“I’m not saying I don’t like the jump suit.” Benson said, throwing down his impressive hand at the end of a hand of the Blind Man’s Gambit that had gone particularly badly for him. “Fuck yourself. I’m just saying it’s hot, doesn’t breath well and makes my balls stink.”

“Needlessly graphic.” Martin remarked, collecting up the cards and beginning to shuffle. “If you had just sent for another uniform you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Well shit, sorry if I didn’t put two and two together that I could just snap my fingers and have an admiral get me everything I damn well need.”

“Within reason.” Neerson said from another table, where he was pouring over reports on a tablet. “But the point is not relevant anymore.”

“How long do we need to keep playing?” Benson asked.

Neerson’s gaze swept around. “Shall I impose turn stipulations? The games go considerably differently when there is a gap of a quarter of an hour between plays.”

“Err, no sir, that’s fine.”

“Would you care to be dealt in, sir?” Martin asked, as he had before dealing each hand.

“No, thank you commander.” The admiral set aside his tablet. “But I may watch this hand more closely.”

Martin nodded and dealt the cars, two face down in front of him and Benson, and a hand of seven each. Then they fanned their cards in front of them. Martin winced. A seven went on one blind, a king on the other. “Three?” He asked, and Benson shook his head. Martin played his, and for a minute or so, they went back and forth.

“Hold here,” Neerson said as Benson selected two cards. “Consider the field of play.”

Martin looked down again. The card that lay face up next to the deck they were drawing from showed a six. Were there more than two players, that card would have skipped the player next in rotation, however many sixes were thrown. Throw two sixes, the next to players would have been skipped. It was one of two cards with such alterations to them in dual player hands.

“What strategic reason do you have for playing these cards? Consider.” Neerson said, but Benson answered automatically.

“Lowest card I have here and I have two, it will free up two cards that I can draw to hopefully unfuck this miserable hand I’ve got.”

“How many players are you accustomed to being dealt into the hand?”

“Usually four to ten. We always maxed the table at fifteen.”

“May I?” Neerson held out his hand, and Benson placed the cards in it. One by one he placed them on the table. There was a two, a king, a nine, and the two eights.

“Your plan is to play these two eights, the logic being that since its card’s rule does not apply to it when only two opponents play?”

“That’s right sir.”

“And you’re basing this off the idea that your hand is not optimal, and playing these cards offers you the best chance at better ones.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, Captain, if you’re going to play your hand based on chance, might I recommend a different approach?” Without waiting for an answer, Neerson played the nine and drew a card, offering it to Benson face down.

Martin looked down at his hand and glowered. He was sitting on two tens, and ace, a king and a two. Reluctantly, he pulled the two and placed it down, drawing a card. It was a fucking four. Benson’s eyebrows went up, and he looked across the table at Martin. “Never thought about it that way.”

“Explain.” Neerson said, and leaned back as Benson collected up his hand.

“Well, if I play a nine, he needs to match it with another nine, or play a card less than nine in value. So he’ll play in accordance with the rule, and I’ll still have the chance to play my eights.” Benson did so, and drew two cards.

“Commander, hold your turn. That is one reason, but there is more to it than that. Think, Captain.”

Benson nodded. “It isn’t just that I’ll get to play the same cards I was planning on. If I’d played the eights, he would have been free to push the value of the pile over nine.”

“And since nines are one of three wild cards that cannot be played on a card that exceeds their value,”

“I would have been stuck with a dead card in my hand.”

“Indeed. What else does this ensure?”

“Even if he doesn’t have something in his hand that’s nine or below in value, he’d have to play a seven, two, or ten to get out of it. If he’s got all high rollers, he’s fucked.” Benson nodded again. “At worst I still get to free up my hand. At worst I force him to burn something good that he might need to get out of a tight situation later.”

“Excellent. Now put it together. From a strategic point of view. How does this apply to wartime strategy?”

The three officers sat in silence, and Benson shook his head.

Neerson let the silence hang for a few moments longer. “Your initial decision was based on the immediate chance of reward. Play these two cards with the possibility of receiving better ones. There is indeed a time and a place for this in warfare, but when given the opportunity, consider the alternative position we took. The decision to play what seemed to be a less than opportune card in the moment was still based on chance, but chance that you had a much better opportunity to effect, and still with the outcome you desired and more.” He gestured to the table. “The chance was altered from something that you could not control, that being the cards you would pick up in the moments following your play. This chance is based Solely on what Commander Ziggenbor held in his hand.

As you stated, he would either play a low card, allowing you to play your eights, or he would be forced to play a strategic card in a non-strategic moment, or at least one that he had not planned for. Even if the outcome had been that he played a seven, mirrored the nine’s value and revoked its rule, thus forcing you to play your king instead.

Or perhaps he would have played a ten, eliminated the pile entirely, and played a an ace. Even in this eventuality you had an answer for that, but if you had not, then there would have been much less punishment in needing to pick up the pile. Instead, he was forced to play a two. This tells us something about his hand as well.”

