Chapter 1

The stares always bothered me. I hated it when I had to wear my class A or B uniform. I was much more comfortable in my skinners or even my Class V assault armor with the annoying battle comp offering analysis. Another stupid formation for yet another commanding officer. Our unit was hard on officers. Lieutenant Hauge was still around proving more durable than his predecessors. I tried not to get used to anybody though. Soon as I got comfortable they got killed or medically retired.

We wore our dress blues today. This was not only for the Company but a new Battalion as well. We were getting a "full-bird" Colonel as well as a Major today. It was fine with me. I was in the back of the formation as always. After all, rank does have its privileges, I thought. I tuned out the speech from Admiral Yoshi. I liked the old guy but he was boring. I looked around the hanger noting that the blast from Corporal Sihng's 'weapon's malfunction' was repaired. That almost caused me to laugh out loud. I actually almost regret pulling his ass out of that collapsed building. Talk about a dumb gung-ho boot. Four jumps and he was a corporal. A wet behind the ears kid was in charge of a fire team. That was not too out of the ordinary though given the recent depletion in our ranks.

In a few weeks we would be back up to full strength unless we got another mission soon. That last jump was a mess. We lost almost a third of our Battalion. They were either dead or undergoing a major medical.

I tuned back into the speech. Our new CO, Colonel Santiago, was talking about how the tide was finally turning in our favor, how he wanted a tight cohesive unit, how things were going to change. I tuned it out again. It sounded like every other speech I'd ever heard. Nothing changed though. Sometimes we won, sometimes we didn't. People died and new ones took their places. It was just the way things were.

Eventually the speech ended and the inspection started. Our last CO wasn't one for inspections thankfully. This one was. He went up and down every row asking questions and commenting on almost every Marine. I really hated the next part. He stopped in front of me. Of course the new Major and my Lieutenant trailed behind.

He just stared first at my sleeves. The upper bare, the lower with six stripes. Then his eyes moved onto my chest. It was absurd I thought. The way we had to wear our medals. For some reason the rule, he with the most medals dies first, did not apply to me. I could see him counting in his head. I noticed the medals on his chest, the typical ones for a Colonel with nothing to get excited about.

He gave me a hard look then moved on without saying a word. The Lieutenant gave me a sympathetic look as he walked by. He had been through a new CO as well. He knew that I really didn't like to be noticed.

When we were dismissed I was the first one out of the monkey suit and back into my skinners.

Three days later we got our new boots. They were fresh from the School of Infantry. Newly augmented and feeling indestructible. Sure they were one hell of a lot tougher than they were before but they would soon learn. Most learned the hard way. Either they got hurt or killed or somebody they knew got hurt of killed. The really dumb ones took a few jumps to learn.

I kept my distance. Or at least I tried to. I always had some shit duty to take care of so it was not hard. Guard duty, maintenance, cleaning, or any other boring or unpleasant job that needed doing.

My summons came right on schedule. Sighing inwardly I stepped into the Regimental CO's office. His aide was at the desk out front.

"Private Sweeney reporting as ordered Sir," I said.

"Have a seat Private," the young 2nd lieutenant said.

She was new. Must have come in with him I thought. We had a quite a few women in the regiment. With the ability to augment the human body, a necessity for Assault armor, there was no real reason to keep women from combat duty. They were just as effective as men now that the playing field was even. A ninety pound weakling in Class V assault armor was as deadly as a 100 kilo muscle bound leatherneck.

Catching myself staring, I instead focused on the bulkhead behind the 2nd lieutenant. Soon as I looked away from her though, she was looking at me. I was pretty bad at figuring out the fairer sex though. I was pretty sure she was looking at me like I would look at an interesting rock I saw on the beach.

Her eyes unfocused briefly and she said," You may go in now Private."

"Aye, Aye Sir." I said.

I stood up and knocked on the bulkhead twice, getting an answering,"Come," almost right away.

I stepped inside. There was not much different about the room. Less of a personal touch than before but maybe he had not settled in yet. "Private Sweeney reporting as ordered Sir," I said standing at attention.

"At ease," he said and I assumed parade rest.

"I see that you have been with this unit a long time. 27 years..." he said trailing off acting like he was reading the file for the first time.

Once again I had been to this show and had lots of t-shirts as souvenirs.

"Yes sir."

"That is a very long time, Private."

"Yes Sir."

"You've been in the Corps longer than I have to be honest with you."

I figured that. I had been in the Corps longer than most of the people in my Battalion had been alive.

