Chapter 2

Back on the Deimos I found out that eight of the thirteen criticals were upgraded to major medicals which included Sgt. Gregs and Cpl. Reed. We had the standard mission debrief after showers. The battle comps replayed everything in detail. It was the same old thing though. Major Firsk was doing the typical thing of pointing out mistakes and going over what we could have done differently. He did however give some praise to a few who did a decent job. The kill ratios were listed with me in the top spot as usual. They got weighted by not only how accurate you were but how many you killed. When he finally finished I took care of the three S's and was headed to my rack. Most Marines found it too difficult to sleep and would be burning off energy for hours winding down.

When I woke up I found Sanchez standing by my bunk. My fireteam roomies must have been elsewhere. Without a word she pulled her shirt over her head baring beautiful breasts and shimmied out of her pants showing a hairless womanhood. She pulled the blanket off of me and sucked me into her mouth until I was hard as celestial navigation and mounted me.

I was thankful once again that the augmentation process did not change your appearance much other than guaranteeing a perfectly toned and muscled body and that it did not turn women into men. It gave you more muscle no doubt, but it mostly made what you have more efficient and allowed you to use all of it and not just a part. It, or at least the original process, was a complete change. It affected every system in your body from nerves to skin. The new one is much more targeted and not system wide.

Four hours and a liter of bodily fluids later she left me with a parting kiss and whispered, "Thank you." Sex between Marines was permitted as long as you were off duty and discrete. Fucking in the middle of the mess hall was not a good idea. We were all sterilized for the duration of our enlistment. Sexual relations between officers and enlisted though, were strictly forbidden along with any of the lesser forms of fraternization. Enlisted Marines were not allowed to marry or form any domestic partnerships either. Officers above the rank of O4 (Majors and up) were allowed to marry or form domestic partnerships but could not serve in the same unit as their partner. Of course Majors and up were serving voluntarily and could resign at any time. Long term or exclusive relationships were also frowned upon for practical reasons. They tended not to last one way or another.

I am a firm believer that no good deed goes unpunished.

Having twenty five down on medical I got to stand extra watches. Luckily for me they were on the bridge and I got some good coffee.

"Hey Todd, pay attention. I'm rotating dirtside and your sorry ass excuse for a navigator is all that is going to be here to keep them from getting lost," Lieutenant Chen said giving the new navigator Ensign Ricks a hard time. Chen had been on the RAS Deimos for five years, the standard limit for an officer. He was off to Command school and most likely his own command some day. "Don't worry though. If you get totally lost you can just ask The Private if he's on watch which way to go." Everybody on the bridge chuckled. The Captain was not on duty and things were a little more laid back with the Executive Officer, Commander Slovak, on duty.

"Why the hell would I ask a grunt which way to go?"

"Right. But The Private isn't like any other grunt. Private?"

"Yes Sir," I replied.

"Which way to the Yerda system?"

"To the left I believe," I replied with a straight face.

"Bullshit. He's probably been there a dozen times at least. Probably find his way there by looking at the stars. He also makes the best damn coffee I've ever had. Course if you give him shit he pisses in the pot and doesn't tell you."

"The piss is what makes it taste so good Sir," I replied.

"Seriously though. If you got a question and don't want to ask one of your fellow officers ask him. He's stood more watches than all the bridge officers combined."

I certainly hoped I did not have an Ensign trying to make friends with me. If I remembered correctly I had been to the Yerda system over twenty times and there was no fucking way I could find my way there. I knew nothing about what the squids did. I could run a computer though, so if the thing had an auto pilot I'd be okay. Yerda is where we resupplied most of the time. It had been over a four months since we were there last. I would get stuck with duty though and be ship bound.

In dock I was not allowed to leave the ship as usual. I stood watch on the bridge most of the time. When docked I was armed when on duty. Even though the Lizards wanted to enslave the human race there were still soulless people who would sabotage military assets for the right price. I was once on hatch duty when some scum bag tried to sneak on board with explosives. An augmented Marine can kill somebodywho isn't augmented with their fist. The ship's Captain, Capt. Sommers summoned me to her stateroom and gave me a steak dinner for that.

We were in dock for a week. We got supplies and five FNGs. On our last night in dock Sanchez visited me again. It was slower and languid that time. I think she was starting to like me more than I wanted her too. But I never turned down a good thing and she was beautiful and passionate, so I was thankful.

