I lay resting in bed, my head against the pillow. There is not much else that I could do, seeing as how I was sans legs and only had one arm-which was broken. Still, I was luckier than most of my team; they were all dead. The hospital smelled of antiseptic and cleaning agents and recycled air, which only served to highlight the smell of the cologne of the man standing next to me, my fiance, Alexi. He smiled at me again, his teeth white as snow, but I could tell it was forced.
“You’re looking good, Mel,” he said. Which I suppose made him just like any other guy. Out of a list of things to say, they will inevitably pick the worst one to say. I looked like hell. Aside from missing three limbs, I had several bruises and cuts on my face, bags under my eyes and not a iota of makeup on. Oh, and my hair had been scorched off in places.
I kept myself from rolling my eyes. “Thanks,” I replied with a forced pleasant tone. “I’ll be better soon, though. The doctor said that in my case, if they don’t just full out clone me, then I will get new limbs and neural grafts. Good as new.”
My fiance took another breath, “that’s good. Kelli misses you, a lot. She needs her mommy.”
“Why didn’t you bring her?”
He hesitated. “I didn’t-” another pause “-know how you were going to be. I didn’t want to scare her.”
I turned away and frowned. “That’s a good point,” I managed to choke out before the tears came. My own daughter afraid of me. The thought alone caused me to sob. I shook gently as the tears rolled down my cheeks to drop onto my pillow. Alexi reached out a hand to touch me gently on my shoulder. His touch was timid, even he was having difficulty seeing me like this. A moment later he left, leaving me still crying and sobbing. In that moment, I have never felt more alone.
*****
“You’re very luck, Nova,” said the captain, smartly dressed in her slate grey service uniform. She was right. The new recon suit had self sealing irises at strategic places on the limbs. If it detected major damage, it closed one of them, effectively applying a tourniquet on the limb. Which was the only thing that kept me from bleeding out. “It was touch and go; they weren’t sure if you were going to make it.”
I had been in the hospital six days. Six days of absolute boredom, with nothing but the constant news holo to keep me occupied. I turned to look at the captain, with her soft face and chestnut hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. “Any word on when I’ll get fixed up? Oh, frack, even if I can get a remote for the holo?” I could finally move the fingers in my left hand, my only hand, again.
“I know they’ve submitted the paperwork. Bureau of Medicine and the Medical Review Board should give their decision and release the funding and resources here soon,” she replied.
“Decision?” The last thing that I wanted to hear was that there was some doubt that I would get fixed. I could not go through life like this. I couldn’t even feed myself, with my arm in a cast, a nurse had to do it.
“Don’t worry. In your case it’s a formality. They’ll fix you.” Captain Vea pulled out a sliding chair and swiveled it around and sat. “The Marines take care of their own.” She sighed. “I’m sorrie, Nova. Your op was not supposed to go down like it did.”
“Yeah,” I said with a hint of acridity in my voice. “Simple extract.”
“Dammit, that’s what G2 said. I know we didn’t do a proper debrief when you got back, seeing as how your life was hanging by a fraying thread, but if we had known of the actual OPFOR strength, it would not have been your team.”
“Yeah, a heavy infantry company, or two.” I was more than slightly bitter. Men and women that I had been with through a liberation of an entire planet getting killed because someone on high had messed up was not something that I could just get over. Nor was this corporate VIP worth the life of one of my Marines. “Or we could have just left the VIP to rot.”
“We’re the sheepdogs. The sheep go astray, we go get ‘em. That’s what we do.” So help me, she believed the crap she was spouting. That the navy was the defender of the State. She didn’t see that we were used-used for political purposes, or corporate profits. The State didn’t care about the grunt, the Marine on the ground, the navy rating in the gun batter or the worker on the assembly line. All it cared about was that we did our jobs and and that we didn’t rock the boat. I was, quite literally an expendable asset. So, when some vice manager or something or other for NOH goes missing, kidnapped by Angels, the slimy scumbags at the top look at their ledger and see that the ransom demand is worth more than one squad of recon Marines and tell us to go get him back. As I laid there in the bed, I envied the Gallente, the Matari. They had something worth fighting over, a true cause.
I snapped back into Marine mode to respond. Don’t rock the boat, just get fixed. Go from there. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry just stress.”
“You’re a good Marine, Nova, and a good woman. You’ll get better and be back to normal in no time. I’m still looking forward to being your maid of honor.”
“If there is one.” I rolled my head to look her square in the eyes. “Aliza, I’m worried. Alexi is acting strange.”
“Don’t,” she replied. “I’m sure it’s just the stress. He was afraid he lost you.” She stood up. “I’ll talk to him, though.” Alizabeth took a second to straighten out her uniform before continuing. “Take care, Mel. Honor before glory.”
“Death before dishonor,” I instinctively responded.
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