“It sure does.” Benson glowered across the table.

“Even if he does hold better cards than you, now you know more about the situation you are faced with, and can better strategize to meet it. Does this make sense?”

“Yes sir.”

“Carry on.”

The two officers played out their hands. The game came down to the blinds, and Martin won on technicality, throwing the last ten as his first blind, and thus being able to throw his second without challenge.

“That’s a dumb rule.” Benson said, jabbing a finger at Martin.

“It is not.” Neerson said at once, but in a conversational tone. “It is one of the defining reasons why this game is important. In the Blind Man’s Gambit, you may have what you think is a winning hand, but even if you do everything right, you can still be faced with unknowns that make the situation impossible to overcome.” He held out his hand, and Martin passed him the deck. “This,” the admiral said, shuffling the cards with as much skill and practiced ease as any card handler in a gambling house. “Is a remarkably important lesson for all military leaders to come to grips with.”

Then he dealt three sets of blinds and three piles of seven.

“Observe,” Neerson said simply.

—

There was a tap at the door, and Captain Henderson opened it. “Sergeant First Class Jackson Valentine for observation, Apprentice.”

“Yes ma’am.” Natalie nodded.

Valentine was wheeled in a wheelchair to the room by a nurse that Natalie recognized, Miss Rayne. “See alright from there?” She asked.

“Yes.” Valentine said. “Go away.”

“No.” The nurse said. “You’re in my care. I’ll go where you go. This is Apprentice Sanderson and Senator Ziggenbor.”

Valentine’s head came up, and his arms twitched as though the instinctive urge to rise had come over him. Then he remembered and nodded. “You’re Sergeant Ziggenbor’s brother?”

“Matthias.” Matt said, extending his hand and shaking Valentine’s. “His oldest. I believe you’ve met my other brother Martin.”

“I have.” Valentine said. “Good officer when he’s not trying to force his way onto my extraction vessel.”

“He doesn’t get hot often, but when he does it’s a sight to behold.”

“It’s something, Senator.” Valentine said, turning his eyes on the observation room.

“Sergeant, I’d like to thank you for the measures you took to save my brother.” Matt said.

Valentine nodded once.

Medical staff were busying themselves around Neil. Some carried tablets, others were checking the various equipment as preparations were made. “They’re going to wake him up.” He said.

“Yes.” Natalie said. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

Valentine turned to her. “He’s your brother too?”

“No. He’s my cousin but… he means an awful lot to me. Thank you for getting him out. I know the mission was volunteer only.”

Staring at her with an unreadable expression, Valentine nodded again. “If I had to do it again, I wouldn’t do it any differently.” He said quietly.

The nonessential medical staff cleared out of the procedure room. He had been restrained, though with enough room to move some, and a blindfold had been lightly wrapped around his eyes. Matt hadn’t liked that, but NAtalie had assured him it was standard operating procedure.

“They did it to me too, Senator.” Valentine said.

“Did it help?”

Valentine shrugged. “I don’t remember much, to be honest. Little jarring when they bring you back up.”

One of the medical staff held up her fist. The others in the room moved what equipment they could away from Neil’s bed, and another woman gave Neil a small injection.

Then the woman held up a single finger, then another. When all five were held up, she put down her thumb.

Then her pinky.

Natalie moved a little closer to Matt.

Her ring finger was next.

Matt put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed.

Then her middle, and finally, her index finger.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The terminal in the corner continued beeping in time with Neil’s heart, but still he lay motionless, completely still. The medical staff on the sides of the room began looking between their tablets.

Then the soft hum of a speaker system that had come to life but not been fed any audio clocked on in the room. For another moment, it was all they heard.

Neil’s lips moved. “Troy.” He said, in a clear voice.

“Sergeant Ziggenbor, please remain as you are.” The woman who had held up her hand said. “You’re in the—“

“Troy!” Bellowed Neil, trying to lurch to a sitting position. “Incoming felbound! Troy, get down!”

“Sergeant Ziggenbor!” The woman said, coming towards him.

Neil strained against his restraints, and wrenched his shoulders in their sockets trying to break free. Natalie went to the terminal and started tapping buttons. Neil thrashed his head as best he could, and managed to get the blindfold off one eye, the one that had been repaired.

His gaze snapped around to the medical staff, who went completely still at the same moment he did. For a very long pair of moments there was nothing but stillness and silence. Then Neil’s natural hand strained against the bonds. “I need,” he snarled. “Specialist Sixth Class Troy. Where is he?”

“Not here, Sergeant.” The woman said.

“Then where?”

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Ziggenbor, that’s all I can tell you about his status. There was a compromise in your extraction, and you’re in the EMAR now, in recovery.”

“Recovery from what?”

“I gotta get in there.” Valentine said, trying to activate his wheelchair controls. “He’s gotta see something from then.” He looked up to Nurse Rayne. “Take me in there.”

“No one’s allowed in there without authorization.” Natalie said in a small voice, tears leaking from her eyes. “And no one’s going to be authorized until they know he doesn’t pose a threat to them.”

