Homeworld: A Military Science Fiction Novel (35 page)

“The same thing that will happen to you if you enlist, Carl. You’ll lose people. You’ll make friends, get close to men in your unit, and then you’ll lose them. If you’re lucky, you’re the one who will eat it, and then others can worry about feeling bad for your death.”

Carl looked confused. “I thought you were spending the past year in training exercises.”

Crap. Peter underestimated how sharp his brother was. He needed a topic change. “How about you, little bro? How are things in the ladies department?”

Carl looked away defensively, pulling his drink closer to him. He pretended that he was scanning the room. Peter knew this was a sore topic for Carl, but it did the trick. It took the focus off him.

“Well, not many women want to date unemployed, broke students living with their parents.”

“Carl, it doesn’t mean that you can’t have any fun.”

“So what am I supposed to do, lie to them?”

Peter smiled. “No, just don’t tell them the truth.”

He saw Carl eyeing a beautiful brunette by the MP3 shuffler. Some local hick was making a royal mess out of hitting on her.

He leaned over and talked in Carl’s ear. “She’s way out of your league, bro.”

Carl laughed and brushed his shoulder off. “You were the one who played in leagues, Pete. I’m going to dazzle her with my intellect.”

Peter slapped him on the back. “Go for it, tiger. I’ll be there to catch her on the rebound.”

Carl took one last slug, draining his pint, and slammed it heartily on the bar. “You assume I’m going to fail. You assume too much.”

“Go get her, Romeo.”

Carl started to walk away when Peter grabbed him by the sleeve and reeled him in.

“What now, Pete?”

“Wait a minute, hot shot. What’s your approach?”

“I’m just going to go over there and introduce myself.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to…say hi?”

“Yeah, introduce myself. You know, like civilized humans do.”

Peter looked over at the target. Long legs, ample rack, curves in all the right places. “I don’t think she’s so civilized, Carl. She’s some kind of predator.”

“Classy, bro. Real classy.”

“Hey, I just call it as I see it.”

“Let me do my thing.”

Peter let his brother go and watched in amusement as he sauntered over to the brunette by the MP3 shuffler. They had only just arrived, and already Carl was trying to show up his big brother. It had always been that way, even though Peter thought his parents favored Carl.

Peter was always bigger, more athletic, and better looking. Carl wasn’t bad looking, but he was more ordinary. However, when it came to intelligence, Peter admitted that Carl out-classed him.

Peter was not quite sure what Carl said to the girl, but her body language already indicated that she was not interested. She was trying desperately to look around the bar for a friend to bail her out, but she wasn’t so lucky. Carl was floundering.

Peter finished his beer and placed his glass on the bar. Big brother to the rescue. He crossed the bar over to where Carl and the brunette were standing. Peter addressed the girl, ignoring Carl entirely. “Hi. Is this guy bugging you?”

The brunette looked at him to gauge if he was serious. So did Carl. She nodded tentatively.

He grabbed Carl by his shirt. “Get lost, dude.” And he shoved him several feet away. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly Carl he was rescuing. “Hi, my name’s Peter.”

The brunette smiled, obviously impressed by his brawn and assertiveness. It was pure animal magnetism. “Hi, I’m Amanda.”

Carl, his pride wounded from being upstaged by his big brother yet again, went back to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer chaser. He looked on helplessly as his brother charmed the pants off the knockout brunette. He figured that girls like that just responded to sophomoric bravado, something he decided was not in his constitution.

He turned to face the bar and wallow in his self-pity when he saw her. She was an attractive blonde. Pretty, athletic, and she had an air of self-confidence. She was looking across the bar. Perhaps she was waiting for someone. Nevertheless, at the moment, she was alone.

Carl pulled himself together, took one last swig of his beer, and he summoned the courage to dismount his bar stool. He crossed the bar, apparently acting before his mind could catch up. He was frantically searching for the perfect introduction, but he was in front of her before he could come up with anything.

He stood there awkwardly in front of her, and it wasn’t long before her gaze shifted from across the bar to him. He didn’t know what to say. He held out his hand. “Hi…I’m Carl.”

Not facile at reading the opposite sex, Carl was not sure how to interpret her reaction. It was somewhere between confusion and displeasure, but the look quickly faded, and she smiled politely. “Hi, Carl.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

She began to fidget. “Well, actually I am supposed to meet someone…”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet my brother,” he pointed to Pete making time with the brunette, “but he’s obviously busy at the moment.”

