Chapter 17

Seventy eight days later, day two hundred two of the sixty day mission, the Grinder was declared pacified. I was still a private. Amy still loved me, much to my continued surprise. Back on the Demios things got even stranger.

Lt. Colonel Lindstrom and his staff left after the battle. We were still in orbit but scuttle-butt was that we were headed to Yerda 5. It was the headquarters for the Fleet and the Marines. Santiago had not said anything to me or Amy. I knew that there would be fallout from Lindstrom's time with us. What I was not sure of was if that fallout would be good or bad. A little fallout is a good thing after all. If those single celled organisms did not mutate millions of years ago then I would not be writing this.

Yerda was the first colonized system. There were two planets that had been fully colonized. Yerda 5 was the first. It was about half again as large as Earth with only ten percent higher gravity and was a very pleasant 9.2 on the Earth scale after some terra-forming. Yerda 6 was sixty percent the size of earth with half the gravity and had been converted to a 7.2 E. Yerda 4's two moons were inhabited by Fleet personnel along with a couple outposts further out in the system.

Everybody on the Demios was feeling ten feet tall. They had a right to, I guessed. Santiago and the top brass had not said it but everybody knew.

I had not set foot on Yerda since I was posted to the Demios. The only time I left the Demios was during a drop. There was no regulation against me leaving the ship that I was aware of and I knew all them. I just got duty every time. Rank does have its privileges and a lifer is outranked by everybody. When I was in boot camp the DI (Drill Instructor) informed me that the drinking fountain outranked me and always would. One particularly sadistic DI even made me salute every drinking fountain and call out "By your leave, Sir," before moving on. Of course that was the same crazy fucker who low crawled under the bunks at night and could yell so loud it hurt your ears when he was in your face.

Everybody was anticipating some R and R at Yerda. Well, everybody but me and probably the other lifer in third Battalion. The others were dead, I'd heard. The new guy would have a rough time. I know I did when I was new. Now I avoided thinking about it.

The damn squids had kept one of the sensors on a satellite on me pretty much the entire time I was on the ground. Evidently I was more interesting to watch than the holos that came with the regular communication drones. That, combined with Santiago reviewing the logs of the big battle, landed me in his office.

It was just him.

"I've got a problem. When we get to Yerda, lifer or not, you are going to get a lot of attention. Your tunnel crawl with Swanson slapped command in the face with the fact they don't know near as much about Lizards as they think they do. They had Swanson to focus on. This time they don't. They will most likely try to get you transferred. I don't want to lose you, but you've been dropping and beating the odds for twenty-eight years now. At some point your luck will turn. This could be a really good thing for you."

He sat there waiting for me to say something. Before Amy, I don't think I would have hesitated. Even if I never got anything more than a fleeting kiss or hug I could not let her go. Getting transferred would be a real end to us. It was not a choice really.

"If I did not want to leave the Demios is there anything you could do?" I asked.

"Why would you want that?"

"Its home. I don't think being attached to command as a lifer private would be all that pleasant."

"That I have no doubt of. You represent a threat to their way of doing things. And being a lifer would get you shit on a lot. But it would be safe."

I grinned at him feeling I needed to keep him off balance.

"But I am safe, Sir."

He barked out a laugh and said, "Only from Lizards maybe."

I'll see what I can do. We might call in that favor from Swanson's father. If that's alright with you?"

"I don't see any other use for it."

"Sweeney. I'm gonna say to you what I say to all my Marines when they are feeling tall. Anybody can get killed. You're an outstanding Marine, but even outstanding Marines get killed. Not sure if that applies to you, but there it is."

My conversation with Amy went a little differently. I was in her office. It was not private enough for us to touch but we could talk quietly. The offices, which only officers and the senior NCOs had, were very busy with people ducking in and out all the time.

"Snatiago told me that command is most likely going to want me as their own pet grunt."

She knew what that meant. I could see it in her eyes. She looked sad.

I did not leave her hanging though.

"I told him to keep me with Whisky if he could."

