THE LAST MARINES

“No!” Ben Corbin didn’t recognize his own voice. What had come out was more exhaled air and hoarse grunt than a word. His mouth was as dry as a New Gobi afternoon, and his throat felt like he’d swallowed a handful of sand. He was awake now. His heart raced. He took a deep breath and focused on slowing it.

Memories played out in a nightmare, over and over. There were holes, and he couldn’t be sure of it all, but it was almost always the same. The slow flashing of the dull red emergency lights. The ship’s decks lined with the dead and dying . . . and—and those bloody-mouthed things that were ripping them open. The aliens had moved so fast, he wasn’t sure if he was remembering it right. The screams, the panic—all in broken flashes like corrupted data on run-back. The running firefight to the escape pods, but they’d all been launched. Just him and Sam, then. They had to make it to the bridge deck, make a stand there, control the environmental systems. The bridge crew, all dead. The launch. If they could just get to the captain’s launch—

He couldn’t remember anything after the bridge.

Not alone.

“Commander Ogrun, this is Dr. Adler, please respond.” A woman’s voice.

Corbin tried inclining his head to see who’d spoken but he couldn’t move.

“Ogrun here, send it,” a deep male voice answered.

“He’s awake, Commander.”

“I’m en route.”

“. . . the hell am I?” Corbin asked with some difficulty. His voice was more exhaled air and hoarse grunt than coherent words. “Sam, where’s Sam?”

The pain is his throat was sharp when he spoke and throbbed when he didn’t. His vision was blurry and he could see out of only one eye. He felt the pressure of bandages around his head and could make out the edge of one crossing the bridge of his nose.

Near as he could figure, he was on his back in a medical bay. Gray walls, bright lights, the steady beeping and whirring of equipment. It smelled too clean to be the Ossamer. And, of course, there was this doctor lady.

“Just take it easy, Mr. Corbin.” Her voice was closer now. “You’re experiencing severe stasis shock among other things, but you’re safe now.”

“I said where’s Sam?” he asked between dry coughs. “Sam Garrett.” His voice was hoarse, but he was also slurring his words. “Water,” he said more than asked.

“Try to stay calm. Becoming overly agitated will almost certainly complicate your condition.” This Dr. Adler said in that annoying cadence of a too-often used professional phrase. The kind that requires little or no thought to form, just one of those insert-name-here generics.

“I can’t move. Why can’t I mo—?” he broke off, the words caught in his throat. Another deep breath as he tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. He tried again to lift his head to see who he was speaking to, but only pain answered the call.

“You’ve sustained injuries as a result of acute environmental exposure and stasis shock. You will need surgery to repair the damage. You can’t move from the chest down because I administered a paralytic before I revived you to prevent you from injuring yourself further.” As she spoke, Dr. Adler moved into view.

Some kind of interactive hologram activated over her forearm, just as his bed began to incline slightly. He wasn’t completely sitting up, but it was certainly better than being laid out on his back. The adjustment made him feel somehow less vulnerable.

She retrieved a clear canister from somewhere out of his sightline and put its drinking tube to his lips. “It’s water.”

He hesitated a second, then drank deeply. Too much, too fast. He spat most of the liquid back out as he was taken by another coughing fit. This one was harder and pain shot through his body.

“Not so much just yet.” She waited for the coughing to pass then offered the water again. “Small sips.”

His vision had cleared a little and he could make out her light brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail. She wasn’t tall and wore the white lab coat of medical personnel almost everywhere. This one had a big red cross on the sleeve that covered most of the upper arm with a chevron at each point. Not like the red crosses he recognized in relation to medical personnel. Not even on all sides, more like the long religious kind. Maybe this was one of those Mormon colony ships he’d heard about. Under the lab coat, she wore some kind of uniform, or maybe a crew’s coveralls. He couldn’t see clearly enough to make out the insignias on the collar, but even if he could he probably wouldn’t recognize them. It seemed like every asshole with a starship had his own uniforms these days.

“My business partner, Sam Garrett—of Corbin-Garrett Recovery out of Alpha City,” he managed to say before taking another sip.

“Mr. Corbin . . .” She trailed off, mouth open, as if she wasn’t sure what to say.

“Check the damn manifest. Corbin Garrett Recovery. Both of our idents are there.” He felt like he was drifting, like he might pass out.

“Mr. Garrett is safe, for the time being. He’s being treated on Mars.” A new voice. Someone else was in the room now. The voice from the comm system, maybe. Corbin couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t seen him come in, but the doctor had been blocking his view of the door. This new man couldn’t have been there long.

“Commander,” Dr. Adler said with a nod. She stepped aside to make room for him at Corbin’s bedside.

A tall man, with dark hair and matching complexion, moved into Corbin’s sight and stood on the opposite side of the gurney. “My name is Ogrun, Commander Ogrun.”

