I registered an instant of shock at the open door of the tent, wondering why no one had taken charge of them, tried to get them doing something productive to take their minds off of it…until I realized with just as brutal a shock that there was no one to take charge. Battalion was gone. Brigade was juggling a dozen running chainsaws with one hand tied behind their back.
I padded into the center of the tent and still, no one noticed me.
“Where’s Top?” I asked, and the question seemed unreasonably loud, like in Boot Camp when one of the DI’s had thrown a metal garbage can down the length of the barracks at zero four thirty and woken us all from an exhausted sleep.
Marines jumped up from the folding stools, ration boxes and cargo containers they’d been using as seats and every eye went wide.
“Cam!” Billy Cano exclaimed, hurrying over to me, looking uncertain, as if he couldn’t decide whether to shake my hand, salute, or give me a hug. He compromised with a slap on my shoulder. “Jesus, man, I’m glad you’re all right. When we found you, it looked like that mecha had stomped you flat.”
“It just about did,” I told him, not wanting to sound off-putting but also not that interested in talking about the battle right then. “Where’s Top?”
“She went to find First Sergeant Taylor, sir,” Bang-Bang told me. The big man was unusually subdued, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the general downbeat mood in the bay or maybe from embarrassment at the fact that he’d let my platoon get away with being part of it. “Sgt. Taylor is filling in for the Battalion Command Sgt.-Major,” he added.
“I think there’s going to be a Brigade-level meeting in a couple hours,” Kovacs put in. He was fidgeting, scratching at a callous on his palm. “She’s like, getting ready for it.” He pointed between himself and Cano. “We, uh…I mean, we haven’t been told if we’re supposed to go. I think it’s for company commanders. I guess that means, you should go?”
I fought very hard not to roll my eyes at the man. Instead, I looked back and forth across the tent, forcing all of them to meet my glare. I had a decision to make. If someone else had stepped up and tried to take charge, I might have hesitated. But they weren’t.
“Okay, listen up,” I snapped. I know we’re all kind of in a funk because of what happened to the Skipper, and Lt. Burke and Second Platoon. But take a listen out there.” I jabbed a finger at the wall of the tent. “Shit’s still going down. Patrols are going out; shuttles are making fire support runs. We could get called out there. The fucking battle ain’t over and we can’t be sitting on our asses waiting for the shuttle to take us back to the ship because the ship doesn’t even fucking exist anymore.”
That hit them between the eyes. Kovacs seemed to deflate, his shoulders sagging.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do. Until and unless someone comes along and tells me they have a new company commander for Delta, I’m going to have to assume I’m still in charge for now. I want full PMCS done on every single Vigilante we have left. I want a full report ready from the platoon leaders by the time I get back from the brigade meeting.” I nodded toward Bang-Bang. “You’re acting Third Platoon leader until we get a replacement or they send us a company commander and I jump back in.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, back straightening with the responsibility.
“Any suits we have that are deadlined, I want a full report on what’s needed to repair them.” I paused, frowning. “By the way, where’s my suit? They didn’t have to cut me out of it or anything, did they?”
“No, sir,” Bang-Bang said, the corner of his mouth turning up. “It’s over in the corner. Needs a new left hip actuator. I’ll put it in the report.”
I let my gaze linger on the Vigilante. Its surface was scored and scorched, bearing the scars of not just this battle, but every one of them, a Dorian Grey portrait of my soul.
“All right,” I concluded, nodding. “You know what to do. Get your heads back in the game, boys and girls. We took a hit, but we hit them back and we came out on top. We’ll have a memorial for the fallen after we get our shit sorted. Their war is over. Ours is not.”
20
“There you are,” Top said, straightening from a portable holographic display table and cocking an eyebrow at me. “I wondered how long they were going to keep you in the aid station for a few cracked ribs.”
“Among other things,” I reminded her. I checked around us, making sure none of the other NCO’s and junior officers present were listening to us. They buzzed around the Brigade command tent, drawn to the crumbs of data Intelligence dropped on us like flies to shit. “Are you okay?’
“I just had a few burns,” she said, waving it away as if third-degree burns over a quarter of her body was nothing. “They didn’t even bother with the auto-doc, just slapped a few smart bandages on me and let me sleep it off.
“I’m sure,” I said, letting the skepticism drip from my words, “but you know that’s not what I meant.”
Top
