Indomitable (15 page)

It never hurts to make sure.
She swiped her minicomp's flatscreen and hit
TRANSMIT
again. Took a tentative step forward, and then another, until she was standing beside it, looking up.

It towered over her, covered from head to toe in gray reflective alloy. Scale-like panels covered its arms and legs. They could blunt heavy energy-weapons fire and deflect high-yield penetrators. The head roughly resembled that of a human. Instead of eyes there was a seamless visor. Embedded in each forearm were twin pulse cannons, business ends just visible above and behind the wrists.

Kathy walked up to the sentinel and knocked on its chest. “It appears off, ma'am.” Satisfied it wasn't going to shoot her, Kathy approached the lift and stopped abruptly when her minicomp chirped. “I believe we've come to the end of the line, ma'am. The I-dent port on the wall just challenged me. Did Great-Grans give you a code for that?”

“No.”

“Then I guess it's time to earn our keep.”

Down a side corridor, something metallic crashed to the deck and someone hollered out in pain. Kathy, Promise, and the other Marines instantly hugged the walls, and crouched in defensive-fire positions. They heard a male curse a blue streak. He promised to kill someone named George because George had apparently left his tools in the middle of a passageway, particularly where it was poorly lit. A female voice started laughing. “Buck up,” she said. “It's just a little bruise and you've got plenty of padding. You're a
big
boy. You can take it.”

Promise thought she detected a third set of footfalls too. “Remember, point but don't shoot,” Promise subvocalized over her mastoid implant. “If we score now we give away our presence.”

The voices rounded an intersection. “You've never missed a meal,” said the female, “and you need to watch where you're going.”

“I don't intend to miss breakfast either,” said a deep male voice. “Let's get this over with.”

“You two fight like lovers,” said the third.

“Eew!” replied the woman.

“What? I'd make a great catch,” said the older-sounding male.

“There's
so
much of you to enjoy,” said the female.

“Shut up, you bi—”

“You
what?
”

“Blowhard.”

“Afraid to say it? You're nothing but a fat pig
and
a coward.”

“All right, you two,” said the younger-sounding male. “This won't take long if you don't make it take more time than it should. Cut the chatter and fix Five and Six so we can go eat, okay? It's probably a glitch in their programming that a simple reboot will fix. The lieutenant said to handle it and
then
hit the chow hall. Okay?”

“Not utility carts,” said the female.

“George should have put his gear away,” said the older man. “I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. Oh, that's right. He ran upstairs to get breakfast. I bet he's hovering over a hot plate now. And I'm not, no thanks to the lieutenant.”

“Your lieutenant has a lot to learn about working with civilians,” replied the female. “I like a full stomach before the day starts. My contract stipulates three squares a day. Three
squares.
Starting with a hot breakfast. Technically, my shift hasn't even started yet. I need a cup of hot caf before I get a raging migraine.”

“We'll break your fast just as soon as the ANDES are back in the net, okay?”

“Very funny, Corporal.
Roger
that.”

The trio stepped into view. They were turned away from Promise and her Marines. One was dressed in tan Marine utilities and jackboots and wore the rank of corporal. The other two were dressed in civvie coveralls. Promise couldn't read the corporal's last name from her position, but she could see two gold half Vs on his shoulder set against khaki flash. The corporal held his minicomp to the I-dent port and turned to the side, motioning the others to enter first as the lift doors opened. That's when he caught sight of the business end of a Marine Corps standard-issue sidearm leveled at him. His eyes went wide as his hand jerked to his holster. Staff Sergeant Go-Mi rushed the lift, weapon trained on the corporal. “Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” But the corporal was faster. He pivoted to the side and struck Go-Mi's wrist, knocking her pulse pistol from her hand. As the corporal drew, Go-Mi rushed him and the two grappled for control of the weapon. A second later it discharged.

Promise pushed between the corporal and Go-Mi as the other Marines took up flanking positions on either side of her, weapons trained on the corporal. “Enough! Corporal, stand down,” Promise ordered. “We have you outgunned.”

“Fan-frogging-tastic. I'm dead,” the corporal said as he looked down at the games tag on his chest, which was blinking red. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, you'd better explain yourself before I comm this in.”

