16
There was one thing that Rev wanted to do before they left the home system. He tracked down the squad leader, who was in the middle of inventorying one of the mount-out boxes.
“Sergeant Gamay, can I have a couple of hours?”
It felt wrong for Rev to call the Sergeant First Class “sergeant” instead of her full rank, but that’s the way it worked the Guard. Others called Rev, a staff sergeant, “sergeant” as well. But no matter if others used the term, he was never going to address anyone as “sarge.”
“A couple of hours? The day before we deploy?”
“I’ve got my IBHU crated and standing by for pickup, and Mr. Begay will handle that. Other than that, I’ve signed all the pre-deployment docs and have my personal gear packed and ready to go.”
“So, just because you happen to be ready when not everyone else is, you think you can just take some personal time?”
Rev stopped to consider her question, wondering what he’d missed. He wasn’t in charge of other troopers, and his own preparations were done. He essentially had nothing to do other than sit on his butt and watch holovids.
“Yes?”
The squad leader frowned, then said, “I guess there isn’t much for you, is there?” She hesitated for a moment as she considered it. “Where are you going?”
“Over to Barrister.”
“Barrister? First Battalion? You know someone there?”
“No. I mean, yes, I know a few troopers. But that’s not why I want to go.”
The squad leader waited for Rev to elaborate, but he stopped at that. Finally, she said, “Well, if you’ve got everything done, I guess I can spare you. But if you’re going to Barrister, take three hours. You never know about the connections. Just make it back before chow, OK?”
“Roger that. And thanks, Sergeant.”
Rev hurried over three corridors and down to the tram system. Camp Barrister was the home of the First of the Second. Like Second Battalion’s Camp Reyes and Third Battalion’s Camp Seong-Matris, it was part of Fort Nkomo, and Rev could walk from one camp to the other through the corridors, but it was a fairly long hike going into mainside, then out again to Barrister. With his limited time, it would be quicker to take the base tram.
He got lucky. The ring tram arrived within a minute, and he hopped aboard. The first stop was the Combat Training Complex, and twelve minutes after he boarded, he was getting off at the Barrister stop.
Enceladus’s magnetic field had been downloaded into Rev’s hippocampus, and with a map overlay, he had no problem finding his way to his destination. Twenty-three minutes after leaving Sergeant First Class Gamay, he entered the company office.
“Can I help you?” a corporal asked at his appearance.
“I’d like to see Lieutenant Vreemish, if I can,” Rev said.
“And who are you?”
“Staff Sergeant Reverent Pelletier.” He almost added “Perseus Union Marine Corps,” but he was supposed to identify as a Guardsman now, and if he said he was a Marine, then the lieutenant might not see him.
The corporal frowned, then said, “I’ll see if he’s in.”
Rev could see the corporal’s throat move as he subvocalized, but he couldn’t pick up what he was saying.
I guess I should have called first.
Rev had checked the company’s training schedule, and it was in an admin standdown, but that didn’t guarantee the lieutenant’s presence. He wondered if he’d wasted a trip when one of the doors to the side offices opened, and a karnan officer looked out. He caught Rev’s eyes for a moment, then nodded and beckoned Rev forward.
Like his platoon commander’s office back at Camp Reyes, it was tiny, with barely enough room for the large MDS lieutenant to scootch past the desk to take his seat. He motioned for Rev to sit down.
“What can I do for you, Sergeant?”
“Sir, I’m Staff Sergeant Reverent Pelletier. I came here from the Union Marines.”
The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit, and he said nothing.
“I was on Earth. The same time you were.”
The lieutenant’s eyes dropped to Rev’s prosthesis, and understanding flooded them.
“I know who you are. You’re the other one.”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
The lieutenant stood up and held out a hand. A little wary after dealing with Kvat, Rev hesitantly reached out and took it. But the lieutenant didn’t try and crush it. His grip was firm but reasonable.
“Well, Peter’s Beard, Staff Sergeant. I’m damned glad to meet you. Damned glad. I . . . I guess you’re here now?”
“Yes, sir. Second of the Second.”