“Oh, I see…” she looked over at Peter and then at Carl. She appeared to have an inexplicable sudden change of heart. “What’re you drinking, Carl?”

“At this point, whiskey.”

“Rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

The girl summoned the bartender. “Two whisky shots, black label.”

Carl was impressed. This girl knew how to order drinks.

“So, Carl, what was so rough about your day?”

“Well…I decided that I was going to enlist…in the army.” Dammit, he forgot…he wasn’t supposed to tell the truth.

“Oh, the army. Impressive.”

Wow. He wasn’t expecting that. She looked actually impressed.

“Yeah, well, my parents weren’t too happy about it.”

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t be.”

“Even my brother, who’s actually a sergeant in the army.”

“Really? Well, that seems hypocritical of him, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. Yes it does.”

He couldn’t believe it. He was actually having a real conversation with a beautiful woman, and she was so easy to talk to. The night was looking up.

“So why the army, Carl? You don’t seem like the army type.”

Now he was embarrassed. Apparently sensing his insult, the girl clarified her remark. “I mean, you seem like someone who’d do well in the private sector.”

“Yeah, that’s what my brother seems to think. But the economy is so bad, I can’t afford any more tuition, and there are no jobs.”

“So the army seems like your best option at the moment.”

“Well, I want to do something with myself. I don’t just want to sit around and do nothing. I am my own man. I want to see the world.”

“Well, Carl, you know the army isn’t a vacation.”

“I know that, but maybe I want to do some good, and perhaps I’ll learn some skills on the job.”

“What were you studying in school, Carl?”

“Engineering. I figured that there’s plenty of on-the-job training, and the army can pay the rest of my tuition.”

“Well, there are other skills you can learn too, besides engineering.”

“Oh?”

“Like leadership, independence, discipline.”

Carl thought he was falling in love. Here he was talking to a beautiful woman who understood him and what he wanted to do. Was this actually going somewhere? She seemed older, but he wasn’t sure how much.

Then he realized that he knew nothing about her. Here he was droning on about himself and his existential quandary. He suddenly felt self-conscious and rather clumsily tried to change the topic to her.

“So, I’ve been going on and on about myself, I don’t even know your name.”

She was looking over his shoulder. “Oh, I think I see the person I was supposed to meet.”

Oh great. She was blowing him off. He screwed up, blathering on about enlisting, unemployment, and his parents.

“Let’s go say hi.” Unexpectedly, she grabbed him by the arm and nearly yanked him off his bar stool. She pulled him through the crowd, through the smoke, and across the tiny dance floor until she was standing in front of Peter.

Peter looked away from his brunette as he saw some blonde pulling his brother across the bar. He almost did a double take when he saw who it was.

“Hi, Peter.”

Carl was confused. “What? You know my brother? Pete, you know her?”

Peter, embarrassed by his company and completely unprepared for this encounter, straightened up. “Captain London.”

Peter didn’t know why, but he was disconcerted. He didn’t want Captain London seeing him with this bar fly. Part of him found her attractive since their first meeting, even though romance wasn’t an option. She was his therapist after all.

Carl couldn’t believe it. He was finally able to maintain a conversation, with a total knockout no less, and she was here to meet his brother. What was it with this guy? What did Pete have that he didn’t?

“I was just talking with your brother, Carl, over at the bar.”

Peter didn’t quite know what to say. The brunette, no longer the center of Peter’s attention, looked flustered.

“What are you doing here, Captain?”

She sized up the brunette contemptuously. “Major Lewis sent me to personally tell you that your leave has been cut short.”

Great. Again?

“He has approved you for…that program we were talking about.”

It took a moment for the meaning of her message to register with Peter. At the moment, it was really the last thing on his mind.

Carl was lost. “Program? What’s she talking about, Pete?”

She was staring him dead in the eye, no doubt gauging his reaction.

“Nothing, Carl. Yes, thank you, Captain. I’ll report tomorrow morning.”

“At 08:00, Lieutenant.”

What? Did he hear her correctly?

“Lieutenant,” he repeated tentatively.

“Yes, it appears you have been promoted.”

Carl stood there stunned. The brunette, her ego bruised, was losing interest fast. Carl was happy for his brother. “Pete, this is great! Lieutenant. Congratulations!”

“08:00 hours, Captain.”

Captain London turned to Carl and shook his hand. Her skin was soft to the touch, but her grip was firm. “It was nice meeting you, Carl. Peter, you never told me your brother was cute.”

