the Marines obviously didn’t believe in staying where they had been put. A strange and unfamiliar feeling welled up inside her as she read about their escape. It took her a moment to recognize it as pride, both in the Marines…and in her father.
Something had happened to her father. The man who’d written this was not the same man who’d been planning to arrange an out after the Mars mission, the man who’d been just marking time doing his job…but not really caring. The man who’d written this was a man who was taking charge. She wondered what had happened to Colonel Lloyd; the message sounded as though Major Mark Garroway was the one in command.
She grinned as she figured out his cryptic reference to Heinlein Station. So, Dad, she thought, I guess all that science fiction I gave you did some good after all.
So now, what to do about this message? Obviously she needed to pass it on as soon as possible. But how?
Uncle Walt, of course, was Colonel Walter Fox. He and her dad had been buddies since before she was born, and she’d grown up thinking of him and his wife as uncle and aunt. In fact, it was Walter and Melanie Fox who’d taken care of her after her mother died, whenever her father was stationed overseas. The question was, could she risk sending this message in the clear? She had several other encryption programs, including one of her own design, but she didn’t know what Uncle Walt had.
She took another look at the second part of the message, translating to Tokyo time. The UN forces had taken over at 2107 Sunday…yesterday. Her last message from Yukio was dated Saturday, and yesterday her messages started getting bounced. That was too much to believe of coincidence. The Japanese government must have closed the base in response to word from the UN. No, she didn’t dare put this message on the net from inside Japan. She would have to go back to the States…and fast.
She thought about splurging on a taxi to get back to the youth hostel but then decided that the subway would be quicker. It didn’t take her long to pack her bag and check out, and then another subway ride got her to the maglev station, where she got on the first direct car to Kansai. She immediately shut herself in one of two enclosed comm stations to check out flight times. Damn! By the time the maglev got to Kansai, she’d have less than ten minutes to make the next Star Raker for the States, and the first one after that wasn’t for another four hours…all of that assuming she could get a seat. The Star Raker coming over had been pretty full; she hadn’t seen any empty places.
So. What other options did she have? It probably wasn’t all that urgent to get this message through quickly. After all, what could they do…send a message back saying, “Reinforcements on the way, ETA six months”? Still it would be important for them—she wasn’t exactly sure who she meant by “them”—to know what the UN had done.
Besides, ever since she’d put the timing of the attack together with the closing of Yukio’s base, she’d had an increasing feeling that it wouldn’t be healthy for her to stick around here much longer. The words “enemy alien” came to mind, and she shivered.
So was there anything sooner than that second Star Raker? Ah, that would do it. It was only going as far as Los Angeles, but maybe she would stay with Aunt Melanie and Uncle Walt down at Camp Pendleton for a few days before heading back East. She checked the price and whistled. Well, what’s the point in having an American Express account if you can’t use the thing when you really need it? She connected to Reservations and pressed a button on her wrist-top to send her AmEx code through. Now she was all set…except for one more little chore.
She’d decided to wait and do this on the maglev rather than in the train station because she’d wanted an enclosed comm station where she could take her time recording the message…messages, actually. The first one was no problem; expressing thanks for hospitality received and sorrow for an unexpected but necessary departure was easy to do in Japanese. The second one, though, that was another matter. There was no established custom for what she had to say to Yukio. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him, but she also wanted to set him free. Between his feelings of obligation and loyalty to his family and his country and whatever of love he still felt for her, he was being pulled to pieces. She wanted…she needed to release him.
Several times she broke down in tears and had to erase the message and start over, but finally it was done. She played it back one last time, nodding in satisfaction. Yes, she had walked the tightrope successfully. Making sure her smile was in place before she pressed RECORD, she added, “Look me up when you get back to the States. We can have a cup of cha and talk about old times. Sayonara, Toshiyuki-san.” STOP
The messages complete, she took a deep breath, opened her address book, and selected the Ishiwara household. The minister would certainly not be in at this time of day; probably his private secretary—what had Yukio said his name was? Nabuko?—would answer. Just as well. She wasn’t sure she could face Yukio’s father right now.
The screen in front of her dissolved into an image of a young man sitting cross-legged on a tatami behind a low table with a PAD. She thought she’d seen him the night she had dinner there, and he obviously recognized her. Of course, it would be a large part of his business to remember names and faces. After the initial pleasantries, she made her request.
“I find I must leave this beautiful country and return to my home. I have recorded a message of farewell for the Honored Minister. May I transmit it now?”
Nabuko bowed in assent, and she selected SEND. She had embedded the message to Yukio inside the one to his father, asking the senior Ishiwara to pass the message along when it became possible to do so. As a government minister, he might even be able to get around the difficulty of the base being closed.
“I hope your journey will be a pleasant one, Garroway Kaitlin-san.”
She bowed and ended the connection, then slumped back in the seat. Done. It was done.
0143 HOURS GMT
Heinlein Station, Mars
Sol 5636: 1320 hours MMT
He didn’t want to see the Corps die.
Garroway had been a Marine for twenty-three years, now. He’d seen the Corps during the frenzied build-up during America’s involvement in the Colombian Civil War, in ’27, and again during the disastrous intervention in Andhra Pradesh six years later. He’d seen the BCs—the slang pejorative variously meant budget cutters, bean counters, or things less savory—come that close to strangling the Corps, particularly in the years since the fighting in southeastern India. The argument ran to the effect that amphibious operations were a thing of the past; indeed, the last large-scale combat amphib deployment had been at Tavrichanka in 2012, when the First Marine Division had waded ashore to save Vladivostok from the invading Chinese. The other major Marine interventions in recent years had been by helicopter or Valkyrie. The Army Special Forces routinely deployed the same way, and they had better and more modern equipment.
So who needed the Marines?
And that, Garroway was increasingly convinced, was what had been responsible for his ROAD-like behavior, his determination to put in his time and get the hell out. He could do a lot better on the Outside; hell, he had a standing job offer from Vince Mayhew at Moravec. He didn’t need this shit.
Only now he was finding that he did…and that his dedication to the Corps had less to do with his oath to the country or the reason the Marines existed than it did with the people who were depending on him for leadership right here, right now.
Maybe the country didn’t need the US Marines, but he did.
The entire group was
