Well, sir, if I’m really stuck here for another year, I need to make sure my team is combat ready. And between you and me, Staff Sergeant Delacrie’s got a long way to go.”