Commander Ogrun was wearing yet another unrecognizable uniform. It had one of those preacher’s collars with insignias on either side.

Looks official . . . Corbin thought dismissively.

Maybe they weren’t Mormons, then. Maybe just another well-to-do corporate militia or some crap like that. They were always popping up, thinking they had the right to police the international space around asteroids they were mining. As big as some of them were, they might have qualified as settlements, but they weren’t permanent. It might take a few decades to tap out one of the bigger rocks, but it was still just temporary. Mars and the Moon were the only legitimate colonies. No terraforming, no projected sustainability, no settlement. Still didn’t stop some folks from striking out on their own. There were outposts and abandoned stations scattered across the system. Some took hold, made a go of it, but most failed.

The doctor plucked the holo-image from above the device on her arm and flicked her fingertips to expand it. She looked up and over her shoulder, making eye contact with the newcomer while pointing something out on the holo-image.

“You’re aboard the Commonwealth of Nations cruiser Emeris,” he said, nodding in acknowledgement to the doctor. “Aside from yourself and Mr. Garrett, no other passengers or crew of the ship you were on, the United Colonial freighter Ossamer, were recovered. We’re patching her up to be towed back to a secure port for a more extensive investigation.”

Commonwealth. This guy said it like it was supposed to mean something to Corbin. “I don’t know any damn Commonwealth. What the hell are y’all talking about? I need a sending unit, I need to speak to the Colonial Authorities.”

“The Commonwealth?” Ogrun might have sounded surprised, but it was hard to tell. “Well, that is a very long story.” He glanced at the doctor’s hologram again. “When you’re up to it I’ll explain. I also have a few questions I need answered, but you should rest. All you need to know right now is that you’re safe and that those who attacked you have long since ceased to be a threat.”

“Those things slaughtered them, the crew and the passengers. Listen to me—” Corbin’s voice caught again, and again the doctor produced the water canister. He took a couple of sips and cleared his throat. “These things, they . . . they weren’t human! They were aliens!” Corbin’s voice cracked. “I know it sounds crazy, but it wasn’t raiders or rebel holdouts, dammit. They were aliens.”

He waited for a reaction, but none came. “I don’t mean refugees from an unregistered settlement without a work ident. I mean big, mean, fuckin’ aliens.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Corbin, we’re aware,” Ogrun said.

“I know how it sounds. I’m not nuts! Hell, check the damn logs.” Reflexively, he tried to sit up completely. Pain shot through him again, and everything went black. “Shit,” Corbin groaned through clenched teeth, “I can’t see! I can’t see, dammit.”

“The stress is causing your blood pressure to rise and the swelling in your brain to increase, putting pressure on the optic nerve. It should be temporary, but you have to calm down. Breathe slowly and deeply through your nose.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘should be temporary’?” No one responded. Corbin cursed, then tried again to make them understand. “We need to leave here. We’ve got to contact the Colonial Authority. It’s not safe. You haven’t seen them, you don’t know.”

“Alright, Commander, you’ve seen his scans, his vitals, and his agitated state,” said Dr. Adler. “He’s obviously in no condition to answer anyone’s questions. He needs time in the tank. We’re only making things worse. This is exactly why I didn’t want him conscious at this point. We’re looking at a couple of weeks in the tank at least, and twice that long after the surgeries.”

“What surgeries?” Corbin demanded. Some annoying alarm started to sound from somewhere in the room.

“Mr. Corbin, please, you’re safe now. We will answer all of your questions as soon as you’re stronger. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep now.”

Corbin strained against the strong urge to cough. “I don’t want to sleep. I need to call my wife, dammit. Tell her I’m not dead—warn her! You can’t lock me down, people have to be warned.”

He felt himself fading. He had to make them understand. The coughing won out in the end as he felt something wet on his chin. He recognized the coppery taste in his mouth. Blood. The beeping got louder and more urgent until the sedative finally took hold. He drifted back into nothingness, to the sounds of frantic voices shouting orders and that damn beeping.

Ogrun was waiting outside Corbin’s medical suite when Adler emerged, her appearance somewhat ruffled.

“How is he, Doctor?” Ogrun asked.

“Relatively stable, considering.”

“Good. You were right, of course. I shouldn’t have insisted you revive him. Orders. You understand.” Adler didn’t respond. She was concentrating on her e-band interface. “Doctor, would it be possible to stabilize him enough in his current condition to perform the nanosurgery and the necessary augmentations now rather than later? Without having to put him in the tank first? With full nanite immersion and simultaneous regeneration, of course.”

The doctor continued to manipulate icons and remote interfaces on the holo-image as she absently considered the question.

