Marines (Crimson Worlds) Read online

  Ok, I think I might have left that last bit out, though I was certainly thinking it. I walked through the crowd, unilaterally ignoring all of the questions from the media types. I did give them a nice video clip though, a major kissing a captain right in the middle of the arrival gate. I bet that got some play.

  She hugged me so tightly and for so long, I knew immediately the time apart had done nothing to diminish our relationship. Neither of us wanted to let go, but we reluctantly resigned ourselves to the need to act like officers. For now. We walked over to the intra-station car, and got it. Each car held eight people, and the group tailing us filled half a dozen. I had been so excited to see Sarah that I had forgotten all about my baggage, but a quick look back to the third car was all I needed to see Sergeant Warren had things well in hand. Good, I could worry about more important things. Sarah and I were next to each other in the first car, and we spoke eagerly in hushed whispers during the short trip to the shuttle docking area.

  The car took us right to the boarding area for the Earth shuttle, and within a few minutes we had boarded and strapped in the for short ride to the surface. Sarah, who had been on the station for three days waiting for me, had read our itinerary, and she warned me that we faced a larger delegation when we landed. I scowled less when she told me something annoying than when anyone else did, but it must have been enough, because she giggled softly when she saw my expression. She knew my feelings about politics, and though she'd never said a word to me about her own thoughts on the subject, I got a strong feeling that, in her own less hostile way, she agreed with me.

  The ride down was gentle - downright comfortable, in fact. This wasn't a shuttle for landing troops on a battlefield. Too many dignitaries took this ride to risk soiling expensive suits with projectile vomit. The shuttle had windows, and I got a great view of the Wash-Balt Metroplex as we made our final approach. The massive complex was a series of eight large urban clusters, stretching over 50 kilometers and connected by high-speed magtrain. Between and around these walled-off forests of skyscrapers was a vast sea of decaying slums, stretching as far as I could see.

  I wondered if these endless blocks of rotting old buildings and basic materials factories were as terrible as the ones I remembered. How many versions of myself were down there, living appalling lives of violence and poverty? Most of them, I suspected, were more likely to end up dead in some back alley or execution chamber than to be saved as I was.

  Wash-Balt was many times the size of New York. The political center of both the United States and the Western Alliance, it was the home to over five million government workers, and I couldn't even begin to guess at the multitudes living in the vast ghettos.

  The shuttle made one more arcing turn, and we got nice a view of Chesapeake Bay as we maneuvered toward the spaceport east of the city. Torrance Spaceport was named for the first president of the Western Alliance, and it was one of the busiest in the world, a fact that was apparent when we were required to circle the city three more times before we go clearance to land. The shuttle descended softly on its maneuvering jets, slowly dropping the last 50 meters through a portal that appeared when a set of huge double doors opened in one of the large docking bays. Once we were on the ground, a boarding tube extended, and walked through the conduit to the concourse.

  They weren't kidding about the crowd. There were people filling the entire expanse and an area with seating that was fully occupied by self important types in pricey suits. Right outside the docking tube they had set up a raised dais with a podium and a row of seats for us.

  There were seven of us on the shuttle. In addition to Sarah and myself, there was another combat marine, an enlisted man who had held a position despite being the last survivor in his platoon. There were a couple naval officers as well, along with a militia colonel and a logistics specialist.

  We all had to say a few words. I gave my usual grudging comments, being as charming as I could manage and wishing I had my armor here so Hector could give the speech using my voice (he was very good at it - they would never have known). I tried to keep it very short, but I got a bunch of questions, most of them asking how I prepared for an assault and what it was like to fight a battle. What do you think it's like, asshole? Let me take a few shots at you, and then tell me how much you enjoyed it.

  Unlike me, Sarah was beyond gracious. God, she was an amazing speaker, and she had everyone's rapt attention as she went on about how the Corp's medical services worked, from hospital ships all the way to the big medical centers on Armstrong and Atlantia. Every eye was on her, and not just because she was drop dead gorgeous, but because you could feel the passion in what she was saying. Although I knew her better than anyone there, I was just as mesmerized. I was grateful to her for what she had done for me, and on a personal level I was well on my way to falling crazy in love with her (I was already there, but hadn't quite admitted to myself yet), but while she was speaking it really hit me that she had saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives.

  It ended up being more than two hours before the speeches were done, the questions answered, and we were allowed to leave. They'd arranged for luxury transports to take us to the Willard Hotel. The Willard was a massive silver-glass building about a kilometer high, with five segments, each one a bit smaller than the one below, creating a roof deck around the perimeter at the base of each new section. Each segment was a separate hotel, ranging from normal high-end accommodations in the bottom to what I can only assume was an unimaginably plush section for VIPs at the top.

  The Willard appeared to be one of the three or four tallest buildings in the DC sector of Wash-Balt, which was a jungle of skyscrapers connected by monorail systems at several levels. The transport vectored toward the hotel and, to my surprise, moved to the level four docking area. Not quite the top, but much higher than I'd expected. Apparently I was more useful to the politicians now as a decorated major than I was when they expelled my whole family out into the wastelands to die.

