“Hey!” MacIlargie shouted as he bounded back to his feet. He swung his fist before he realized who he was swinging at and was horrified when he saw he was about to hit. He twisted violently to avoid hitting Schultz and crashed back to the floor.
Schultz briefly looked down at MacIlargie with a quick you’re-too-dumb-to-live look, then disappeared into the fire team room.
The squad leaders paused above MacIlargie’s sprawled form and looked disdainfully down on him. Sergeant Linsman shook his head and said, “Wolfman, you really
are
too dumb to live,” then led Sergeants Ratliff and Kelly to the room they shared.
MacIlargie looked around at the Marines in the corridor; many of them weren’t very successful at hiding their snickers at his situation.
“What’d I do that’s so damn dumb?” he demanded, then, with as much dignity as he could muster, climbed to his feet and walked to his fire team’s room. Claypoole made a show of ignoring him. Schultz behaved as though nothing was amiss, so much so that MacIlargie felt he may as well not have come into the room.
On their last night before deploying, the Marines of second squad occupied a corner table in the main room at Big Barb’s—and they weren’t alone. Frieda and Gotta were in their usual positions, bookending Corporal Kerr. Corporal Claypoole still didn’t get the significance of the way Jente kept looking at him from where she sat pressed against his side. Kone, a new girl, flirted outrageously with Corporal Chan and giggled at everything he said.
When she finished serving a round of steins of Reindeer Ale, Talulah plopped herself on Sergeant Linsman’s knee and announced, “Somebody else can take the food orders, I’m with the squad’s boss tonight!”
“What do you mean? You’ve got floor duty!” Skoge objected—she simply
wasn’t
going to leave the side of Lance Corporal Zumwald.
“I mean I’m with the boss, so I’m exempt,” Talulah said with a haughty toss of her head.
“Now, now, ladies,” Linsman said before Skoge or any of the others could interrupt. “This is our last night before we deploy. I think the fairest thing might be for you to take turns being waitress for us. After all, none of us wants his girl to be too busy to keep him company tonight.”
Eight of the nine women at the table—it was a very
big
table—gave Talulah dirty looks, but none of them objected.
Ten Marines and nine women, of whom Kerr had two. Only Corporal Doyle and Lance Corporal Schultz were unattended.
“How come you didn’t tell us you were leaving earlier?” Frieda asked. “I thought you were having some kind of big inspection.”
“And you just got back from a deployment!” Jente added.
“We didn’t tell you because we didn’t know ourselves until just a couple of hours ago,” Linsman replied.
“That’s not fair!” Gotta cried.
Kerr almost dislodged her when he shrugged. “Nobody ever said the Marine Corps is fair.”
“Not the way it treats us peons,” PFC Fisher agreed.
“You’re lucky my hands are occupied,” Chan said, “or I’d put you on the deck like Hammer did to Wolfman.” He hefted the stein he held in one hand—the other was wrapped around Kone’s waist. MacIlargie didn’t say anything, but his face turned bright red. “What did that nasty Hammer do to you, Wolfie?” Meisge asked, gently kissing MacIlargie’s scarlet
cheek. “Didn’t do nothing,” MacIlargie croaked with a curt shake of his head. He shot an if-looks-could-kill at
Chan. Fortunately, nobody else wanted to explain why Schultz had whapped MacIlargie upside the head hard enough to send him sprawling; it was something they didn’t want to think about that night. After a bit, Gotta took everybody’s dinner order and got up to take the order slip to the kitchen. She was almost through the kitchen door on her way back when she was nearly trampled by Einna
Orafem, who stormed out behind her. Einna ignored the hoots and catcalls aimed at her, and the questing hands that reached to pat or pinch
her nether regions as she headed for the corner table. Hands tightly clenched, red spots on her cheeks so dark they were almost purple, she stomped to a halt and loomed over Schultz. “You were going to leave on a deployment without saying good-bye, or even telling me?” Her voice
got more shrill with each word. Schultz stared up at her, dumbfounded. Silence fell over the table and the surrounding tables—nobody had ever seen Schultz look so shocked
and lost. “I—I . . .” Schultz had no idea what came after “I.” “That’s all you can say, ‘I’?” The corner of Einna’s eye glistened, then a tear oozed out to slide down
her cheek.
Hesitantly, Schultz raised a hand and, with a gentler touch than any of the watching Marines could have imagined, brushed the tear away. “I didn’t know—I didn’t think . . .” “That’s right, you didn’t think,” she said huskily. He went to lower his hand, but she grasped it and held it against her cheek. “You’re the only one who hasn’t treated me like some floozy, the only one who’s treated me with
respect. Don’t you
dare
go away without saying good-bye.”
