36
“Person to be recognized, front and center . . . HARCH!”
Rev performed a right face and marched behind Special Augment Company—comprised of Second Reconnaissance Platoon, First Raider Platoon, Second Sapper Platoon, and Second Combat Engineer Platoon. He turned left at the far side of the sappers and marched up the depth of the company.
“Keep me on beat.”
Punch sent a measured drum beat directly into his auditory cortex, giving him a guide to time his march. He passed the front ranks of the company. Ahead of him and centered on and facing the company, Colonel Destafney and the sergeant major stood at attention. Behind them, the bleachers were filled with guests, and the air above was crowded with newsdrones. Rev didn’t search the bleachers for his family. He kept his head forward, his body stiff.
A couple of meters short of the colonel, Rev performed column left movement and marched forward, eyes locked ahead. He was surprisingly nervous.
<Do you want to hear a joke?>
“NO!” he almost shouted aloud.
<Me asking you was the joke. Because this is a solemn occasion. So, a joke is not appropriate. That makes me asking funny.>
“Let me focus. Can the humor for now.”
And then Rev was in front of the colonel. He came to a halt, performed a right face, and saluted. The colonel saluted back.
“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please rise for the presentation of the awards.”
The guests stood as one. For a moment, Rev caught a quick glance of Neesy waving over the colonel’s shoulder. He quickly focused on the colonel’s nose, afraid that his little sister would make him laugh.
“Colonel Rictus Destafney, Commanding Officer of the Eighth Marines, the Gryphons, will first present Sergeant Pelletier with the Bleeding Heart Medal for wounds received during combat on Alafia, March 19, 3829.”
The sergeant major handed the colonel the Bleeding Heart. The colonel stepped forward and pinned the blood-red medal to Rev’s chest. This was Rev’s second award, the first being awarded after the paladin he’d killed almost took off his foot. That, along with his Marine Expeditionary Medal and the Gold Achievement Medal that he’d gotten when his Platinum Nova was pulled, were the extent of his achievements in four years as a Marine.
Rev had single-handedly taken out a paladin. Along with Tomiko, he’d found a Centaur body that might be changing the course of the war. And a few weeks ago, he’d taken a new weapon and killed five Centaurs in single combat. All he had to show for that was a single three-ribbon bar.
Rev wasn’t a medal chaser, but he held a bit of a grudge for that. And now, as a consolation prize, he was being used by the New Hope Marine command for a public relations campaign and being awarded the Humane Service Medal for saving a small girl from becoming an involuntary suicide bomber. He didn’t regret his actions, but all this attention for what was really a mid-level award was overblown. As far as he was concerned, they could have mailed him the certificate, and he could have picked up the ribbon at the base exchange.
“That’s two of these, Sergeant. You might want to learn to duck,” the colonel said before he stepped back.
Not really that funny, and Rev knew he was going to have to explain the humor to Punch when all this was done. But it was still a human touch, colonel to sergeant version.
And then it was time for the main event. A tiny newsdrone dropped lower, just behind the colonel, so it could record Rev’s face.
He tried to look solemn as befitting getting an award, but he thought he probably looked constipated instead.
The announcer, one of the recon lieutenants, started again:
The Director of the Perseus Union Armed Forces takes great pleasure in presenting the Humane Service Medal to Sergeant Reverent R Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps, for service as set forth in the following citation:
On March 19, 3829 Earth Standard, the then Corporal Pelletier was assigned to the First Raider Platoon, Alpha Company, attached to the Eight Marines, during combat operations on the planet Alafia. During clean-up operations after the Battle of Natividad, Corporal Pelletier was on patrol in the Brecca Cordon, which had been heavily damaged during the previous day’s battle. Observing the remnants of a home, Corporal Pelletier moved forward to clear it when he discovered a young girl who had been involuntarily rigged as a suicide bomber. Without regard for his own safety, Corporal Pelletier calmed the young girl so he could examine the bomb. It had been set so that removing it would detonate the bomb. Seeing the fatigue in the girl, Corporal Pelletier knew that she could not last until EOD could be summoned, so with complete disregard for his own safety, he determined a method to interspace his own body between the bomb and the girl. Then, with no other option and understanding that doing so could cost him his life, he detonated the bomb, absorbing the full impact of the blast, shielding the girl at grievous cost to himself. Corporal Pelletier’s selfless actions saved the life of the girl, reflected great credit upon himself, and were in keeping with the highest traditions of the Marine Corps and the Perseus Union Naval Service.
Given under my hand,
Locklear Begay
Lieutenant General, Perseus Union Marine Corps
Commanding
That made it sound like he’d done more than he really had. In reality, he’d been swept up by events that were beyond his control. He could let the little girl die, or he could take action, relying on his armor to keep him alive.
He took a quick glance at the stands, and there in the front row, he caught his father beaming with pride. Rev didn’t put too much weight on the ceremony, knowing it was for public consumption, but if his family got anything out of it, then he was OK with the pomp and circumstance.
The sergeant major opened the case and removed the silver anchor hanging from the pink ribbon with two vertical silver stripes. He handed it to the colonel, and Rev stared at him, ready to have it pinned on his chest.
To his surprise, however, the colonel didn’t reach out. Instead, he said, “I think I’ll have someone else pin this one.” He gave a half-turn, sweeping out an arm in invitation.
What’s going on?
Then, from the front row, right beside his mother, a small girl with blonde braids and in a periwinkle blue frock started marching forward.
“Who is that?”
And then it hit him. She was cleaned up and looking much better than the last time he saw her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the Humane Service Medal to Sergeant Pelletier will be Kat Thiessen, the young woman whose life the sergeant saved.”
There were gasps from the observers, then cheers. They were obviously as surprised as Rev was.
How did she get here? What are they doing?
This was theater. Good theater, true, though still done for public relations. But Rev didn’t care. Tears formed in his eyes as Kat trooped forward, her face screwed tight in determination. She marched through the swarming newsdrones, her eyes locked on Rev’s.
“Record, record this.”
<I already anticipated that.>
She got to the colonel and reached up for the medal. He gave it to her, then picked her up by the arms. She gave his metallic face an anxious look, then tore her gaze away to look at Rev.
“Thank you, Sergeant Pelletier,” she said, carefully pronouncing his last name.
She stretched out and placed the medal on his chest, shifting it until the magstrip caught.
Kat gave him a little salute, which was difficult with the colonel holding her under her armpits, and Rev broke. Military decorum be damned.
He stepped closer and took the little girl in his arms, crushing her tight. Tentatively, two little arms reached out to encircle his neck.
Whatever he’d been thinking about the Humane Service Medal a few minutes ago vanished. As far as he was concerned, right here and right now, he’d rather have this one silver and pink medal than a hundred Platinum Novas.