Poor Man's Fight (18 page)

Tanner promptly grabbed her shoulder before she could scramble away and threw the switch on the back of her helmet to eject one of her tanks. “Hold on!” he shouted, then reached back to pop one of his own cartridges out of his helmet. It spewed out oxygen under fierce pressure, but he held on tightly. The recruit tried to turn around; he had to fight with her to maintain his hold
at first, but then she realized what he was doing. She held still while he inserted the cartridge into her helmet.

When the lights in the squad bay went out entirely, Alicia Wong had one green light
and one red light. So did Tanner. Her faceplate covered up everything but her eyes, which those looked back at him through the helmet’s lenses with obvious surprise.

“Recover!”
Everett barked. The lights went back on. Three of the work detail’s recruits already had their helmets off. With no air to breathe in either tank, they had to unseal and remove the helmets before they suffocated.

“Smalls, Mohamed, Quinto,” the chief called out, “you all just died from asphyxiation. Point to the nearest person to you. Whoever’s closest, I don’t give a shit who it is. That’s right. Now, you people they’re pointing at, you’re the ones who could’ve saved your shipmates if you hadn’t just stood their with your thumbs in your asses when you saw they had two red lights on their readouts.

“You are all proficient enough at saving your own butts. That’s step one. Next step is to start lookin’ out for one another. I didn’t say put your fingers down!” Everett snapped. “Keep ‘em pointing! There. Now if you’re pointing at someone or you’ve got someone pointing at you, that means you get to stand a double shift on fire watch tonight.

“Recover. No, wait,” he said, stopping himself. “Leave ‘em on.”

The work detail watched in confusion as Everett walked over to a sealed compartment against one bulkhead. He input a numeric code on the nearby keypad, unsealing the hatch. Standing in front of the compartment, he reached inside where the work detail couldn’t see.

“Like I was sayin’ to Einstein,”
Everett said, “there are times when you simply don’t have the right people on hand, but the job’s gotta be done. Sometimes your engineers die. Sometimes they asphyxiate ‘cause their helmets don’t work and nobody looks out for them.

“Everybody down. Now.”

Without hesitation, the work detail hit the deck once more. They expected more push-ups. They didn’t expect Everett to produce a large, bulky rifle from the compartment.

“Holy shit,” Tanner blinked.

Smiling, Everett threw the power safety switch on the pulse rifle, pointed it toward the recycler and fired. Bright blue flashes of light lit up the recycler room. The rifle itself was quiet; the damaged recycler was anything but. Sparks and smoke flew as the machine screamed to a halt. Burned and slagged metal caved in upon itself.

“Recover,”
Everett said. He watched as the work detail got to its feet. “Looks like your oxygen recycler took a hit. Better get to work fixing it. Oh, and you’d better go find some spare oxygen for your helmets, too, ‘cause you aren’t taking them off until the recycler’s running again.”

As he passed through the stunned work detail, the chief paused in front of Tanner and Alicia.
Everett slung the rifle over his shoulder. “Might want to consider that you perform a lot better when you don’t sit around thinkin’ too much, Malone,” he said as he left.

***

Chow was monotonous. The company had essentially five warm dishes to choose from, with each choice determined by the day’s mess detail. There were many scrambled eggs. There was a lot of toast. There was a lot of chili barely worthy of the name. Sinclair’s squad managed to at least do simple things, like turning toast into garlic bread. Baljashanpreet’s squad tended to inflict at least a few random cases of indigestion.

“Better than it being burned again,” Tanner mumbled as he shoveled more food into his mouth. He sat on his plastic locker with his tray in his lap. Several other recruits sat with him. Chow was one of the few portions of the day that allowed for anything close to socializing.

“I can’t believe you actually ate that stuff,” Alicia said, making a sour face at him. She sat on a locker pulled over from the next row. Her bunk was clear across the squad bay, but she preferred the company on Tanner’s end.

“I’m a growing boy,” he shrugged.