Her reaction was a little surprising, but women confused me. If anything she looked even sadder.

"What?" I asked feeling sorry that I hurt her somehow.

"You can't, Thad. You wouldn't have to drop anymore. Or rarely anyhow."

"I'm staying if I can," I said.

"I'm not sure I would forgive myself if you dropped when you didn't have to anymore and something happened."

"It's not your choice. I'd rather drop with you than be safe someplace without you. Just like the tunnels. With you no matter what."

"Me too but if you can be safe..."

"I am well past being worried about my safety. Yours on the other hand ... I worry about you. I've made my peace with my mortality a long time ago. Amy, I am a dead man. You are alive and you make me feel alive. If I can help you live beyond the Marines I will be a happy man. I can't do that unless I am by your side."

"I love you."

"And I love you too. With every atom of my being."

A week later we were docked at Kelsey shipyard in orbit above Yerda 5. We were scheduled for ten days R and R and we were getting replacements. I did not have duty, at least not regular duty. Santiago informed me I was with him.

As soon as people left the ship he told me word would spread. Interest was already high with the first real victory on Ristlan. I guess it would be but I had not given it much thought. Since I never got to leave the ship it was not on my display.

After the mass exodus Santiago and Firsk along with Amy and the other four battalion commanders left the ship. I was along for the ride as Santiago's aide or something. He didn't say and I didn't ask. I could guess it was something with the logs as Amy was the only junior officer present.

Being the most junior I was in the rear happily watching Amy's ass twitch in her class B's. Rank does have its privileges. My normal aversion to wearing my class B's was gone since Santiago and crew were well aware of my 'decorations.'

It did not feel different. At least, not until we took the space elevator down to the surface. Amy did chance a look back up at me and smile before subtly moving to rub the ass on me that I had been watching for a few tics worth of bliss.

Stepping out of the space elevator it hit. The smell. I had not smelled unfiltered air since I set foot on the Demios. It smelled fresh. I could smell flowers and wet grass. The sun was warm on my skin. I could feel a soft breeze on my face. I admit I forgot who I was with and stopped. My face was turned up with my eyes closed trying to take it all in.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, but when I opened my eyes Amy was watching me intently. I noticed Santiago and the others were gone.

Amy smiled at me and said, "let's go. Santiago took them ahead."

"I'm sorry," I said and started to walk.

"I'd kiss you if this whole place was not under surveillance. Don't worry about it. I think everybody understands."

I followed her along the path actually too busy looking at the landscaping to watch her round bottom. It brought back memories of home and boot camp. Even though we were in training for roughly 14 hours a day the Marines still kept to their tradition of recruits doing most of the maintenance of the grounds and chow hall.

The flowers and shrubs were not what were on my home world, being native to this planet, but they were intensely fascinating to me. It was almost comical when we passed some recruit out raking around the low lying bushes. They stopped and snapped to attention saluting Amy.

Amy though, like every other officer, had went through the same boot camp with the enlisted, so she knew what it was like to stand in their boots. It was after boot phase one and two that the officers left. Their School of Infantry was oriented towards command.

She returned their salutes and greeting of, "Good Morning Sir!" with a "Good Morning, Recruits." They tried not to stare and only looked at me briefly before concentrating on their own work. The last thing they wanted was a DI in their faces screaming, "Stop eyeballing my fucking world!"

We arrived at the MEF HQ and waited in some chairs after a squid offered us coffee.

"Why are we or why am I here?" I asked Amy quietly.

"I don't know for sure but I imagine we are going to be interviewed. For sure that ass Lindstrom has filed a report or ten and shit rolls down hill. Good thing is that my father is in charge of the MEF and he will listen. I don't imagine Lindstrom's opinion carries much weight with him."

"So I'm going to meet your old man? Think he has a clue about us?"

"No. If he did I don't think he would not say something to me. No reason for him to, anyway. Santiago doesn't."