“Can we talk to him?”

“No.”

Valentine swore violently and smashed his fists down on the arms of his chair.

The door of the procedure room opened, and Colonel Vance stepped inside. “Sergeant Ziggenbor.” He said. “If you can, I need you to remain as calm as possible. Reality may not be what you think it is at the moment.”

Neil’s hands began to shake, and he looked down at them. “Sir?”

“I will tell you the circumstances of your situation, but to do so I need to make sure that you are in a relative state of calm, so as not to put you in a state of shock, am I understood?”

Neil thought about that for a moment. “Yes sir.”

“I am going to approach you and remove your blindfold. Please remain completely still, as I will have you sedated otherwise.”

“Yes sir.”

The Colonel approached Neil slowly and removed the blindfold entirely. Neil blinked, despite the dimness of the room, and looked around.

“Is it normal for the Colonel to come to these sorts of things?” Valentine asked. “He wasn’t there when I woke up.”

Natalie shook her head. “Neil is the first.”

Neil looked back to the Colonel, shaking more violently now but making no attempt to strain against his bonds. “Where am I, sir?”

“You are in the Emergency Medical and Rehabilitation station.”

“What happened to me?”

“You were gravely injured in the extraction operation on Mars. Through the efforts of the medical staff and the developments made by the RAE corps, you have been saved.”

“What about Troy?”

“Specialist Troy did not survive, Sergeant. I’m sorry.”

Neil slumped back into the bed. “Who did?”

“Yourself, Sergeant Jackson Valentine, and Captain Crew Benson.”

“That’s it?” Neil asked in a muted tone. “No one else?”

“From the 3-95th, that is correct.” Vance said. “You are the sole survivor.”

The words seemed to fall on deaf ears for a moment. Then Neil’s hands went still as the rest of him, and his eyes closed. “How badly am I hurt?”

“You are not hurt, any more, Sergeant. Not physically.” The Colonel took a deep breath. “Senate Bill Y4-R716 passed no more than twenty-four hours before your injuries. Are you familiar with it?”

Neil was quiet.

“Authority to administer extensive life saving aid to soldiers unable to consent.” Vance said. “Including artificial reconstructive surgery and application of cybernetic repair.”

“You… fixed me?”

“The medical staff and RAE corps saved your life when it would have otherwise been lost.”

“Who made the call?”

“I did.” Vance said. “The decision was mine, and mine alone.”

Neil fixed the Colonel with a look that would have melted stone. “Fuck you sir.” He spat through gritted teeth. “Fuck you and the ground you walk on. You should have let me die.”

Colonel Vance bowed his head. “I will not say that I understand your position, Sergeant. I will only say that I hope, in time, that you will see things differently. Would you like to see your brother?”

“Martin’s here?”

“No. Senator Ziggenbor is here.”

“No.”

“There is also Apprentice Sanderson. I can bring her in as well.”

“She’s here?” Neil looked around. “Where is she?”

“I will bring her in, so long as I remain as well. You are still under great amounts of stress.”

“I want to see her. Just her.”

Vance turned to the observation glass, and Natalie ducked out from under Matt’s arm, almost running from the room. She waited at the door, and when it slid open, she tried to walk slowly. Vance stopped her out of arm's reach from the bed.

Neil blinked. “Nat.” He whispered.

“Hey, boss.” She said, wringing her hands in front of her. “I…” She didn’t know what to say, what she could say. Then Neil’s natural hand reached up in his restraints. Vance nodded once, and she went around the bed. She took his hand, it was cold. Then she kissed his palm and rested her head for a moment on it. She felt him roll a few strands of her hair in his fingers before she brought her head up again. His eyes were closed.

“Neil.” She whispered, and he looked at her. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Neil closed his eyes again.

Matt watched it all unfold, emotions roiling inside him. The reaction hadn’t been surprising. Truth be told, Neil might not have wanted to see Martin, either.

“You alright, sir?”

Matt looked down at Valentine. “Yeah. You?”

“I’m just glad to see it. See it for myself.” Valentine breathed. “It’s good knowing that my squad didn’t die for nothing.” He nodded at Natalie running her hand over the top of Neil’s head. “That right there makes it more worth it. She seems like… she’s something special.”

Matt blinked several times. “She’s the best of us.”

Valentine nodded, then turned to Nurse Rayne. “Can we go up now?”

“Of course.” She said, and they left, leaving Matt alone in the observation room. Neil fell asleep soon thereafter, and Vance led Natalie back to him. “He will be moved to a ward to be monitored for some time, but you’ll both be able to be with him, if he wishes.” Vance said. “Be patient with him, Senator. I’ve seen many soldiers come out of similar situations and sometimes… sometimes emotions that were once inconsequential no longer seem so. But more often than not, they come around.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Apprentice Sanderson, you’re excused from studies for the time. Please communicate with the Journeymen in your department.”

“Yes sir.”

And Vance left, leaving the two of them alone again.