Chapter 4

Two weeks later and we were under the Greenburg-Sondergaard effect. Operation Underdog was a success. Ridal 3 was free of any lizard smart enough to rub two sticks together.

Swanson was Kilo's 3rd platoon's new platoon leader. She got her platoon like she wanted. Our platoon got some medal for valor and I was conflicted. When I closed my eyes I saw the look she gave me when we got back on the Demios after the big bitch. It was a look I've only ever gotten once before, a look that promised the world. Swanson was in as much trouble as I was, my gut told me. Some time soon, if we both lived, we would break a long standing regulation. Enlisted and Officers don't have relations. Fraternization with a capital 'F' would get her in more trouble than me. There was not much they could do to me. If I got sent to the brig it meant I didn't have to jump and that was all they could do. I can't be discharged. Swanson on the other hand would ruin her career. Officers are held to a higher standard than us dumb enlisted.

A Lance Corporal was sittings at Swanson desk outside the old man's office. I was not sure what the Colonel wanted to see me about, but Privates don't get to ask why when told to report.

"The Colonel will see you now," the guy said.

I knocked once and got the standard, "come" as a response.

"Private Sweeney reporting as ordered Sir!" I said standing at attention.

"At ease Private," he said leaning back in his chair.

I assumed parade rest and noted that he had a picture or two on the wall of a smiling wife and kids.

"What do you think of Lt. Swanson?" he asked.

"She is an outstanding officer, Sir," I replied from the list of approved answers you are allowed to give a high ranking officer as a Private. If there is no such official list there should be.

"I was thinking of assigning you to Kilo 3rd platoon but I just can't do it. You run with your governor off. Force Recon Whisky runs with its governor off. Kilo does not."

I was trying to figure out why in the nine hells was he was telling me this.

"Your private channel to Swanson is active until further notice. You get to be her silent right hand. The reason I'm doing this and the fact I am does not leave this room?"

"Aye Aye Sir!"

"Swanson is Lieutenant General Solomon Swanson's little girl. We are the only two people who know this on the ship, other than Swanson herself. That is the way we want it. Now no Marine is worth more than another. We are all brothers and sisters. He and I shared a similar relationship as Swanson and I do. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir!"

"Good. When she goes Force Recon you will be in her platoon. She won't stop until she is Force Recon and I think she has it in her."

"Yes Sir."

"You are at her disposal when in transit or in the rear. If I can cram what is in your thick skull into her she'll be Commandant some day."

"I don't give a fuck what you did Sweeney. Why the fuck the old man has you on door duty or bridge duty only is fucking beyond me. Fuck up a cunt hair and I'll have you on your hands and knees with a fucking toothbrush scrubbing the head day and night," Gregs said obviously upset his favorite whipping boy was out of his reach.

"Don't look at me sergeant. I just do what I'm told," I said playing dumb.

No need to antagonize the rock. His days were numbered as a sergeant. He was in his invincible phase most Marines go through, only not as smart as he thought he was. It was depressing to watch. They started out dumb and scared, then went to smart and scared, then smart and not scared. Most died or got medically retired in the smart and not scared phase. If they made it past that they went to the smart and scared phase again and stayed there for the most part. The corporals and sergeants were usually in the smart and not scared phase and died. If they made it to Staff Sergeant it usually worked out that they were back to smart and scared.

Officers were different. They started out dumb and not scared and transitioned to smart and not scared. If they made 1st Lieutenant they usually started to go to smart and scared sometime around Captain.

My duty was either bridge duty or duty for the Colonel which meant time with Swanson for the next two weeks. The time in Armor was the easiest by far. When she was in her skinners and going over intel and tactics on Lizards my patience was sorely tested. I could see she was coping as well. After an hour I could smell her arousal every time. I'm sure nobody else could, but us first gen augmented, had our sense of smell tweaked too.

She was professional so I was too. Countless times I added something that was not written down or in official reports, but she took anything I said as gospel.

The only time we touched was when she thanked me.

"Sweeney. Thank you. I know what you did for me," she said and leaned in close to me. Rising up onto her tip toes she put a hand around my neck and pulled my head down. Her soft lips caressed mine briefly. It was a kiss full of promise and achingly sweet.

Letting go of me she stepped back and left only looking back once.

We stopped and rendezvoused with a transport carrying replacements, both personnel and equipment. The Marines were boots fresh out of school. I tried to avoid them. Boots did not mix with Force Recon as a rule and as a lifer they avoided me.

The Colonel had a different idea though.

"You Marines are fresh out of the School Of Infantry. You've received the best training and the best equipment in the history of the Marine Corps. In order to even get here you had to reach Gamma level in Armor proficiency. To reach NCO ranks and above you need to reach Beta. To get into Force Recon you have to reach Alpha. Most of you won't reach that level of proficiency. You'll either die or simply not train hard enough. Let me remind you that those of you who reach Beta level have a much higher survival rate than those who never get beyond Gamma.

"This Regiment and specifically this Battalion prides itself on being elite."

He paused and looked at all the boots gathered. Santiago stood with SgtMaj. Dodd behind him to the left and I reluctantly stood next to Dodd in my Armor. The other top Brass were present like Maj. Firsk, but not the rest of the regiment. I was the only one in Armor.

