"We're all going to die tomorrow.

"No, seriously we are.

"How do I know? Fine, I'll let you in on it. I'll tell you why we're going to die and nobody's going to even know. We'll be forgotten about when the human who kills us washes our blood from his skin.

"All right, follow my logic, chummer.

"Humanity is only less than two hundred fifty thousand years old.

"I'm not kidding. Look up their species history. Here, try this link.

"See! Two hundred fifty thousand years is longer than they've been humanity. Now, you think that's amazing? Check this out. They've only had civilization less than ten percent of that time.

"Stop laughing. Seriously. Less than twenty-five thousand years of civilization, and that's only if you count civilization in the roughest terms.

"All right, you ready? Check this, chummer. Of that time, less than ten thousand years have been a 'modern' civilization.

"No, seriously, man, I'm telling you. Look at the numbers, chummer. Check it.

"Yeah, you're seeing the numbers, baby. I can tell because you're not laughing any more. Half of their civilization time is post superluminal flight.

"Look at that jump right there. Less than four hundred years and they went from killing each other with metal swords and riding around on draft animals to atomic weapons, star drive, and the global information network.

"Think of what it took to do that. Now, add in, the whole time, they were killing each other.

"These are the guys command thinks they should send us out to fight. Command thinks we can win this war.

"Look around you, chummer. You see any brass out here? You see any brass sitting with us? You see Command out here with us? See Command out here drinking soycaff and soybrew and waiting to fight the humans again? No. You don't. You know why? Because we keep getting out tails ripped off.

"Oh, we aren't? Name one, just one battle we've won since the High Triumvirate planet cracked that humie ag-world as a war declaration. One. Name just one. Name one time they haven't killed everyone in sight, pushed us until we ran then chased us shooting at us. Name one.

"Yeah.

"You can't.

"Neither can I.

"Yeah, the rumors are true. That human ripped off the hatch to the tank with one hand, snatched me out, and threw me about eight body lengths before he dropped inside with that cutting bar.

"By the Gods, I close my eyes, I can still hear my crew-mates screaming over the roar of that cutting bar.

"Notice everyone here is from the medical center? Yeah, baby, we all are. Now are you seeing it?

"I'm telling you, I'm not interested in fighting the humans any more. We've all done it at least once and we're lucky to have survived. For the sake of the Gods, a human pulled your arm off last week and beat you down with it and now command wants you to go out and fight the humans again, like you're going to do any better with one arm.

"So what? So this! I'm telling you. They'll issue out and unlock our weapons, vehicles, armor, and ammo tonight, thinking that we can surprise the humans, like humans give a damn if it's day or night. Peep this, baby. Instead of attacking the humans, here's what we do..." - Excerpt from the movie "Days of the Climb to Freedom, the Blevan Rebellion"

Sighing, Melinvae adjusted her hat and leaned against the heavy plasteel boxes that had formerly contained heavy computerized surgical equipment moved from the nanoforges to the medical unit. The day was hot, the sun pounding down with glee at the fact the ozone layer had been stripped away by atomic detonations.

A Whemdill hustled by, the little puffy mammal dressed in the civilian jumpsuits and wearing a breathing mask. The species was one Melinvae had never even heard of before she had arrived on the planet. A small species, coming up only to Melinvae's chest, they had been absorbed by the Unified Unregistered Species Council only a hundred years before.

Now the fight against the Atrekna raged on their planet, trapping them like a small animal caught between two angry gods.

There had been 14 billion of them when the Atrekna landed. They were still in their large warren-like cities, using robots for agriculture, and the Lanaktallan barely had any presence.

When the Terran Confederate Space Force had hit the system, there had been less than five billion of them left.

Now, there was less than three billion of them.

On cue there was faint flashes over the horizon. One of them had the purple backwash of an Atrekna orbital shot from one of their space vessels.

The Whemdill flinched.

Melinvae just checked her wrist monitor.

A Telkan Lieutenant walked by, saw her, and jerked slightly before snapping of a salute. Melinvae saluted back without really getting up. She knew she didn't look like the type that should be saluted and repressed a smile at the Telkan Lieutenant's reaction.

