“Do you have a moment, Sergeant Major?” Randigold asked as she stuck her head in the room Rev had claimed as an office.
“Sure, Eth. Come sit down.”
She was hesitant, not the cocksure Randigold Rev knew, and she sat down with a grunt.
“Are you doing OK?” Rev asked, concerned.
He was feeling more of the symptoms of his rot, but he was still doing all right.
“Not really.”
“What are your numbers?”
She bit her lip, then said, “One-ninety-seven and thirty-eight-point-one.”
Rev’s eyes opened wide on that. He’d had the worse numbers before, but now she’d surpassed him. That meant her rot was progressing faster than his.
“I’m so sorry, Eth.”
She shrugged. “It is what it is. I shoulda died in the fire, you know. This . . .” she said, clanging her prosthetic arm on one of her prosthetic legs, “. . . this gave me a new chapter in life, one that’s taken me on a ride to beat all rides. The last thirteen years have been all bonus.”
Rev just shook his head. It wasn’t fair, but then life wasn’t fair.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I didn’t come here for a pity party, Sergeant Major.”
“Hell, Eth. We’ve known each other for a long time. Don’t you think you can call me Rev when we’re like this?”
She gave a slight half-smile, then she said, “Sure. Why the fuck not? Sibs in Steel. Sibs in the rot.”
She chuckled, then settled back. After another moment, she said, “I don’t know if I’ll be around, but if I’m hanging on, I want to stay here on Tylydina.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you go off on your next mission, I want to stay here. The dragons say it’s OK with them.”
Rev just looked at her as he tried to figure out what to say.
“Why?” was the best he could do.
“I don’t want my bones ejected into space, out in the cold black. I’d rather be in the ground.”
“But if you’re here, then you won’t get back to Safe Harbor. Wouldn’t you rather be eventually laid to rest there?”
Randigold broke out in loud guffaws at that, and it took more than a few moments for her to regain control of herself.
“Give me a break, Rev! We’re not going back. Hell, we don’t even know if there is somewhere to go back to. For all we know, everyone blew themselves up in mutual destruction.”
“We don’t know that, Eth,” Rev said, feeling more than a little attacked.
“Yeah, they’re like cockroaches. They’re probably still scurrying around plotting their power grabs. But why would I want to go back? They fucking exiled us. Kicked us out.”
She sneered, which faded when she added, “But this place. It’s . . . peaceful. I think I could be happy knowing that this is the end of the line for me.”
Rev was at a loss for words. He knew this was wrong. Or if it wasn’t wrong, then he just didn’t want to abandon her in four more months when they left. They’d been through too much together.
He was trying to pull a reason for her to leave with them out of thin air, and he came up with, “You say it’s peaceful, but it won’t be. Once we’re gone, the yetis will probably say we breached the treaty, and they’ll be coming.”
“And I’ll live that long?” she said with yet another chuckle. “And if they do? Well, I guess I’ll just go down fighting like a Marine should.”
“I don’t know, Eth. I’m not sure I can do that. I’m responsible for you.”
The gruff Randigold faded to be replaced by a young girl. Her eyes welled up, and she said in a soft, choking voice, “Please, Rev. You’ve got to do this for me. I’m not going to last long, and I can’t take the idea of being launched into space. I really would rather be buried here.”
Rev’s heart tugged at the pleading in her voice, and more so that she’d let her façade down, that she’d revealed the inner woman who she’d hidden for so long.
He couldn’t refuse her.
He stood up and went to her, pulled her erect and enveloped her in a hug.
“You can stay here, Eth. I’ll take care of it.”
* * *
Rev told Norton and Hyung about Randigold’s wishes. Neither objected when Rev said he was going to approve them. Not that they really had much of a say in it. Rev’s mind was made up.
He did check with both Pika and Bunny, and both assured him that they would care for her.
Within a day, all of the Marines and civilians—everyone on the planet—knew about it. Randigold seemed ill at ease with the attention and best wishes she was getting, but that didn’t change her mind.
The next day, three civilians asked to stay behind, and while Rev was going to a meeting with his two fellow heads, one of the karnans asked to stay as well. Within two days, the number of people wanting to remain on Tylydina had swollen to thirty-one. That included two sailors up on the Galaxy Explorer.
Even Tomiko asked Rev if he’d considered it. Truth be told, he had, but he didn’t admit that. Randigold’s desire not to be ejected into space started to resonate with him. Rev didn’t know how much time he had. Rima had adjusted his timeline to possibly as much as nine months. The thought of spending them on the ship or some uninhabitable planet was not nearly as enticing as being down here on the ground, taking his girls to the swimming hole or hiking through the forest.
Once he was dead, it wouldn’t make much of a difference to him, but the thought of having a grave, where his girls could visit him, was comforting.
He was the military leader, though, and his duty was to the mission, so he couldn’t admit that he’d like to stay. And Tomiko didn’t express a desire, either.
The Po heard about the movement, and to say they were eager would be an understatement. They promised once again to build them their own castle or village if that was what they wanted. They promised to convert large amounts of the island to be able to support Earth life, so the plants in the ship’s garden could be grown.
That wasn’t surprising. They knew that with a human presence, even an unarmed one, there was a better chance that the Zfthu wouldn’t restart their campaign of extermination. But while Rev would love to have a way to ensure the Po’s survival, this wasn’t up to them.
At the moment, Norton, Hyung, and Rev were at his battlement, trying to navigate the growing sentiment.
“If we let my sailors stay, then I won’t be able to operate the ship.”
“How many could you afford to lose?” Hyung asked.