That, I had been wondering about. If he suspected the truth there would be trouble. I did think he thought there was something though. Whatever he thought, though, did not worry him. He knew I could keep my mouth shut. There was no reason to tell Amy my suspicions.

The squid, a junior petty officer, kept looking at us. At first I thought he was looking at Amy. He was looking at us both though. Amy was not concerned or did not notice it as unusual. She was probably used to being looked at. I was not.

The next time he made eye contact with me he quickly looked away and did not look back, but occasionally and only with brief glances.

We did not sit there much longer. Amy would occasionally say something to me quietly but we knew we had to keep it to Lieutenant and Private mode.

"Lt. Swanson they are calling for you and Private Sweeney."

"Thanks," she said standing up.

I followed her down a short hall and into a conference room. Inside were Santiago and the Battalion CO's along with Lt. General Swanson and his XO and a couple aides.

Amy's father stood to greet her.

"You'll excuse the break of decorum for a father," he said and hugged her and whisper something in her ear. She hugged him back and smiled at him, happy to see her father. I could see he was happy to see her as well.

I just stood there near the door waiting for somebody to tell me what to do. Santiago took pity on me and told me to sit down. When Amy sat her father addressed us.

"Let me tell you some of what I told Col. Santiago and his CO's. You have made some serious waves throughout the entire Corps. It is being met with the expected resistance and enthusiasm from the various groups. The resistance, though, is short lived I bet. You don't need to argue or convince anybody. The logs and the record show how effective they are. During 'The Grinder' campaign your unit was more than five times as effective as the next highest. That is not just in clearing ground but the kills and casualties as well. The last two I am the most interest in and proud to say came from my Force. We are losing too many good Marines too quickly.

"What is unusual, and for now going to remain as unknown as we can keep it, is that this remarkable change came from a Private. Now, it would not have worked without the officers being such caliber that they recognized genius when they saw it and kept the mission and the lives of their Marines their top priority and listened to the wisest voice that spoke.

"I am issuing new standard operating procedures that incorporate these new tactics. I also want you to work with your officers to review and critique the logs from other units on Ristlan 5. I know you have done some of this with Lt. Swanson already.

"I would reward any other Marine with promotion for doing what you do and have done for twenty nine years, but my hands are tied. It is illegal for me to promote you. When they wrote the regulations for lifers they were quite specific. Private and life are the terms. Why they pay you with those conditions of your service is not very consistent. I don't begrudge you your pay though. It just never made sense to me.

"You are also the most highly decorated Marine alive in modern times. I've looked at your record and you have on a number of occasions earned a Galaxy in my opinion, but the reality of your situation makes that almost an impossibility. It would have to pass a vote in the Assembly. Too many non-veterans for that to happen. Although if we can keep this momentum the politicos are going to want a hero. The right choice would be you but they will look everywhere else first.

"I am going to see that you get a Gold Star for your Nebula. I had to research, or my aide did, the protocol for a second Nebula. It's only happened twice. It was not without mortal risk to yourself to confront and delay the part of the swarm after you and your platoon. It was downright crazy and, because you lived and it worked, heroic."

He paused so I spoke up.

"Thank you Sir," was the only intelligent thing to say. He had not said anything surprising. The second Nebula was a nice thought and being appreciated and valued by the MEF commander was gratifying, but I was a Lifer and nothing would change that.

He didn't have much to say after that pertaining to me I so I was dismissed. I left the conference room and stopped at the Squid's desk. I didn't see a terminal.

"Where's the chow hall?"

He sort of looked at me funny for a minute. I didn't have an Allthing. It was a personal communicator, identification, holo recorder, computer, and just about everything else you could or would need to interact with the modern world. They were about a centimeter in diameter and five long and usually worn on a belt, necklace, or bracelet. It would have guided me any place I wanted to go.

They were utterly useless on the Demios.

Snapping out of it he spoke and gave me directions that were awful and complicated. I left muttering about the intelligence and parentage of Squids.

