Tombstone (10 page)

"I'm Darius."  I relaxed a bit in my chair, though
my posture was still better than his.  "I want to thank you for taking the
time to welcome me into the unit.  I know how closeknit a group a good platoon
can be.  The troops can be a little apprehensive when they get a commander from
outside rather than one promoted from within." 

He nodded approvingly; it was clear he had similar
thoughts.  "I completely agree."  He was looking right at me, his
eyes boring into mine.  "I've read your file, Darius.  I'm sure you'll be
a great addition.  But if I can help get you off on the right foot with the
troops, it's the least I can do."  There was a soft buzzing sound - he was
getting a message on his earpiece.  "Excuse me, Darius, I just have to
attend to something quickly."  He was getting up as he spoke.  "I
shouldn't be more than ten minutes, and then we'll go meet your team."

"No rush.  I'll be here when you get back."

He looked back over his shoulder.  "Help
yourself."  He pointed toward the dispensers on the far wall. 
"Believe it or not, the coffee's actually pretty good."  The hatch
slid open.  "I'll be right back."  He walked out into the corridor,
and the door slid shut behind him.

I didn't know it then, of course, but I had just met someone
who would be very important to me, a colleague and my closest friend.  I had
respected the lieutenant and some of the other troops I'd fought with, but Erik
was the first real friend I ever had.  We would fight side by side for years,
and climb the ranks together.  He would save my life more than once, and I
would save his, and the two of us would make face challenges neither of us
could have imagined sitting in that wardroom.

But looming ahead of us before any of that was Operation
Achilles.  Morale was good; we were anxious to get at the enemy, to end the war
in one bold stroke.  Of course, that wasn't to be.  Achilles turned out to be a
bloody mess, a disaster that almost lost us the war then and there.  We had
some dark and difficult days ahead of us.

My first few years in the Corps hadn't been easy and, though
I didn't know it yet, the next few to come would be even more difficult.  But
as I sat there and took stock, I came to realize that I had indeed found a
home.  Yes, we fought and struggled, and some of us died, but there were things
on the frontier worth fighting for.  When I was discharged from the hospital on
Armstrong I spent my month's leave on the planet.  I had the time to just look
around, and what I saw amazed me.  The people were busy, industrious...and
free. 

They were having local elections when I was there, and half
a dozen candidates were running.  I stood one day and watched a live debate in
the main square.  I was mesmerized - they were actually arguing issues and
hurling pointed questions at each other.  It was nothing like Earth, where the
elections were a farce and the government controlled every aspect of its
citizens' lives.  These people were building a future, for themselves and for
mankind, and we were here to protect them. 

It made me think about Earth and wonder why the people
accepted the system that oppressed them so badly.  It was a nightmare, a
grotesque, a hideous perversion of the human condition.  But it worked, after a
fashion.  The Cogs were ruled by deprivation, by the need to focus solely on
the basics of survival.  The middle classes were governed by the fear of losing
what they had.  They could see how the Cogs lived, and to them, not born to
such deprivation, it was a terrifying prospect.  Part of me resented that they,
mostly educated and vital to the functioning of society, meekly accepted the
system when they could have agitated for change.  I wanted to despise them as
cowards and blame them for the plight of the Cogs, for the reality that my
parents were forced to live.

But it is easy to make such judgments, and far more
difficult to be honest with yourself.  If my father had been offered a middle
class life, if we’d been able to live in an apartment in the Louisville
Downtown or the Washbalt Core instead of some miserable leaky hut on the farm…I’m
not so sure I wouldn’t have been ruled by the same fear of losing it.  I like
to think I would have fought for change, but I’m not so sure.  I would now, of
course, but then, never having seen what was possible?  I just don’t know.

But none of that mattered anymore.  By a bizarre road I had
found my path.  For the first time I felt my life had purpose and I knew the
sacrifices were worthwhile.  I was finally home.

Marines (Crimson
Worlds I)

The Cost of
Victory (Crimson Worlds II)

The Last Veteran
(Shattered States I)

The Dragon's
Banner

A Little Rebellion

Crimson Worlds
Book III

(December 2012)

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