“More than thirty, and I’d be hard-pressed to keep her operational. I could navigate and all that, but remember, this ship was built by the lowest bidder. There are always things going wrong, things that the AI self-repair can’t handle.”
“How many want to stay?” Rev asked.
“Six have put in requests, but I think that’s the calm before the storm.”
Hyung let out a long breath and then said, “Half of my people want to stay, at least until we know what’s going on back home. Remember, though, that after the Loup-Garou returned, we all knew this was a one-way trip.”
They both turned to Rev.
“I really don’t know. We’re Marines and soldiers. We do our duty. But now that the possibility is being openly discussed, I wouldn’t be surprised if most would choose to stay. Like your folks, Dieter, they’ve always known they wouldn’t be going back. But as to the number? I don’t have a good grasp of that.”
“This is . . . heavy. I’m not sure it’s right for us to make a decision that affects the entire expedition,” Hyung said. “I know I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing this without the proper data, which in this case, is to see how many of us want to stay and how many want to continue on the mission.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“A communal meeting. We lay out the facts, analyze the pros and cons, then leave it to them to let us know in a secret vote. I don’t think we can make any decisions until we know the numbers.”
Rev had to admit that Hyung was right. It wasn’t surprising that he’d suggested it, though. He was a scientist, after all, and they dealt with data.
“Where would we do this town hall?” Norton asked.
“I’m not sure some of my people will want to go up to the ship,” he said apologetically. “They’re already expressing fear that they might be forced to leave. So, I’d suggest that we do it here with as many of your sailors as is feasible. For the rest, we can rig up a virtual feed.”
Rev nodded in agreement. After Njuguna stepped down, Rev hadn’t been too confident in the new civilian head. He was a good enough guy, and Rev had worked with him before, notably with catching LeRon, the saboteur. But he never seemed to have that leadership gene.
It seemed to have blossomed in him, though.
Norton considered what Hyung proposed, then he said, “The military isn’t a democracy.”
“I’m not in the military. Neither are my people.”
Norton grudgingly nodded, then looked at Rev. “Are you OK with this?”
“Yes, sir. I am.”
The CO grunted in surprise. “You are?”
Rev nodded. It might not be the Marine Corps way, but in these circumstances, it was the right way.
Norton sighed and said, “Well, I’m not going to fight you on this. Let’s do it.”
* * *
“Do we have the numbers?” Rev asked.
The meeting had been relatively calm and not nearly as contentious as Rev had feared it would be. There were a few impassioned pleas, but for the most part, people just listened quietly as the options were presented.
Lettie McChord, the administrative officer for the civilian side, had been tasked with tabulating the results.
She cleared her throat, then read them off. “Four hundred eighty-seven to stay. Thirty-six to continue the mission. Seven to return to human space.”
Rev snorted in surprise. The tally was far more lopsided than he’d expected. And he was relieved. He’d never spoken up for staying, but he’d voted that way. After Randigold’s decision, the idea of spending his remaining time on Tylydina had gotten more and more appealing.
While Rev had been surprised, Lieutenant Commander Norton looked like he was shocked. He’d been in the continuing-the-mission camp.
“We should have asked whether they were sailors, Marines, or civilians on the ballot,” he said.
“I’m sure that most of those who wanted to continue the mission are mine,” Hyung said. “But even if they were all your crew, would that be enough to operate the ship?”
“If we cut out certain functions, then yes. At least for a while.”
“And after that?”
Norton just shook his head.
Rev thought he could understand the man’s frustration. He was the CO of the Galaxy Explorer. Without the ship, who was he? If they did stay on Tylydina, there would still be a role for him, but at the moment, Norton was defined by the ship.
“So, what now?” Rev asked Hyung.
“The Kanters have already stated that they’re staying. And it looks like most of our people want to stay, too. What we need is to determine what to do with the forty-three who do not want to remain here. The seven who want to return to their homes are out of luck, as unfortunate as that is. But what about the thirty-six? We need to address that with them and not by decree. We need that discussion.
“And then, if we really are making this our new home, there’s a lot of work to be done first.”
“The dragons have told us they’ll build us a castle or village,” Rev said.
“I don’t think we want to live on the largess of the dragons, Sergeant Major. And if we’re going to attempt to create a viable community here, then the ship is loaded with supplies and equipment that would make that a lot easier.”
Duh! You shouldn’t have had to be told that, Reverent. We need that equipment.
Norton sighed, then said, “We’d need a debark conference. With only the two shuttles and the Charon, this kind of task would take . . . oh, six or seven months at a minimum.”
Rev saw a defeated man in front of him. But he knew that he was going to have a job to do for the good of the rest of the people. He reached out across the table and patted the CO’s arm.
“And the thirty-six?” Hyung prompted.
“We need to tell them that we can send the ship out, and it should get them to another system. Maybe another two or three before problems will start cropping up. Eventually, there’ll be too many to be able to carry on. And to what end? What can you do to analyze that system with so few people?”
In a quiet voice, Hyung asked him, “So, we’re staying here on Tylydina?”
Norton gave a grudging nod.
“Sergeant Major?”
This was too simple for Rev. Even though he wanted to stay, it didn’t seem right that they just take a vote, and then the three of them make what was a life-altering decision in the space of five minutes. It seemed to him that it should be much more involved, somehow.
But would that change anything? It would probably end up the same way.
“Yes. That’s what the majority wants.”
“Then let’s announce it,” Hyung said. “And as soon as we do that, we’ve got a Herculean task ahead of us, and we need to get cracking on it.”