Her adaptive camouflage was muddy, her ballistic protection was cracked and pockmarked. The helmet hanging from her canteen was scuffed and discolored. Her boots were muddy and looked like they'd been shined with a chocolate bar. She had a Treana'ad cigarette in her mouth and a fizzybrew in her hand. Her hat was rumpled and discolored by grease and sweat, with a slight nick out of brim where a piece of shrapnel had almost got a piece of her face.

Even the little badge above her combat medical badge was scuffed, muted, and greasy looking.

Melvinae shifted her equipment harness to hide the little badge that was on her chest plate and uniform top both, rolled the cherry out of her smoke and crushed it with the toe of her boot, then finished the fizzybrew. She underhand slung it across and into the grinder in an arc that made the Tukna'rn dumping refuse into it look over in surprise.

A Captain walked by, saw nothing more than a tired medic leaning against empty plasteel crates, and kept right on going. His uniform was in the same shape as Melinvae's and the magac SMG riding near his hip was discolored and dented.

A private leaned out of the tent. "Captain Dekar will see you, Specialist."

Melinvae nodded, straightening up. She grabbed her magac, moved up to the barrel buried in the ground and filled with silicate, removed the ambloc, locked the bolt back, and pulled the trigger before putting the weapon on safe. She nodded at the private and followed him into the positive pressure tent.

Captain Dekar was a Telkan with one cyber eye and both ears black warsteel prosthetics. He was behind a foldable field desk, looking at the holoemitter, which was tuned to show nothing more than a snarl of light and color to anyone not sitting at the desk.

The Captain stood up and saluted her. "Specialist Melinvae," he said.

"Captain Dekar," she said, knowing her voice sounded tired as she returned the salute.

The Captain sat down and chuckled slightly. "You're not used to it yet?"

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"No, sir," she said.

He waved at the chair and Melinvae dragged it over, sitting down and sighing.

"Heard your flight saw some action before you got here," Captain Dekar said.

"Unit got jumped. They had wounded," Melinvae said. She shrugged. "We were closest."

Captain Dekar nodded. "All right then."

"Welcome to Charlie Company, Two five two five, known as Fifty Cents, for some reason only known to the Terrans," the Telkan said, waving at the guidon.

"Thank you, sir," Melinvae said.

Captain Dekar checked his paperwork. "You'll be assigned as a Specialist-Six to Treatment Platoon," he said. He looked up. "Unless you have objections?"

Melinvae gave a tired smile. "Are you this solicitous with all Spec-Sixes that come through your office?" she asked.

"Only the ones like you," the Captain said honestly. "Don't see medics like you."

Melinvae just nodded.

"You're out of First Cav, Hesstlan Regiment, correct?" Captain Dekar asked, motioning at the patch. He noticed that the black diagonal stripe seemed to have a slight reddish tint to it that he hadn't seen before.

Melinvae nodded.

"Well, Treatment Platoon works tight with Ambulance Platoon as well as with the dustoff strikers," Captain Dekar said. "Your file stated you started on dustoff and forward aid stations."

"Yes, sir," Melinvae said.

The Captain nodded and for a moment seemed like he wanted to say more, then closed his mouth with the click of teeth on teeth.

"Like the rest of Rule Thirty-Four, we're getting ready to pull out. Fighting here is down to what the planetary guard forces can handle and Rule Thirty Four is being tapped from something by that plotters P'Kank and NoDra'ak."

"Counter attack," Melvinae shrugged. "When it doubt, charge. Face toward enemy."

The Telkan chuckled, his cybernetic ears twitching.

"I checked your file. Your psych-tech says you're cleared for operations, including vehicle and dustoff," the Captain said. He leaned forward. "I want to hear from you. How are you doing?"

Melinvae was silent for a second, her hand going to the outside thigh pocket on her pants. She pulled it back and put her hands back into her lap.

The Captain noticed it.

"Reaching for a fizzybrew or narcobeer?" he asked.

Melinvae nodded.

"You a drinker or are you shooting up behind the pool hall?" he asked bluntly.

