Chapter 2

Dave finally made his appearance well past midnight, looking disheveled. I smiled at my boss with an evil leer.

“Janice?”

“Yeah. What a woman.”

I laughed at Dave, wondering how many female employees of ALS Incorporated had been boned by Dave. While in good shape and remaining youthful in appearance, he was not James Bond-type suave. He was overt, and had no sense of nuance. But his self-confidence was not to be denied. I could only guess that his openess and self-confidence was what got him routinely laid.

“About done?”

“Last batch.”

“Get lost when you’re done. I’ll punch you out ... Dude, you missed it. I was through the backdoor at least three times. Had to bail a few times. I’m still stoked.”

“Maybe next time...”

I thought about Dave’s life, getting laid about every other day, hitting the surf when he feels it, living in his parent’s Huntington Beach house. Still on the south side of 40, Dave was living, in many ways, a perfect life. It was good to see a good guy win.

“Okay. Thanks Dave, but don’t get your ass in a crack over this shit.”

“Mark, my man, I owe you. Techs like you make me look good ... Ya know, those cute little Viet girls on the board line eye you up and down when you walk in. There something there for you, dude.”

“Don’t think so, man. The girls just clam up whenever I drop off their re-work. Don’t seem so friendly to me, not even sure they speak English...”

“You got it wrong, man. Check the ladies out tomorrow.”

“Not on the assignments sheet for remainder of week.”

“Really? What the fuck? I’ll have to talk to Harry about that shit.”

I shrugged my shoulders, thinking that the company should be close to decreasing body count on its military-contracting side, as all but two of the Aegis ship-sets of 400Hz ring converters had been accepted by the moronic DCAS reps. I did not really care, as it looked like I had full-time employment, with benefits, at the end of the coming summer.

Although having been a member, in good standing, of the First CivDiv for two years, I still had not made one ‘close’ friend outside of my circle of military friends. Most of the people around me were five to nine years younger, and had little life experience. These students were a never-ending source of entertainment. In their little minds, because having left home for college, viewed themselves as ‘worldly’. It was laughable, but I was not smug about the matter because I had been around the world and did not consider myself worldly. My world travels had only served to reveal to me that I was naive and foolish, and had yet to understand or discover any basic principles that would explain the vagaries of human existence. Whatever.

My most close friends had all seperated, except the two that had re-upped. Well before I seperated, it became obvious that Tim and Nick were lifers. I could see no good reason for them not to be lifers. They enjoyed the crazed jarhead life, and were the among the very best at their jobs. Nick’s recent NAM and meritorous promo to staff sergeant cemented my opinion of Nick as a career Marine. And Tim would be in the zone next year. Yep, they were career Marines, but they were still my good friends and very cool dudes.

“Mark, we got a 96. Going to Joe’s place. Wanna come?”

“Give me a break, man. You know I wanna. I’m fucking broke. And I got a full work schedule. Tim going?”

“No shit. Can I take your M1?”

“Yeah, say hi to Joe. Slap him around for me. And tell Tim I want my Clint tapes back.”

“Tim got your “Drifter and Harry tapes?”

“And my G, B, and Ugly tape. He’s had them for two months.”

“No shit? Was at his place last weekend and didn’t play a fucking thing. What a one-way hoser.”

“Slap the shit out of the boy.”

“Man ... we sure miss you, fuckhead.”

“Sorry I can’t go, man. See ya, dude.”

Talking to Nick both elevated my mood, and depressed me. I missed being around people that I could trust, people that would go to the deck for me. Shit like like had yet to be found in this other-world existence I was living, well outside of the emotionally safe confines and structured life of the Marines. And I missed my cool gear, stored at Nick’s and Tim’s abodes, to include all of my weapons. I had been careful not to let either know that I was homeless and border-line destitute. The situation was well-covered, as they thought it obvious that I could not take much of my stuff onto campus or into the dorms.

It was not pride that I never allowed any of my friends know my living arrangements. It was the desire to avoid complications and interference. I have always had a simple and single-minded determination to be independent and self-sufficent. I did not want to need anybody, because people on the ‘outside’ could never be relied upon, as my family had aptly demonstrated. My biologic relations were not my family. Tim, Nick, Joe, Paul, and Randy were my family.

My other motiviation to leave the Corps had been the slimy squadron career planner telling me that I would never be functional outside of the Corps, and that there was no life for me outside of El Toro’s front gates. Those statements had almost driven me to irrational acts, borne of despair, but I hung on, not wanting to bring my friends down. My friends deserved better than me.

“Hey, Mark. What’s up?”

I watched Marie swing her lithe athletic body into the chair, reveling in the prominent nipplage of her braless clothing choice. I decided that it may be worth going into slimy politics to legislate the bra out of legality. I could never understand why women would hide the galactic beauty of their hooters, as I had seriously considered that female breasts were an essential part of any quest for world peace, not by singing stupid songs.

Marie was not a frequent lunch partner. Well, to be precise, no one was my frequent lunch partner. But when Marie chose to eat the campus slop, she seemed to somehow find me. Although finding me was probably not difficult - look for the guy eating alone at the edge of cafeteria. But to be precise, I typically mined the field to avoid lunch partners by spreading books and papers over the table. Marie did not consider my well-designed mine fields a reasonable deterence.

I thought Marie to be a good egg, she was the one of the few students that I did not mind hanging out with, albeit for severely limited periods. Marie was extradinarily easy to look at, but she was not a friend. Per my definition, exactly zero people on campus were my friend. Whatever.

“Hi, Marie.”

Marie ignored my strategically-placed mines, sweeping away two books and a notebook, plopping down to my right.

“Saw you running this morning. Always up at five thirty?”

“Not always.”

My stunning conversational abilities did not dissuade her.