  Sarah and I sat next to each other, but we were mostly silent. Being back on Earth wasn't easy for me, and somehow the hypocrisy of being treated like some sort of VIP was making it worse. I'd seen the ugliest side of this society - did they really think a little luxury was going to make me forget it? Sarah was just as quiet as me, and I suspected that she had her own demons to confront. I hadn't told her much about my childhood, and she had been just as stingy with details about hers. She was five years older than me, and I knew she had made two small assaults before she was transferred on the basis of aptitude testing and put through medical training. But that is about as far back as my knowledge went.

  After the transport docked we were ushered into the hotel lobby and met by the concierge staff. They welcomed all seven of us, and gave us small pocket-sized devices - portable AIs that would assist us during our stay. If you forgot the way to your room, you could just ask the AI. Want a cheeseburger and chocolate cake at 3am? Just ask your AI to order it for you. Apparently, we had very few spending limits and could order whatever we wanted in the way of food, entertainment, and services. Within reason, I suppose, though I wasn't planning to test the limits.

  By the time we got to our rooms, it was around 10pm, and we were all exhausted. They put me in a suite bigger than my family's apartment had been. I was just about to ask my AI for some advice on ordering dinner when I heard the door chimes. I started to get up, but before I could, the AI asked me if it should open the door. I said yes, and it slid open to reveal a beautiful blond standing in the hall.

  "My room's drafty," she said with a wicked smile on her face. "Can I borrow yours?" I'm not sure which of us laughed first. She came inside and we ordered dinner. Then we ordered breakfast.

  We had most of the day to ourselves. There was a reception that evening we were required to attend, but until then we could do whatever we wanted. So, after sleeping indecently late for serving officers and having what had to be the most expensive breakfast I'd ever seen, we decided to go out and wander aroun
d Wash-Balt. It turned out that our AIs could interface with the monetary exchange network and that we had substantial credits to use in shops, restaurants, or wherever we wanted. We took the express lift to ground level and wandered out into the streets.

  The area around the Willard was a high-end restricted zone, something like Sector A in Manhattan, and there were nice cafes and stores everywhere. It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. I had no idea that people lived like this.

  The entire area was divided into sub-sectors, some of which we were authorized to access and some of which were off-limits. We wandered past the entry to the Political Academy Campus, which was a restricted zone we couldn't access, and headed over to the Georgetown Sector, which was adjacent to DC. I thought I'd see if I could find any of the places Aoki had told me about. Actually, finding them didn't turn out to be too difficult. I just asked my AI where they were and it gave us directions as we walked. It also asked if I wanted to see menus, hear reviews, or make a reservation. Hector could have learned some manners from these concierge AIs.

  We decided to have lunch at Aoki's favorite burger place. I ordered a pretty basic cheeseburger, but Sarah got this giant bacon-laden monstrosity dripping with melted bleu cheese and some type of sauce, which she ate with such inexplicable finesse I don't think she even touched her napkin.

  Our AIs gave us a reminder at 4pm to return to the hotel to get ready for the reception. When I returned to my room - alone, sadly, as Sarah had gone back to her own suite to get ready - I found a valet waiting for me with a brand new set of dress blues. I took a shower, after which, for the first time in my life since childhood, I had assistance in getting dressed.

  The uniform was magnificent, neatly pressed and a perfect fit. This was the first time I'd ever worn my full dress uniform with all of my medals and decorations. It was absurd - my chest was a glittering array of various metal and ribbon combinations. God, I thought, I was getting another one of these tonight. Where the hell was it going to fit? I might have to wear it on my back. My sword was so polished it was blinding in the mirror when the light caught it.

  Looking at the medals all displayed so prominently, I couldn't help but wonder how many of my troopers had died for each of them. Was a scrap of blue silk and a tiny hunk of platinum worth the lives of ten good soldiers? Twenty? I suppose I should have felt pride at my decorations, but instead they made me a little queasy.

  An officer came to fetch me and lead me down to the waiting transport. Sarah was already there, waiting patiently wearing a uniform just like mine, right down to the sword. She was Medical Division, but she had two assaults, and in the Corps, once you are Combat you are always Combat. She looked incredible, coolly professional, yet beautiful. Her hair was braided tightly against her head and she, like I, wore the absurd white hat that was technically part of the marine dress uniform but was widely ignored when one wasn't attending a Presidential reception.

  The naval dress uniforms were even fancier than ours, the coats a blue so dark they were almost black, covered with buttons and braid. The pants were bright white, crisply pressed, and tucked into polished black boots. The hats weren't as stupid as ours, though, just a neat beret in the same color as the coat.

  On the ride over to the Presidential Palace we were all briefed by a team of protocol officers from the Earth-based military establishment. Yes, that's what I said, protocol officers. I was glad to see that we didn't have anything that idiotic in the Corps and had to borrow them.

  It was all such over the top nonsense, I found it hard to pay attention to what they were saying, and my mind kept wandering. Sarah, who it seemed could almost read my mind, poked me in the side a couple times when I really stopped listening. Of course, these politicians thought this was an honor they were giving us, gracing us with their attention. They thought we were fighting for them. I've got news for you, guys. If you were the only thing I was fighting for, I'd give the next Janissary I saw a lift to your house instead of blowing his head off.

