28
On one level, what Rev had said was true. He didn’t want the lieutenant to pull any strings that could get him busted to a Ninety-nine, but that didn’t mean he was fine with Big Corps’ decision. And so he wasn’t in a good mood as he left the platoon office.
Stewing in his thoughts and anxious to tell Tomiko and the others, he didn’t see the Marine standing in the middle of the passageway with a lost expression on his face, and he slammed into his shoulders.
“Sorry,” the other Marine said.
“No. My fault,” Rev said as he started to go around.
“Hey, can you help me?” the Marine, a private, asked. “I’m a new-join, but I don’t know who to report to.”
Rev looked to the hatch, anxious to go track his friends down and maybe head on over to the club to drown his sorrows. But no, it wasn’t this private’s fault. He could take a minute to get the guy going.
He held out his hand and said, “Rev Pelletier, and welcome to . . . you Recon or Raider?”
“Raider. Mordechai Gantz. And did you say Pelletier? Like the guy who’s getting the PN? We heard about you.”
A small blaze of anger almost burst out, but he put a damper on that. This boot wasn’t trying to make fun of him.
“That was just a rumor. I don’t know how that started.”
The private stopped, looking disappointed. He was an older Marine, maybe in his thirties. Bigger than Rev, too. There was something about him, though—
“Gantz. Have we met?”
“I don’t think so,” the private said, his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to remember.
“Where you from?”
Everyone in the regiment was from Metro Swansea, so the question wasn’t that out of the ordinary.
“Gray Creek.”
“That’s not it. I’m from Beakerville.”
Rev didn’t know many people from Gray Creek, which was one of the better sections of the city, and it wasn’t likely that he’d ever go back. Bad juju, that place. It was where he’d gotten into the fight that ended up with him getting conscripted—
Shit no. It can’t be.
He stared at the private, who was obviously now getting uncomfortable. Take away the wimby, put him in uniform—
It is him!
“I see you don’t recognize me, but we’ve met before.”
“We have? Where?”
“In the Gray Creek Park. You were playing a game. Descent into Hades, if I remember right.”
The private’s face relaxed into a smile, and he said, “Ah, you’re a gamer. Sorry if I don’t remember you. I’m not so good with faces.”
Rev was tempted to leave it at that. There was no real reason to go any further. But with the news about his PN, he was in a mood, as his mother used to say.
And there was a reason to go further, something he should have done a lot sooner.
“No, we never played a game together. We met outside the game. You were playing, and I was hanging out with my girl and two friends. We were playing our music too loud, and you came over—”
“That was you? The guy who slugged me?” the private said, his body tensing up.
“Yes, to my shame. That was me. I can blame just being young and stupid, but that isn’t an excuse. I was wrong, and right now, I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
Rev held out a hand, not knowing if the private was going to hit him or take it. The private eyed it warily for a second. “Don’t worry about our rank. If you want payback, I’m OK with that. Go ahead.”
The wariness fled the Marine, to be replaced by a rueful smile as he took Rev’s hand. “You nailed me good. Knocked me on my ass. I never thought you’d get the nerve up.”
“I caught you unawares, or I think you would have killed me. I paid the price, though,” he said, waving a hand around the company offices.
“What do you mean?”
“I got conscripted because of it.”
“You did? But I never reported it—”
“Not the fight. A traffic ticket for leaving the scene of the crime, as it were. What about you? What did you do to get conscripted?”
“I didn’t. I volunteered.”
Of course, you did. And I’m the asshole who cold-cocked you.
“Well, good for you. And, like I said, welcome to the Raiders. You’re probably going to Third Team. Gunny Hsu’s good people. Uh . . . what do they call you? Mordechai?”
“Most people call me Strap, but that was on the outside. I know that doesn’t matter once you’re in—”
Strap was one of the characters in The Horde, a tough, popular figure, and for even suggesting it, other Marines would not only run him ragged but give him something like “Bunny” or “Sugar” for having the temerity to even suggest it.
Rookie mistake, there, Mordechai.
But Rev owed the guy. He wasn’t sure he carried enough weight to pull this one off, but if he acted quickly and got some others to buy off on it, then maybe it would work.
“We’ll see what we can do about that. Here’s the first sergeant’s office. You can report in there. I’ll see you around.”
“Thanks. It may sound odd, but I’m glad to see you again.”
Rev watched him for a moment as he opened the hatch and went inside. He was going to do his best for the guy, pull in some favors. If enough people started calling him Strap, then it would be a done deal.
He turned and started back down the passage. He was still going to get his crew together to let them know what had happened with his PN, and he was still going to pack in more than a few brews, but he was feeling a hell of a lot better about himself now than he was just a few minutes ago.