First Casualty (19 page)

The chief glanced at his wrist. “ 'Bout time. Can't keep the elephants waiting.”

“Elephants?” Cassie echoed.

“Big earth animal. Huge. 'Bout the size of some officers' egos. Let's get moving, crew.” He led the way.

Mary followed, pushing the LT. The rest came up the rear; they made quite a parade. And they weren't ignored. It seemed every patient, doctor, and nurse was in the hall to see them on their way.

And they were all saluting.

Mary was trying to figure out how to push the chair one-handed when the chief saved her. “We're working, Sarge. Let the lieutenant salute for all of us.”

* * * *

Sandy and Guns took over a mess deck for their teams and pored over the gun data for the last seconds before the jump. When they reported to Mattim, Sandy was not happy; they had no idea what had gone wrong. “Was it the spin?” Sandy asked the overhead. “That missile near miss added lateral movement at the last moment. Nobody's taken a type A jump point at our velocity, and we were still accelerating.” She threw up her hands. “There's so many things. What did it?”

“There was also a wobble on the ship from the damage we'd taken,” Guns added. “So many factors to sort through.”

“And any one or all of them may be why we're here,” Mattim summed up. “Without the right combination, we don't get back.”

“Yes, sir.” Guns nodded.

Mattim leaned back into his chair as Guns did the same.

Sandy was up and pacing. “Which ones? Which ones? We'll have to isolate each one and test them one at a time.”

“Does anybody know how many ships have been lost in these damn holes?” Mattim asked.

“Three hundred and forty-seven,” Guns answered right back.

'Three hundred and forty-seven?” Mattim echoed.

“One of our middies researched that,” Guns said with a chuckle. “She has her paper on her own pet computer, complete with all her research notes. We've got the full benefit on the subject of every file on Pitt's Hope. She got an A on the paper,” Guns added with a raised eyebrow.

In the next month, she'd get her real grade,
Mattim thought. “Is there any thread running through the losses?”

'She didn't find any then. At the moment, she's reviewing her data with a lot more personal interest.”

“Did any of the ships have sensors like ours?” Sandy Stopped dead in her pacing to shoot the question.

“There haven't been any losses in fifty years, so we're several generations of equipment up. Also, none were bugging out of a shoot with all gun sensors on. I think we've got leg up. If we can just find the right leg in all the data.”

“Are there any observations of a ship just before its loss?” Mattim asked.

'Only that first one from Earth that didn't make it back,”

Sandy mused. “Nobody saw anything wrong with the
Santa Maria
.
Challenger
and
Morning Star
made it through the jump, but she just wasn't there.” She shivered. “The
Maria
had problems with one of her directional jets. That's why they always told us to keep a ship perfectly steady into a ump.”

“If we'd held the ship steady, we'd have been blown halfway across the galaxy.” Guns left no room for doubt.

“Yes. Tough choice,” Mattim agreed.

“We'll have to make some test jumps, but we'll find our way home.” Guns sounded like a grandfather assuring a child.

“Yes, yes.” Sandy was back to pacing. “Assuming there is a reason and it's not that they've been good little jump points for fifty years and decided it was time to swallow a ship.”

“Sandy!” Mattim snorted.

She whirled on him. “Well, it's not like we know what makes the damn things tick. They're just there. We ride them like rivers. We can't make them; we use them, like electricity, but try to get some genius to explain that one.” She wound down like a robot on exhausted batteries. Mattim went to her, held her; to hell with Navy regs. He'd seen her exhausted and spun up, tasked by a problem she didn't think she could beat. She always did. She just needed a hug. Guns looked away.

“Sandy,” he whispered to her, “maybe you're right and the jump point demon was overdue for a sacrifice and we got tagged. But you and I both know that there're a hell of a lot of good, scientific reasons for this to happen. Let's look them over. See what we see. I bet you the kids are having a ball.”

She chuckled through a sniff. “Bloody children don't even know it's impossible.”

“Which is probably why they'll do it, and be shocked as hell to discover it was impossible afterwards. Come on, Sandy . You love puzzles. You've got some fun people to chew at it with you. This ship's good for ninety days or more. We've got plenty of time. Let's go have fun.”

She sniffled. Guns handed her a box of tissues. “Sorry, Matt, Commander,” she said, blowing her nose. “I didn't mean to get all blubbery on you. I didn't sleep well.”

“No problem.” Guns tossed off the apology. “And you might as well call me Howie. While I may insist Navy regs stretch halfway across the galaxy, I'm not so sure about Navy etiquette. Most of those kids are on a first-name basis, and I doubt I can keep them terrified once they've lectured me a few times about what was 'obvious' to them and I was totally blind to.”

Mattim walked them to the door. “Guns, when I came aboard, I wasn't too sure about how the Navy part of the crew would take me. You're a good man.”

“Won't say I didn't have my own doubts, but right now I can't think of anyone I'd rather follow thirty thousand light-years from home with only three months worth of food. You're good, Captain.”

“Matt, if you want.”

“Captain.”

Mattim watched them go. He'd taken care of his two most critical team players, given them the assurance they needed. But who'd take care of him? Mattim returned to his desk and the proposals Ding had passed along.

* * * *

Mary squared her shoulders. A clock struck two bells as the chief pushed opened the door and led them into the vast space of the command center. Across the low-ceilinged room, computer terminals glowed; people were everywhere, khakied officers and enlisted in whites. They went about their duties, but Mary doubted any missed the little procession.

The company commander stood in the middle of the room, beside the battalion CO. Mary hadn't seen him very often, but the major's bantam rooster stance was unmistakable. The chief led them toward the two marine officers, settled the lieutenant to the major's right and the others to the captain's left.

The captain glowered. “Where's your dress blues?”

