Theirs Not To Reason Why: A Soldier's Duty (19 page)

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Authors: Jean Johnson

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“General, this recruit was trained thoroughly in the basics of colonyworld survival principles, which are applicable to a number of other relevant, inhabitable M-class planets, sir, and which include movement through inimical surroundings of uncertain terrain features and foliage. This recruit also paid careful attention to our given instructions on how to handle and wield the 40-MA stunner rifle, and was prepared to wield it appropriately, sir. Which this recruit did, sir.”
“Right. Now, explain how you ended up unaffected by the effects of fully charged stunner fire, Recruit Ia,” the general directed, stopping behind her.
“General, as this recruit explained to First Sergeant Tae, this recruit is a second-generation native of the heavyworld Sanctuary. The planet Sanctuary has an iron–gold core, which creates a natural electrosphere as well as a magnetosphere. The constant high presence of static energy in the Sanctuarian atmosphere has begun to confer a certain resistance to electrical discharges in some of its native-born residents. Stunner rifles fire an electrosonic shock pulse . . . most of which was apparently absorbed by this recruit’s natural high tolerance for static energy, sir.”
“Yet that is not what you told the MP when you reported Recruit Kaimong’s actions. You said you must have been shielded by the bodies of the others during his attack,” he pointed out. “Did you lie to a superior officer, Recruit?”
Ah, yes, that.
Ia nodded. “General, no, sir. This recruit was indeed partially protected by a few of her fellow recruits during Recruit Kaimong’s initial stunner attack. However, this recruit felt that explaining the peculiar atmospheric nature of her homeworld to the MPs would have wasted too much time, sir. It was felt that tracking down the identless Recruit Kaimong before the approaching storm obliterated his tracks was more important, sir.”
“Sergeant Tae is right. You
are
too perfect.” Returning to the front of his desk, General Tackett folded his arms across his chest and studied her.
Ia remained standing At Attention in a clean set of brown recruit clothes, her gaze on what portion she could see of the stylized map behind him.
“
Why
are you in the military, Recruit Ia? Feel free to speak frankly and directly.”
Finally meeting his gaze, Ia gave him the part of the truth he could swallow. “I realized a few years ago, sir, that I seem to have an aptitude for the military. I found where I was needed. And rather than sitting on my asteroid, dithering about it—if you’ll pardon my frankness—I decided I would study everything I could about that military, so that I could be a productive, useful, effective member once I joined it. I passed the MAT successfully, met all of the standards set for entry into the Marines, and joined up. Sir.”
“You met the standards well enough, you could have entered an Academy as a commissioned officer, rather than a raw recruit,” Tackett pointed out. “Even without a college degree.”
“With due respect, General, most officers-in-training are expected to enter an Academy with a reasonable amount of real-world experience. I
know
I lack that real-world experience,” Ia stated bluntly. “I also don’t know if I have what it takes to lead. The best place to find out is here, among my fellow enlisted.”
“Do you think we’ll just
hand
you a higher rank and pay grade if you perform exceptionally well in Basic, Recruit?” the general challenged her. “Is that why you pulled that stunt today? So you could ask for an elevation in rank?”
“No, sir. I will not ask for an elevation in rank, nor expect one to be handed to me on a platter,” Ia stated, lifting her chin slightly. “If I gain a rank, it will be because I have
earned
that rank at the instigation of my superiors and the oversight of the Department of Innovations. I do
not
believe in nepotism or any of its corollaries.”
“What do you want, then? A medal?” he asked, flicking one of his hands carelessly before returning it to its place across his chest. “You could ask for one, you know. You did pick up some scratches and bruises on your little jaunt through the bush. Surely that’s worth a Purple Heart at the very least?”
Ia narrowed her eyes. Of all the things he could have asked her, he had to ask her
that
question.
“I will
never
ask for a medal, General.
If
my superiors feel it is appropriate to recognize my efforts and bestow upon me some commendation, that is
their
prerogative. I am
not
in the Space Force to accumulate ranks and medals like they were collectible toys. I am here to serve. To place my body, my weapons, my skills, and if necessary, my life between the citizens of these Terran United Planets and all that may threaten them. General.”
Tackett narrowed his hazel green eyes. “But you
were
injured during your pursuit of Recruit Kaimong. Surely your suffering deserves recognition?”
Ia glanced down at the scrapes on her arms, mostly the scratches which she had gained on her controlled fall through the trees. “Technically, sir, these were gained
before
combat was fully engaged on my part, and were therefore not combat related.”
“You may not have considered
yourself
fully engaged in combat, Recruit Ia, but Recruit Kaimong apparently did. He was already shooting in your direction, placing you squarely in the aegis of combat before you launched your little counteroffensive,” he pointed out.
“If I may again be frank, General, they’re just scratches. To award me a Purple Heart for tiny little scratches when so many other soldiers have literally lost their arms and legs in combat would
insult
that award. These aren’t combat-gained wounds,” she argued. “Don’t cheapen the sacrifices fully trained soldiers have made. With respect, sir.”
“I studied the vids of your descent through the trees. Inventive, effective, and even enviable, given your heavyworlder reflexes,” General Tackett told her, changing the subject. “I could use a hundred recruits like you, easily. Yet, historically, getting
anyone
