“Ain’t no thing. The galaxy’s full of idiots,” Kilter said. “We just do our duty, like we always do, protecting the citizens.”
“Yeah, we do,” BK said. “Even if they don’t always deserve it.”
The breakroom was quiet for a moment, the Marines lost in thought.
“Come on, BK, let’s hit Ice and Fire,” Hondo said, breaking the silence. “I think you owe me about a billion credits now.”
“Ain’t a billion.” She pulled out her PA, then said, “Eight-hundred-forty-three million, two-hundred-and-two-thousand, one-hundred and four, to be exact.”
“You owe him that much, BK?” Kilter said, hooting with laughter. “You’ve got to be the shittiest player in the Corps. Hell, that’ll take you a thousand years to pay him off with that salary.”
“I ain’t gonna be a lance coolie forever. I’ll make corporal, then pay him off with my raise,” she said.
Hondo pulled out the deck from the drawer, then dangled it in front of her.
“Here’s your chance to knock some off of your debt.”
She swatted at the deck, which he jerked out of the way.
They used to play with Sam but hadn’t played since K-1003.
“Come on, or are you afraid of losing more?”
She glared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Deal, then, if you’re so dead set on losing.”
“I’m in,” shouted several voices as they scrambled to take chairs.
“Eight cards, dragons wild,” Hondo said as he shuffled the deck.
BK’s eyes sparkled with intensity as the Marines forgot about politics and focused on what was really important.
Chapter 18
Skylar
“No kidding? I never heard anything about it,” Sky asked Bill, who’d just stuck his head in the lab to tell her.
“I think they wanted to keep it a secret,” he told her. “Well, are you going to put down saving the galaxy for a few minutes and come and see?”
Sky hesitated, looking down at the 10,000-word treatise on Dictymorph risk aversion. She still had to clean it up, maybe another four hours of work. This was her 32nd report. All were submitted, and the best she could tell, all were simply filed away. Not that she blamed anyone. She was shooting in the dark here, hoping she’d hit something. As if anyone understood Dictymorph risk aversion? There just wasn’t anything close to the data available to even begin to analyze the subject. But they wanted something on risk aversion, so they got it.
They’re just going to have to wait, she suddenly decided.
“Hell, yeah, I’m coming,” she said, powering down her link. “Where are they?”
“At the flagpole,” Bill said. “At least they were when I came to find you.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “You could have stopped there.”
“I knew you’d have your nose in some report that no one would ever read, so I thought I’d rescue you.”
“Hey, someone reads these,” she protested.
What he said was closer to the truth, but she didn’t want to admit it. She’d had her one flash in the pan with the Klethos, but she doubted that she’d contributed much of anything about the Dictymorphs.
“Yeah, right. You keep telling yourself that.”
People were streaming to the flagpole, coming from every direction. Sky despaired about getting close, but she forgot she had a Marine running interference.
“Make a hole, make a hole,” Bill kept yelling, and surprising enough, people got out of his way.
I guess there’s something to be said for that voice of command.
They turned the corner into the square, and over the heads of the gathered soldiers and civilians, she could see the four of them towering over the crowd.
The Federation’s Mary Curnutte, the “Purple Sledgehammer.” Jessria de Pontier, the “Bell,” from Hospice Station. The Brotherhood’s Shiloh Aprahamian, the “Silver Ice.” From the Alliance of Free States, Krylie Fenster-Pan, the “Tungsten Claw.” Four gladiators, all aces.
Sky knew that all, of course. Their hair, each with distinctive colors, marked them even more than their bulk. Seeing them on the holos, though, did not nearly have the same impact as seeing them in real life. Besides towering over three meters tall, they simply exuded power, something Sky could feel even 30 meters away.
Bill was making a herculean effort to get in closer, but even if people had wanted to let them pass, there was no room to get out of the way. Sky knew this was about as close as she was going to get.
