It's Always Been You by Jessica Scott

“Sorry?”
    “You can’t leave the entire formation to go back for one guy, sir. That’s what we have NCOs for.”
    Ben breathed deeply. “I didn’t see any NCOs heading back to scoop him up.”
    “Yeah, well, I’ll deal with them at first formation ’cause that is going to be the one and only time something like that happens.” Sorren downed his cup of coffee and Ben wondered if it had been hot when the big man had gulped it down. “Now take me through our problem children.”
    Forty minutes later, Ben thought about offering Sorren a beer.
    “I honestly didn’t think that was possible,” Sorren said after his fifth cup of coffee. He glanced mournfully at his mug then at the ancient coffee pot, that looked like it was about to die at any moment. “I think it’s going to take a lot more than coffee to get through all this.”
    “We’ve got our work cut out for us, that’s for sure.” Sorren scrubbed a big hand over his jaw. He was the kind of guy who needed to shave three times a day. “We need a better coffee pot than this fucking relic. Where the hell did that thing even come from?”
    “A twelve-dollar one from the Goodwill, most likely.” Ben thought longingly of the espresso machine in the battalion headquarters. Maybe he’d start a coffee fund and get one for the company ops. Maybe he’d lead a stealth mission to steal the espresso machine. “New generation doesn’t believe in caffeine. They’re all about the energy drinks and soda.”
    Sorren made a disgusted face. “What the hell is wrong with kids these days?”
    Ben kicked his feet up on the table. One of the legal packets slipped over the edge and onto the floor. Ben just sat there looking at it for a long time.
    Zittoro, Anthony.
The name written in neat block letters. Ben stared at it over the edge of his coffee cup, resting his elbows on his knees. The packet would end the career of a once solid infantryman who’d hadn’t been able to beat his addiction and could no longer stay in the fight.
    And Ben had to put him out of the army
knowing
the kid had nowhere to go.
    Ben looked into his own coffee cup and wished he could find some smart-ass comment to lighten the weight around his heart.
    He looked up to find Sorren watching him.
    “You don’t want this job, do you, sir.”
    It wasn’t a question.
    Instead, he said nothing. Because there were no words to describe the fierce tension rioting inside him.
    “What makes you say that?” was all he said after the silence hung on too long.
    Sorren shoved Ben’s boots off the table, then leaned down to pick up the folder. He tossed it onto the table and sat back down.
    “Why don’t we clear the air on this right now,” Sorren said. He leaned forward and Ben leaned back.
    Right then, his first sergeant was pissed and it was all directed straight at Ben. Once upon a time, he might have been intimidated. Now? Now he was just tired. Far too burned out and cynical for his age.
    “We’ve got eight months to get ready to head back downrange. Whether or not you go with us is up for discussion.” Sorren jabbed a thumb at his own chest. “I’ve got a job to do but to do that, I need you to do yours. So whatever angst or teenage drama or unresolved trauma you need to overcome to do your fucking job, I need you to get over it. I’ve buried enough soldiers. I’m not going to let another petulant captain ruin my men.”
    Ben rocked slowly in his chair, contemplating the myriad of things he could say. His first sarn’t was like most senior NCOs, wary of the officer corps that led them. Far too many officers had thrown their senior enlisted man under the bus to save their own asses.
    His throat constricted with a wave of guilt. Escoberra had taken the hit when their base had gotten overrun, despite Ben trying to shield him.
    Goddamn it, he was going to take care of Escoberra this time. He wouldn’t fail a second time.
    But Sorren’s words hit home with an accuracy born from experience. Ben