“Well, physically yes,” she said with a shrug. “As long as we can safely induce coma again, he should remain stable enough for major surgery in the tank.”

She’d been distracted at first, but as Adler considered the question as much as her response she became a little concerned. Ogrun was in charge of this mission. He answered to Fleet Comm and the LDC as far as she’d been told. A Fleet officer herself at one time, she knew Intel didn’t often ask questions without an agenda.

She’d been distracted. She would have to be more careful in the future.

She knew he would be scrutinizing her responses and microexpressions. He was probably even putting it all on glass.

“I don’t really see how that’s relevant, though.” Adler flicked her fingers, expanding the transparent blue hologram into a larger, free-floating image between them. Presumably so she could use both hands to interface, but really, she just didn’t know where this conversation was going and felt more comfortable with a buffer of sorts between them. “In his current state, I can’t possibly see putting him through the stress of debriefing him, much less getting his consent for the procedures. I think you’ve just seen that for yourself. We had to gel-suture a dermal patch over the left side of his face just so he could speak. He needs to heal if he’s going to be able to handle the stress without stroking out. Not to mention trying to explain to him what else will be necessary to more completely repair his body.”

“You misunderstand.” Ogrun wandered around the holo-image, coming to rest beside Adler as he pretended to survey the floating data with her. Adler resisted recoiling at his proximity. It was a power move, and they both knew it. “I have no intention of asking you to revive him again, not at the risk of losing him. He’s too important right now. Circumstances and time constraints call for unconventional methods. We don’t have the time to let him float around for two weeks, gently break the news to him, and hold his hand while he gets his head around it. You know better than anyone the lengthy postsurgical recovery time we’re looking at.”

Normally she would’ve balked at that, but she knew better than to be surprised. The Commonwealth always came first. When necessary, the rights of anyone can and would be suspended in order to protect it. Not only her patient’s rights, but hers as well if it came to that.

“Performing the augmentations without his knowledge—while not physically damaging—may result in undue resentment and a much lengthier recovery. His mental state is a factor. It’s rare, but he may even reject the nanites themselves.”

Ogrun didn’t respond to that. Her words didn’t appear to be making much of an impression. “This is what I do. I’ve seen it before, time after time in emergency trauma cases. Even though next of kin have consented, even though the subject may have consented themselves at some point via donor or recipient declarations, some people refuse to accept treatment and it takes them much longer to adjust. Cybernetic augmentations of this kind are commonplace to us. Mr. Corbin doesn’t even know they exist at this level. To say nothing for the shock of what else he has to come to terms with. I strongly object to this course of action, Commander.”

She changed the suspended image to a full-body scan of Corbin. “It will take time, but if we put him in the tank now we might be able to save most of the shoulder, some of the ribs, and his left clavicle before we repair the tissue damage.” She indicated those areas on the body scan as she spoke. “The lung and eye among other things will, of course, have to be flash cloned, but still it’s something. When he’s well enough and able to comprehend, we can explain the augmentations that are available. Once he’s had some time to adjust, I seriously doubt he will object.”

Though Dr. Adler felt her point was made plainly enough, she had a sinking suspicion that Ogrun’s mind—or rather the Legislate’s—was made up.

“Again, time is a major factor.” She felt herself clench her teeth as he continued but quickly relaxed her jaw again. “If possible, we need to avoid two separate and lengthy rounds of reconstructive treatment in the tank. If the augmentations can be performed in conjunction with the necessary surgeries to repair the trauma, and if it can be done safely, that should significantly decrease his time in the tank. Two dograts with one bolt, so to speak. As far as Mr. Corbin’s mental condition is concerned, the Legislate Defense Council, after having evaluated his records and per your recommendation, is sending a mental health team. I’ve been assured they have a great deal of experience in the field, and with your help the LDC is confident he can manage the transition.”

“With all due respect, Commander, what are they basing that on? An M-cell of old Colonial Government files? Some vague statistical data and his service record?”

“I apologize, Doctor, but that is the assessment the LDC made. I didn’t ask them or Fleet Comm to justify it.”

“I won’t violate my patient’s rights for the sake of political expediency.”

“Nor would I ask you to, not without good reason.” Ogrun sighed, moving to the other side of the holo-image again. “Perhaps I should’ve started with this. You need to know that the Legislate Defense Council has authorized a full mil-spec upgrade. Not just the arm, but the eye, shoulder, ribs, collarbone—all of it. Including Aug-9 reinforcement of the spine and torso.”

Adler didn’t know what to say. She was, admittedly, shocked.

“That’s right, Doctor. Kneecap to skull. As well as a thirty percent increase in capacity for the cloned lung. That will make most of the conventional repairs you had in mind a moot point anyway. You will have full access to any and all of the most current mil-spec profiles you may not already be familiar with, full run of your own medical section and any other resources you may need.”