Sanchez actually started to sit with me at chow a few times a week and I got to know her. Her name was Michele and she grew up on a new Christian colony hating every second of it. There was only one of those colonies left. One imploded under its own authoritarian repressive government and the other was Lizard food. There were very few religious sects left that had many members. As a matter of fact you could not serve in the Republic of Aligned Systems military if you were a member of a sect. You could vote, have representation, and do any other thing but if you belonged to the Military your highest authority could not be some imaginary supreme being, it was to military chain of command.

She still spent much of her time with members of her platoon and fire team. It was a basic survival thing. The closer you were to your team mates the better you functioned as a unit.

We did train and PT together though. In the Deimos there was a large bay that when in transit between systems, was used for training and the weekly games of football. Marines and Fleet never played each other though. That would have been a really bad idea. Regular fleet personnel were not augmented, only pilots were. The games got quite rough at times but always were competitive rather than combative.

I PTed as much as any Marine. The novelty of being able to bench press half a metric ton was lost on me about twenty five years ago so I did what was necessary to keep in good fighting condition and burn off excess energy but that was it. Working out more than that got very little results for me. My body was programmed to be at the level it was and would not go any further. I don't think it was possible anyhow.

I also taught a hand to hand combat class sometimes but after a few times drilling with the new command they always found other things for me to do much of the time. So far I had not had the pleasure of drilling with the new command and that was fine with me.

I knew my job and worked with my platoon and company but I really did not need any practice and they soon realized that. I would get called down to demonstrate something and show it was possible, even though the battle comps recorded every detail when you are suited up. It just seemed that having the battle comp tell you something is not the same as seeing it for yourself.

There were times when I was an instructor but it would never last. NCOs got ruffled feathers when a lifer had any position of authority, especially where armor is concerned. Marines really like their Armor. I mean they REALLY like their armor. They are the only ones who wear it. It is too expensive and requires too much maintenance and training for anything but shock troops. A little over fifteen years ago the Marines changed. Now it was all Armor. There were no POGs or pilots or anything else but Armored shock troops. It had been trending that way ever since the Class I was issued thirty years ago. When the Class II came along only the Marines got it.

I suppose I should inform you that I was not the only lifer. At any given time one to five percent of the Marines were lifers. In the Army it was ten to twenty percent. I could not tell you what it was like for Army lifers. All the Army did was grab a piece of dirt and hang onto it. They were stationed on their home planets and orbital defense space stations to repel invaders. Which meant they spent the vast majority of their time in rehearsal and practice before the big show. They did not have a very good record, not entirely their fault though and I hear they are getting better. The RAS has lost nine planets and repelled one invasion.

Lifers in the Marines either excelled or died fast. Those that excelled died slower. Somehow I refused to die.

Lifers got the shit duty. Rank has its privileges. Lifers meshed with their unit or stayed apart.

The other three lifers in the regiment were typical of type. They were three career criminals who were aggressive enough and intelligent enough to choose service over either a penal mining colony or the needle. I have never seen a penal mining colony but from what I hear they are not nice places. The ones who ended up in the Marines were the smarter and tougher ones, at least that is what the judges and sentencing boards thought anyhow. In practice they ended up dead fairly quickly most of the time. You did not end up a criminal if you got on well with others or could play by the rules. And both of those things are pretty important. You had to have some rapport with your fellow Marine and respect authority to even make it out of training alive.

Our three lifers tended to stick together. We did not share a room. You roomed according to your fire team. None of the other lifers were Recon or Force Recon. I was the only one as far as I knew.

While I was not overly friendly let me assure you I did work well with my fellow Marines when we were working. They always started out with a healthy dislike for me and after a few drops and some training time they came around. Many would end up coming to me for advice and questions on the sly, even the NCOs. I just tried to not form any lasting attachments anymore. Constantly loosing friends was the harshest part of my sentence.

"Pvt. Sweeney reporting as order Sir," I said standing at attention in front of the pretty 2nd Lt. outside Colonel Santiago's office.

"At ease Private. Sit down."

"Aye, Aye Sir."

I sat and did my best not to stare at the girl. It was fifteen minutes later that her eyes unfocused and she said, "You may go in now private."

"Aye, Aye, Sir."

I knocked once on the bulkhead and received a "Come," from inside.

Inside was Colonel Santiago and Sergeant Major Finn. I snapped to attention and said, "Pvt. Sweeney reporting as ordered Sir."

"At ease private."

I assumed parade rest and tried not to look bored wondering how many times I had stood in this exact same spot and how my different asses had sat in that same exact chair.