 

Eighteen

APRIL 24
TH
, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 0617 HOURS

REPUBLIC OF ALIGNED WORLDS PLANETARY CAPITAL—HOLD

PUGILIST SEA, CORREGIDOR ISLAND WARFARE TRAINING CENTER

“Welcome to the afterlife,
Corporal,” Promise said dryly. She offered him her hand.

He stood his ground and raised his chin in defiance.

Promise dipped her head. “Fair enough.” Then to both civilians: “Please stay calm. I swear not to kill you.” She gave the woman and a heavyset man a thin smile before returning her attention to the simulated casualty. The corporal's name tab said
FENWAY
. “I'm Lieutenant Paen, commander of Victor Company.” Promise ignored etiquette and stuck out her hand. After all, as far as today's game was concerned, the corporal was technically dead and the Marine Corps bible said nothing about saluting corpses. “I'm sorry to drop you this way. Unfortunately, it was necessary. If you're a willing soul, your death can service a higher call.”

The corporal formed her last name silently, and then his eyes narrowed in thought.

“Pythons don't bite, Corporal.”

Recognition hit the corporal's eyes and he came to attention.

“Lieutenant Paen, it's an honor to meet you, ma'am.” Corporal Fenway's arm rocked upward, his eyes focused in the distance at a regulation three centimeters off her right ear. “You did the Corps proud on Montana, ma'am. It's about time we stood up to the Lusies.”

“Thank you, Corporal. As you were, um, before I shot you.”

The corporal's brows knitted together. “How did you get in here? We beat you. I watched your Marines splash down on the scanners. No disrespect meant, ma'am.”

“None taken, Corporal. The Marines before you are what's left of my company. I should be saying ‘well done' to you and the island's defenders. As you can see, there's still a remnant of Victor Company, and we have an op to complete. I intend to take this mountain and push the little red button.” Promise cocked her head in thought. “Care to be in on it?”

The gunny stepped to the front and cleared his throat. “Tell you what, Corporal. You let us pass and I'll explain it to you over a round of beer. On me. Name the drink. Do we have a deal?”

“I'm sorry, uh…” With the gunny's rank insignia and name tab blacked out Fenway was at a loss.

“That's Gunnery Sergeant Ramuel,” Promise offered. “We had to take precautions.”

Fenway stuck out his hand. “Gunny, even if I wanted to, you know I can't officially help you, or the lieutenant.”

The corporal's eyes fell out of focus, a telltale sign that he was being commed. “Too late, ma'am. That's the lieutenant wanting to know why I got shot.” The corporal looked down at his weapon, which was now locked down and useless, and shook his head in disgust. “I'll be on KP duty for a month.”

“Then you'd better take that comm and change his mind, Marine,” Promise said.

“Aye, aye, ma'am.” The corporal actually came to attention again and took a deep breath before looking away. “Lieutenant, this is Corporal Fenway, go ahead, sir.”

Corporal Fenway winced, seemed to shrink into himself. After an agonizing minute, Promise made a knifing gesture across her throat.

“One moment, sir.”

“All right, ma'am. I've just put Lieutenant Cahill on hold.” Fenway's expression made it obvious he didn't think much of Cahill. “I'm going to pull a crap assignment after this is over. Something tells me you're going to make it worth my while. Aren't you, ma'am? That bit about my death serving a greater purpose, right?”

“Don't worry, Corporal. When this is over, I'll tell Lieutenant Cahill I held a pulser to your head and made you do it.” Promise drew her sidearm and waved it in the air. “See.”

Promise had been an NCO before the field commission was thrust upon her, and her company lieutenant had been a wise man with an ear attuned to his noncoms. When he spoke, she'd listened. It had worked both ways. Respect was the foundation of the Corps and it flowed like time in both directions. Wise officers—especially inexperienced lieutenants—knew they knew next to nothing about the RAW-MC. The Corps had its share of puffed-up officers who thought they knew it all, and made sure everyone else knew it too. If Promise had to guess, Cahill was one of those.

“Lance Corporal,” Promise said to Kathy, “please relieve the corporal of his weapon and minicomp. Corporal Fenway is now our prisoner. Zip-tie his hands and feet until the end of the exercise. Sorry, Corporal, now you have absolutely no choice in the matter.”