“We were never issued any,” Mary whispered.

The captain stalled to say something, but the chief's booming voice interrupted him. “Attention on deck. Captain's mast, meritorious, Captain Anderson commanding.”

Mary couldn't see anybody commanding, but she dared not move her head. Still, her eyes roved the center ... and spotted movement. A tall, balding man in Navy whites wound his way through all the work stations. There were three—no four—stripes on his shoulder boards. So this was the brigade's commander. Beside him was a much shorter but strikingly beautiful woman. There were three stripes on her shoulder boards. As they approached, the chief called, “Hand salute.”

The captain returned it. Beside Mary, Cassie breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. Then the woman commander looked Mary over, frowned, and turned away.

“You've done it now. Pissed off Commander Umboto,” the company commander whispered out of the side of his mouth.

What have we done
? Mary wanted to ask, but knew better. The Man made the rules and The Man applied them. She'd find out sooner or later.

“Second Lieutenant David S. Donovan front and center,” the brigade commander ordered. This time the chief wheeled the lieutenant up to the Navy officer. Umboto read a commendation that started with him taking charge of raw recruits ... that must be Mary and company ... training them and instilling in them the finest traditions of the corps, and ended with him defending their pass against overwhelming odds.

Mary breathed a slow sigh. That was the way it always was. You did the work and The Man patted himself on the back and took the bonus. Did she really expect this bunch to be different?

They finished up by promoting him, taking the gold bars off his collar and replacing them with silver ones. Mary shook her head. She knew these people put silver ahead of gold, but after twenty years of mining, Mary would never understand why. They were crazy.

As the chief wheeled the LT back, she was glad they'd let them come see him get his medal. From the look on his face, there was no question it meant a lot to him. He might be part of a crazy system, but there was no reason to hold that against him.

“Staff Sergeant Mary Rodrigo front and center.”

Mary glanced around for this other Mary Rodrigo. She knew she was supposed to be at attention, but she couldn't help it.

Cassie nudged her. “They mean you, hon.”

“Move,” the company commander growled under his breath, “and act like a marine for a change.” That last slap made Mary mad.

She could dance their little dance with the best of them. Cutting every corner, she marched to the Navy captain. “Reporting as ordered, sir,” she snapped.

“Very good,” the old captain whispered through a smile.

“In the finest tradition of the corps,” the commander began, then cut to the battle. “At great personal risk, Staff Sergeant Rodrigo did establish herself in an exposed observation post.. .” Mary had a hard time believing what Commander Umboto was saying. She'd just done what she had to do to save her friends' lives. She'd do it again if she had to; it was nothing.

Umboto finished; the chief opened a blue box. The captain withdrew a beribboned medal. And smiled. There was no way he could pin it to battle armor. Beside him, Umboto cleared her throat, reached in her pocket, and pulled out a roll of tape. “When I saw we had some real marines with us today, I thought you might want to improvise, captain.” She grinned.

So they taped the medal, a gleaming Silver Star, on the chest of Mary's armor. While they improvised, Mary struggled with herself. Her eyes had gone moist, and she was blinking a lot. Her medal wasn't as fancy as the lieutenant's, but the brigade CO was handing it out, and Commander Umboto thought enough to hunt up tape so the moment wouldn't be spoiled. She wanted to spin around and give the company commander the finger, but that didn't seem quite right at the moment.

They finished; the medal was at a crazy angle. Mary was at a loss as to what to do next. She glanced at the chief for help, but he was handing the brigade CO a new set of papers. The captain cleared his throat. “Staff Sergeant Rodrigo, I am authorized to offer you a Second Lieutenant's commission in the Society of Humanity's Marine Corps. Do you accept?”

“Ye ... yes,” she stammered, all the time wondering how she could say no.

“Raise your right hand, and repeat after me. I, Mary Rodrigo ...” So Mary found herself swearing to bear true faith and allegiance to a constitution she'd never read, and to defend it against all foes, both foreign and domestic—and wondering just how much freedom she had to distinguish friend from foe.

Nobody tried pinning the gold bars on her suit, but Umboto had a single length of black electric tape to add to the one black line on the back of Mary's helmet. “Now everyone behind you will know you're leading. Makes you a better target.” She grinned.

Now the chief's eyes led Mary through a salute and a march back to place. Cassie and Dumont were next. Bronze Stars for each of them for “courage in combat above and beyond.” Lek was last. A Navy Commendation Medal, which had to be the first time a claim jumper got a commendation. Done, the chief brought them to attention and dismissed them, which wasn't really a dismissal at all. Nobody went anywhere. Mary and the corporals hugged each other, and tried to keep the happy squeals down to a decorous level. Umboto joined them and did some squealing of her own ... and hang the level.

They swamped the lieutenant as soon as the senior marine officers moved off. Between Mary, Cassie, and Dumont they lifted him out of the chair for a solid round of hugs and back-pounding. “Damn, I don't get my legs until next week,” he grumbled.

Umboto tapped Mary's back and pointed. The Navy captain was talking to the battalion CO, company CO at his elbow. “I imagine this solves the hole in your officers' slots, Garry,” Captain Anderson said.

“Yes, sir, it does,” the major answered.

“If I were in your boots, I'd be passing these folks around to the other companies. They came up with some pretty unique approaches to preparing a position.”

“Already intended to,” the major agreed. “Don't imagine the captain will mind loaning his command car to the new LT and her team for a week so they can cover the other passes. Do you, Ted?”

“No sir,” the company CO answered without a pause.

“Good.” Captain Anderson nodded. “Keep me informed how it goes. We haven't seen any colonial ground-pounders for a while. Don't expect that will last forever.”

“Never does,” the major and captain answered in unison.