“Growing?” blinked Other Gomez, whose real first name seemed long forgotten. “Fuck, I’ve lost ten pounds since I got here. How are you putting on weight?”

“I think it’s a
ll my bruises,” Tanner smirked.

“So when are you gonna tell us our standings, Malone?” spoke up Ravenell. He sat on Tanner’s bunk, for which he had never asked permission yet never heard objections. “You’re the one with the grade book.”

“I don’t really look.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t have the names sorted like that on the records sheets,” Tanner shrugged. “They’re all alphabetical. Makes it easier to get stuff done.”

“So what would it take for you to sort ‘em by performance average and just take a look? Just see who’s in the top ten?”

Tanner frowned. “It’d take pressing two buttons,” he said finally.

“So why don’t you?”

“Because then I’d know, and then I’d be vulnerable to your peer pressure,” Tanner smirked. “Anyway, why do you want to know?”

“It affects billeting priorities for when we get out of here,” Alicia said. “You know that.”

“We’re never getting out of here,” Tanner grinned, his voice taking on a sarcastically morbid tone. “You know that.”

Alicia threw her crumpled napkin at him. Tanner
chuckled, then stopped as Alicia pointed at his chest. “Aw, man,” he grumbled, noticing the stain from her napkin. He grabbed for his own napkin to clean it off. Everett and Janeka considered food stains inexcusable.

“Sinclair!”
Everett’s voice boomed through the squad bay. “Einstein! Baljashanpreet! Malone! Get your asses outside my office!”

Alicia and Tanner shared a wide-eyed glance. “Just go,” Ravenell urged him, “We’ll clean up your junk here, don’t worry about it. Just go.”

Seconds later, Tanner and the others were lined up outside the instructors’ office at attention. Sinclair hissed, “Tanner, that stain—!” but there wasn’t time to deal with it. Everett stalked out, his face set in cold rage. He immediately saw the offending red stain on Tanner’s chest. “Malone, get on your face!” he snarled.

Tanner dropped. “Down!”
Everett snapped. Tanner executed half a push-up, but remained in the down position. He wondered how long he would be there. It should have become easier over all this time, and in fact it had, but he hadn’t noticed it.

He could hear
Everett’s heels click around the group. “Recruit Macias will not be back with the company,” he said flatly. Tanner winced inwardly; Macias was a good guy. He worked like hell and helped his shipmates. He was also a member of Sinclair’s squad, and therefore Tanner’s.

Sinclair couldn’t hold back his concern. “Is he—?”

“Drop, Sinclair!” Everett barked. “You didn’t have permission to speak!” Obediently, Sinclair took up a spot on the floor beside Tanner. He couldn’t be sure, but Tanner thought he heard a snort from Einstein. He wondered if Everett caught it, too.

“Dr. Sanchez tells me that Recruit Macias suffered mild brain damage from oxygen deprivation as a result of the incident in the pool,”
Everett went on. “He will recover, but only after significant therapy. Obviously this means he won’t complete the training cycle with Oscar Company, if he remains in the Navy at all. Sinclair, you will see to the collection of his gear. Malone, you will adjust the records accordingly.”

“Aye aye, Chief
Everett!” they both shouted.

Tanner had nothing to go on but sound and his peripheral vision. All else was just concrete.
Everett’s feet came to a halt in front of Einstein’s. “Recruit Macias would still be here if you followed directions, Einstein.”

“I did follow directions, Chief!”

“Bullshit! Macias was your swim buddy! You were supposed to look out for him, not drag him down! If it hadn’t been for Vega and Wong, Macias would be dead right now because of you!”

“He was a weak swimmer, Chief!”

Tanner’s eyes flared. Growing up on Geronimo, Tanner spent part of practically every day in a pool. He knew a strong swimmer when he saw one. Macias was fine. He wanted to object, but he knew better.

“You don’t make that call! Gunnery Sergeant Janeka and I make that call! Is that understood?”

“Yes, Chief Everett!”