Then she turned and left the bar.

Now Carl stood there just as flabbergasted as his brother was. The brunette had already left the scene and was now talking to some other jock. Both brothers basked in the glow of accomplishment, and each would have argued that his was more significant.

They left the bar shortly thereafter and began their half-drunken walk home. Carl was dissertating about how smooth he was in his introduction and conversation with the illustrious Captain London. Peter was unable to discuss his promotion and what it meant, so all he could do was listen to Carl. Unfortunately, the effects of the alcohol were waning, rendering Carl’s soliloquy nearly unbearable.

Carl noticed his brother squirming. “Hey, listen, I understand if this makes you uncomfortable, she being a senior officer and all.”

Peter didn’t respond. Carl studied his big brother’s face, and then his face lit up as if struck by a great epiphany. “It’s not that, is it?”

Peter just kept looking forward as he walked.

“It’s not that at all,” Carl continued in delight. “You like her.”

“Carl, she’s my goddamned therapist.”

“She’s a shrink? Why are you seeing a shrink?”

Peter looked annoyed. “Carl, haven’t you heard of confidentiality?”

Carl was practically squealing with delight. “You like her. And she said I was cute, and that just burns your ass.”

“Yes, Carl,” Peter responded sarcastically, “it really burns my ass, even though she’s my shrink and there’s no prospect whatsoever.”

For Carl this was Christmas come a little early. “Oh, it burns your ass alright. A girl actually chose me over you.”

“She didn’t choose anything, Carl. She just said you were cute.”

Then it was as if Carl was told that there was no Santa Clause. “Crap…crap, you’re right.”

Peter felt bad at Carl’s disappointment, but he was happy it shut him up.

“Hey, Pete, do you think I’ll see her again?”

Peter just looked at his brother with exasperation. Weary from a night of drinking, he put his arm around his brother and they walked the rest of the way home in silence.

Peter tossed and turned that night in his old bed. He was dreaming furiously. Visions of Apone, Marx, Spottiswoode, and the others danced in his head. They stared at him, through him, boring into his soul and exposing his guilt to the light of day. He could not hide from their collective gaze and consequently his own shame.

He awoke in a cold sweat with bitterness on his tongue. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, putting his feet on the floor. His shirt was drenched. He rubbed his eyes thoroughly, as if it might rub out the bad memories.

He looked at the clock—three twenty-two in the morning, only a couple of hours before his alarm. He wiped the tears streaming down his face with his forearm, sniffled, and reached for his duffle bag under his bed. He reached in and pulled out his pistol. He felt it in his hand. It was like an extension of his body. But that was his training.

He placed the cool barrel on his forehead as he fought back sobs. He struggled to keep quiet; he didn’t want to wake his parents or Carl. He rocked back and forth, contemplating the unspeakable as his body convulsed with suppressed sadness. He wanted to scream, but he fought the urge.

He slowly slid the barrel of the gun down his forehead until it reached his mouth. He then slowly opened his mouth wider and slid the barrel in. He was now shaking violently as he sat there in his childhood bedroom with a gun in his mouth poised to pull the trigger.

This was the bedroom where he played with his action figures, read his comic books by flashlight, and fantasized about several girls in his class. Life was so much simpler then. It was filled with such possibility.

However, as potential cannot sustain itself indefinitely with the passage of time, all individuals are forced to make choices. And with each choice made, potential erodes, possibilities are left behind, and one’s life path narrows. Then one must face the life he has chosen for himself and all that goes with it. Nevertheless, at three twenty-two in the morning sitting in his childhood bed, Peter could not stomach the absurdity of his situation and the horrors he had unknowingly chosen for himself.

He yearned to sleep forever, to join his fallen comrades, but they had died an honorable death. What he was about to do was…cowardice.

He slid the pistol out of his mouth and put it gingerly on his end table. He realized that suicide would bring further shame and dishonor on himself.

No, he would report back to Fort Bliss and jump head first into this “ID” Program, whatever the hell it was. He would hunt down every last Navajas until he took his very last breath.

Amused by what he almost did in his parents’ house, he chuckled hysterically to himself as he sobbed in the dark. He placed his pistol back into his duffle bag, lowered his head back onto his pillow, and took advantage of what time he had left before the alarm would sound off.

His parents slept soundly in the next room, completely unaware of how close they were to tragedy. Then again, ignorance is bliss.

***