She looks around at the civvies heading into the station with us. “This is not so bad. It kind of helps remind me why we’re risking our necks. And I get to feel the sun on my face every now and then.”
You fly a drop ship, I want to reply. You don’t go into dark tunnels after monsters. But I immediately feel bad about the thought popping into my head, because I know it’s not fair. Halley isn’t a grunt, but she has taken more risks than most grunts I know, and her life in the service is every bit as dangerous as mine. She saved my platoon from getting wiped out a month ago on Arcadia when she broke stealth and shot down the renegade Shrike that was about to blow us out of the sky. We lost three of our four priceless Blackfly drop ships, and Halley got mauled badly while ejecting from her ship. Half the Blackfly crews on the Arcadia mission died in that place. Their casualty rate was much higher than that of our SI grunts, and I have no right to quantify her occupational risks. We all face death every day in different ways. Even the civvies rushing off to their homes all around us do. In a lot of ways, they have it worse. All they can do is to rely on us to stop the monsters. I realized a while ago that I still wear the uniform because I want to have a little bit of control over my fate. Sitting down here on Earth and looking to the sky in fearful anticipation whenever something strange happens, with no way to fight back—that’s a trade I wasn’t willing to make.
We walk into the station, scan our military IDs, and wait on the platform for the maglev that will take us back to Liberty Falls. We’re not the only military personnel on the platform, but the others—three HD troopers and a fleet sailor—are junior enlisted, and they keep a respectful distance from us, if only to not get close enough to have to salute us. The civilians standing nearby give us glances and nod respectfully when we catch their gazes.
The maglev train glides into the station almost silently. The maglev cars are clean and in good repair, unlike the shitty trains of the public-transit systems in the PRCs. There’s even some generic synth-pop playing softly from the overhead speakers, and the announcements to stand clear of the doors sound like a polite request rather than a near command. Halley and I find an empty row, stash our alert bags, and sink into the comfortably upholstered seats. I want to take a nap, but the ride out to Liberty Falls only takes fifteen minutes, and there’s no time to get situated and fall asleep. Instead, I lean my head against the window and look out at the scenery.
“What’s on your mind?” Halley asks. I glance at her reflection in the polyplast window and see that she is watching me.
“Why do you ask?”
“You look like you’re chewing on something,” she says.
I shake my head. “When that Lanky tunnel collapsed, I thought I was done breathing fresh air. All dark, helmet sensors knocked out, no weapon except the dumb little pistol. And knowing there are Lankies nearby. I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life. It’s like the train is coming for you, and you are standing in a tunnel and can’t get off the tracks.”
“I have no trouble believing that,” Halley says.
“But that wasn’t the worst of it.”
I tell her about Private Cameron, the poor bastard who dug himself out of the rubble just after I did and who drew the attention of the Lanky by turning on his comms again and calling for help. It was a dumb mistake, but he was a green trooper, barely out of boot, and combat against Lankies is the most unforgiving proving ground there is.
Halley listens to my account with a serious expression on her face. “You think you should have done more.”
“There wasn’t a damn thing else I could have done. You know those pistols don’t punch through Lanky skin. But yeah. I climbed up the rubble pile and got away while that green kid tried to hold the line.”
“He did what he was trained to do. You should send his DI a gift basket or something. Because that green kid did his job.”
“I know. Still won’t help me not to see the replay in my dreams.”
I look out the window again, where the sky is starting to get dark. The stretch of maglev track from Burlington to Liberty Falls runs through forested mountains, more trees in a kilometer or two than a PRC resident sees in a lifetime.
“I have a bad feeling about Mars,” I continue. “A really bad feeling. I think we are about to bite off way more than we can chew. Nobody’s going to come back from there.”
Halley shrugs. “We almost died on Versailles together when all of this started. Then we went off to war for six years. How often did we almost get killed in those six years? You, on the ground with your podheads, and me, in my cockpit? You know how many drops I did where we lost a bird or a whole flight?”
“Probably as many as I did where we lost podheads,” I say.
“Precisely. And then Earth, a few months back. And Leonidas. And a dozen other scrapes we’ve each had where we figured we’d just not worry the other too much with the nasty details. And don’t even deny that you’ve kept some shit from me over the years. Because I sure as hell kept some from you.”
“One day, our luck’s going to run out,” I say.
“Maybe it will. But so what? You want to turn in your tags and resign your commission? Stay down here in ’Burberville until the nerve-gas pods come raining down?”
I snort and shake my head. “Not likely.”
“You’ve got a bad feeling about Mars,” she says. “Well, no shit. We’re about to throw every last thing we have against more Lankies than we’ve ever fought before.” She leans her head against my shoulder and exhales. “I feel the same way. But honestly, it feels like we’ve been on borrowed time ever since Versailles. I don’t want to die just yet. But if I have to die, I want to have my hands on throttle and stick, and my finger on the launch button.” She plants a kiss on my cheek and puts her head on my shoulder again. “Besides, Mars is not your biggest worry right this second.”
“What do you mean?”
“We all get staggered leave before Mars. I’m on a medical chit right now anyway. I told my parents we’d come see them before the deployment. To clean the slate.”
I let out an involuntary groan. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Not even slightly,” Halley murmurs with a little smile. “We’ve gone to see them once since we got married. We need to go again and settle our affairs with them before Mars. In case we don’t come back.”
I groan again, the forlorn sound of a man who has just been told he will face a firing squad at dawn. “Until just now, I’ve never actually wished for an emergency-deployment alert.”
She chuckles softly. “You’ve faced Lankies in battle a hundred times. You can face my parents again.”
“I’d rather be in a drop ship on the way to the surface of Mars right now,” I say, and I’m only half joking.
CHAPTER 7