"This Marine standing in Armor here is Private Sweeney, a lifer. There are no lifers among you. Lifers are not like you. They did not willingly volunteer to be a Marine. They did not compete to get into the Marines. They got in because they fucked up.

"Anybody here think they are better than this Marine? Anybody? Raise your hand if you do and speak up. This is not a test or a trick. It's a lesson. So speak freely."

"I am Sir!" shouted a man.

"I am Sir!" shouted another voice.

"What are your names?"

"PFC. Wonta Sir."

"Pvt. Weller Sir."

"Wonta and Weller. Anybody else?"

About a dozen more voices spoke up then before the old man shut it down.

"So there are some of you who do. I suspect that there are some of you who feel the same but did not speak up. If anybody here can best this private I will promote you on the spot and as a bonus give you three months of no duty. Hell I'll even give you a private room. But let me warn you, if you lose I will expect nothing less than your all in training. If he beats you your goal will be to someday beat him.

"Now you all were at SOI together. Select among yourselves who gets to try right now. Two of you can. Then get suited up."

As they were getting suited up the Colonel lectured the boots about his expectations and training. The volunteers moved quickly and were back in fifteen minutes. It was a fairly stark contrast between us. My armor was worn and scarred with superficial damage and repairs. Theirs was brand new and shiny.

"Listen up Marines. You are going to do some of the basic maneuvers that rate your proficiency. You're going to skip fire and long jump. Let me warn you now. The Master Chief is a grumpy old bastard and if you damage the bay here, I'm giving your ass to him."

It was fairly predictable what happened. The skip and gun went smoothly. They could fire to the front accurately and to their 2 o'clock and 10 o'clock positions. Their accuracy dropped or their skip suffered when moving beyond that.

Mine didn't. Both of them were solid Gammas and would reach Beta soon. When the Colonel had me shoot at my six rotating and skipping at my best possible speed the boots were absolutely silent. Not even their trainers could match me. Drill Instructors were selected from the best of the Marines. They had to be highly skilled in Armor as well as good teachers and leaders.

The long jump went about the same. They tried harder and SgtMaj. Dodd chewed one of them out for jumping too high. My long jump was basically from one end of the bay to the other, easily ten times their jump.

"Your wondering why the show. I knew Sweeney would beat anybody here. He can beat every Marine in the Regiment, maybe even the Corps. I want every Marine here to listen up. This needs to penetrate those four kilo rocks that sit upon your shoulders. Don't assume anything.

"You are killers, everyone. But you are not the only ones. Lizards are badass killers as well. We need to be the killers of killers. You have to train, always train. Either you learn and get better or you die.

"There will be a new training program. Every Marine will participate. Your numbers will improve or you will die trying. Either SgtMaj. Dodd will kill you or a lizard will."

The old man must have been working on his training program for a while because the very next day it was in force. Drill was held for every Marine pretty much every day in the bay. The simulators were in use almost constantly. Classes were held daily as well.

The old regimental CO ran a fairly tight unit, but Santiago was down right gung-ho. The plus side was that there was less busy work duty.

The biggest cluster fuck I had seen in a long time was all around me. That penal mining colony was looking like a viable alternative. Breaking rocks couldn't be that bad could it?

We had been down on this out of the way 'lightly defended' Lizard staging area for three days now. The mission was to clear them out of the system and take it back. It was our staging area at one time I guess. The gas giant was a valuable resource as was one of the larger moons around it that had hypanthium on it. We were on a barely terraformed rock with only eighty percent of a standard gravity and colder than a well digger's ass.

If we, the Republic of Aligned Systems, ran out of hypanthium it would collapse. Hypanthium was critical for most technology. It was the only true room temperature superconductor. Hell it even worked at extreme temperatures. Without it we could not generate enough power to run the Greenburg-Sondergaard engines or generate enough power to run cities or much of anything else. It was critical for computers, MLAs like our CG7HA, even armor. It was the most valuable substance in the know galaxy.

In my expert opinion it would be easier to waste the rock from space and start over with the terraforming. Nobody asked me. Swanson told me that our other major supply of hypanthium was in serious threat leaving only one minor source.

Needless to say we were in it for the duration. Major Firsk was in a med tank and Capt. Simmons was calling the shots. He was a by the book kind of officer. When he told us we were going three hundred klicks south to a wasp's nest, I winced.

Ospreys were grounded. Well not grounded but stuck up in low orbit as the wasps had the upper hand for the time being. Resupply was by capsule, which was never a sure thing. The lizards were pretty good at shooting things that traveled in straight lines. A smarter capsule that tried to avoid getting blown up is expensive and the RAS did not like wasting resources.

On flat ground the three hundred klicks would take less than an hour, not so flat ground with lizards in the way it could take days. It was just Whisky that was taking the field trip to the wasp farm.

The first sign it was not going to be any easy trip came rather quickly. The chameleon aimed for the guy with the class VI and Lt. Hauge took a dart in the hip. It died for its attack, but it stopped up the works for a little bit. Two from 3rd platoon got to help the LT back. With no Ospreys doing pickups any serious wound got you some sleep time Assault Armor style. The suit could put you into a coma and drop your respiration heart rate really low buying you some time. With the captain playing sleeping beauty I got a call.