The four gladiators were high-fiving, elbow-tapping, and fist-bumping everyone within reach—and they could reach a long ways with their wingspans. Sky felt like a little girl at her first bowy-bop concert, and she had to repress the urge to scream.
Not everyone was holding back. Screams and shouts echoed through the square as people tried to get closer or simply called out for attention.
Behind the gladiators, Sky could just see the heads of a dozen too-serious-looking men and women in black suits as if right out of central casting. Sky almost laughed—as if four gladiators needed UAM security for protection.
A large drone swept in closer, the UBS logo on its side. This was newsworthy, the first such event for close to two months that might interest viewers across human space.
“Ah, so that’s it,” Sky muttered as things fell into place.
The war had not been going well, and various factions wanted to end the effort. The UAM joint expedition needed a win, and needed one badly, but they hadn’t fought since K-1003. More and more units were arriving on the growing base for training, but the newsies and documentary holomakers could only go to the ranges so many times before it got old and the viewing public lost interest.
The gladiators were rock stars, all of them, the best that humanity could produce. Each of them had survived five battles in the ring. The inclusion of the Tungsten Claw couldn’t be ignored, either, from a political sense. The Alliance was making strong comments about how humanity should pull back to its own borders and not seek military “adventurism” in Klethos space. With one of their daughters on such public display, the UAM was making a political statement. Humanity was in this together.
The copper-haired Bell leaned back and down for a moment, and Sky saw a UAM staffer tilt his head up to say something to her. The Bell nodded, then the four gladiators pushed forward into the crowd, followed by the security. It was slow going, both because the people were packed in tight and because the gladiators kept up the high-fives. Sky and Bill pushed to their left on an intercept course, and as the gladiators came abreast of them, Sky lifted her hand, almost jumping on the back of a Brotherhood soldier to high-five Bell.
Bell was slapping the hands of everyone within reach, but she missed Sky’s by a good ten centimeters.
“Damn, I didn’t get it,” she said, turning to face Bill.
“Why FS15 Ybarra, I’m surprised. You, a fangirl?” Bill said in mock solemnity.
“I saw you reaching up to try, too, Colonel, so don’t give me that.”
“Not to try, to succeed. I’m never going to wash my hand again,” he said, holding it up to his face.
“You got a high-five?” she asked.
“More like a high-three, but that counts.”
“Must be nice to have longer arms,” she said reaching out to rub his hand. “There, now I got it, too, by proxy.”
They both turned to watch the gladiators make their way to the headquarters, Sky on tiptoes as she tried to look over the heads of the massed people. It took almost five minutes for the gladiators to make it to the entrance, where they turned to wave at the crowd, then entered the building.
“That was pretty cool. First time I’ve ever seen a gladiator for real,” she said as the crowd started to break up, people buzzing about what they’d just seen.
“My third time, but it doesn’t get old,” Bill said. “So, you going back to work?”
“Yeah . . .” she started before reconsid
ering.
She’d been putting out paper after paper based on conjecture, conjecture about which she had little confidence. She knew they were being read, but she didn’t think they were contributing much to the cause. She could rush back, finish this one in another four hours, then put upload it to Janus’ inbox where he might get to it tomorrow, maybe the next day, before deciding if it had enough merit to forward it on up the line. Sky prided herself on her sense of discipline, but she had to admit to herself that the galaxy wouldn’t stop revolving around the center of the universe if she waited until tomorrow to get back to it.
She was feeling good, even a little giddy after seeing the gladiators. She simply didn’t feel like going back to the lab.
“It’s just past fourteen hundred. Is it too early for you to have a drink?” she asked Bill. “I’m buying.”
“It’s seventeen hundred somewhere, and that’s good enough for me, especially if you’re buying. The Club?”
The Club was the facility for field grade officers and civilian equivalents.
“No, I’m thinking of The Baiae,” she said.
“The Baiae? Again you surprise me, but again, I say yes.”