  The palace was just down the street from the hotel, on the site of the old White House, which had housed the U.S. president a couple hundred years before and was destroyed in the food riots of 2065. It was a massive structure and a testament to opulence. It was a disgusting display when there were people five kilometers away eating rats. The main building was a large rectangle about 500 meters long and 50 high, built of glass and gleaming white marble. Clustered around the main structure were slender towers, each at least 200 meters high.

  Our transport went through three security checkpoints and finally landed on a field in front of a massive glass dome, glittering with hundreds of lights inside. The transport field itself was paved with some type of decorative stone that seemed to have a design worked into it, although so close and at night I couldn't make it out. There were other transports on the field, all very plush looking, each disgorging a retinue of very well-dressed men and women. Many of the arrivals seemed to be attended by groups of servants or retainers of some sort.

  When we got out of the transport we were met by a detachment of the Presidential Guard, an elite unit of the terrestrial army troops. Their uniforms were spectacular, scarlet coats and bright white pants, but I wouldn't have given them a chance in a fight against one of my plain old line squads.

  We were greeted with great ceremony and escorted over to the massive dome, which was the main event area in the Palace. There were twenty of us, in total, from every branch of the off-world military establishment. We waited for a few minutes, and then they introduced us one at a time to thunderous applause.

  We had to walk down a reception line, shaking hands with one political minister after another. The entire thing made my skin crawl, but I did what was expected of me. I figured I was here as the relentless killing machine, willing to sacrifice his troops or himself for the defense of the Alliance, so I didn't think I needed to be overly effusive. Just minimally respectful. Or at least pretend to be.

  The last person on the line was the president of the Alliance himself, Francis Herrin Oliver. He'd been president for 12 years, having proven quite adept at managing the behind the scenes wheeling and dealing that took place among the political class. Certainly nothing so quaint as popular opinion was a significant factor in his power base, though the facade of elections was, as always, maintained.

  The war had gone on for a long time and had escalated considerably. The cost had to be astronomical, and I suspect that part of the reason we were here was to show what all that money was buying. The middle classes were, for the most part, pliant and too scared to cause trouble, but it never hurt to give them a show. And war heroes were easier for the average person to understand than the need for osmium, iridium, and trans-uranic elements from the colonies.

  The reception was the most opulent thing I had ever seen, featuring a meal with so many courses I lost count of them. I was annoyed when we were led to our tables - I was seated with the combat elements and Sarah with the support services people. We were at the same giant round table, but on opposite sides. She did manage to give me a few fabulous smiles that shattered the ice queen image she was otherwise maintaining.

  After the meal one of the protocol officers came over to prep me for the medal ceremony. I got up slowly, willing my body to do what no part of me wanted, and followed him. I caught Sarah's face with my last glance at the table - a pained smile that at once wished me well and reminded me that she was probably the only person in the world...all the worlds...who really knew me and how much I hated this.

  I was escorted to a raised platform in the center of the dome. The president was standing there, flanked by Presidential Guard officers. The protocol officer had told me to salute when I stood in front of the president and then to shake his hand, so that is exactly what I did. I stood at attention while the president gave a speech. He spoke about the "brave men and women" fighting to preserve the freedom and prosperity of the Alliance. Then he began talking about me, describing Achilles, Columbia, Gliese 250, Er
idu. He spoke about how I was wounded, and that I received the very best care possible, and then he announced that the very doctor who had headed up my medical team was present as well. He motioned over toward Sarah and told her to stand up, then he started to clap, followed by everyone in the dome. She looked a little embarrassed to me, but I was close to her and knew her expressions - to anyone else I suspect she looked as flawlessly poised as ever as she took a polite bow and sat down again.

  After calling me "the most decorated officer my age in the history of the Marine Corps," he opened a small black box and pulled out the award. The Presidential Medal of Honor was the highest decoration given to Alliance military personnel, and its wearers enjoyed a unique set of perquisites and privileges. General Holm had won his in the Second Frontier War, and now his protégé was getting the same award. Except for Sarah, he was the one person I would have wanted here, but as he so succinctly put it before I left, someone had to fight the war.

  So I leaned down and let the president of the Western Alliance put the blue and white ribbon over my head, and then shook his hand again and turned and waved around the room as I received a hearty round of applause. The president thanked me for my service and then moved aside for me to say a few words. I bowed to the inevitable and gave the shortest speech I thought I could get away with. I started by thanking the president, but I spent most of my time paying tribute to the men and women who had served with me, and particularly to the ones that weren't here anymore. That part, at least, was heartfelt. I couldn't quite bring myself to praise the Alliance overall - my hypocrisy has limits - so I spoke about the colonists on our various planets and how they fought and strove to build great new worlds. I finished with a mention of the troops we had fighting somewhere far away, even while I stood here speaking, and I said that I was anxious to get back to my soldiers and see that this war ended as soon as possible. There were more applause as I saluted the president once more (as I'd been told to do) and walked back to my table.