“This is the
second goddamn recruit you’ve injured, asshole, and your own scores aren’t getting any better. Recruit Baljashanpreet, I am hereby transferring Einstein to your squad. You will help him get his act together. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Chief
Everett!” answered Baljashanpreet.

“No more fucking ‘accidents,’ Einstein,”
Everett seethed. He turned and walked back into his office. “You two are dismissed,” he added over his shoulder.

That left Sinclair and Malone on the floor. Baljashanpreet immediately turned to leave. Einstein was slower. Tanner was sure he heard him laugh.

He never wanted to hit anyone so much in his life.

***

“Slow. Again.”

Tanner’s leg shot out in an arc, coming up toward Ravenell’s head. The taller recruit blocked.

“You’re still slow, Malone,” Janeka sighed. “Do it again.” Tanner kicked once more, making his instructor no happier. She had a talent for conveying sharp annoyance with calm tones. “He knows it’s coming. Don’t worry about hurting him. Kick like you mean it.”

Tanner gave it all he could. He was faster this time, tighter and with better extension. Ravenell blocked, as advertised, but a grin played at his face. It had the shine of approval.

The sense of triumph was short-lived. “Malone, at attention!” Tanner stood straight, looking ahead at nothing as Janeka came into his line of vision. “What the hell is your problem?”

“I don’t understand, Gunnery Sergeant,” Tanner responded.

Grunts and shouts, slaps of hands and feet on mats and on human bodies filled the squad bay. Janeka could easily project her voice over all of it. Now she spoke quietly, loud enough for Tanner to hear but no louder. She was even scarier when she was quiet.

“I see you on the practice dummies and the holo programs,” Janeka said, looking as unhappy as ever. Her nose was no more than an inch from his. “You’re fine on those. Better than fine. You
even look like you’re becoming proficient. And then the second you’re up against a live opponent you start flopping around like every fight’s your first. You know all the forms but you can’t apply ‘em for shit. So what the hell is your problem?”

“My problem with what, Gunnery Sergeant?” Tanner asked levelly. There were more polite ways to ask, but all of those ways were incorrect with Janeka. You asked her straight or you didn’t ask at all.

“How many sparring matches are on your tally sheet?”

“
One hundred eighty-six, Gunnery Sergeant.” He knew exactly where she was going.

“And how many of those did you win?”

“Seventeen, Gunnery Sergeant.”

“Less than ten percent!” Janeka snapped. “You’re not a cripple! You aren’t sick!
Dead people
could win more than ten percent of their fights!” She waited for him to respond, but hearing nothing, she shoved him. “I think your problem is you’re a pussy.”

Pushed off his balance, Tanner blinked but quickly recovered.
He returned to attention. Janeka advanced into his spot. “I think you’re afraid to fight.”

“I am not afraid, Gunnery Sergeant!”

“Yes you are,” Janeka said, shoving him once more. “You’re afraid to
fight
.” She pushed him back yet again. Recruits turned to watch. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? Don’t fight back so hard, you don’t get hurt so bad, huh?”

Tanner stopped trying to stand at attention. “I’ve been hurt every day since we got here, Gunnery Sergeant!” he shot back. “I haven’t quit yet!”

“Oooh, that’s a good act, recruit,” Janeka said, shoving him again. “You win the ‘most inspirational’ award in school? You get straight-As for effort?”

She shoved him again. Tanner didn’t know what would make her happy or when she’d make her point.
He didn’t know what to say.

“I need
fighters
in my navy, Malone,” she continued, shoving him yet again. “You grin and bear it and put on your act, but you don’t fight. What’re you gonna do when you’re out there, huh?” Another shove. Two recruits behind him now got out of the way. Janeka had pushed him into their sparring circle. “What’re you gonna do when you’re faced with some smuggler? Some Hashemite raider? You gonna face down a Krokinthian warrior with all that
heart
and just hope he gets tired of hurting you before you die?”

Tanner blinked. “Those are different—!”