Last Full Measure - Michael A. Martin [109]
The entry chime shattered the room’s meditative silence, and Hayes thought he had a pretty good idea who must have just arrived at his doorstep.
“Come,” Hayes said.
The door hissed open in response. On the threshold stood a figure dressed in an ordinary MACO duty uniform. Hayes looked up into the haunted eyes of the only other trooper aboard who had survived Chang’s assault on the Xindi fuel station. She still wore her dress uniform, which had become somewhat disheveled during the hours that had passed since the memorial service.
“Corporal Guitierrez. Come in.”
She stepped inside, allowing the door to close behind her. She remained standing, her arms held stiff at her sides. Hayes had seen raw recruits who didn’t look half this awkward, and though he had a pretty good idea of what was bothering her, he felt some surprise at seeing her discomfiture on display so openly.
“It should have been me, Major. Not Private Eby. He shouldn’t have had to die saving the team.”
Hayes looked to the other four MACOs present, all of whom appeared nonplussed by Guitierrez’s flat declaration. “Would the rest of you mind leaving Corporal Guitierrez and me alone for a bit?”
McKenzie stood at once, immediately taking control of the group by escorting her three dumbfounded comrades out the door, though Kemper very nearly had to be dragged into the corridor. The departing MACOs left their mismatched assortment of drinking vessels sitting atop the footlocker near Hayes’s bed, arrayed like an honor guard around the respectably well-depleted bottle of New Orleans bourbon.
Hayes stood, still clutching his mug tightly. He and Guitierrez were alone in the cabin’s dim light, regarding one another wordlessly for a seeming eternity.
“MACOs watch one another’s backs, Corporal,” he said at length.
“Then it sure looks like I didn’t watch Eby’s back closely enough, doesn’t it? And now he’s gone. He’s dead, and it should have been me.”
Hayes knew that the time had come for a reality check. Setting down his mug, he said, “Why would you say that? Unless I miss my guess, what you’re facing is a pregnancy, not a death sentence.”
All color seemed to drain away from her face, though otherwise she seemed strangely unsurprised to learn that he already knew about her condition. “I guess it’s true what they said back in MACO basic, sir: ‘There’s not a sparrow that falls without your CO knowing about it.’ ”
He smiled gently. “Thanks for the vote of omniscience, Corporal. But being aware of my team members’ troubles is part of my job.”
“So why didn’t you confront me about it earlier, sir?”
“I knew you would have confided in me sooner or later, Corporal. I think I can usually trust you to do the right thing.”
She laughed at that, but it was a laugh devoid of all but the blackest humor. “I suppose I should have guessed that if Eby figured out that I was pregnant, then you would, too.”
“It’s a small ship, Selma. And it’s an even smaller MACO company. Have a seat.” He gestured toward the nearest chair.
She sighed, then shrugged and sat down so heavily that he wondered for a moment if something had gone wrong with the grav plating.
She sat in silence for another lengthy interval before speaking again. “So I guess Nelson—” She paused, briefly interrupting herself before continuing. “I guess Sergeant Kemper must know all about it now, too.”
“I didn’t post a memo, Selma. Why don’t you talk to him? If he’s the father, he deserves to know.”
She nodded, then said in a very small voice, “I suppose my military career’s over.”
That took him aback. “Why? Is that what you want, Corporal?”
“Are you serious, Major? I’m pregnant. If I carry this baby to term, I’m going be out on a medical discharge, and probably a dishonorable one at that. And even if I don’t get cashiered, I’ll still probably be up on fraternization charges.”
He absently stroked his chin as he considered her