The Baiae, named after Nero’s city of hedonism, was an unofficial club in Confedtown, run by the Confederation forces’ SNCOs. It was run-down and somewhat grimy, but the drinks were cold, the snacks salty, and it was just the kind of place Sky felt like this afternoon.
“OK, then. I’ve got a feeling that more than a few people will be cutting off early and heading over, so we’d better get going.”
“Allow me,” he said, pushing in front of her, before bellowing out, “Make a hole, make a hole!”
Hmph. I guess he can be useful after all, she thought as she followed him to Confedtown.
Chapter 19
Hondo
“Chicken or rabbit,” CWO5 Curnutte asked Hondo.
“Rabbit, ma’am,” he answered holding out his tray.
“Fabricated rabbit, tasted like carboard when I was a private, tastes like cardboard now, too.”
It wasn’t that funny, but Hondo laughed—too loud. BK, who’d just been served, reached back to pull him along the line.
“Not too obvious, huh?” she said.
Hondo couldn’t tear his eyes away from the huge gladiator. He would have loved to take a selfie with her, to send it back to his family on Paradhiso. Shona culture was very warrior-oriented, and his family would eat it up.
“Hockers, son?”
Hondo loved the purple beans, fabricated soft and chewy, so he said, “Yeah,” his eyes still on the gladiator as she served the next Marine. He felt the plop of the beans on his plate and turned to step down the line when he saw who’d just served him.
“I mean, yes, sir. Thank you, sir!” to Colonel Oesper, the Marine brigade commander.
“She kind of sucks the air out of the room, right, lance corporal?” the colonel said with a smile.
“Uh . . . yes, sir,” he said, barely getting the words out.
“Smooth move, Hondo,” BK whispered. “Try not to disrespect the CO next.”
Lieutenant Colonel Tan “Gunslinger” Rainer, the 3/6 commanding officer was the last server in line, handing out twist rolls to those who wanted them. They actually smelled delicious, as if actually baked, not popped out of the commercial fabricators that manufactured most of their food. Hondo managed to keep his composure as he accepted a roll, then followed BK to the table the squad had claimed as their rightful territory.
The officers and senior SNCOs often served the troops, usually on battalion patron days, the Marine Corps birthday, or other special occasions. Hondo had never been served by a gladiator, though, and that had thrown him off his game.
There was a loud crash, and Hondo turned to see one of the corporals, standing ash-faced, his tray on the ground in front of the Purple Sledgehammer.
“At least I’m not the only one,” he muttered.
The company had been out at the infiltration range when the order had been given for them to return to base camp. Hondo had initially thought that they had a new mission, and a thrill of both excitement and fear coursed through him. Excitement because, quite frankly, he was getting bored with the training. Fear because he was now a leader, and he hoped he wouldn’t screw up where someone could get killed because of it.
When they got back to camp, however, they found out the reason. The gladiators were on a visit, including CWO5 Curnutte. They’d all watched the broadcast of the pep talk given by some UAM bigwigs, General Reicker, and more importantly, the four gladiators. Hondo had been impressed that he was on the same planet as not just four of them at the same time, but four famous aces, one being a Marine, no less.
But to come into the messhall and see the gladiator, towering above the rest of the servers, had blown his mind. His brother would give his left nut to be this close to a gladiator ace.
Fuck it. Better to act and ask for forgiveness later.
“BK, take my PA,” he said, unlocking it.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, immediately suspicious.
He reached over and opened the camera, then stood up and moved to the drink bar. He took a glass, filled it with the first drink in the dispenser, but instead of walking back to the table, headed over to the closest table to the entrance—on a path that took him along the chow line.
He slowed down, timing his approach until the sergeant just served by the gladiator thanked her and stepped away. Hondo jumped into the line in front of the next sergeant, almost knocking the tray out of his hands. With the gladiator looming over him, he spun around, facing BK, and raised his glass with one hand and gave a thumbs up with his other.