Outside though, it didn't seem such a big deal to have to roam around looking for the chow hall. I could have asked at a control terminal but I wanted to wander a bit. It felt really good to be outside. I'm sure people thought me a bit strange. The grass, wind, trees, and animals were far more interesting than the buildings or people about. I had spent almost a year on this planet when I was in training. Training, though, leaves you with little energy or time to appreciate life or your surroundings.

While this was not my home planet, it was a pleasant place. Eventually my stomach reminded me of the time. I looked around and spotted some recruits walking in their little formation of four almost seeming like children playing at being Marines. The camouflage loose uniforms and covers or hats were a thing of the past but served to distinguish them at a glance from the rest of the personnel. They were heading in my direction. Deciding they would know the way and probably give better directions I called out.

"Recruits. Hold a moment."

"Yes Sir!" the leader nearly shouted out.

"First I'm not a Sir. I'm a private, which is technically your rank, and I'm not an instructor."

"Yes Sir," he said clearly confused and probably wondering if this was some sort of test. He also could not keep his eyes off my chest and the colorful patch I had to wear.

"Forget it. Could you tell me how to get to the chow hall?"

"Yes Sir! We are headed there now, Sir!"

"Then I will just follow you. Carry on, Recruit."

"Aye, Aye Sir!"

He then called a forward march and started up his quiet cadence. I just shook my head and followed, wondering if I would see them if they graduated soon. They must be getting close to be doing grounds maintenance. It was several minutes before we got to the chow hall. It brought back memories. The lines of recruits waiting were as long as I remembered. It occurred to me then that I should have probably asked for directions to the chow hall for staff, but they were unlikely to know at any rate.

The chow hall I did not need to pay for. I really didn't even know how to pay for something if I wanted to anyway. I had money. I had just never had any reason to access it before.

I had to smile at the DI's walking up and down the lines in their class B uniforms occasionally yelling at some recruit for real or imaginary reasons. The olive green pants and khaki shirts along with the 'Smokey Bear' hats brought back memories.

When one spotted me he walked my direction. Being an instructor he had a name tag, Harrison, and his hat but otherwise our uniforms were the same.

"Hey private. You here for chow?" he asked walking towards me.

"Yes, Sergeant, I am."

"Fucking dragon shit!" he exclaimed looking at my chest.

"Is that a ... Hey Sgt. Holmes, get over here."

A tall dark skinned woman came over followed by a darker skinned man. She was Sgt. Holmes and he was a Sgt. Twimba.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"What's your name private?" asked Sgt. Harrison.

"Sweeney," I said seriously thinking about leaving, hungry or not.

"Look at this. I see eleven hypathium stars on his jump wings. Is that right, Private? You've been on 2200 drops?" Sgt. Harrison asked.

He was starting to piss me off.

"Yes," I said.

"Out-fucking-standing! How in the fuck are you a private? Listen up Recruits! This Private has a fucking Nebula, seven fucking Silver Novas, a Distinguished Service Medal, three Fleet Crosses, nine Bronze Novas, five Legions, three Warfares, eight Joint Commendations, and has every fucking deployment and campaign medal all the way back to fucking Trinity, Alpha One and Force Recon.

"And this tops all that salad. Eleven Hypathium clusters. For you rocks out there that is two thousand two hundred drops and counting. Those fucking hypathium stars are worth more than what I'll make before I retire or die.

"Recruits, this Marine right here gives new meaning to the word outstanding," he said finishing his little speech.

"Who are you with, Sweeney?" Sgt. Holmes asked.

"The nine seven on the Demios."

"How long you been in? You've seen a lot of action. Twenty years or more?" He guessed from the campaign ribbons. They dated me even without the service stripes.

"Twenty nine."

"Fucking no shit? You always been a private?" I could tell she had guessed I was a lifer. It was in her face.

"I'm a lifer Sergeant. Always will be until I die."

"Listen up Recruits. This Marine is a lifer. So to all you fucking rocks that think you are better than somebody else, think again. This Private has probably killed more Lizards than the entire fucking company will in their time as Marines," said Sgt. Twimba, who had been silent until now.