"Were you aware private that you are the longest serving lifer in fleet history? The Sergeant Major informs me that you are in fact the Marine, either alive or dead, with the most combat drops by over a factor of five. I had my doubts and figured you were not pulling your weight. I was wrong though. You are a hard charging fearless killer and I am fucking impressed. If I had even one company of hard assed fuckers like you I would fucking invade The Swamp itself! I'm going to give you another fucking medal for that stunt down there. You saved two Marines. Being a lifer though I can't make a big deal out of this. So the Sergeant Major and I wanted to tell you personally that we are proud to be in your unit."

"Congratulations private Sweeney," The Sgt. Major said and shook my hand followed by the Colonel.

"Add another Fleet Cross to you collection. I'd do more for you but as you know I am limited."

"Thank you Sir."

"Thank you for your outstanding service Marine. Dismissed."

I was pensive after that meeting. The Colonel had surprised me. That did not happen often. After that meeting I found I was seldom posted anywhere except the Bridge and the Colonel's door. I did not have any less duty. Not much even the Colonel could do about that. But standing watch on the Bridge had its perks, some of which I have mentioned. The Colonel's duty had those as well.

There was better food. He made it a point to order me chow from the officer's mess when I was on duty. And there was 2nd Lt. Amy Swanson. Something about that girl distracted me. I call her girl because to my forty seven years a woman of twenty one seems a girl. She was cute as a button with pale blue eyes, a little nose with freckles across it, and strawberry blonde hair. I seldom thought about the regulation of no more than a centimeter hair length for Marines but it seemed a tragedy on 2nd Lt. Amy Swanson. She had a sweet voice and a sharp mind with a slightly crude sense of humor.

She also was a FNG having no combat drops. I over heard the Colonel talking about that and she was going on the next one. She would assist Major Firsk. Just like a puppy she was excited and scared at the same time. I knew she had the training, I just hoped she had the guts.

The next day I got a surprise. After relieving the day guard the Colonel called me inside.

"Private. Would you be willing to work with myself, the Sergeant Major, Major Finn, and Lt. Swanson in the bay?"

"Yes Sir," I replied like I had any choice.

"Good. Your Armor is already there. Let's go."

I fell in behind them and had a very nice walk watching Swanson's ass in her skinners. In the bay were our Armor and the Fleet techs to help suit us up and that was it. The Major's and Colonel's Class VI armor were still somewhat new looking. Swanson's was new. A shiny new suit of Class VI. Only new officers had them. We called them coffins.

I preferred a Class V over the Class VI. The V was tougher and faster but lacked the weapon mounts and command battle comp along with the bigger power supply. The V also carried more ammo, but officers should never run out of ammo anyway. If they were firing that much things were really bad.

"That is one battered Class V you've got there Sweeney."

"Sometimes I'm not as fast as I think I am," I replied.

"I'd say you're fast enough," the Major added.

"I'll pretend I did not notice that weapon on your back either Sweeney."

"This little thing? It is not a weapon Sir. It is a 'Manual Fortified Position Entry Aide.' A Marine only uses his issued weapons on the battle field Sir."

I had two of them. Master Chief Yoshi made them for me. They are made out of pieces of Class V Armor. They were actually quite useful for opening things. I just preferred to use them on lizards.

"I see. 'Manual Fortified Position Entry Aide, ' I'm sure there is a regulation cover that correct?"

"Yes Sir!"

"It falls within the regulations Colonel. Barely," Major Firsk added in a neutral tone of voice.

The fact I still had it meant he was okay with it. I would have taken one with me anyhow on the drops but it would be the spare Yoshi kept for me.

"Do any other Marines carry such 'Manual Fortified Position Entry Aides'"?

"I'm sure I don't know that Sir," I replied.

"There are a few Sir. Most try something similar when green but put them aside. It takes somebody with some skill in Armor to be effective with them. Most Marines are happy with their K-Bars."

"I've not found much use for mine, but for a couple times and then it was indispensible."

"I carry my K-Bar as well Sir. This is just her big sister is all."

"I don't think I need to know any more Sweeney. Armor up."

"Aye, Aye Sir!"

For the next few hours the Colonel and Major asked me tons of questions and had me demonstrate and explain movements. Anybody can wear Armor. Only augmented people won't get killed in it. There is however, a skill to wearing it. It works off of negative feedback and some interfacing with your motor cortex. Most of a Marine's training is spent becoming proficient with Armor and you have to show some native talent with Armor to even get into the Marines. Any asshole can fire a coilgun accurately. Firing one in Armor while moving is a little bit more tricky. Add evasive maneuvering under fire and it gets downright hard if you have to pay attention to your Armor. Armor was designed to be instinctual, and it is for simple tasks like walking, and running. Add jumping, skipping or any of the other acrobatic feats it is capable of into the mix and you have to practice or just be really fucking good naturally. I'm both.