Майк Резник - SNAFU - Future Warfare

Joy smiled. “Yeh. Them Moirae. Can't argue with them.”

“Now go,” said Tantas. “Take care of yourself and Alistair.”

“I will,” said Joy. “And you and Sergeant, you better stay safe until I come back.”

The roof to the flyer slid shut. The burners pulsed out red-hot air. The flyer lifted into the sky. For a moment or two Sergeant and Tantas watched the flyer. Then Sergeant said, “Come on then, Wordsworth. Them hivers aren't going to be confused forever.” He set off at a trot.

Them made it thought the school safe enough, and ran through the town and to the old mining tunnel.

“Are we going to make it?” asked Tantas.

“You better hope you don't survive,” said Sergeant.

“Eh? Why's that?” asked Tantas.

“When Joy finds out that you can pilot a flyer, her going to rip your head off.”

“You knew?”

“Sure. I'm not stupid,” said Sergeant. “What was it between you and Joy?”

“Nothing,” said Tantas quickly “I just... you know.”

“Oh, yes,” said Sergeant. “I know that song.”

When them emerged from the tunnel, them both turned their faces to the sky. The flyer was a diminished speck of light against the stars.

Sergeant laughed “Wordsworth, if you get through this, you going to be in so much trouble.”

Tantas grinned. “I reckon so,” him said.

“How the hell could a soldier get killed?” Colonel Spencer shouted. Gardner wondered if he might pop a blood vessel. “It's the middle of a war, for Christ's sake.”

Gardner avoided eye contact. “We're looking into it, sir.”

“Well what the hell happened?”

“He was on a simple recon patrol, sir, when he slumped over at his station. If I had to guess—”

“You're not paid to guess, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir. I'll let you know when I have the autopsy report.”

Colonel Spencer huffed and stalked out of Gardner's office without another word. Gardner collapsed into his chair, trembling with anger. He didn't even care to ask the guy's name.

A tentative knuckle rapped on the door. “You okay, LT?”

“C'mon in, Liz.”

She sauntered in, dreads bouncing, and melted into the chair on the opposite side of Gardner's desk. Her fatigues were crisp enough to snap had she bothered to salute. “That bad, huh?”

He blew out a long breath. “It's not bad enough we lost Joel. Now I have command breathing down my neck.”

“Don't sweat it. Brass doesn't give a flying—”

“How often do you see a full-bird colonel snooping around? To them, this is bad publicity. Another war in the Mideast gone wrong. And they're sure as hell going to want a scapegoat.”

She shook her head. “The autopsy will clear you. Probably show he had an aneurysm or something.”

“The EMEG rig was fried. That had to be what killed him.”

“So it was a malf.”

“It passed the pre-mission inspection.” He realized he was standing, his voice practically a shout. He again collapsed into his chair. “They don't want any doves claiming the EMEG rigs damage soldiers' brains.”

She planted her hands on his desk, leaning her face into his. “It. Wasn't. Your. Fault.”

He retreated. “You didn't have to vid the news to his mom. See her eyes. He was just a kid, damn it.”

“Man, you gotta lighten up. No one misses Joel more than me. He was like a brother. I'm telling you, you gotta let it go.”

His phone vibrated, sparing him a response. He checked the display. “Autopsy's in. I guess we'll have our answers soon enough.”

“Good, maybe that'll get the monkey off your back,” she said. “Look, I have a recon duty shift coming up. How about you buy me a couple drinks after I get the rig off?”

“An officer fraternizing with enlisted?” He managed a weak smile.

“Oh, come off it. That rule's been taking a beating since before you could even spell fraternize. Now get off your lazy ass and get over to the infirmary.”

“Uh, I think you have the chain of command inverted.” His smile widened a bit.

She reached out a hand and yanked him to his feet. “Go get 'em, cowboy.”

He walked with her as far as the Active Combat Room. She put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder then swiped her ID. The door's lock clicked open.

“Be careful out there,” he said. “We don't know what killed Joel.”

“No worries.”

He watched from the doorway as a tech draped the EMEG net over her head, carefully adjusting electrodes into position. He forced himself to turn away and continue down the hallway.

The infirmary was typical of a modern military base – brightly lit, claustrophobic, and lined with the meds and salves needed for minor cuts and sniffles. The doctor on duty looked up from his paperwork, his square jaw and graying temples lending weight to his steely stare. Not a face Gardner had seen on base before.

He tried to put on a casual smile. “What's the verdict, doc?”

“Major.”

“Sir.” His posture involuntarily straightened. Damn it. “The autopsy report?”

“You have no facilities to do a proper autopsy here. I had to improvise, using the emergency OR. I don't know how your doctors manage.”

“What killed Joel? Sir.”

“The soldier? I logged it as catastrophic neurological sequelae.”

Gardner gritted his teeth. “Which means?”

“He suffered burn damage to his brain.”

“Caused by the EMEG rig?”

“I had the technicians tear down the electromagneto-encephalographic drone interface he'd been using. They said the thing was burned out by a massive electromagnetic pulse.”

“But they're hardened against EMP.”

The major gave him a cold stare. “Mission logs show normal brain activity right up to the end, terminating in a burst of hyperpolarization across the cerebral cortex.”

Cold bastard. “I have people under EMEG rigs right now, on recon around the FOB. If there's any danger–”

“Look, Lieutenant, I know the Army is a lot more lax than it used to be. But the colonel and I are old-school, and you and your men are going to have to deal with that as long as we're here.”

Gardner realized he was crowding the major's space and his voice was again raised. He stepped back. “Sorry, sir. But my soldiers. I don't think the colonel would be happy with another death.”

“Colonel Spencer has my report. You want a change in duty assignments, you go ask him.”

Bastard . “Yes, sir.”

“You called for me, LT?” Liz's voice sounded through the door.

“C'mon in.”

She entered tentatively. “Word around the playground is you got called onto the old bird's carpet.”

“I need you to get the squad rigged up.”

“Something going down?”

He nodded. “We need to be jacked into the FOB in thirty.”

“All at once? That's a helluva lot of firepower for recon.”

“I think Joel's autopsy report gave command something to worry about. They're sending the whole squad out to scout the area where he died.”

“So they're using us as guinea pigs.”

“On the books it's a recovery mission. Find his drone and bring it back to the FOB.”

“Bullshit. Why not just get some trainee to plug in and drive it home like normal?”

“I don't think they trust the interface. They switched up the frequency-hopping sequence. I'm telling you, I don't like this.”

She laughed without humor. “Recon always gets shit duty.”

“Just keep this under your dreads. I don't need the squad all grousing at once.”

“Mum's the word.” She glanced at her phone display. “I'll have 'em wired up in ten.”