"I did a little research and you are the most senior enlisted in terms of either time served or combat jumps. You are, in fact, the most experienced in the entire military command structure."

That was news to me but I really wasn't surprised.

"I did not know that Sir," I replied.

"I don't think many people do. Tell me Marine, how did you end up here? Your record says that you were enlisted by court order. Your enlistment is for life at a permanent rank of Private with half pay. That tells me that you faced a harsh prison sentence."

I was not inclined to rehash my past with this man so I gave him the minimum information I could.

"I was convicted of murder Sir. It was The Corps or the needle."

"You must have been one of the first of the lifers then. Most don't make it long. Few even ever made it out of training."

I just stood there impassively waiting. Most privates would be sweating bullets by now. It took the new Colonel a few minutes to realize that I really was not like a fresh faced private. He was not going to intimidate me.

Dismissed I left his office. The cute 2nd Lieutenant was at her desk typing on her keyboard when I stepped out. I looked at her and found her nametag said, Swanson. Quickly I moved on and the staccato sounds of her keyboard didn't change as I left her office.

"So what did you do now Sweeney?" asked Cpl. Reed.

"Nothing Sergeant," I replied.

"Maybe you should have done something then?" he asked, giving me a hard time.

He was a newly minted sergeant, with strips only a few days old now and was trying his best to establish the Platoon's pecking order. I shrugged.

In the Corps, nobody liked lifers. I didn't like them either and I was one. Sergeants with two percent the jumps you have, especially don't like you. He wasn't my sergeant though really. We were short one and nobody else from within the company was qualified. We would be getting a new one sometime soon I was guessing.

I ended up with an extra watch. They never figured out that extra watches or duty were okay with me. I didn't have much else to do on ship. I read a lot. That was about it. Eat, read, train, PT, duty, sleep, those were the limit of my activities. I really didn't have much in the way of friends anymore. They were all dead or medically retired. Mostly dead though. My home planet, Gerta 3 was overrun more than ten years ago. I had no idea if my kid sister or parents made it out or not.

Bridge watch was my favorite. I think I was even the command staff's favorite grunt. They seemed to prefer me to anybody else. I would often get summoned to the bridge and ordered to relieve somebody. Of course the watch really didn't do anything most of the time. It was mostly a throw back to seafaring days of long ago.

"Fuck'n aye, how old are you private? You look like my gramps standing there," Lt. Chen jabbed at me.

"Old enough to know your grandma was a hot piece in her day. Who knows I might even be your gramps," I shot back causing everybody on the bridge to laugh, even Lt. Chen.

"Not possible. I know the aug process way back when turned your tool into a limp noodle."

"I can't help it. I get intimidated by officers," I offered with a straight face.

"Bullshit. A fuck'n 1000 kilo brood mother protecting her nasty mountain of eggs wouldn't even phase your dumb ass. Too stupid to be scared, all you grunts are."

"Even a beetle browed knuckle dragging grunt like me knows to stay well away from your mom."

Even the XO laughed out loud at that one and Chen was about to offer a rejoinder when the computer announced that the Captain was on the bridge, silencing everyone.

The Captain was a tough old broad and I had nothing but respect for her but she had little in the way of a sense of humor, and even less for idle chatter.

It was nothing but business until the end of my watch with the Captain on the bridge. I listened and reflected that I had a better rapport with the bridge staff who were officers and Navy to boot, than with my own enlisted Marine infantry. The aug process had changed in the last twenty five years. It had gotten refined and faster, i.e. cheaper. The newly augmented grunt was faster, stronger, and much tougher than a normal human. The few of us alive that were augmented way back when though were a little faster, stronger, and tougher yet. We were even supposedly smarter and sometimes even aged much slower. In today's credits it would cost about five million new dollars to augment somebody, even if the old process was still available, and took over six long and agonizing months. Now it took less than 500k and only six weeks and they got their mission critical results at roughly eighty percent of the original process for a tenth of the cost. You just had to be tough enough to survive wearing assault armor. After all, assault armor took a 50 kilo weakling and made him as effective as the 100 kilo talking muscle.

"Listen up people. This is a simple one. We drop, form a perimeter and let some eggheads from fleet fucking do their science shit. They tell me they will be on the ground for approximately 60 minutes. Kilo, you're inner ring. Golf, you're primary. Whiskey, you will run patrols out at five clicks with OP's posted five beyond that. Anybody sees so much as a fucking skink out there sing out and we fucking grab the eggheads and bug out. Any fucking questions? Good. Better not be fucking any. This is simple as shit and I don't want any of you fucking boots to think. You just listen and do as you're fucking told by your platoon leaders! Drop is at 1400 hours. Muster at 1300 hours. Dismissed!"