"Come sit with us Sweeney. I want to hear about 'The Grinder'. We all missed out because of our duty here."

Inside I found myself sitting at a table with a dozen DI's. The new comers gawked at my chest. They let me eat for a bit before they started to ask questions. Their somewhat hoarse voices from all the yelling were very familiar.

"Did you see any of the new Dragons? The leadership in the colored snails?"

"Yes," I said not wanting to reveal too much for some reason.

"Are they much tougher than other Dragon's?"

"A little, but they die just as easy with a slug in them."

"Oohrah," they all said.

I looked out at the faces around me. They all looked young, I thought. To get to be a DI you had to be a Beta in Armor and a Sergeant with two years and twenty five drops. They were skilled and some of the best in the Marines. You chose DI school generally if you wanted to go career.

"How do you do it? I mean the number of drops, the Joint Service Medals, and you are alive and in one piece. The Joint Service Medals give me shivers thinking about them and I'm not embarrassed to say it," asked one woman.

"I don't know. If I could tell you the secret I would but for some reason the rule 'he with the most medals dies first' seems to not to apply to me. I think it all comes down to your skill with Armor. If you aren't splitting your attention between the Lizards around you and your Armor you don't get surprised as much.

"And yes, the ship skirmishes are the worst, but those are rare now. It's been almost four years since I did one. Force Recon are the only ones that get those operations."

Joint Commendations were given for operations with the Fleet on boarding and capturing Lizard ships. Once the ship was secure or mostly secure then Fleet would send Squids over in some modified Class II armor which they called Boarding Armor. It was lightweight in comparison to Class V and only worked through negative feedback. The protection was minimal at best and the Armor was not designed for fighting. Boarding a Lizard ship was really dangerous and most Marines did not like micro-gravity battles. They were much more complicated with having to deploy and cover the Z axis.

"Are there really that many Dragons fighting? They were rare most of the time when I was on a Raider."

"Yes. They are the elite. I don't know that they are any tougher but they are definitely smarter and more controlled."

"So what changed? I read the reports. Your unit cleared five times the real-estate than any other."

"We got smarter."

"Yeah but how?"

"I can't really talk about it much yet. But we finally stopped digging in."

"Stopped digging in? You just recall?"

"No. We run and gun. Lizards can't keep up and their ranks fall apart. Turn around and smash them."

"But when you get surrounded then what?"

"Pick a direction and smash anything in the way."

"What about the wounded?"

"There are a lot less of them this way and you take 'em with you. The walking wounded take care of the Rip Van Winkles. Now, for a raid, you would secure a LZ and recall, but this was a full scale battle. We were not raiding and smashing. We were kicking them off the planet and you can't do that if you bug out when the shit hits the fan. It wasn't just a company or two, it was the entire MEF plus."

"It just seems like you would expose yourself and leave the wounded behind."

"You asked. I'm not trying to convince you. When do they graduate?"

"Three weeks."

"How many?"

"Should be three thousand. Big class."

"Yeah. There were three hundred twenty seven in mine."

"No shit? Damn. You really are an old timer aren't you?"

"That's what they tell me."

That meant the last class was a week out. They would be returning from leave soon. We would probably stay until this batch graduated and was back. That would put the Division around full strength.

"Anybody promising?"

"A few. I've got one that will most likely test at near beta."

Not often do recruits leave the SOI as betas. I've found it is not really a predictor of their survival rate anyway. A beta with twenty drops on his chest is a much different animal than a beta boot.

They couldn't stay any longer. Training schedules are very tight. As soon as one would stand any recruit still eating made sure to stand and hurry up and get in formation before the DI made it out. Even though they were friendly enough I could feel the scorn they had for me as a Lifer conflicting with their respect.

It was one of the reasons why I avoided people. The other is that they tend to die or leave.