"Drinker," Melinvae admitted. She pulled out her pack and lit one, not bothering to ask for permission. She exhaled smoke and put away the pack after flashing the front of it to him. Medicated cigarettes, normally for Treana'ad, but she was cleared for them.

"Have you recovered from your injuries?" he asked.

"Have you?" Melinvae asked bluntly.

The Captain nodded slowly. "All right. I agree you're cleared for duty," he gave a smile. "If I seemed a bit harsh, well, I have just over two hundred other troops to watch out for."

Melinvae nodded. "I totally get it, sir," she said. She looked to the side. "I almost didn't reenlist."

The Captain nodded. "Yet, like me, you did."

"The war isn't over," Melinvae said softly. She could see, in her mind's eye, Dambree standing at the gate of the cloister, dressed completely in a nun's habit, with a veil over her face. Taste the wind and the forest for a moment. "I'm not going to back out now, not when it's so dire."

The Captain nodded, staying silent, watching the Hesstlan woman as her ears flicked a few times.

He'd been an officer in This Telkan's Corps for nine years before transferring to the Space Force Army. He'd led troops for the entire time.

He knew when someone wasn't quite present and had learned the best tactic was to let them work through whatever they were thinking about.

Melinvae blinked, coming out of the memory of standing there that windy day. "Sorry, sir. Drifted."

"Happen during the shit?" the Telkan asked.

She shook her had. "No."

The Captain made another note. "Well, you finished the Advanced Leadership Course, the Advanced Medical Specialist Course, and the Advanced Combat Medicine Course, any particular reason you stayed in Specialist grade instead of laterally transferring to Non-Commissioned Officer?"

Melinvae just shrugged. "I'm a medic, sir. It's what I do."

The Captain nodded. "All right," he stood up, holding out his hand. "Welcome to Fifty Cent."

Melinvae stood up and shook his hand. "Thank you, sir."

-----

Captain Dekar got out of the wheeled transport, the First Sergeant right behind him.

"Knew this was going to happen," the First Sergeant, a Kobold, said softly. He stretched, his shoulders popping.

"Yeah," Captain Dekar said.

Together they went into the building, moving up to the desk where a Sergeant sat.

"Here to get my troop," Captain Dekar said.

"Which one is yours?" the Sergeant asked.

Captain Dekar told him.

The Sergeant yelled for a PFC, who led them back to the cells. The cells were mostly empty. The furthest one was occupied by a solitary figure, who sat on the bunk, staring at the floor, visible through the bars.

Captain Dekar stopped in front of the cell and looked in.

The occupant looked up. One of her eyes was swollen, her mouth was puffed up, and one of her ears was bruised. Her knuckles were torn up, the fur torn away, thick scabs closing the cuts.

"Let her out," Captain Dekar said.

"Sir, she hasn't been seen by mental hygiene," the MP said.

Captain Dekar turned and stared at the PFC. "I said: Let. Her. Out."

The PFC nodded, unlocking the cell.

"Come on," Captain Dekar said, motioning.

The occupant got up, walking out and leaning against the wall, looking down. She reeked of booze.

"I'll handle it," Captain Dekar said.

"Let's go, troop," the First Sergeant said. He motioned and the Hesstla female followed him out.

"Let me talk to the watch commander," Captain Dekar said.

"Yes, sir," the MP said.

The watch captain was a female Rigellian, leaning back in her chair and smoking a cigar, blowing the smoke out the cracked open window.

"My men didn't rough her up. That was all her," the Rigellian, a Captain Davis, said, shaking her head.

"What did she do?" Captain Dekar asked.

"She was staggering back from the enlisted club when she stopped in front of where our brand new First Cav detachment just bunked down. Got in a fight with the First Cavalry Division sign, out front of the new grav striker detachment Dirty Thirty-Four just got," the Rigellian female said, shrugging. She was screaming profanity at it when some guys from First Cav took offense and went down to shut her up."

"And?" Dekar asked.

"They told her to shut up, she told them to make her, they tried, didn't work out well for them," the Rigellian said. She gave a musical laugh. "She knocked all four of them out, took the boots to them, and went back to screaming and raving at the First Cavalry sign. When my MP's got there she was asking the sign how much more blood the horse wanted."

