“That’s not the worst of it,” Eddie plowed on.
At the front of the room, Ted took a step toward Eddie. Next to Carter, Fenn leaned forward in his chair, thinking that this was like the greatest show ever. And if not, then at least it was something new. Carter squeezed his eyes more tightly shut and shouted Sleep! inside his own head. Sleep, goddammit. Sleep!
“The motion for aid was filed through the Office of Cultural Affairs by Native Rights Intersystem.”
The room and everyone in it exploded.
They yelled. They cursed. Ted did both at the same time because, apparently, this was the first he’d heard of it, too, and Eddie had been keeping it from him. Billy shouted pointless questions toward the front of the room, and Porter turned his face skyward and howled. Eddie stood behind the podium, looking terribly proud of himself. This was what he did. This was what he was good at. No one could take command of a meeting the way Eddie Lucas could. No one could control the environment like him.
Fenn was smiling a lost, beatific smile. Jack was laughing so hard that tears ran down his cheeks. Charlie Voss was on his feet, stabbing a finger toward Eddie and his podium. And Carter, as though feeling some supporting structure inside himself let go the instant Eddie said the words, had sagged into his seat, thrown his head back, and now was just shouting nonsense up into the air, his mouth wide, eyes still pinched shut, just because it felt good to make noise.
At the front of the room, Eddie turned to Ted. His smile shone like a burning strip of magnesium. “Commander? Anything to add?”
Ted stepped forward. “Dismissed!” he shouted.
The officers stepped out into the sunlight and cold as if walking away from a mine cave-in—blinking, gape-mouthed, unsteady on their feet. It was quiet in the camp. The air was still. A perfect day.
Jack Hawker took Carter by the arm. “We’re all going to die here,” he said, speaking with exaggerated slowness, his eyes wide with shock.
“No,” Carter told him. “We’re not.”
“Can I have your bunk when you go then? It’s more comfortable than mine.” He doggedly held to Carter’s arm, his eye.
“Sure thing, Lieutenant,” he said gently, trying to brush Jack’s hand off his arm. “Anything for a friend.”
Jack smiled, stuck a cigarette in his face with his free hand. Fenn appeared beside them, grinning, his cheeks ruddy with excitement. He put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Gentlemen,” he said, “are we dancing?”
“We’re all going to die here,” Jack repeated.
“We’re not,” Carter said. “They’ll pull us out before NRI comes. Before the marines. They have to. No one is going to die here, Jack.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
Jack looked Carter in the eyes searchingly for a few more long seconds. His hand was like a vise. Desperate strength. Fenn tried to guide Jack away, to move him, but Jack wasn’t budging. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, put it in Carter’s, pressed his face close.
“I don’t believe you,” he whispered.
“Ah, Jack…,” said Fenn. “No kissing among the commissioned ranks. You know the rules.” He moved to pull Jack away now, and clamped a hand over his wrist. But Jack chose that moment to release Carter, turn, and walk away—toward the mess where, no doubt, things were about to become very ugly all over again.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Fenn said.
“He’s just scared,” Carter said, watching Jack stalk purposefully across the field, rushing to catch up with the rest of the officers. “He’ll get over it.”
“No, I mean you.” Fenn reached up, straightened the mussed collar and pleats of Carter’s uniform, brushed at its shoulders. “We had a deal. I get your bunk when you die. It really is more comfortable, you know.” Fenn touched a hand to the side of Carter’s face and patted it gently, then turned smartly on his heel and followed along after Jack.
Carter went in the opposite direction, toward the tents. All along the way he saw faces peeking out at him—from windows, behind tent flaps, everywhere. They were pilots’ faces, mechanics’ faces, technicians’ faces, even indigs’ faces, though those were rare. Everyone knew something bad had happened, was about to happen, was coming their way very fast. Carter had to fight to keep from laughing. He had to cover his mouth with his hand as sick giggles bubbled up from his chest.
He went to bed. He couldn’t sleep. He felt light as a feather. Unburdened. He felt like he was flying.
“Now,” he whispered over and over again. “Now, now, now…”