I finished my meal and left. The base here was famous for its architecture and green spaces. Taking some time I wandered around. The buildings were made of native stone. Some were nearly four hundred years old. They were all built to inspire a sense of strength and power. The buildings were large with large doorways and high vaulted ceilings. Some of the buildings even had weapon emplacements atop them if you looked really closely.

The gardens and fountains were almost a contradiction to the buildings. There were open airy spaces and quiet hidden alcoves with reflecting pools. That is where I found myself.

The base was a closed one so there were only Fleet, Marines, and authorized civilian specialists around. I had been sitting there for some time when Amy found me. It was not hard. All she had to do was inquire with the base control system where I had last been seen. Everywhere but the gardens and personal quarters were observed by the base control. Base control was a computer system that kept track of everybody coming and going and was based on our battlecomp, only larger. It knew who everybody was by image, sound, DNA, and every other personally identifiable part of a human. If you weren't allowed someplace you simply could not get there. Doors would not open or hallways became dead ends. Sensitive areas on a ship were controlled the same way.

I looked up at her and she smiled and sat down in my lap. She didn't say anything but just kissed me deeply. Holding her close I enjoyed the closeness and beauty of her. When our lips parted she looked at me with her light blue eyes.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi back at you."

"I wish right now that I could wear a skirt."

"I'd love to see you in a skirt."

"Commando."

"Evil woman."

"You love me."

"With all my heart."

"You've got the next two days off with no duty. After that you're mine. Well, you're all mine all the time but we have work to do."

"Do I get to go dirtside?"

"Yes. Control won't let you leave the base though," she said a little sadly.

"I know. Unless it's part of an operation I'm confined to Fleet jurisdictions."

"I wonder if I could get Santiago to write orders for you to recon outside of the base?"

"Good luck with that. We'd have to get pretty far away to not worry about being seen together."

"We won't have to wear our B's much the rest of the time. Skinners don't show grass stains and are easier to access."

"Now you're talking," I said squeezing her ass.

"I'm an officer for a reason, you know," she said teasing me.

"I thought you just liked being on top?"

"Hah! I think I spent most of that time on my back with my heels in the air."

"I think you'll be spending most of our outdoor time on your hands and knees, slut."

"I'm your slut and I can wiggle my ass like this and you start drooling from both heads."

"Okay. You win. I don't need any embarrassing spots."

Amy kissed me then laid her head on my shoulder as I held her against me. We sat there like that for a long time. She had to leave first as she was having dinner with her parents.

Eventually nature called so I left. This time I used a terminal and found my way to back to the chow hall. The recruits had just finished by then so I was able to get right in and find an empty table. The place was far from deserted though. Some staff and off duty trainers were there.

There was a crowd around one table a little ways off. I could hear them all talking about something. I started to get a bad feeling.

"I'm telling you its real. The squids captured it on satellite. The entire fucking ship saw it in real time."

"Bull shit. It's a fake. No fucking way."

"Yeah. Who the fuck carries an ax to fight Lizards outside of a holo?"

"This guy does. They say he's a private."

"Now I know it's bull shit. And how do you know it's a he, anyway?" said one of the women. She had on a black smokey bear instead of the DI's green 'Smokey Bear', showing she was an Armor Instructor.

"A buddy of mine in the nine seven told me. Said this guy can skip a hundred meters and 360 centimetering. This is the first time they found the peacocks. That's what they are calling the colorful ones. Peacocks. I looked it up it's an old Terran bird with really colorful feathers and loud as fuck. Very annoying."

"Centimetering at the six? No fucking way. Shot groupings that tight are hard at the three o'clock."

I wondered who left out the part about 'this guy' being a lifer.

"I'm telling you this is for real."

"The nine seven is docked at Kelsey right now. I'm gonna ask around and you're going to look dumber than usual when this turns out to be some lame fake."

The discussion turned into a free for all debate after that. It seemed there was more disbelief than belief. Nobody was even looking my direction so I did not hurry to finish. When aboard the Demios all communication was easily screened. Nothing got in or out of a Fleet ship unauthorized. Communications outside of a system or in newer systems or colonies were done with message drones.