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t difficult. Since all of us except for one are here in the Home Guard now, I figured that maybe you would be, too. I just had my battle buddy do a search and see if there was an MDS lieutenant here by the last name of the one who didn’t kill his Centaurs.”
The lieutenant nodded. “I guess I could have done the same thing. I should have. Not all of us are here, but we’ve got yoo . . . uh, we’ve got IBHU Marines here, too, so I could have made the connection. I’ve wondered about you, though. If I hadn’t figured out what was going on, and then if you hadn’t . . .” he trailed off.
If neither one of us had refused to slaughter the Centaur Three at our objective, the Mother would be a smoking ruin now.
“I was wondering, sir, if I can ask you a question.”
“Shoot.”
“How did you figure it out? Why didn’t you kill your Centaurs? Everyone else did.”
“Not everyone else. You didn’t, and you weren’t even in command, if I understand it correctly. But why didn’t I kill them? They weren’t fighting back, and that was unusual, to say the least. I needed to know why. So, I ordered my men to stand down, and I was taken to the Three. Long story short, I believed them. And the rest is history. What about you?”
“That’s the thing, sir. I didn’t think things through like you just said you did. I just reacted. My team leader, he wanted me to blow them all away,” Rev said, lifting his social arm and miming firing a weapon. “That’s why I was leading the assault. But something told me to stop after I killed the first two.”
“Instincts,” the lieutenant said. “Good instincts, I might add.”
“Seems like it was luck to me.”
“Bullshit. You may not think you were thinking things through, but you were.
Your subconscious was working it out. And that was because of your inherent ability to observe and analyze. That, and what I assume was a lot of combat experience.”
Rev wasn’t so sure of that. He still thought it was luck. But as Tomiko had told him more than once, if what he’d done in the war was just luck, then the gods of war must have made him the luckiest person in history. Occam’s Razor would indicate that there must be some skill and capabilities involved.
That wasn’t always enough, though. The finest Marine Rev had known, Staff Sergeant Mendez, had been killed on Roher-104. So there had to be luck involved, too, good or bad.
Rev opened his mouth, then realized he didn’t know what he’d been about to say. He wasn’t even sure why he’d come. But then it hit him. He’d just wanted to meet the other person who, if Rev had failed to realize what was happening, would still have saved Earth. By meeting him, it was as if the weight of the Mother’s very survival wasn’t solely on his shoulders.
And it was a good feeling.
“Hey, and I hope I’m not being too forward, but would you like to go out for a drink? I’m just doing paperwork here now, and I’d like to get to know you some more,” the lieutenant asked.
“Oh, wow, sir.”
“Lymon. Call me Lymon.”
“OK, uh, Lymon. I’d really like that, but I’ve got to get back. We’re deploying tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You’re, what, Fox Company, right? And you came all the way to Barrister the afternoon before?”
“I just wanted to meet you before we go. A lot could happen between now and when we’re supposed to get back.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Well, I’m glad you came over to see me. And when you get back, we’ll have to get together again.” He paused for a moment. Looking more than a little shifty, he lowered his voice and asked, “Have you ever had donat?”
“No, sir. Uh, Lymon.”
Rev had heard about it. Donat was the drink of choice among the MDS. Supposedly, it tasted like crap.
The lieutenant bent over and rummaged around in a drawer. He pulled out a small clear flask of a bright blue fluid and two tiny glasses. “This, Reverent . . . can I call you Reverent?”
“Rev, please. Just Rev.”
“OK, Rev. This is the nectar of the gods: Donat Azurco. This is what makes life worth living.” He raised his eyebrows in question.
Rev wasn’t sure he wanted to try it. Its reputation was pretty bad, and Rev wasn’t a huge drinker. Give him a beer or a cider, and he’d be happy. But he realized that the lieutenant’s offer was just as much a challenge as Kvat’s had been, even if this one was issued in a much more convivial situation.
That last challenge hadn’t worked out so great for him, and he realized that he was probably letting his competitive nature and ego make decisions again, but he’d always needed two or three lessons for things to sink in.
