United we kill, p.22
United We Kill, page 22
part #10 of Sentenced to War Series
He only knew he had to, and he wasn’t sure he could verbalize that.
“Punch, help!”
“Go ahead, Gunny,” the colonel said. “Answer the question.”
“It’s like . . . look, I told you that those were our brothers in arms.”
She looked at him impassively, waiting for more.
“That’s not just some saying. We fought with them, and that forges bonds that you civilians just can’t understand.”
He half-expected her to argue, but she remained silent.
“It don’t matter none that we’re not the same race. Hell, sometimes I think the ents and us are closer than the Union and the Children of Angels or even the Mad Dogs. But it’s not our skin or our shape that makes us brothers. It’s what we do.
“And if there’s one thing I know, ma’am, it’s that if we wanna beat the noxes, we’re gonna haf’ to work together.”
Rev knew he was getting excited, and Standard was sliding, which wasn’t going to impress this woman who undoubtedly had more degrees under her belt than Yancey had ex-girlfriends. He took a deep breath and tried to clean up his grammar.
“We need to be able to work as a team, ma’am. Not humans and ents and lemmings. Not even clickers. We have to be one family, with the single goal to turn back the nox threat. And I thought . . . the reason I told the lieutenant to agree was that we had to show that as humans, we supported our allies. We weren’t going to let them hang in the breeze.”
He'd never really thought about why he’d agreed to the rescue other than it “was the right thing to do.” But as soon as he said it, he realized that’s what it was.
“You were supporting our allies by disobeying direct orders?”
“It’s more important to let the soldiers in the trenches know we’re on the same team instead of the fat government hacks who wouldn’t know honor if it bit them on the ass. It’s the soldiers who’re going to win or lose this war.”
As soon as he said that, he realized what he’d said to a “government hack,” he looked at her in horror.
The slightest of smiles cracked the corner of her mouth.
She turned to the colonel and said, “I think we can use this.”
“Ma’am?” Rev asked.
“Thank you, Gunny. This has been worthwhile.”
They crossed a slight rise, and their vehicle came into view.
“Do you have any other comments or questions for me?”
Rev really just wanted this little evolution to be over, but he couldn’t let it go.
“Are me and . . . are Lieutenant Marble and I in trouble?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
A wave of relief swept over him. But there was something bigger than that.
“And the platoon? Are we getting sent back to Safe Harbor? Or . . . Titan?”
“Oh, by the Mother, no!” she said.
The colonel gave her a pointed look, and she said, “Well, there was a call for that. Our Mad Dog friends demanded it, in fact. To Titan, not Safe Harbor.”
“Ma’am?”
“Don’t worry. That wasn’t going to happen even if the entire platoon had turned out to be craven cowards. Fat government hacks have to be concerned with politics, you know.”
Rev felt his face turn red.
“But you’ve given me a few thoughts on how we’re going to play this out.”
She seemed pretty pleased with herself. Rev had the feeling that he didn’t change anything that had already been decided, but with their due diligence in making sure they knew all the facts, he hadn’t given them a reason to change course. And if he’d given her an argument she could use, then all the better.
They reached the edge of the parking pad where their ride sat, and Rev stopped dead. Colonel Pratt and the woman stopped and turned to him.
“Is there something else, Gunny?” she asked, almost in a monotone.
Rev knew she had gotten what she wanted out of him. She was done. She only asked if he had anything else out of politeness.
How do I put this?
He looked up in the sky as he tried to figure out how to approach the question. A singer was floating overhead, its song barely registering. As with the other singers’ songs, it was pleasant, but with a hint of something else in there.
I’m not going to get an answer from that. Just say it, Reverent.
He looked back down and faced the woman. “Yes, ma’am. Their Colonel Gaffenuo. They’re gonna execute him.”
Her eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.
“Is there anything we can do about that? You know, like register a complaint or something?”
She pursed her lips together, and Rev knew he didn’t want to hear some BS answer.
“He didn’t do anything wrong. Wouldn’t it show unity, like we’re all in this together?” Rev asked, knowing he was pushing it.
“That’s a matter for the Breel.”
“But—”
“Thank you, Gunny,” Colonel Pratt said. “You’ve been very helpful. Now, go ahead and get on the sausage, son.”
Rev wanted to argue. He’d just given this ooh-rah speech, almost, about brotherhood and fighting for each other, no matter their race. But he wilted.
He mumbled a quiet, “Aye-aye,” and joined the rest as they loaded.
Captain Omenuko caught his eye and signaled “meeting.” Rev nodded and headed to the back of the bus. He knew he had a lot to brief his company commander, but he didn’t want to do that now.
Major Ma moved to the back and approached him, and for a moment, he thought that he was going to sit by him. He’d seemed surprised about the Naxli having allies and was undoubtedly full of questions.
But he said, “Thank you for your frankness. That’s what we wanted. For tomorrow, though, I’ll be sending over a set of bullet points. That’s what we want for the official debrief.”
You’re telling me what you want me to say?
