“Why do you think that the Operation, called Red Savior, was a failure?”

Martin considered this for a moment. “It wasn’t.”

“All personnel slated to be extracted were fatal casualties.” General Franklin said. “The entirety of First Squad, Second Platoon, Bravo Company, 3d battalion, with the lone exception of Sergeant First Class Jackson Valentine were also killed in action. The objective was lost. The parameters of the mission were not fulfilled. This, in the army, Commander Ziggenbor, is known as a failure.”

“I understand, General, but your information is incomplete.” Martin said. “Sergeant First Class Ziggnebor, by brother, also survived.”

--

The room was utterly silent for a moment while those in attendance digested the news. General Franklin looked more intently down at the report in front of her, and Martin stole a glance at Neerson. The Admiral was not looking at him, but there was a relaxation in the man’s shoulders that had not been there when Martin had taken his seat.

“Sergeant Ziggenbor was the noncommissioned officer in charge of the surviving remnant of the 3-95th battalion. The mission parameters, as you have cited, were to secure and extract any remaining personnel from that battalion. Unless my recollection of the wording is very inaccurate, there was not a minimum personnel count indicated, nor was there,” he felt his temper rise. “An indication on the parameters of acceptable loss.”

A hushed whisper flickered through the room. Only for a moment, and then it was gone.

“The Parameters of Acceptable Loss are military doctrine, not numbers assigned in mission outlines.” Franklin said, an edge in her voice. “And we will come to those, but they are not the focus of the question at hand.”

“Yes ma’am.” Martin said. “I have answered the question.”

“To your satisfaction?”

“Operation Red Savior was not a failure within the mission parameters.” He wanted very badly to add ‘nor to me’ but it would have been pointless. In any case, he had played Neerson’s ten. The faces around him that had been set so firmly a moment ago were now looking down at their tablets and skimming through data, perhaps wondering what other information they had that might be faulty.

It wouldn’t be able to be much. If more was found, Greer and whoever else wanted this hearing to happen would have grounds to delay it until they themselves had gone through the data instead of their subordinates.

But this wasn’t a briefing, or hearing so much as it was a mock tribunal. And the thought that they had walked into something so resembling a trap, even though Neerson’s eyes had no doubt been wide open, sent resentment and anger coursing through Martin. For now, though, their foundation was shaken.

“Very well.” Franklin said after a minute’s pondering. “Can you describe your involvement with the Operation?”

He did, with as much stimulating military briefing prowess that he had garnered as a junior officer. Martin had often taken the advice to ‘not stop talking till someone started yawning’ to heart. It wasn’t till he reached his breaking formation from Detachment Echo that another question come his way. “At this time, Commander, intelligence had been received that the 3-95th had been destroyed, is this accurate?”

“No ma’am.” Martin said at once. It had been of the points Neerson had stressed with them when they were combing through the data from the operation. “There were reports that all signs pointed to the battalion being lost, but nothing conclusive had been sent our way that suggested that posed a suitable enough reason to not go ahead with the mission.”

“I can pull up the transcripts if you would like, Commander.” Franklin said. “There was a wing of marauder class fighters that was operating under the atmosphere that had destroyed the Stripehopped Universal Terrain Vehicles that the 3-95th were using as transport. The transmission was clear.”

“The transmission you are referring to that came from General Greer, is that correct, ma’am?”

“It is.”

“I read the report thoroughly.” Martin said. “I was surprised not only at the accuracy of the report, but also the speed in which the General received it, given that Detachment Echo didn’t immediately report its observations back to the rear.” Martin let that hang in the air. “This is all besides the fact that the report stated that all transportation vehicles, as well as visible equipment had indeed been destroyed. It also stated that no survivors could be seen in the immediate area of the wreckage, and that the remnants of the battalion were presumed dead.”

“Then how was it inaccurate? The report.”

“Yes ma’am. We were looking for conclusive evidence.”

“Commander,” General Franklin said, seeming to measure the patience in her voice with care. “The convoy had been destroyed.”

Martin looked up at her. “Do you know my brother?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Neerson rose from his seat.

“Board recognized Fleet Admiral Neerson, Commander of the Tenth Fleet.” Franklin said.

“Commander Martin’s knowledge of his brother is exceptionally relevant to the way that the intelligence of the handling of this operation. I would moved to present Captain Crew Benson, the pilot in question.”

“Granted.” Franklin said. “Commander Ziggenbor you are dismissed for the time, thank you.”

Martin dismounted, passing the grim faced Benson as he took his seat next to Neerson again.

“Captain Benson, the board recognizes you.” She said. “Your reputation is well known.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Benson said, the gravel in his voice more pronounced.

