I look around quickly. I am in the barracks. “What day is it?”
“Wednesday, why?”
“No, what day is it in the war?”
“It’s like the third week man, what the fuck is up with you?”
I reach for my bladder to drink, but I see my dirty blue helmet with the white bold letters of UN on it, my hand hesitates for a moment. “Nothing, I just had a bad dream is all.”
“You said the same thing yesterday,” mutters Isaac as he begins putting his boots on, “and the night before.” He places his armored vest on. “I swear to god though, if we have to dig out more trenches or move more rubble in the city as our, break, from combat today like the last two weeks. I will kill myself.”
The other marines start to wake and ready themselves. Vance walks by to the latrine, “Tell me about it.”
Alex puts his combat vest on as well. “And all the civilians just fucking watch, it’s their damn city, they should be helping us.”
Commissar Herus enters the barracks with Blake following behind like a dog on a leash.
We barely get up in time to come to attention, most of us undressed.
“Who here is against humanity?” says Herus.
What the hell is he talking about?
“Who here is against Earth?”
We remain quiet.
“Who here is against America? Someone here has broken Party Creed and Ideals.” He walks down the middle of our two lines, his huge revolver bouncing at the hip at each step. I see Ray before me, raising his arms into the air begging for life, reminding me of what Herus is. He is cold and as harsh as that revolver he cherishes, and just as dangerous. He walks back up our line towards the door, and turns around.
“Private Peter!”
No fucking way.
“Step forward!”
The simple movement of bringing my leg forward suddenly becomes terrifying and complex. This step he requests now more difficult than this city he asked me to liberate.
But I finally take a step.
“Now, I have been informed of your glorious duty both in the assault on this exact city, and your more heroic action in Tionem from your Sergeant. However, this does not dismiss the fact that your logs account for something else. They mention two instances of you taking Stim doses outside of registered administration by a commanding NCO or higher. I will let you speak for yourself. We all hope this was just a misunderstanding, considering your valiant actions have previously made you admirable and respected as a Marine.”
I try to breathe but instead end up hacking. Everyone glances at me quickly, the Commissar with a curtsy expression, like having a mouse trapped in a corner.
“Commissar Herus, the Private can account for those instances,” I say. We still have to talk in degrading third person of ourselves, like back in basic, around the high ranking Party Representatives
“Oh, excellent. Explain Private.”
“On the siege here, the Private saw a fellow marine, Ray, running as a deserter. The act worried the Private, so in order to safeguard fighting capacity, he thought it necessary to administer another dose. The Private was not near his Sergeant at the time as one could imagine the chaos of the assault.”
There is a long pause, I dare not look at the Commissar. I remain solidified out of fear, but hope it appears as respect or confidence in myself to him. I also feel a bite of self-hatred at how I revealed the truth of Ray’s death to my unit like this. They probably hate me now, for withholding the facts so long.
“Yes, Private Ray was an unfortunate occurrence. We are still looking into why such warriors would desert as traitors. They only reasonable explanation we came to was just that, that they were traitors.”
That bastard, Ray was a good man.
“Your response is acceptable, but we still have the latter event to resolve.”
“The Private has always been under the impression that Buzz creates a variety of advantages beyond physiological alteration. In Tionem at the time the Private had recovered from concussion damage during the battle. In the heat of that moment, in order to successfully take down the Herculean bunker to save his comrades, the Private, again without any unit NCO’s nearby, administered Buzz purely for stamina capabilities, to have the energy to do what was necessary to take down the bunker.”
Herus hums to himself. “I was told you ran across rooftops like a wildman, and shot the AT while in midair.” I glance up quickly to see him smiling with delight.
I can’t tell if he is being sarcastic, or is seriously elated to think that his men can do stuff like that. “The Private did run across rooftops, but the AT was saved for taking out the AA.”
“So it is all true!” He claps. “Alright, your incidents will be reported as field ingenuity under strenuous circumstances. I would still however, recommend that you ask or wait for a CO to administer field stims. If the cases for doing so personally do not live up to valorous reasons, as Private Peter’s have, the consequences will be immediate and unmerciful.” Commissar Herus leaves and we are left at attention, my body sweating from the interaction.
“At ease,” says Blake, once he pokes out the door to make sure he’s gone. He looks at me while I collapse onto my bunk. “I’m sorry. I tried to tell him it wasn’t anything bad. But you know them. Follow regulations to a T.”
Doesn’t remove the fact I almost had a heart attack. It’s getting harder to breathe. I can feel my limbs cramping. I need Cloud quick. I rise off my bunk. “Hold on everyone!” says Blake. Fuck, I gotta get out of here. I sit back down, my hands clenching the frame bars—I gotta get to Cloud. He begins walking around the bunks tossing envelopes.
“What is this?” says Isaac, foundling his envelope.
“Paychecks, Command has released yours now.”
Rommel rips his open. “Why?”
Blake takes a few steps towards the door, then faces everyone. “Good news boys, on a much lighter note, we get an early two day leave to Nova Carthago.”
“Wait,” Isaac rises viewing his check, “you mean we are getting like, R&R?”
“Yep, Command just notified me that since we were part of the first combat groups to fight, we also get to go first, and Marshall Hannibal himself decided to begin leave early.”
“Well he’s my type of guy,” says Isaac gleefully, the rest of us mutter in agreement.
“So where are we going, sir?” says Tommy excitedly.
“Nova Carthago, the capital of Carthage and the biggest tourist spot on this planet. Well before the war that is. I am sure it’s still booming with the Coalition arriving and thousands of support personal being based there.” Blake walks out the door yelling back at us, “We leave tomorrow at the crack of dawn!”
I take my sack and go to the toilettes. The stall closes behind me as I lean over the toilet bowl and puke. I wipe my lips and spit into the bowl. Fucking Herus, fucking nightmares. I open the bag and tie an elastic band around my arm, and stab a syringe into my blue vein saying good morning to Cloud. I can’t do the dose through my neck distributor because it is monitored by Blake’s control pad, and especially with what just happened earlier—Jesus I almost got my ass fried. Thank god for abandoned ambulances.
I place my hands against the stall wall and breathe out the remaining stress. I look into the toilet bowl, disturbed, while I wait.
You only take small doses Peter, nothing like they actually administer to you on the field. Just enough to get over the aftershock. My hands slide against the walls of the stall, and I regain my focus on the toilet bowl. Every time I see you, I know I should throw the rest away. End this addiction, turn myself in. But they won’t leave me alone! The nightmares, the aftershock. Why is it fucking me up but not anyone else? What is wrong with me? Peter, you only take small doses. It’s not an addiction.