Fenway gushed relief and thrust out his hands. “Thank you, ma'am. I'm grateful.”

“Now, Corporal, we need to take the lieutenant off comm-hold. Wait one.” Promise looked over at the female civilian who'd been standing in the corner with her arms crossed, taking it all in. “Would you kindly remove your laser cutter from your belt, set it to its lowest setting, and shoot the corporal?”

“You want me to what?”

“Shoot the corporal,” Promise said. “Just do it and I'll explain after, okay?”

“The corporal did keep me from my breakfast. Fenway, hold still.” She hit the button. “There. Happy?”

“Thank you,” Promise said. “Just humor me for a moment.” Then she turned to Fenway. “Corporal, here is what you are going to say, ‘sir's all the way.” The corporal's smile spread over his face as Promise told him. “Understood?”

“Yes, ma'am!”

“Good Marine. Take the lieutenant off hold … now.”

The corporal immediately winced again. “Sir … yes, sir. Sorry, sir! If you'll allow me to explain, sir? No, sir, I am not trying to rain piss on the lieutenant's otherwise pleasant morning or ruin his fresh-brewed caf, sir. No, sir, I did not just off myself with my own pulser, sir. Sir, if I may … I can explain, sir. Sir, the civvies you assigned me are upset about missing breakfast. My tag recorded two direct hits, sir. I was shot with a laser cutter, sir. That's pretty creative if you ask me. No, sir … you didn't ask me, sir. Yes, sir … I'd say she's quite mad, sir.” The corporal smiled and relaxed his shoulders. “Yes, sir. I will make a full report of the incident. No, sir, I don't intend to press charges, sir. I'm sure I can patch things up with her on my end, sir. Yes, sir, I will remind her of that, sir. Roger that, sir. We are headed to fix the ANDES at the lieutenant's leave. Yes, sir, we will get them back in the net. Thank you, sir. And thank you for your understanding, sir. Corporal Fenway, out.” The corporal wiped his brow with his shackled hands and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath.

“Well done, Corporal,” Promise said, slapping Fenway on the shoulder.

“Ma'am, I just lied to a superior officer.”

“Did she or didn't she just shoot you?” Promise reminded Fenway. “Now shut your trap so you can't incriminate yourself.” She turned to the civvies and gave them a once-over.

“You're not tying me up.” The female holding the handheld laser cutter was still pointing it at Fenway. “Corporal, just what is going on here? You just incriminated me. Thanks a lot. You too, Lieutenant. Who are you anyway?”

“Sarah, this is Lieutenant Paen,” said Corporal Fenway matter-of-factly.

“So what? Her name means nothing to me. Should it?”

The corporal pursed his lips. “How many Marine Corps lieutenants do you know named Promise Paen?”

“Corporal, I said shut it,” Promise said with a smile. “I appreciate your courtesy, but I will take things from here.”

“Sorry, ma'am,” said Fenway.

“No need to apologize. Now, for you two.”

Recognition dawned upon the woman's face. “You're the lieutenant from that planet. What's it called again? Something with an M—Montezuma, Mariana…”

“Montana,” Promise volunteered.

“That's the one. You're the savior of Montana.”

Promise's face hardened, and she heard the gunny clear his throat. Kathy's weight shifted toward the woman. Promise put a hand on Kathy's shoulder and shook her head,
no
. They all hated the word “savior” because they'd lost so many on Montana, and the loss was always with them.

The corporal seemed to notice the tension in the room. The female civvie plodded along, oblivious to the hot button she'd pushed. “Well, now. That changes things. I'm Sarah Krantz, android maintenance tech for the Wynn Claxon Corp., subcontractor for the RAW-MC. I work on the ANDES.” She extended her hand. “You disabled my mechs, didn't you?”

“Sorry about that, Ms. Krantz. Please make repairs out of the lieutenant's budget.” Promise grasped the woman's hand and smiled. “How about that breakfast?”

“Finally, a little courtesy from the RAW-MC.” Sarah spread her arms wide and gave the corporal a stern look. “See, that's how it's done.” Then to Promise: “Thank you, ma'am. Please call me Sarah. You Marine types sure take your games seriously, and your titles too.”