Warriors [Anthology] by George R. R. & Dozois Martin Page B

request wasn’t answered by Command. They were probably off fighting a war someplace, I figured.
     
    So we landed by the service bay and walked our machines in. Carolyn’s wasn’t under her control, obviously; the soldierboy normally mimicked her natural physical grace. This time it staggered like a cartoon robot, some tech moving it with a joystick.
     
    I popped our cages and we were suddenly in the real world, naked and sweaty, joints popping as we stretched.
     
    Carolyn’s cage was open, but she wasn’t there.
     
    One person in the room was dressed, a medical officer. She walked over. “Private Collins had a massive cerebrovascular failure, just prior to extraction. She’s in surgery now.”
     
    I felt the blood chase away from my face and arms. “She’ll be all right?”
     
    “No, Sergeant. They’re trying, but I’m afraid she’s...well, she’s clinically dead.”
     
    I sat down on the edge of the cage base, hard concrete, my head spinning. “How is that different from plain dead?”
     
    “She has no higher brain function. We are contacting her next of kin. I’m sorry.”
     
    “But...I—I was in her brain just minutes ago.”
     
    She looked at her clipboard. “Time of death was 13:47. Twenty-five minutes.”
     
    “That’s not enough time. They bring people back.”
     
    “They’re trying, Sergeant. Mechanics are too valuable to throw away. That’s all I can tell you.” She turned to go.
     
    “Wait! Can I see her?”
     
    “I don’t know where she is, Sergeant. Sorry.”
     
    The others had gathered around me. I was surprised I wasn’t crying, or even trying not to cry. I felt gut-punched, helpless.
     
    “She’s gotta be at the base hospital,” Mel said. “Let’s go find her.”
     
    “And do what?” Candi said. “Get in the way?” She sat down next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. “We should go into the lounge and wait.”
     
    We did, me walking like a zombie. Like a soldierboy without a mechanic. Lou got a credit card from his locker and bought us all beers from the machine. We dressed and drank in awkward silence.
     
    Akeem didn’t drink. “Sometimes one wishes one could pray.” Samantha looked up from her meditation and nodded. The rest of us just drank and watched the door.
     
    I got up to buy a round, and the medical officer came back. I took one look at her eyes and collapsed.
     
    * * * *
     
    I woke up suddenly in a hospital bed, like a noiseless splash of ice water. A nurse stepped away with a hypodermic, and behind her was Blaze.
     
    “What time is it?”
     
    “Five in the morning,” she said. “Wednesday. I came as soon as I heard, and they said they were about to wake you up anyway.” She picked up a plastic cup and held the straw toward me. “Water?”
     
    I shook my head. “What, I just passed out? Twelve hours ago?”
     
    “And they gave you something, to help you sleep. It’s what they do, when someone has a loss like yours.”
     
    It all came back and hit me like a car. “Carolyn.” She took my hand in both of hers, and I jerked it away. Then I sat partway up and took her hand back.
     
    I closed my eyes and I was floating, falling. Maybe the drug. I swallowed, and couldn’t find my voice.
     
    “They said you’re on compassionate leave for the rest of the month. Come home with me.”
     
    “What about my people? My platoon?”
     
    “Most of them are waiting in the hall. They let me come in first.”
     
    I sat up and held her, she held me, until I was ready to see my mates. They came in as a group, and Blaze waited outside in the hall while we made a wheel, each right arm a spoke. Mel and Candi and Samantha whispered a few words, but it was more the silent communion than any specific sentiment, that gave me a place to be. A place where I could breathe for a while.
     
    * * * *
     
    Blaze took me home with her, and after some long time, I was her lover rather than the friend who needed a strong arm, a soft breast.