33
“Your harness is all kinds of messed up, Rev,” Daryll said, looking at the readout.
“And that’s the technical term? ‘All kinds of messed up?’”
“Pretty much so.”
“So, tell me what the hell’s going on.”
“Your IBHU, Pashu’s weight, is what’s going on with your shoulder. The sleeve was not designed to be robust enough when considering the torque you’re putting on it. New sleeves are being designed, and you should get yours soon. But the harness, that is a little more complicated. From what we can see, the anchor points are breaking free.”
“Breaking free. Like they’re loose in there?”
“Some, yes. I can see it on my scans. And when the individual anchors broke free, the harness itself started pulling and shifting, and that’s what’s causing the pain. And each one that breaks free puts more stress on the surrounding ones, and then they break free, and so on. Getting blown head-over-heels didn’t do it any favors, either. The problem is that there’s not much I can do about it.”
Rev sighed and shook his head. He’d been thrilled to learn that not only had Daryll survived in one piece, but Sieben Intergalaxy had rushed this foam hut and all new equipment to replace what had been lost during the invasion.
But now, Daryll was telling him that he couldn’t do anything?
“So, what am I supposed to do?”
“According to the message board, you’re not the only person who’s had anchoring problems.”
“Oh, that sure makes me feel better,” Rev said with a scowl.
“It should. That means the company is working on it. But for right now, the guidance is to keep off your IBHU as much as possible.”
“Well, glad the tin-asses seem to have disappeared, or that could be just a little bit of a problem.”
“Look, I know you’re pissed, and I’m on your side. But there are teething problems with every weapons system, and you are IBHU 1, after all.”
“Yeah, I know you’re on my side. Sorry. I’m just sick and tired of this. I feel like I’m a hundred years old. And this is how I’m going to feel from here on out?”
“Surgery is an option. Take that harness out and put in a new one.”
Getting the harness put in sucked big time, but if it would help to go through that again, Rev would be for it.
“But the problem would probably reoccur, especially with the tracks already cut under your musculature. So, the project team is trying to figure out what exactly went wrong, correct it, and then see about fixing it for all of you who’ve had problems.”
“And with the war over, our priority just dropped, right?”
“Well, the war isn’t over. You know that.”
That was the official position of the Council. There had been no sign of Centaurs anywhere for almost two months now. The public sure thought the war was over, given the media coverage. But just because the Centaurs were gone, that didn’t mean they were defeated, and humankind was not going to let its guard down too early.
But Rev didn’t want to let go of the issue. Pashu had problems, and now there were rumors that the Manifest Destiny Sphere was working along the same lines with super-augmented soldiers.
“What about the Mad Dogs? I’ve heard they have their own version of an IBHU. Any truth to that? And are they having these teething problems, too, or is that only with the Union and Sieben?”
“I really can’t say.”
“Can’t say because you don’t know, or can’t say because you’re not allowed to?”
“Maybe a bit of both,” he said with a sigh. “I mean, I’ve heard the same things, and the engineers, you know what they’re like. They keep trying to guess what the MDS might be doing and how their efforts might differ from ours. If it’s even true, that is.”
Of course, whatever the MDS was or wasn’t doing really didn’t fix Rev’s situation.
“Well, for their soldiers’ sake, I hope they did a better design job. And so, for me, it’s just take two aspirin and go to bed?”
“Maybe, maybe not. There is one idea that’s being floated for a temporary, well, not a fix, but something to help minimize the pain.”
“And that is . . . ?”
“One of the suggestions is to create an external harness that will help support the weight and stress with the shoulders taking more of the burden.”
Rev winced at the thought. His shoulder was sore enough as it was.
Daryll saw the wince. “But that will be after the new sleeve. Anyway, the thought is to take some of the support requirements off your current harness, so at least no more anchors pull free. I might have the programming even by the end of the week if it gets the green light. I’ll get one printed up right away, and we can see how much it helps.”
Most of the surviving printers were working around the clock to restore infrastructure and necessities. But along with the rest of the equipment Sieben dropped in was a state-of-the-art TS-2000. If Daryll could get the program, that baby could print almost anything.
“And, you’ll like this. In gratitude for your service, the company is sending you a new Rycroft. It should arrive on Friday.”
Rev sure hadn’t been expecting that. With all that had to be done, a new prosthesis was not high on anyone’s radar. He should be pretty happy, but surprisingly, he wasn’t. He was grateful, but he was getting pretty good at life with only one arm, and with his shoulder constantly tender from Pashu, he didn’t know if the pain would be worth the convenience.
“Thanks,” he said, and left it at that.
“OK, then. Stop by again Friday afternoon, and we’ll see if we can’t get it synched. Other than that, unless you have any questions?”
“No. None.”
“OK, I’ll see you then. If you can send in Pierson on the way out?”
Rev stepped out of the building and into the crisp air. Fall was coming, a time Rev normally loved. Pierson was nowhere in sight.
“Pierson, where are you?” he bellowed.
The big private lumbered from behind the Sieben hut, fastening his fly. “Sorry, I had to take a leak.”
“And you couldn’t find a head?”
The private shrugged.
“Just go inside. Daryll’s waiting.” He shook his head as the Marine entered the building. He may have proven that there was a fierce warrior hidden under that goofy exterior, but he was still socially inept.
Rev headed over to the bivouacs. While not quite the same technology as Sieben’s little hut, anything to get them out of the weather was a moral victory. These were the same expeditionary bivouacs they’d used in Alafia, but Rev had a feeling that the “temporary” designation might gravitate to long-term. There was still too much rebuilding, and with the bulk of the Ninety-nines out doing public work projects, that left the base in a sort of limbo now that the comms and other vital services had been restored.
The bivouacs weren’t bad. They had power and enough running water to brush their teeth and wash their hands. Every Marine had their own rack. Each held forty people. There were only sixteen sergeants and below Raiders, so they were sharing with Second Recon’s Third Platoon.
Tomiko looked up from her rack where she was reading as he walked in. “What’d he say?”
“Not much he can do. And there are others in the same boat. Sieben’s working on it.”
“Sorry, Rev. That sucks. But I’ve got something that should cheer you up.”
“What’s that?”
“First, the governor has opened up lightly damaged areas in Anastasia and Swansea for people to reoccupy their homes. And before you ask, yeah, Beakerville is on the list.”
“Really? That’s fantastic! Maybe my family’s already on their way!”
“And there’s more.”
“Hell, that’s good enough. But what else?”
“After the governor made the announcement, General Sirirat put us on a port and starboard alert status. And when we aren’t on alert, liberty is authorized. Starting Saturday.”
“You mean . . .”
“Yep. If your folks make it back, you can see them this weekend!”
All of Rev’s frustration of the day disappeared as if it had never existed. In four days, he could possibly see his family again.