10
“Randigold!”
The lance corporal looked up and caught Rev’s eyes, a huge smile breaking out across the half of her face that was still all organic. She made her way through the crowd, heedless of those she was smacking with the seabags on each shoulder. An officer in a uniform Rev didn’t recognize started to protest, but when he took in all the metal making up her body, he quickly looked away and moved off at an angle.
You little troublemaker. You know exactly how many people you’re hitting, Rev thought while trying to hold back a smile.
She reached him and stuck out an elbow, which Rev dutifully clinked with his social arm.
“Brothers in Steel,” they both said in unison.
“I didn’t know they’d send you to pick me up. I must be special if a staff-en-cee-oh is sent to be my tour guide,” she said, saying each letter in SNCO in an exaggerated staccato.
“First lesson, Randigold, is that here in the Guard, a staff sergeant ain’t crap. I don’t even get a squad.”
“In that case, what’s a lance corporal? Fly shit?”
“No, that’s a sergeant. Don’t know what a lance coolie would be. And they don’t call you guys lance corporal. Here, you’re PFCs.”
“Yeah, I know. Sucks that I just got my skeeter wings, and now people are going to be calling me PFC again.”
She turned her head to kiss her skeeter wings, the chevron and crossed rifles that was a Marine lance corporal’s rank insignia. “At least I’ll still draw lance corporal pay, not PFC.”
“More than that. You’ve got your Home Guard pay.”
“Yeah, I know. Sweet.”
Another familiar face stepped up behind Randigold.
Sergeant Tumeric Tsao nodded at Rev, then dropped her seabag. She reached out with her prosthetic arm and clinked with Rev. On her chest was only one ribbon; the light-sucking black background made the platinum bursting star in the middle of it look even brighter.
“I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Rev said, trying not to stare at the ribbon. He’d long accepted that his Platinum Nova was gone forever, and he rarely thought of it. But seeing the sergeant with hers did give him a tiny twinge of . . . not jealousy, but maybe regret.
Not directed at the sergeant. He’d read the citation, of course, and she earned her PN, but still . . .
“We’re the last of us,” the sergeant said. “Don’t know why we didn’t all come together. Would’ve made more sense, you’d think.”
“Welcome to the Ecelasucks. Get used to it.” He looked around the passenger pickup. “I didn’t see anyone else coming with me to meet you, though. No matter. Stick with me, and I’ll get you the E.”
“Oh, I’m not going there. I’m staying here on Titan,” she said.
“What? Here? You’re with First Brigade?”
As far as Rev knew, all of the IBHU Marines—and the MDS karnans, for that matter—were with either Second or Third Brigades. He didn’t know that any were being sent to First.
“Not the First Brigade. Headquarters Company.”
“The Praetorian Guard?” Rev asked, even more surprised.
Headquarters Company consisted of about two hundred troopers whose sole job seemed to be to stand around in elaborate uniforms and perform ceremonial functions. The troopers in Fox Company thought they were preening peacocks with little military value. They all looked good, and they could stand at attention for hours, but they hadn’t fought in combat since they were formed almost 240 years ago.
Tsao was a combat Marine, a proven warrior. All anyone had to do was look at her . . .
Oh, that’s what it is. Her Platinum Nova.
It made some degree of sense, from a political aspect, that is, to have at least one IBHU Marine on Titan where all the reps from the other nations could see an example of Union military might. And if they were going to send someone, then why not the one with a PN?
Better you than me, sister.
And suddenly, not having the medal seemed like a benefit.
“Do you know where you’re going?” he asked her. Headquarters Company or not, Rev was still senior to her, and he couldn’t let her fend for herself. He needed to make sure she got to where she needed to be.
“There’s supposed to be a liaison desk right outside the entrance.”
“Well, let’s go see.”
Rev offered to take one of the seabags, but both Marines refused. The three made their way out of the mob and through the exit. The sergeant had been right. There was a military liaison desk where she gave her name. She was given a guide wand and told to report in to the Headquarters Company office.
“I guess this is it,” she said. “If you ever come over here to Titan, give me a shout. It would be good to see you guys.”
“She’s good people,” Randigold said as the sergeant walked off. “Too good to waste her time looking pretty for politics.”
Rev gave the lance corporal a sidelong glance. She gave off that “aw shucks” vibe, just a simple country girl trying to make her way out in the big bad world. But every once in a while, she let slip something that made Rev suspect that she was a lot deeper than her public persona.
As if feeling his gaze, she turned back to him. “So, Staff Sergeant, how bad is it?”
“Some things are good, some not so good. Like anywhere else. I’m still trying to feel my own way. One thing seems pretty certain, though. It is going to be an interesting three years.”
She nodded. “Like the old Chinese curse: ‘May you live in interesting times.’ I think you’re probably right. So, since you’re here to show me the way to our new home, I guess it’s time to go see what I’ll be facing.”
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