His warrior self stirred, but it was half-hearted, and Rev didn’t even have to try to force him back down.
“Understand, sir. I’ll stick to the script.”
The major smiled, thanked him, then retreated back to the front of the bus.
Rev sighed and settled in for the ride.
“I could have fought.”
Rev knew his battle buddy was right. But why, then, did he feel so shitty about it?
He looked up to the front where Colonel Pratt and the woman were taking their seats together.
Hell, she wouldn’t have the power to decide to interfere with another government’s internal affairs. She might be a bigwig here out in Uauii space, but she was nowhere near the real decision-makers in the Union.
The truck/bus rose in its skirts and started to move out. The colonel said something to the woman, and she nodded in agreement.
I never even got her name.
23
“Jericho, sir. That’s who we want.”
“You’re sure?” the lieutenant asked. “Not Knovrann?”
“As a second choice. But we want Jericho. She’s got a lot of campaigns under her belt.”
“So does Knovrann. But OK. I’ll probably have to fight for Jericho, though. Kongi’s said he’s leaning toward Jericho, too.”
The replacement platoon was almost done with their initial orientation and training, and now the scramble for the “regular” troopers was beginning. The IBHUs needed more time given their lack of experience, but there were a lot of combat veterans in the junior ranks, up to sergeant, who were ready to be slotted in, and the captain said the S-1 was willing to accept requests.
That must be an FC practice. It certainly wasn’t Marine SOP. But Staff Lieutenant Bankole, the battalion’s S-1, was from the Freedom Confederation, the only FC officer on the staff. It wasn’t so long ago that the FC were allied with the MDS in the war against the rest of humanity, and the staff lieutenant was probably enjoying screwing with the Union Marine process, knowing that the platoon commanders and sergeants weren’t going to complain if they had input.
“What do you mean?”
“Then let Fourth have him.”
Rev realized what that sounded like. Bob was now the reformed Fourth Platoon sergeant, so it sounded like Rev was just saying that because he was a Frisian, too.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
Damn it, he’s right.
Knovrann was a better prize, on paper, at least. But Rev wanted Jericho because she was a Marine. And for all Rev’s discussions with others after his little debrief with Colonel Pratt and the civilian woman where he was pushing for unity, to include the Centaurs, here he was making a decision based on tribal preferences.
His door opened, and Rev turned to tell the lieutenant that he’d changed his mind, but Tomiko came in instead, marched to Rev’s chair, then sat and put her feet up on his makeshift desk.
“Hello to you, too, Miko.”
“Life sucks.”
“OK. That surprises you?”
She didn’t respond. Rev couldn’t tell if she was angry or frustrated. Maybe it was a little of both.
“Replacements?” Rev asked.
“Not all. The IBHUs.”
Rev frowned, turning away to make sure she didn’t see him. Tomiko had a hair up her butt about IBHUs. He knew she wanted to be one, but she also was prone to uttering digs about them. Never about Rev specifically, but about the program and effectiveness.
“What now?” he asked, knowing she was here for a reason, and he was going to hear about it one way or the other.
He’d rather pull that Band Aid off now and get it over with.
“They’re not ready. Only Manning has a clue. The rest are useless.”
“Kelly was a Ninety-nine,” he said, reminding Tomiko that her best friend had come from the dregs of the military, the lowest of the low who were essentially slaves, doing the grunt work required to keep the wheels greased. “She’s turned out to be a pretty outstanding Marine.”
“At least she was in uniform,” Tomiko said with a scowl.
Rev scrunched up his face when he heard that. What was she talking about?
“Uh . . . the rest of them are all corporals. I saw the list.”
“You know damn well that . . .” she started before giving Rev a long stare. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
Rev loved Tomiko, but she could be the most frustrating woman he’d ever met.
“The IBHUs. The IBHU corporals.”
“What about them?”
“They weren’t Marines.”
“Miko, speak rationally. I don’t know what the heck you’re saying.”
“They . . . weren’t . . . Marines.”
Rev wanted to tap the translator in his ear. This was worse than when he was first with the Breel. The words were standard, but she wasn’t making any sense.
“They just magically appeared as corporals. IBHU Marines.”
“Pretty much so. Look, Rev, I know you’ve been out of the loop, but this isn’t any big secret. The Marines are kinda running out of potential IBHUs. So, they’re recruiting. You lost an arm? No problem! Join the Corps, and we’ll make you a corporal and give you a killer arm. Be a hero and hold back the nox threat.”
Rev just stared at her. This was . . . unbelievable.
“They’re making recruits corporals if they enlist to become an IBHU?”
“It gets worse. Because we need you IBHUs here, they’re cutting boot camp. The official explanation is that they’re spending six months learning their IBHUs. They get five days—FIVE days—of recruit “orientation” before they’re shipped out.”
This was a lot for Rev to take in. It didn’t make sense. You can’t just make some raw recruit a corporal.
“And except for Manning, none of them ever served?”
“Well, Tyson was a sailor. But the rest, no.”
