Chapter 14

Euro Disney turned out to be an interesting experience. Everyone had been to either Disneyland or Walt Disney World at least three times. Having everything in a foreign language seemed to enhance the magic. The only complaint had been the absence of the Marines. They could have carried the packages and helped with the translation. Ms. Timmons' implant translated for her, but she could not reply in French. She comically fumbled through what the AI had prompted her to say. Fortunately, she did learn how to order chocolate and ask for the location of the nearest bathroom. Team Wonder Women was eternally grateful.

Once they left the Sequoia Lodge, they endured a bus ride to the train station in Paris. Ms. Jenkins demanded the three ex-American girls experience a train ride. That was when the fun really began. Everyone knew that the rides on any of the ships leaving or returning to Earth were hundreds, if not thousands of times faster. The ride on the high-speed train provided a much greater sensation of speed. The greens and browns rushed by the windows.

The girls were sure Ms; Jenkins was suffering from 'space-travel-loopyness.' It was not a real mental condition just weariness after going through customs and government hassles at Ashford International. Did they really think that they were Confederacy Marines?

Then Ms. Jenkins had them ride in a shuttle bus to a different train station. Folkestone turned out to be a relatively neat train station. Again, Ms. Jenkins had booked separate trains, instead of a single through train. The entire team had to run to catch the next train. It was not high-speed, but what the ticket said was a local. This train stopped at every station as it meandered along the rails. The ride to the station in London was slow enough for the group to see the rolling countryside instead of a blur. Their coach swayed rhythmically while it rolled along. After fifteen minutes, the girls were enthralled in their computer pads. Once in London, they had to walk almost a quarter mile to change trains. The girls took the opportunity to whine about the walk. That turned out to be a mistake.

When they got to Cambridge, Ms. Jenkins made them walk the half-mile to the Centurion Hotel. It did not look like a hotel, it was more like a row of town houses. Awnings announced that this was the hotel. The yellowish-tan bricks on the front surrounded six large bay windows on the ground floor. Six deep red stained doors next to those windows matched the awnings on the upper windows. The roof had evenly spaced dormer windows. The whole Wonder Women team stayed in one room. The three lady chaperones slept next door. Using a travel agency from Toulon, the Confederacy had rented the entire floor.

Inside, the hotel looked like all those movies about English manors. All the wood was polished, shiny deep brown, with a rich heavy grain winding through it. A giant stone fireplace was on the far wall of the front entry room. The lady chaperones fused over the "Queen Anne" furniture.

Mrs. Bowie mentioned that they occupied the second floor. She led them the first flight of stairs, and then the second one.

"Why are we going to the third floor?" Dena asked her teammates.

"I think the bottom floor is called the ground floor." Raji Meadows offered as an answer. "Remember back at Disney the elevators were marked "G" for the first floor. Remember we kept going to the wrong floor every time we came back from the pool."

Mrs. Bowie, the owner's wife, coached the girls on proper etiquette. They practiced her lessons by having tea in the main parlor. This was important to the girls: in a few days they were going to tour the botanical gardens, then meet the professor. It was difficult for them to get to sleep each night.

Sleep came easy to Sergeant Capoue and Privates Zidane and Petit. Anton Zidane spent the last few days explaining why he followed his training and the instructions of his sergeant. It proved to be taxing. Just how many different ways could you describe shooting in controlled short bursts as he was taught? Moving through hostile territory in two-man teams leapfrogging down a passageway, he was following Sergeant Capoue's lead. Private Zidane even admitted he was more afraid to disappoint his sergeant than he was of the simulated Swarm Troopers.

"Alou, I swear we were watching video of the mission. They could see every action I made from inside my armor and cameras mounted on the walls." Anton Zidane put his forehead onto the table. "They wanted me to recall what I was thinking, what my potential options were." He turned his head to look at his fellow Marine. All he could see was the man's torso, he was too exhausted to sit up and look at him. "I kept trying to tell them I followed my training and orders. At the end, before I sprinted out, I did question Sergeant Capoue's last order." Anton closed his eyes. "I even told them I wanted to stay and fight."

"They kept after me about dying in the simulation." Alou Petit gently lifted Anton back to a sitting position and then continued. "I told them over and over but I'm not dead, I can't really comment on how I feel about it."

Anton nodded in agreement. "I understand. They asked me about survivor's guilt, but everyone is alive."

"Gentlemen, how about some whiskey?" Sergeant Capoue set a tray with the bottle and three glasses onto the table. "This is real, shipped direct from that exotic land of Lynchburg Tennessee." He cracked open the bottle and poured each glass half full. Resealing the bottle, he handed one glass to each of his men. "It's best to take a good swallow." With that, Sergeant Capoue lifted his glass. "To our future, we shall prevail." He drank about quarter of the glass's content.

Anton suddenly understood all those movie and video clips when someone first tasted hard liquor. "Whoa!" His throat began to burn. In all the movies people said, 'smooth.' He couldn't fathom why. He wanted to spit the aftertaste out. Perhaps they needed to act manly, more likely they were drinking tea. He began to cough.

The sergeant thumped his back, but Anton waved him off, still coughing. "It is an acquired taste," Capoue smiled.

Alou seemed unaffected. It was not fair. To make matters worse his friend took another sip. Anton was wondering if he could get some ice cream.

"I've just been given permission to explain your debriefings." The sergeant pushed his glass away slowly. "Some Confederacy personnel are having difficulty after engaging Swarm forces." Even though he looked like he was maybe thirty, Sergeant Capoue's eyes looked much older in this moment. "To help Marines recover from traumatic or disastrous engagements," he looked at both privates before he continued, "you two are part of a study, the baseline for how to help emotionally harmed soldiers."

"I wish they had shared that," Alou stated. "It would've been much more tolerable if I had known the purpose."

Anton nodded in agreement. The sergeant only smiled. "They wanted reactions that were honest and raw."

The sergeant took another drink. Anton suddenly realized that Capoue had suffered through a similar debrief. He wanted to say something to try to offer comfort. Then his mind flashed back to the exercise. The sergeant had to choose who might die.

"The good news is we are meeting our wards to tour the botanical gardens tomorrow."

"As long as I don't have to weed anything, sergeant," Alou lifted his glass and smiled.

Anton lifted his glass and offered his conditional, "I will weed since he," Anton gestured toward Alou, "just offered to shovel a load of shit."

"Agreed," then the sergeant flashed his basic-training grin, "to tomorrow."

Anton took another swallow. It still burned, but his respect for his sergeant was hotter. Once he set his glass down, Alou began to plead for a different job. It was the first time Anton had heard the sergeant laugh since the first rounds of debriefings on the moon.

"What do you mean he has no intention of stopping the ceremony?" Lieutenant Percy did not raise her voice.

"Ma'am," Private Siân Carter stood rigid to attention. "Sir Samuel directed me to tell you, he was going."

Percy resigned herself to prepare a different avenue of attack. "Did he say anything else?"

"His instructions were 'delegate and improvise, ' Ma'am," Carter answered.

"Dismissed," Percy replied.

Private Carter turned sharply right, paused, and was about to take a pace forwards, when Percy spoke, amusement in her voice.