to join either the Terran or the V’Dan militaries from your particular pocket of independence has been notoriously difficult. Nobody wants to leave your homeworld, unless they suffer irreversibly from gravity sickness, in which case the Space Force can’t use them until their bodies have adapted to life in a lighter gravity . . . which makes them only as good as anyone else in the galaxy. So. Why you? Why here, and why now?”
She carefully did not mention the main reason why so many were reluctant to leave such a difficult world: the excess of gold, which was so rare elsewhere on many worlds, but which was plentiful on her homeworld. “As I told you, sir, I found the place where I am most needed. Everyone else back home feels like they’re needed there. It
is
a new colonyworld, after all. There are too many unknown locations to explore, too many dangerous life-forms to fight and tame, and too many Firstworlder Family lands to stake and claim, to spare anyone else right now, General.”
General Tackett snorted. “ ‘Dangerous life-forms’ on
Sanctuary
? Try the other card trick, Recruit. Parker’s World has far more ‘dangerous life-forms’—more than ten times its fair share for
any
planet.”
“Compared to Parker’s World, that may be true, sir . . . but until you’ve had to face down a rampaging leafer beast, I wouldn’t laugh, either.”
“Leafer beast?” he asked her skeptically. “That doesn’t sound very intimidating.”
“It’s a creature the size of a small hill, General. Average adult size ranges anywhere from fifty meters to five hundred, sir . . . with rumors of leafer beasts that are even bigger. They can lie dormant for months at a time, even years—long enough to acquire a patina of dirt and bushes, just one more hill-shaped lump in the terrain—then awaken and go on a feeding frenzy. They eat the local tree and bush variants like you or I would eat our way through a bowl of salad after a twenty-klick hike, at a speed of about one hundred meters per hour, on average. They do so in a swath ten to thirty meters wide, depending on the size of the beast and the number of its mouths.”
General Tackett wrinkled his nose. “That fast?”
“Yes, sir,” she asserted soberly. “There were some early attempts to tame them, sir, since they literally clear roads through the forests in an easy, swift, and ecologically friendly manner. Unfortunately, the leafers discovered that plexi was just as tasty as the local trees. Most of the buildings on Sanctuary are still prefab plexi units extruded off-world and assembled on site. Anyone who can afford to encase their home or business in stone or brick has scrambled to do so since then. But the leafers sometimes still attack, and they will destroy anything caught in their path. What they don’t eat, they can still crush.”
He considered her words for a few moments, then unfolded his arms. “Right. So you entered the Space Force to serve. And you don’t expect or demand any elevations or commendations, just whatever your superiors believe of their own volition you should be awarded. So. What
do
you expect, Recruit?”
She lifted her chin and focused her gaze once more on the wall. “General, this recruit expects to be trained to the exacting standards of the SF-Marines, sir. Nothing more and nothing less, sir.”
“And your ambitions?” he asked.
“General, this recruit intends to serve to the best of her ability, wherever her ability may take her, sir.”
“. . . Right.” Moving around to the far side of his desk, the Camp commander faced her. “I might wonder if you’re a starry-eyed real-estater, but only time will tell if you truly are. Time, and your own funeral. Kindly do
not
go running off to the rescue if you are not the closest and best-trained personnel for that job while you are here at Camp Nallibong. You may be good even in these early days, but you still have a
very
long way to go. Recruit.”
“General, yes, sir,” she acknowledged.
“You will not discuss anything of what happened regarding the incident involving Recruit Kaimong with your fellow Recruits until given leave to do so by your lawfully designated superiors,” he warned her. “You will not be given leave to do so until after the tribunal has been arranged for Recruit Wong Ta Kaimong, its verdict signed, sealed, and sustained, and his corporal punishments, if any, have been administered. Until such time as he has been brought before the tribunal, he is still entitled to the rights of a presumption of innocence until proven otherwise in a court of law.
“Additionally, you may be called before the tribunal to testify as to what exactly happened. If you are summoned, you will do so with the understanding that perjury—lying while under oath in a court of law, civilian
or
military—is Fatality Number Forty-Three, and that you can and will be subject to prosecution and the potential for corporal discipline yourself, should you make that particular fatal error. Now, return to your Class and continue with your lessons in basic instruction. Do you understand these orders, Recruit?”
“General, yes, sir!” Ia agreed crisply. “This recruit understands her orders, sir!”
“Good. Carry them out, Recruit Ia. Dismissed.”
Saluting him, she held the angle of her hand over her brow until he returned it, then spun on her heel and strode out of his office. Outwardly, Ia kept her face neutral and calm. Inwardly, however, she felt like grinning.
This little episode just gave me a really nice shortcut to my plans—I don’t dare let myself get careless,
she admonished herself, struggling to dampen her humor so that it wouldn’t be noticed by the staff manning the front offices of the administration building.
There’s far too much for me to pay attention to, which gloating might distract me from. But . . . it feels good to know I’m one step closer to my ultimate goals.
One step out of what feels like one million to go, yes, but it’s still one step closer.
 
“Now, the
reason
why the Space Force still uses ground cars as well as various hover vehicles, hexapod walkers, and other forms of conveyance, is that different terrain can and will demand different methods of transportation,” Lieutenant Billingsley lectured them as she paced at the front of the classroom. “Take the colonyworld Proxima Gamma. Some of its more exotic hybrid fruit trees are so sensitive to thruster technology emanations, yet so important to their agriculture, that hovercraft have been banned from use on the planet, particularly in its rural areas. Most people therefore still drive ground cars.

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