“And they weren’t just brought back after getting out?”
“That was Ophelino. Did six years, was out since the end of the Centaur War.”
“The sergeant in Delta Company? He was recalled?”
She nodded. Rev had met the man for only a few moments back at Safe Harbor, and he’d just thought he was a little older looking for a sergeant.
“Why would they send five newbies here?”
“Like I said, Rev, they’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel. The numbers just aren’t there. And we’re not like the karnans. They can’t just give Marines orders, then make them into hyper-augments.”
“Still, raw Marines? Corporals, at that? I mean, when we left to join the ents, there were a dozen IBHUs being pulled from other units to come here.”
“Who were on the Ganges,” she said quietly. “Respect for the fallen.”
Oh, shit.
“Punch, I need you to pull the current status of the IBHU program.”
Punch had access to most of the information available through normal channels. But that didn’t mean he was scanning every byte of data on a continual basis. Unless something was on the main newscasts or Marine orders, he had to direct his search to obtain information.
“Kelly’s been pulling out her hair,” Tomiko said. “It’s too much. And Captain Omenuko’s been on her ass to get our IBHUs functioning so the Second Platoon is back in service.”
Right then, he realized the reason for Tomiko’s visit. It wasn’t just to blow off steam.
He immediately went into platoon protection mode. There wasn’t a platoon sergeant in history who wanted to give up assets, even if only temporarily. But sometimes, it just had to be done.
“If you want, I can come over and talk to them. See where they’re at. Then, after that, I can talk to the lieutenant to see what we can do. Maybe send Randigold—”
“Eth Randigold? Really, Rev? We’re trying to make them into Marines, not whatever Randigold is.”
“Eth is one of the best.”
“Best brawler? Sure. But we’re trying to make these five into Marines.”
Beggars can’t be choosers, Miko.
But he could see her point. “OK, Weld was a DI. Maybe he can help with the military stuff. And then Tum or BM can spend time with them.”
Tomiko got out of his chair and came over to give him a hug. “You’re the best, Rev.”
“Took you long enough to figure that out. Hey, as long as I have you here, Knovrann or Jericho. You know them best.”
“Knovrann, if you have the choice. No question.”
Oh, great.
She pulled his head down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before she turned to leave. “About that meeting. Twenty-hundred tonight right here. I’ll have them ready. Don’t be late.”
Tonight? I said I’ll try to help, but I didn’t say tonight.
Rev stared after her for a long moment, trying to figure out if he’d just been played.
Rev’s cube was crowded with the six new IBHUs, Tsao, Weld, and him. This should be taking place in an actual classroom, not in his quarters. But there really weren’t too many obvious places in their assigned area. That was one of their problems in not having a designated military base in the human or Breel understanding of one. And it wasn’t as if they could commandeer the CP or the dining area.
Rev had briefed the lieutenant on what he was doing, and the lieutenant had briefed the captain. It was the captain who decided that while the extra training had merit, he didn’t want it to be broadcast to the battalion at large. Rev knew that he feared being blamed that the new joins weren’t ready, but to him, the fact that the captain had approved the plan meant he’d identified a weakness and was taking action to rectify it.
Not that you even knew about this until Marble briefed you.
That was another one of the issues. Second Platoon still didn’t have a platoon commander or a permanent platoon sergeant. The Charlie Company master sergeant and Tomiko were doing the best they could, but not being combat ready, Tomiko had been working mostly with Master Sergeant Olyn, the training SNCO, and had been somewhat ignored by the company command.
As Tsao gave the new IBHUs a brief of what they were going to be covering over the next few weeks, Rev, standing behind them, studied the students—he had a hard time calling them Marines given that they hadn’t graduated from boot camp.
Sergeant Manning wasn’t hard to pick out. Like most Marines who’d lost limbs, she had the shiny metallic prostheses favored by grunts. It wasn’t just her arm. Half of her face was covered in a Phantom of the Opera mask.
Manning had been a Combat Support Marine, a communications tech, when her base had been hit in one of the final battles with the MDS. It had taken her some time to feel ready for an IBHU.
Corporal Ziegler had been aboard the PUNS Ptarmigan when it had been hit during the war with the MDS. She had suffered severe burns and had died in the vacuum. She’d been resurrected without too much effort but had suffered—reasonably so—from PTSD. She was no longer qualified for duty in the Navy, but given her qualification—missing two arms—strings had been pulled and waivers granted. She entered the Corps and became an IBHU.
Rev was concerned about Ziegler’s PTSD. And something in him balked big time that Ziegler was not qualified for sailor duty, but she was as an IBHU Marine? What happened to the IBHUs being the best of the best? But as much as he was worried about Ziegler, he was more concerned about the other four. They were willing enough, but they had no frame of reference to know what it meant to be a Marine.
Calcione had lost an arm to an aggressive form of cancer, which made Rev wonder if he was more susceptible to the rot. The other three had lost arms due to accidents. While all of them knew how to operate their IBHUs, that was a far cry from being proficient with them.
