Last Full Measure - Michael A. Martin [110]
Finally, he said, “The MACO company is built on discipline.”
“I understand that, Major,” she said, nodding. “And I’ve betrayed that discipl—”
“I haven’t granted you permission to speak, Corporal,” he said, interrupting her in a stern tone, then pausing to allow proper military protocol to reassert itself.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” She lapsed into silence.
“Good,” he said at length. “As I was saying, the MACO company is built on discipline.”
She nodded again, this time without speaking a single syllable. Even in the cabin’s dim light, he could see that her eyes were refulgent with unshed tears.
“But it also can’t afford to stand on ceremony,” he amended. “At least not under our current circumstances.”
Perplexity tugged her head hard to starboard. “Sir?”
“We MACOs are the tip of the spear in the Delphic Expanse, Corporal, and we’re only three dozen strong out here—less one, now. And God only knows if or when we’re going to see our next troop rotation. I can’t justify benching anybody if doing that might compromise the safety of either the mission or the team. In my judgment, drumming you out now could inflict serious damage on both.”
Tears were beginning to stream down both sides of her dusky face. “Thank you, Major. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You and Kemper can do that by continuing to do your duties to the best of your abilities,” Hayes said. “Who knows?” He smiled. “We might even have these Xindi bastards all rolled up before you’re too pregnant to shoulder a rifle.”
She laughed and cried simultaneously, and Hayes reached for a nearby shelf where he happened to keep a box of tissues, which she gratefully accepted.
After she had finished noisily blowing her nose, she said, “I knew Colin—Private Eby, I mean—back in basic. I even let him know I was interested in him once. Did you know that?”
Hayes wasn’t at all surprised to hear this, but he shook his head anyway. “So much for my omniscience.”
“He never gave me any encouragement, so I gave up and we lost touch after we were sent to different postings. Then, years later, we both ended up on the same Xindi hunt. And then I met Nelson—” She paused as though to gather her thoughts. “Sergeant Kemper.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Hayes asked.
“I’m not really sure,” she said, her tears beginning to flow anew. “Maybe I’m still trying to figure out why Eby took the bullet that was meant for me.”
“It might have had something to do with that Xindi ship that was bearing down on the shuttlepod,” Hayes said, though he knew he was only stating the obvious. “The shuttlepod couldn’t have outrun that ship, so aborting the attempt to blow up the fuel dump wouldn’t have been a very good option.”
Guitierrez nodded, blowing her nose again before replying. “Somebody had to stay behind to set off the ordnance.”
“That’s right, Selma. Somebody. But not necessarily you.”
“But why Eby? Why not me?”
“Maybe you reminded Private Eby of his sister, Moira. She was serving with the 22nd MACO Division, in the Alpha Centauri system, the last time I checked,” Hayes said, already dreading the letter he would have to write tomorrow to Eby’s sister and parents.
Or maybe Private Eby simply loved you enough to make sure that you and your baby both got a fair chance to survive, settle down, and have the family that he just couldn’t have offered you himself.
“I guess I really don’t have a good answer for you, Corporal,” was all he said. “All I know is that things happen unpredictably during mission ops. No battle plan entirely survives an engagement with an enemy. And there’s no ‘bullet’ with anybody’s name engraved on it. We make our own destinies, at least as much as blind luck does.”
Guitierrez nodded. “And some of us are lucky enough to find destinies that make us heroes. The unlucky ones get left behind to pick up the pieces of their lives.”
She sighed and looked away, perhaps still digesting Hayes’s comments, or maybe struggling with the reality of Eby’s death—and her own survival. Hayes watched