“Conclusive evidence, Commander Ziggenbor said. Can you elaborate on that?”

“Yes ma’am.” He said. ”When dealing with extraction missions, language is everything. Per military doctrine, in order for an extraction to be declared unnecessary once it had been initiated, conclusive evidence of its irrelevance must be presented. And nothing conclusive was in said report.”

Franklin consulted her notes. “You are referring to the line stating no visible personnel?”

“Correct.”

“Please elaborate further.”

“Commander Ziggenbor knows his brother.” Benson said simply. “And until there was a confirmed body, he had reason to believe he was still trying get soldiers off the martian surface. It’s as simple as that?”

“You are familiar with the short range ballistic missile classification: Felbound?”

“With respect, ma’am, I am probably more familiar with its rage and destructive capabilities than most everyone in this room.” He said. “I would be happy to regale the board of said capabilities before continuing.”

Martin fought down a smile at Benson’s ability to tell everyone else in the room that he was smarter than them so respectfully.

“That won’t be necessary, Captain.” Franklin said. “But how would a positive verification of a body be made if there was no body to be found? Felbound missiles were intended for ariel combat, were they not?”

“In point of fact, ma’am, the generation one models were designed for exactly the purpose they were used. Soft target elimination and equipment destruction. But when their effectiveness in ariel combat was discovered they were redesigned with minor changes to make them effective in both.”

“In that case my question remains.”

“DNA cross referencing and mapping.” Benson said. “If there was no body. If that wasn’t available, then the standard biometric sweep and manual reconnaissance. Either way, the report wasn’t going to cut it. We needed eyes on something more than twisted metal and red blood in red sand.”

“It was the Tenth Fleet that compiled this report.”

“No ma’am. Not the initial report that General Greer disseminated to us.”

“Whom did it come from then?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t feel qualified to speculate.”

Martin shifted in seat.

“Thank you, Captain. You are dismissed.”

Benson rose and retook his seat.

“Members of the board and attending dignitaries. A recess of ten minutes called, now.” And she rose from the dais.

“Well done, both of you.” Neerson said quietly.

“Hell of a thing with the report, sir.” Benson said. “You really think it came from a third party?”

“I had the analysts working on it for almost two days. General Greer’s response was too quick, and the observation rendering from our long range reconnaissance wouldn’t have reached him.”

“Son of a bitch.” Benson breathed.

“They will call you again, Commander, before this is concluded.” Neerson said. “They will press the point with your brother. Prepare for that.”

“Are they allowed to call that into play?”

“This hearing is being played out without proper guidance.” Neerson said. “I’m sure you’ve seen that. It’s an old loophole, but one that hasn’t been closed yet.”

“I noticed, sir.”

“Then be advised, both of you, that they will play whatever they have at their disposal to get the answers that they want. Ensure they get the truth.”

“What’s their agenda, sir?”

Neerson his gaze on Benson and spoke one word. “Ignorance.” Then the Admiral rose and went to speak with a cluster of people looking very interested in approaching they three. Neerson made sure that it didn’t happen. “Just once I’d like to get something straight out of that man.” Benson muttered.

“If you did you wouldn’t learn anything.”

“I doubt that. Two degrees and three pilots licences and I still feel dumber than a box of rocks in an engine block. Around that man.

“Tell me something,” Martin leaned in closer. “With those two degrees and licences and no doubt being used to being the smartest person around. Why did Neerson need to explain the trick of the nines to you?”

“Fuck you.” Benson smiled. Then his face solidified again. “But it's because there’s a very stark difference between knowledge and intellect.”

Franklin mounted the dais again. “Two minutes.”

“What’s the difference?” Martin hissed.

“One is understanding the parts,” Benson said, straightening his back and staring forward. “One is understanding the sum.”

Neerson returned and took his seat as Franklin said, “Recess concluded. Captain Benson, please resume your position.”

Benson did and was further questioned about details of the mission. Half, perhaps, he declined to answer for various reasons, and Martin thought he could see the veins in Greer’s temples pulsing slightly, and Martin thought he knew why. Every question that Benson didn’t answer was one that Neerson would.

“Thank you, Captain.” Franklin nodded. “Dismissed for the time being. Commander Ziggenbor,”

Martin was reseated to the right of the dais, and Franklin looked down at him for a few moments. “Commander, will you tell me about your brother?”

That caused Martin’s mind to lurch for just a moment. “What would you like to know?”

--

Neil was awake for the first time since being moved. Natalie knew this because of the brain patterns she was watching out of the corner of her eye on the screen, and even though she didn’t know much about neurological patterns, she knew enough to know the difference between dreams and consciousness.