She released his hand and started to leave, then turned back and half whispered, “I get off work in two hours. Come to the kitchen then. And don’t be drunk.” Unlike her furious rush from the kitchen, Einna returned in a stately march. A well of utter silence
surrounded her—
nobody
had anticipated what had just happened but
everybody
knew that they risked
the wrath of Hammer Schultz if they said or did anything to Einna Orafem. When the kitchen door closed behind Big Barb’s chef, heads slowly swiveled and all eyes focused on Schultz. But nobody dared say anything for a long, uncomfortable moment.
Finally, Kerr cleared his throat and said softly, “Looks like Hammer’s got himself a girlfriend.” Half the Marines of second squad slowly turned their heads to look at Kerr, aghast at his temerity.
About as many of the girls with them also looked at Kerr. Everybody else kept wary watch on Schultz, and did their best to unobtrusively ease out of his way. But Schultz’s only visible reaction was involuntary—the bronze of his face grew darker.
After another silent moment, Gotta, who had made it back to the table while Einna was confronting Schultz but hadn’t resumed her position next to Kerr, said, “That’s nice for Hammer. But
her
?”
She jumped and scampered to the presumed protection of Kerr’s side when Schultz growled, “Drop it.”
It took a little while for tensions at second squad’s table to ease, but when they did, merriment reigned once more, fueled by plentiful ale and food—with a special dish for Schultz.
At the end of the appointed two hours, Schultz stood without a word and marched to the kitchen. He wasn’t seen again until the next morning, when he was the last man to make formation. He came straight from town and didn’t have time to change into a fresh uniform; nobody had seen him so rumpled in garrison before. His face, as usual, bore no expression, but there was something very satisfied in his attitude.
Nobody asked him any questions about where he’d gone or what had happened after he disappeared into the kitchen.
Captain Conorado sat in his office, the door closed. He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he’d have that evening with his wife. He knew Marta would take the news of another deployment with philosophical resignation. She’d been through enough of them, not enough to be used to her husband going off to war, but enough to be inured to the inevitable separations marriage to an officer of Marines imposed on her.
All Marines must be prepared for instantaneous deployment, gear packed, personal affairs in order, and girlfriends, families, creditors, etc., fully aware that Marines had less notice of a deployment order than firemen that someone’s house was ablaze, and Marines had to react just as quickly.
When a deployment was called, families were notified after the fact by an officer–NCO team, Marines staying behind for nondisciplinary reasons. It was hard duty because often families, especially young spouses and their children, did not take the news lightly; it was hard on the notifiers too, because it meant they had to stay behind while their comrades went off in harm’s way. Deployment notification duty was considered the second worst in the Corps, the worst being casualty notification.
Conorado’s heart sank as he thought that, once again, someone Marta didn’t know would come knocking on her door to tell her she would be alone. After that, she’d be in constant dread of another knock on the door, one with a chaplain on the other side. As he was contemplating that and other morose thoughts, Owen the Woo hopped lightly onto the edge of Conorado’s desk. “You are sad, Skipper,” the creature remarked.
“Oh, Owen, old buddy!” Conorado laughed and held out a finger. Owen sat there, his huge, bulbous eyes staring unblinkingly at Conorado, like some old man staring at him through oversized spectacles. The cilia on the top of the Woo’s head waved back and forth slightly, like the few remaining strands of hair on a bald man’s pate in a gentle breeze. Owen took Conorado’s fingers between his talons and squeezed gently. “Yeah, another deployment,” the captain answered. “We leave in a few minutes. I was just in here making sure I had everything . . .” he gestured at his equipment, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“I thought as much. You’ve gone on too many deployments since I’ve been with you. I suppose this will be another difficult one and I shall stay behind this time?”
“I’m afraid so, old friend. Now don’t you go around telling everybody before we get underway,” Conorado smiled weakly. That Owen could communicate with humans was a secret Conorado had kept well; he’d never forget that scientist on Avionia Station who had wanted to dissect the creature.
“Of course not. I know the regs.” Owen wobbled on the edge of the desk, shimmering a light blue.
“You don’t look too good,” Conorado remarked, concern in his voice, “are we feeding you properly?”
“Yes, Skipper. The soil here agrees with me. The best thing that ever happened to me is when the boys brought me back from Diamunde. But I feel unwell and fear I am growing old.”
Conorado had never considered that Woos might grow old. “I guess we all are,” Conorado sighed.
“I was old when the men found me. Will this deployment last long?”
“Yes, probably.”
“Then I shall not be here when you return, Skipper.”
Conorado glanced sharply at the Woo. He had never noticed before that the creature had a sense of humor, so what did he mean. “Are you being reassigned? Strange, Owen, I haven’t seen any orders from Fleet,” Conorado said lightly, but something began gnawing at the pit of his stomach.
“I shall most likely pass for what you call dead by then, Skipper.”
“Wh—?”