I was in Whiskey Company which meant I would be a forward OP. I really didn't care. This was just another drop which would go to shit as soon as the first pair of armored size 50 boots hit the dirt.

It was a new rock anyhow. I had not been to this one yet. Intel was that it was an old Lizard staging area long abandoned. I could see why. Not so much as a piece of lichen on the rocks. You could see evidence of life in the past but the place was toxic now. I was about twelve kicks from the egg heads watching my assigned piece of real estate for 37:42 minutes since mission operation began, when some FNG sang out that he heard something. I got that feeling I get when things are going to go to shit right before I heard it, like somebody just walked across my grave.

Another FNG reported he heard something. This was a veteran of four drops. A corporal and this time the sergeant signaled he was on his way and for the OP's to call in.

"Whiskey two calling all clear," a tightly controlled voice called out.

"Whisky three calling all clear," echoed another young sounding voice.

"Whisky seven calling all clear," yet another young nervous voice called out.

"Whiskey five calling all clear," I replied.

"Wake up Sweeney, you sound fucking half asleep!" reprimanded my brand new platoon sergeant.

"Whiskey niner reporting movement! Grid 27! Fucking Lizards!" came an overexcited voice.

She was to my right at my three o'clock.

"Sweeny get your ass over there and confirm."

"On my way Sergeant. Don't do anything stupid Sanchez. Keep your head down."

I took off at my best speed. The ground was uneven and impossible to navigate in a vehicle and one would be hard pressed to move as fast as even a novice in a Class V could. I was not a novice. The Class V was the best yet. It truly felt like a part of my body and had not gotten any better with the Class VI, which I felt was too complicated for its and the wearer's own good. Luckily us privates, and lifers being the least of privates, would be using the Class V for the foreseeable future. Right now only officer got Class VI.

Sanchez nearly squeezed off a shot when I landed next to her. She must have been scared shitless if her battle comp failed to get her attention at my arrival.

"So how's the view over here?" I asked.

"I know I fucking saw them. They were moving low keeping to the low areas."

"Sweeney! Fucking report!" bellowed Sgt. Gregs.

"Nothing to report yet. Sanchez pointed out a low lying area they are using to move close undetected. Are there any drones up?"

"You're not paid to think! Fucking confirm or not the sighting!"

"Negative. No sighting."

"Get back to your post. Sanchez keep your eyes open!"

"Be ready to bug out," I sent on the suit to suit comm to Sanchez.

Sanchez was green but even a dumb boot knows what a lizard looks like. Hell any movement on this lifeless rock should have sent red flags up to the officers but somebody was always trying to look good for promotion or avoid looking like a fucking idiot over nothing.

I bounced back to my OP keeping my eyes open and my scanners tweaked on high. Four long minutes passed when I heard Lcpl. Hutchins scream. He was at my six on the other side of the perimeter.

"Report!" shouted Lt. Simmins.

"Whisky seven calling contact!"

"Whisky niner reporting activity!"

"Cpl Reed move you squad over to face grid 63. All OP's call out and fall back a klick."

"Aye, Aye sir!" most called out.

I just moved out. They obviously knew we were there so I jumped going to a bird's eye scan. It was bad.

"Whiskey five calling multiple contacts. Lighting them up on the grid. They've got a crawler."

"Ackowledged. All OP's get a fucking birds eye on the bounce and fall back."

"General recall. Fall back. 600 to recall. By the numbers move it!" called the Lt.

As an OP, I was attached to a platoon and a squad so I jumped that way getting scans when I was up. At the third jump I took fire. The crawler opened up and a super heated ball of plasma singed the air and gave me the prickly feeling they do as it whizzed by.

"Crawler plasma fire at grid 27," I called out and then kept my boots mostly on the ground.

"Ground them. Keep down! Fall back to the outer ring," Sgt. Gregs called out.

My battle comp showed me the updated map and it looked like a serious effort was being made to get us to leave this uninhabited rock. There were two nonfunctioning and one walking wounded so far.

Cresting a small rise I surprised about ten Gators. They were running parallel to me and we happened to cross paths. Luckily they were ahead of me. Without so much as pausing I opened up with my coilgun sending 10 gram slugs at hyper velocity making a mess of chewed meat out of the lizard advance team.

"Contact grid 25, ten gators down. They were moving low and quiet."

"Ackowledged. Look sharp people! ETA to pickup 229. Watch your damn battle comps for movement updates!"