Especially the kinds of dreams Neil had been having.

But even with the change, he lay perfectly still, the cadence in his breathing unchanged. Natalie sat with her tablet on her knees, going over various aspects of the functionality of the arm she had helped fit Neil for. Once she had thought maybe she would move on from her current field of study, but it seemed more than unlikely now.

“He’s not here.” Neil’s voice came.

Natalie set aside her tablet. “No. He came by earlier to see how you were, and left. I think he knew that you didn’t want to see him.”

Opening his eyes, Neil stared at the ceiling. “It’s not him I don’t want to see.”

“I know.”

He let out a deep, shuddering sigh, and felt the left side of his chest with his natural hand. Then he raised his artificial arm and flexed it. “It feels wrong.”

“It will for a while. Even with the advancements we’ve been able to make, artificial anything feels… artificial. Everyone has trouble adjusting.”

“How long?”

Natalie thought about that. “Everyone’s different, boss. Some people take a few weeks, some people it takes the better part of the year. It depends…”

Finally Neil turned to look at her. “It depends on the extent.”

Natalie nodded, but was at a loss to say. She would have said something along the lines of ‘you’ll pull through it, because you’ve done hard things before’ or ‘you’re too stubborn to quit, and you just need time’. She would have said those things because they were true. When she had been fitting Neil for his prosthetic and Damien had been constructing the eye, she hadn’t had any doubts. Her sentiments had been true; Neil was too stubborn not to pull through, and he had done hard things given the time. But her cousin hadn’t opened his eyes yet. Those cavernous pits of resolve and sheer bullheadedness were full of doubt. Neil’s body looked stronger than ever as he lay in the hospital bed, but if you looked past that, Natalie could see that he might as well have been made out of glass.

She reached across and took his hand. Not his natural, left had, but the artificial one that had lain so still ever since her had come here. Neil’s heart rate picked up, tracked by one of the monitors. The had did indeed feel a bit wrong, but then she hadn’t put in the sensors that would monitor the heart rate and adjust the temps tire of the prosthetic accordingly, and she hadn’t added the pulsing nodes to simulate heartbeat either.

Neil’s eyes shifted to her, and a slight grimace flitted across his face. “Don’t do that…” He said, looking down at her hand.

Natalie withdrew her hand and opened her mouth. Then she shut it again with a sigh, still not sure of what to say. “Why won’t you talk to Matt?” She said instead. “He wants to see that you’re okay, too.”

“I’m not okay, kid.” Neil snapped, his eye returning to the ceiling. “I’m in the most intensive recovery wing of the EMAR, and half of me is damn robot now. I don’t want him to see me like this, Nat. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“They’re going to.” She said gently. “Unless you want to volunteer to be a permanent residential test subject? We have a few that lead comfortable lives here.”

Neil almost smiled. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re fucking around or not.”

“Me either.” She squeezed a smile out since he couldn’t. “But Neil, one way or another people are going to see you. It doesn’t have to be today, or tomorrow, or this week or next week, but sometime they will. When they do, it will be important for you to be able to see yourself.” His eyes went flat. “Like I said, at your own pace.”

“It’s not though.” Neil said, trying to push himself up. Natalie put her hand on his chest and pushed him back in an almost routine sort of way at this point.

“It is.” She said. “It’s always at your pace.”

“It isn’t. Not when there’s people…” He words cut off in a strangled tone, and he fell silent.

She had heard him say the words even before he had been saying them in his sleep. It wouldn’t be helpful to remind him that right then, no one actually did need him. It would be the opposite of helpful to clarify that everyone who had needed him was dead. Natalie could think the thoughts easily enough, despite their harshness, but it was the cold and clinical side of her, the sheer science of things, that kept her from feeling any empathy. Not because she didn’t want to meet Neil where he was at, but because the logic held up. And no matter how hard she tired, it was never hard to get past the logic.

But for Neil it was different. The ghosts of those had had either left behind on Mars or come to the EMAR, only to find out that they were gone, were still right over his shoulder. She could see them, not because they were real, but because he was looking for them. And over the last two days, Natalie wasn’t sure if he would ever stop looking for them. That was what hurt more than anything, knowing that this was a problem that she couldn’t just throw numbers and long nights of study at, but that it was an illogical burden of guilt and pain that would just… be there, despite everything saying it just didn’t have to be. And it was on Neil.

That’s what hurt.

So Natalie picked herself up and walked around to the other side of the bed and took her seat again. Then she took his natural hand, and this time Neil didn’t protest. Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief, and before long, he was asleep again.