"She go along quietly?" Captain Dekar asked.

The Rigellian nodded. "My MP's opened the door and asked her politely to come along, then arrested the four attackers. Will there be charges pressed?"

Captain Dekar shook his head. "No, not from her. If their CO wants to, or they want to, please get in contact with me."

"Normally, we wouldn't handle a case like this, but there's certain, shall we say, realities in this case," the Rigellian said. "Let me know if I can do anything else for you."

"Thank you," Dekar said. He got up and left.

There were four Telkan in the cell, with a Telkan outside of it.

"...good and well to want to defend the Cav, but you need to know who you're dealing with! I should go out there and let her come back in here and beat some goddamn smarts into your thick fucking skulls! How stupid are you? What in the name of Bellona's blood soaked tits were you thinking? Were you thinking?" the Captain was yelling.

"Sir?" Dekar asked.

"What?" The Telkan spun around, saw Dekar there, and nodded. He turned back to the four troops with busted up faces. "You sit there and think about how goddamn stupid you are."

The two Captains moved away from the cells, over by a vending machine that asked them twice if they wanted a cool refreshing Countess Crey Cola.

"Is there going to be any problems?" Captain Dekar asked.

"Not from my four rock heads," the Captain snapped. "They're lucky they're in that cell where I can't reach them."

"I'm sorry about her outburst," Dekar said. "I can understand feeling insulted, after all, the Division is a troop's home."

"She had good reason to transfer out," the Telkan Captain said. He shuddered. "Please extend my compliments to her."

"I will," Dekar said. He motioned at the door. "I've got to go."

"Understood, Captain," the other Captain said.

Dekar headed for the door and still heard the Captain start up again.

"None of you have had a first metal to the meat deployment and you think you can act like that toward her? I should have the MP's open this cage and personally pop out your eyes and skull fuck you!" the Captain was yelling.

The door cut off the Captain as Dekar stepped out into the cool morning air.

The First Sergeant stood by the vehicle, leaning against the fender. Dekar walked up and looked around.

"First Cav isn't pressing charges," Dekar said.

"Of course not," the First Sergeant said.

"She shouldn't have been cleared," Dekar said.

The Kobold slapped his tail as he shook his head. "Doesn't matter, sir. All hands on deck. We're going to take it to the Slorpies and we're goddamn lucky to have her."

The private came back from using the latrine and opened the back doors, letting the First Sergeant and Dekar get in. When the vehicle started moving Dekar stared out the window.

"He eVI medboi was transferred to training cadre," Dekar said softly. "Pair her up with a medboi ASAP, skip the inprocessing, get her acclimated to her frame and her armor."

"What about taking over the combat medic section?" Histrak asked, tapping his claws on the arm rest. "You know, she wants you to bust her back down."

"I'm thinking about it," Dekar said. "But that'll just put her right back there. Giving her rank was the right idea, let her move past it, move forward, not stay still or go backwards."

"We're part of Advance Forces, we'll be moving out in a couple of days, two weeks at the most," Histrak said. "I can keep her busy. We know she'll be fine working."

Dekar nodded, then closed his eyes. "Digital Omnimessiah, talk about something nobody wants to earn."

Histrak nodded. "And while being a medic. Saint Doss preserve her."

"There's twenty-two men alive who wouldn't be if it wasn't for her," Dekar said. He leaned back in the seat. "Twenty two men she saved under heavy artillery fire when the aid station was destroyed. Twenty two men she evac'd out, guiding in the strikers by hand. Twenty two men she saw get off the battlefield that, by all rights, should have died."

"And six Atrekna dead by her hand according to suit records," Histrak said. "She beat that last one to death with her aid bag to get it off a patient before it could eat their brain."

Dekar turned his palm up, bringing up his holoemitter. "I'm going to order all medics to have a magac pistol in their bags."

Histrak just nodded. He looked out the window and watched as a company of infantry ran by, carrying full loads of gear.

"The Confederate Cluster of Gallantry," he said softly. "Menhit's Grace."