She couldn’t hide the surprise on her face as she completely minimized the holo-image between them. “Why was I not informed of this earlier? Hell, why don’t we just Aug-9 it all? In fact, with those reinforcements you’re talking about, a full skeletal reinforcement may eventually be necessary anyway.”

“It’s a fairly recent development, and frankly due to the nature of this operation it’s need-to-know information. However, I defer to you if you believe more extensive augmentation is called for.”

“Well, I’d be the one who most needed to know, don’t you think?” she huffed. “I’d have to completely rewrite his treatment plan and surgical protocols.” She reopened her e-band holo, quickly scrolling and shifting information on its interface. “Is this even legal? I mean, without his consent?”

“I understand your concerns, but I need to know if he can survive the more extensive augmentation procedures as you repair the other damage to his body.”

“Well yes, but that wasn’t really my point.”

“I realize that,” Ogrun admitted, “and as I said it’s a fairly recent development, but so far legal concurs with the decision. Corbin, having no known next of kin that have responded and considering his previous military service and status as a stasis recovery, leaves consent in the hands of the Commonwealth. Regardless, consent is not your concern.”

Ogrun paused for a moment to let that sink in. “Dr. Adler, I realize you’re no longer an active duty member of the Commonwealth Defense Services. You are, however, one of the best at what you do. That is why the Legislate requested your help. We need this man alive, cooperative, and moving under his own power as soon as possible without compromising security.”

Adler wondered what else he felt she didn’t need to know yet and just how much he knew himself.

Ogrun continued. “I don’t have to tell you that his living could mean strengthening the alliance. At least, that is our goal in this. That being the case, I’m sure you realize his life will be in danger. The timeline and these upgrades—while politically expedient—may also make the difference in his survival. It isn’t pretty, and it isn’t fair, but that’s where we’re at.”

She didn’t answer immediately. She turned from Ogrun, gazing through the door at Corbin’s sedated form. He was gaunt, pale, and looked half-dead as it was. She looked to the sentry droid floating silently in the corner, as if to make sure it was paying attention. It gave her a nod in response to her silent challenge.

“Doctor?” Ogrun began when she didn’t respond. “I have a holo con in thirty with the LDC and Fleet Comm. I cannot, for the time being at least, fill in all the gaps for you regarding this mission. I myself don’t even know the full extent of the Legislate’s plans for Mr. Corbin. I ask you to trust me when I say that even though the LDC’s orders are in the interest of the Commonwealth and may seem drastic, they are in Mr. Corbin’s best interest as well.

“I understand your concerns, and rest assured all official authorizations have been sent to your personal CommNet hub and will be filed with the Commonwealth Practitioners hub on Earth. You can’t be held liable for any treatment or medical procedures authorized by the Legislate or Fleet Comm regarding Mr. Corbin.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Adler said with a small sigh. She was growing tired of this conversation. “I’m not concerned with personal liability. I am concerned with the rights and overall well-being of my patient. I’ve already dedicated quite a bit of time to Mr. Corbin’s treatment plan that will now have to be extensively revised. It isn’t just an ethical question. His mental state and willingness to accept change are real factors. As you said, Commander, the Legislate needs his cooperation. Well I can only imagine it will be more difficult to obtain after we’ve preformed these procedures without his consent.”

“The Legislate and Fleet Command have considered that,” Ogrun said. “Let me worry about his cooperation. I need you to get him on his feet and keep him healthy. I know you realize how important his well-being could be to the people of the Commonwealth. The expansion of this alliance could save many lives.”

“I understand what’s at stake.”

“Do we have an understanding then, Doctor? More to the point, can I assure the LDC and Fleet Command of your full cooperation?”

She considered it for a moment, but really she had already made her choice. Besides, if not her, then it would be someone else. Perhaps someone with lesser skills.

“I understand, and I’ll comply with the Legislate’s mandate, with reservations. If my medical opinion is to be repeatedly overridden, then I can’t be responsible if the outcome is less than optimal.”

“Very good, Doctor. Thank you.”

“I wasn’t finished.” Adler crossed her arms. “I need you to know that if this mandate had been a serious risk to my patient’s physical health, I would not have agreed to proceed. That is me drawing a line, Commander. We are dangerously close to that line as it is. If you plan to ask me to cross it in the future, you’ll need to find another doctor to treat him.”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary. Your reservations will be documented, Doctor. Keep me updated on his progress and your surgical schedule. Use the ship’s secure hub to access any information you may need on the current mil-spec augmentations.”

“I don’t have the ship’s secure hub clearance, Commander.”

“Yes, Doctor, you do. See the deck officer at the main security station for your codes.” With that, Ogrun turned and headed for the corridor hatch, leaving the doctor to her work.