Jackson gave a low whistle. “That reallyisa sweet deal. Guess they don’t want to make you unlearn Earth habits for Mars.”
“Pretty much. And you’d might as well learn the Mars-specific techniques right from the start. Which I did. I did my military training, then hit up my clinical work in Army hospitals and bases. Made it all the way through to the Martian deployment training rotation.” I took a long drink of beer. This time, it couldn’t wash down the bad taste in my mouth.
Randall watched me as I swallowed. “What got you?”
“Hubris,” I said. “Hubris and pride. Our Sergeant made a bad call because he couldn’t stand losing and didn’t want to disappoint his daddy.”
Brenda walked back into the room and sat down in her chair next to Randall. “What do you mean, Sebastian? Didn’t want to disappoint his daddy?”
“His daddy has a star on his uniform and a distinguished career, including the push to build and fortify the secondary base near Olympus Mons,” I said.
Realization dawned on their faces like sunrise over the Red Planet. Until that push, the United States had a singular base on the surface of Mars, one under constant threat and without the security of a secondary installation. Then General Scott Derlega had planned and executed an action to drive a Russian force out of what many considered the most symbolic piece of real estate on Mars.
Olympus is the mythological home of the gods. The Russians had claimed the land at the base of the mountain for their own, and crowed about how they would build their home at the feet of the gods so all would know their superiority. It had been absolutely gorgeous rhetoric until United States forces evicted them with prejudice.
That area remains hotter than Hades to this day. In practical terms, it isn’t as valuable as Arabia Terra, or Acidalia Planitia, but the symbolism keeps the ammunition flying. Derlega had bought a divinely inspired victory in blood and corpses. Appropriate for a man in search of the seat of the gods.
“You served under Neil Derlega,” Jackson said, the statement as loaded as a weapon out by Olympus Mons.
He’d heard the history, apparently. I nodded. “I didn’t just serve under him.Iam the reason he’ll never see the Martian surface.”
Laramie’s expression had become a mask of astonishment and awe. “Oh, shit. This story went around the barracks on our first day of survival training. That wasyou?”
“Oh, my fucking God,” Jackson said. His gaze dropped to my side, and to the cane I’d leaned in the corner behind me. When it lifted again, all traces of confusion or hurt had evaporated, but I couldn’t decipher what they left behind.
Randall’s gaze ping-ponged between his sons. “Someone want to tell me what you two are on about?”
Jackson scooted his chair closer to mine so our legs touched. He scooped my hand into his and laced our fingers together. “You know General Derlega, Dad.”
“Yeah, I remember Scott Derlega. Good man. Great tactician. Before he got promoted out of field work, men would have followed him to Hell.”
“His son’s the opposite. People under him would follow him to Hell, but only to make sure he arrived safely.” Jackson’s voice was hard. “He almost got four people killed, and as it happens, one of them was their doc in training.”
Randall’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Sebastian.”
“Sebastian,” I confirmed. “That hailstorm a few years back? Softball-sized hail, enough rain to trigger mudslides? We had a scheduled survival training that day. The base’s weather watchers were advising we call it off, but Derlega refused. He said his section could handle it.”
Jackson added, “There were only a couple weeks to the next planned transport to Mars. Derlega wanted to be on it. If he delayed that exercise, the people under his command, him included, wouldn’t get their reds in time. There was already talk that he couldn’t live up to his dad’s legacy. His section was underperforming, because he was a shit leader. This was his last chance to prove himself.”
“He did prove something,” I said. “Mostly that he shouldn’t command troops. We marched out into the foothills under black skies and heavy winds for the survival exercise. They sent me as the medical backup. Part of my Mars fitness and field readiness training. The storm hit as we reached our first hiking target.”
I would never forget that storm. It still howled through my nightmares on bad nights, the roar of wind and tingle on my skin as lightning struck too close to our position. Thunder half-deafened us as it tore the air, no delay between the flash of lightning and the boom, and the rain fell hard enough to sting exposed skin.
“We couldn’t see two feet in front of us in the rain. A few boulders would have given us partial cover, but no one trusted they would stay put if the ground turned to mud. We had to pick our way across the rocky terrain towards a cave Derlega swore was up there.” I looked into Randall’s eyes. “There was no cave. He’d confused that trail for another one we trained on. That one had a cave. It was miles away.”
Randall chewed the inside of his cheek. I could see the anger, simmering and offended, that he suppressed. “That dumb fuck.”
“Mm.” I set my beer glass down. My throat had tightened too much to drink. “We were caught out in the open when the hail came down. One of the men took a softball-sized chunk of ice to the face. He fell backwards. A large stone caught him between the shoulders and snapped his head back hard. Internal decapitation. Like in a car accident, if you don’t have a head rest.”
Just the words “internal decapitation” are terrifying enough. Then you see one happen. A soldier bowed backwards over a rock, face to the sky, screaming and burbling as rain pours into his mouth. Hail battering him while his head dangles too loosely from his body. We could too easily have assumed he’d sustained some lesser wound, but I knew.
“I knew.” It surprised me to hear my own voice say the words. “You can’t see an internal decapitation, but I knew. We couldn’t move him. If we did, he would die. Derlega wanted to shift him into some kind of shelter, but we couldn’t without endangering him. We couldn’t even get word back to base to call for medevac.”
Laramie hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “They say the medic sheltered that guy with his body for the whole storm.”
“Yeah. They do say that.”
Bruises. A quilt of bruises. Like getting beaten by a hundred bats, or being stoned to death by the sky for the evil of your ways. Deafened by thunder and the sound of ice hitting your headgear, wondering if you die to God’s ice cube maker in the end.