“We Woos do not live long in comparison to the human lifespan, ten to fifteen of your years and as I said, I was old when your men found me. I’m about seventeen of your years now, very old for one of my kind.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“You never asked, and we Woos, unlike you humans, bow to the inevitabilities of our nature. There’s no use complaining because it never does any good. I have lived a long and interesting life and I have been very fortunate and I shall die contented.”
“Well—” Conorado didn’t quite know what to say now. “Do you believe in an afterlife, Owen?”
“No. We go where the energy from the light in this office goes when it’s turned off—dissipated, never to regenerate. I know many of you humans believe something of your ‘spirit’ survives after death, and you’ve invented many philosophical and theological systems to prove those beliefs. I’ve heard your men arguing endlessly about them. We Woos do not feel this subject is worthy of speculation. If it is so, we shall find out, otherwise such contemplations get in the way of living.”
Top Myer knocked on the door. “Ready to mount out, Skipper,” the first sergeant said.
“It’s time, Owen,” Conorado rose and picked up his gear. “Well, good-bye, old friend.” He held out a finger.
The Woo took the finger between his talons. He began to glow, the sign of emotion for Woos, and in a few seconds the office was filled with a bright, golden light. “Good-bye, Skipper, and good luck. If I am here when you get back, good; if not, then I will have reached the limit of my usefulness in this life.”
Conorado turned the lights out and left the door ajar behind him as he left so that Owen could get out if he wanted. Gradually Owen’s light began to fade until it was a very dim blue and then even that disappeared. Owen sat there in the dark for an eternity.
Captain Conorado came out of the barracks, followed by the other officers, along with First Sergeant Myer, and accepted the formation from Gunnery Sergeant Thatcher. He stood there for a moment, looking over his Marines, before briefing them on 34th FIST’s upcoming mission.
“A coalition of worlds, led by the government of Ravenette, has seceded from the Confederation of Human Worlds. The secession began with an attack on the Confederation army base on Ravenette. The rebels overran the base and the remnants of the garrison withdrew to a fortified peninsula where they’ve been trying to hold on. The garrison has been reinforced by the 27th Division, but the armed forces of ten worlds are arrayed against them and they’re having trouble holding on. The Confederation Army is mounting a full field army to go in and deal with the situation, but it takes time to mount a field army, more time than the defenders on Ravenette have.
“That’s where we come in. Thirty-fourth FIST is the ready-to-deploy unit nearest to Ravenette. We have been ordered to deploy immediately and hold the line until the field army arrives.” He paused to let the implications sink in. It didn’t take long; two army divisions, perhaps thirty thousand soldiers, were being overwhelmed and somebody expected a thousand Marines to save their bacon. It sounded like a suicide mission, but Conorado didn’t give his Marines time to dwell on that.
“This isn’t the first time the army has found itself in a dire situation, and Marines have had to go to their rescue. We’ve always succeeded, we’ll succeed again this time. Other FISTs will join us, but we’re going to be the first FIST in.
“I’m not going to stand here and lie to you, we’re in for a fight as tough as the one we had on Diamunde or the one on Kingdom. I can’t tell you anything about the current tactical situation—.” Behind him, Ensign Charlie Bass choked back a snicker; Ravenette was a week away in Beamspace and the most recent intelligence they had was more than two weeks old. “—All I can say is, be prepared for a tough fight as soon as we make planetfall.
“One more thing. The Secessionist Coalition had a cordon around Ravenette. The navy broke through it, so the last we heard, the way was clear. Which doesn’t mean making planetfall will be easy. We won’t know until we get there if the cordon is still broken, or whether the rebel forces have better antishuttle defenses than they did when the 27th Division went in.”
Conorado looked over his company one more time, then said, “That is everything I have to tell you for now. When I dismiss you, return to the barracks and saddle up. We move out as soon as hoppers arrive to transport us to Boynton Field. COMP-ney, dis-MISSED!”
Less than an hour later, Company L dismounted from the FIST’s hoppers at Boynton Field, Camp Ellis’s shuttle field, and boarded Dragons from the Starship Assault, Troop CNSS
Lance Corporal Keith Lopez,
in orbit around Thorsfinni’s World. Mike Company, mounted on 34th FIST’s own Dragons, was already boarding Essays from the starship. The hoppers returned to the barracks area to pick up Kilo Company, which would launch in the second wave, along with the infantry battalion’s headquarters company, the artillery battery, and the composite squadron. FIST headquarters had gone into orbit at dawn.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Corporal Dean said when the petty officer third who herded third platoon’s first squad on a guideline through the Null-G starship to its compartment left them to guide another squad to its compartment. He bent to stow his gear in one of the miniscule lockers in the row below the bunks.
“And why might that be, Dean-o?” Corporal Dornhofer asked.