“No pictures!” a Navy lieutenant commander with the gold shoulder braid of a staff officer shouted, rushing forward to stop him.
BK returned the thumbs up, and Hondo bolted out of the line.
He thought he heard a “Good one, lance corporal,” in the deep voice of a gladiator.
Hondo rushed back to his seat as the lieutenant commander shouted out, “No pictures, people. We don’t have time. Everyone will get an official holo, but no private pictures.”
“Upload it,” he told BK as he slid into his seat.
“Already did,” she said with a smile. “Hondo, you’re my fucking hero.”
Chapter 20
Hondo
Hondo ran the rake over the sand, smoothing out the footprints that had been tracked through it. It was after 2300, and the night sky was awash in stars, giving him enough light to keep working.
He heard the crunch, crunch, crunch of steps behind him but didn’t bother to look. With another five or six hours to go, he had a long night ahead of him.
“You missed some tracks,” the first sergeant’s voice reached him.
Hondo straightened his back and turned. The first sergeant was standing in the middle of the patch he’d just raked, his footprints visible in the starlight.
“Sorry, First Sergeant. I’ll get that,” he said, walking back to rake out the new prints.
He paused, then, the rake motionless beside the first sergeant’s boot. With a harrumph, the first sergeant stepped back onto the path, then headed to the SNCO’s berthing. Hondo carefully raked out the last three prints, then moved back to where he’d left off.
On the other side of the path, BK worked, raking her section smooth as well. He felt a little guilty about her being there, but she’d insisted that she wasn’t upset.
He stood still for a moment, just looking at the sky, his PA burning a hole in his pocket. He couldn’t resist. He took it out and opened Connect. In Spot Prime, there he was, a goofy smile on his face while behind him, a surprised-looking CWO5 Curnutte stared right at the camera. BK had let the Connect identifier flag both the gladiator and himself, then added, “Holo by BK Dodds.” Already, the post had garnered over a million Love Its, but one meant more than all the rest. As one of the flagged subjects, the gladiator could have had the post d
eleted, but instead, right at the top of the list, there was her Love It, and the comment, “Semper fi, Devil Dog. Grab what you want in life.”
He stared at the image for a moment, then put the PA back in his pocket. Close by, laughter broke out from one of the berthing boxes, Marines relaxing in the night.
In front of him was a large expanse of sand he had to rake smooth, even if it would all be for naught in the morning when Marines trampled over it again. He had a long night ahead of him and all for nothing. Well, not quite for nothing.
It was fucking worth it, he thought as a smile crept over his face.
Chapter 21
Skylar
“It’s moving,” Sky said to the others at the Kid’s Table, as they now referred to themselves.
“We knew it wasn’t just going to sit there,” Knight said.
Sky ignored him as she watched the holo. Compiled from over a thousand feeds, it provided amazing detail. Currently, they were seeing a view as if hovering 500 meters over the planet’s surface, but afterwards, they could rotate, zoom, and adjust the holo as needed to analyze what had happened.
That was the mission, analysis. The Brotherhood soldiers and French Legionnaires might be about to fight for their lives, but hundreds, no, thousands of scientists of all stripes were watching to gauge the effectiveness of the new equipment.
As with K-1003, the UAM command had chosen a world long conquered by the Dictymorphs, one with minimal numbers of the enemy still on it. The military force facing them was a Brotherhood-French brigade, the core being the Brotherhood battalion and French company that had been on K-1003. Both of the original units had been beaten up during the previous battle, but with reinforcements filling in the gaps and an additional two Brotherhood battalions, the brigade had over 3,000 soldiers and Legionnaires, all with taraline up-armored combat suits and the next generation of weapons.
What the brigade didn’t have was Klethos unit.
Sky thought that was a mistake. They shouldn’t just be testing weapons but also integrated combat. Just at the Klethos couldn’t fight the Dictymorphs alone, neither could humans.
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