He nodded at the lieutenant.
With a broad smile, the lieutenant poured a finger-full into each glass. He carefully stoppered the bottle, picked up his glass, and held it aloft.
Rev followed suit.
“To . . . hell, I guess to the Mother, may she long endure.”
“To the Mother,” Rev said.
The lieutenant downed the drink in one swallow, then Rev did the same. Slow-motion lava poured down his throat, and it was only by pure force of will that he didn’t choke and spit it out.
“Nothing better in the galaxy,” the lieutenant said with a faraway look in his eyes. He quickly filled both glasses again, but he didn’t immediately drink his
“So, you’re an IBHU Marine.”
“Yeah. A oner. A yootie.”
“Stupid name, yootie. There’s not even a ‘t’ in Union.”
“Exactly!” Rev said. “I was wondering about that. We call you pit bulls.”
“I know. And I like it,” he said, giving a few soft barks. “Fits with Mad Dogs, right?”
Rev burst out laughing. “It’s kind of badass, too.”
He downed his drink. It still burned like lava, but somehow, it was kind of interesting.
“Your IBHUs. I guess they were effective against the Cents, not like us karnans.”
Rev couldn’t help but note that little throwaway statement at the end of the sentence. He’d suspected that the karnans were not especially useful in fighting the Centaurs,
“I’ve got one of you in my platoon. Corporal Tinter. You know him?” the lieutenant kept going.
“I saw the name, but I never met him. Regular Corps.”
“Well, no matter. We were at the live-fire range two days ago. Pretty impressive, if I can say so.”
“Well, I got into a weight-lifting contest with one of yours. Lincoln Kvat?”
“You did what? A weight-lifting contest. No way you can win.” He pulled back his sleeve and tapped the two metallic bars that emerged from his elbow until they disappeared again under the skin at the wrist. “Titalloy 363, and powered by a Maiser pump. Sorry. Not saying anything bad about your IBHU, but when you’re talking strength, well, that’s apples and oranges.”
“I found that out.”
“Kvat kicked your ass, I presume.”
“You presume right. I let my ego get in the way.”
“Eh, Kvat’s an asshole. I hate that little punk. Don’t let it get you down. But speaking of down . . .” he said, lifting up the tiny glass.
Rev emptied his glass and held it out for a refill. The lieutenant nodded his appreciation.
The two chatted for the next forty-five minutes. Karnans and IBHU Marines had a lot in common, even if the two systems were totally different. What was the same was that the Marines and soldiers were treated like chattel in many ways, and the sacrifices they’d made were significant.
IBHU Marines had lost an arm in combat, but they’d volunteered. Karnans were healthy when they started, and they were also volunteers, although from how the lieutenant described it, if they passed the screening given to every soldier, they were basically told to volunteer.
Rev had thought his process had been bad, but it sounded like the process to convert an MDS soldier into a karnan was another level of hell.
And one place where they were just alike was that they were both on the path to contracting the rot.
Rev finally had to call it quits. He had to get back to Reyes and the company area. The two shared one more toast, and to Rev’s surprise, the lieutenant came around the desk to give him a hug.
Rev was tipsy as he made his way to the tram. He was glad he didn’t have to do anything until morning.
There was something he should be doing, though. One of the techniques he was taught about memorizing data he received was to dictate it to his battle buddy immediately, while the memory was fresh. Punch might not be able to record anything Rev saw or heard, but he could record second-hand input.
Rev had received a lot of data. He’d given up information, too. None of what he’d said or received really amounted to much that could be used on a tactical or strategic level, though. Just two soldiers sharing experiences.
And as he stood waiting for the tram, he decided he’d wait until tomorrow, when his head was a little clearer. For the moment, he was content to just let the experience sink in. Pit bull or oner, the two had a lot in common.
A small burp escaped, the subtle aroma of Donat Azurco filling his senses, the aftertaste a warm caress at the back of his throat. For something that burned like the pits of hell going down, he could see the attraction.
“Yeah, as soon as we get back, I’m going to have to get me some more of that.”
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