“Where do you live, Mark? I know you’re not in the dorms.”

Danger Will Robinson! What the fuck, over? What was the source of her intel? I was careful to stay focused on the book, not making eye contact.

“Uh ... close by.”

“Yeah? Where?”

Danger Will Robinson! Incoming! Take cover! Provide covering fire!

“What is this? Interrogation? Geez, Marie.”

“Geez Marie? You’re a poet and don’t know it.”

At least she could make funny. I emitted a short laugh. But it was time to call in the troops to cover my ex-fil. As I started to collect, scrape, wad, and otherwise sequentially cram the contents of the table top into my two bags, I made eye contact, pausing to appreciate her pretty face.

“Gotta go, lady. Have to read this stuff for my next assignment and have a tutor-job coming.”

Marie smiled at me with that strange, knowing half-grin. I snagged my apple before scurrying out, making a strategic retreat to the math department. I was certain that the small conference room was not being used.

Doctor CuteFace was starting to be a pain. Popping in at inordinate times to give me stuff to study, stacks of curricula outlines, binders of embedded systems lab requirements, and the multitude of other craptastic shit related to the start-up of a computer engineering program. I had no idea why I should be deluged with this shit. I was a tech. I was not an instructor. The woman need to reigned in, so I made an appointment to talk to Dr Basri.

“Hello, Mark. Doctor Basri is with a student. It will be a few minutes.”

“Okay. How’s your kid doing?”

“He’s at Pendleton. I think he’s happy, but he now sounds like you do. So what’s going on at Camp Pendleton?”

“SOI. Grunt 101 stuff. The guys in infantry MOSs will be there about two months, people doing non-grunt stuff will be there about three weeks. You basically run around, get dirty, carry a lot of stuff around, shoot a lot of different weapons, blow stuff up. Its sorta fun. What’s his assigned field?”

“Electronics. He said that he would be sent to ‘The Stumps’ next. What’s that?”

“Yeah, that’s about two hundred clicks east of here. Twenty Nine Palms. Desert and mountains. They have most of the ground electronics schools there that are specific to Marine equipment.”

“Where will he get stationed?”

“Ya know, there’s about a one in three chance he could get PCS to Pendleton. Otherwise it the rock or Lejeune. He’s a good kid. He’ll do okay, Mrs Hamilton.”

As a student exited one of the inner offices, Dr Basri waived me inside.

“Mark. Problems with the materials?”

“Nothing like that. Your TAs are doing a decent job. Uh, about my job next fall? Is there any reason I need to review curricula, write labs, and study this weird post-grad CS stuff?”

“Ohhh? That is an interesting question, my young man.”

Doc Basri tended to use ‘my young man’ when he was caught unawares.

“Yeah, Doctor Hollinger has given a ton of stuff to look at and some other assignments. I mean, I guess some stuff can be done this summer, but I’m not on the payroll until September, and there just is not enough time available for me to do some of this over the next foru or five months.”

“Hmmm, we shall see, my young man ... So tell me, son, what do you think of Karen Hollinger?”

“I dunno, doc, never talked to her much. She’s okay, I guess.”

“She was my best undergrad student. Berkley was recruiting her when we offered this position.”

My evil leer remained contained within my mind. Yeah? What position was that, doc? Horizontol or on her knees. Wonder if Hollinger minds cum on her face? Note to self: quit being a perv and stay focused.

“So she’s heading the CE program?”

“No, the program will belong to the Engineering School. But she is the lead. They will make her a full professor for the next term.”

“That’s cool. You saying that she’s my boss?”

“Of course, Mark. I thought that you were aware of that. Any problems with that?”

My boss? I guess that means she gets to be on top most of the time. I could live with that; I’m not an alpha male, and I could play with her tits. Note to self: I already told you to stop the perv shit.

“Nah. She seems okay. She just needs to be a bit more realistic. I’m just an undergrad. I got a full course load and several jobs. But I’ll quit the other stuff come September. No problems, doc. Its all good.”

“That is very good to hear. But I must say that the math department will miss you as a tutor. I have thought of having my TAs sit in on your sessions.”

“Uh, would rather not, doc. The kids I tutor can be pretty stressed. They’re there to get something that they couldn’t get during the class.”

“Excellant observation. This reminds me, my wife is having a small departmental soiree Friday evening. Would you like to attend?”

Holee shit! Doc Basri inviting me to mingle with the PhDs and post-grads? No fucking way. Way outa my league. Way fucking outa my league.”

“Thanks much for the invite, doc. But gotta work.”

“Things will get much better in September, my boy. I’ll see you next week.”

“Thanks, doc. See ya.”

I was not on the ALS work schedule for the remainder of the week. The realization of the fact stunned me as I exited Dr Basri’s office. Walking across the emptying campus, I had the revelation of an evening to my self. Consciously slowing myself down, I strolled to the cafeteria, looking forward to the luxury of a non-harried and unstressed dinner. We all wish for things that we know we can never have.

Placing my chow down, then extracting the two books I had been waiting to read for almost six months, I carefully placed the Niven and Pohl books in front of my tray. I had not had this feeling of impending relaxation in over a year. Ringworld Engineers recieved my vote. The choice was logical, Niven had written the two best novels that I had read in the previous five years - Mote and Lucifer’s Hammer. And I was in the mood for more Niven stuff.

“Sandy, don’t bother the man.”

I recognized Bill Hat’s voice. My opinion of the guy went up another notch, hearing his warning to his luscious mate. It was obvious that the woman ignored his recomendation when she stood to my front, emitting a strange giggle.

“Hi, Mark. What ya doing?”

Geez woman. Look past your tits for once. I’m fuckin trying to chow down and read. What the fuck happened to that quiet, introspective blonde?