Hell's Own

by T S Weaver

  “And you’re any better, Lackey?” Ready snapped. “I’ve been here longer than you. This isn’t my first trip to the edge.”

  “Like hell, you got in three days after me. Try your bullshit with someone else, not going to fly here.” Lackey glowered, his body tensed, ready to tip the table or throw the nearest available object. “I’ve got just as much experience out here as you. Maybe more. And I have rank on you.”

  “Only because you kissed the right ass. Not like you earned it.”

  “Come here and say that.” Lackey snarled.

  “You’d like it, wouldn’t you. Try and write me up for starting a fight.” Ready sneered.

  “You’re both pups. If you want to fight, there’s one ready and waiting for you, but it will have the locals called in, and we’ll have to find a new bar. Jones wouldn’t like it if we brought the MPs in. You make me give up my seat for anything but hitting the head, and I’ll make you wish your momma never brought you into this world.” Cora kept her voice calm, her emotions under control as she ran the tip of her finger over the rim of her glass. “Doubt me? Then try it, and you’ll wake up in the infirmary.” A quick kick or punch, and both men would be out for the count. Oh, the men were decent at their work, they had to be to make it out here, but they were still nothing more than children when it came to experience. But there was skilled, and there was sober and well trained, the two didn’t always go hand in hand.

  “Better listen to the Sarge. You should know by now she isn’t going to take your shit, off duty, on duty, it’s all the same.” Gunny’s low, steady voice carried and commanded everyone’s attention. “And she isn’t the only one. I came here for a decent drink, instead of hanging out with the stiff necks, and you’re threatening to disturb my night.”

  “Don’t need your backup, old man,” she didn’t glance at him, not when she had two men squaring off. “Are you two going to throw punches or go back to drinking like sane marines would?”

  “Marines don’t leave a man behind.” Gunny lifted his glass. “Besides, no such thing as a sane marine. Against the rules.”

  Fine, she couldn’t argue the point, they worked together, fought together, and you didn’t fuck up a situation like this. Not when you’d spent half your life building up the respect and understanding from the men and women she worked with. “Didn’t think I’d gone anywhere.”

  Gunner flicked the now empty glass. “Your round, Lawbook.”

  She didn’t flinch at the name, not anymore. “You lost count, Gunny. It’s your turn, I bought the last one.”

  “Must have blinked and missed it.” Gunny shrugged and lifted his glass. “Hey, what does a man have to do to get a drink around here?”

  “Pay for it, like everything else.” Cora flashed a grin. “Nothing’s for free. Especially for Marines.” Didn’t matter if they were in civilian dress, they’d always be marines.

  “Except pussy. Shouldn’t ever have to pay for private time with a willing partner. Flash them the uniform, and they’re all over you.” PFC Walker suggested. “It’s what they told us back in--”

  “You still believing all the lies the recruitment officer told you?” Lackey cut him off. “Damn man, you’re dumber than you appear. You’d think after your first shipboard tour, you’d realize they spun you a crock of shit. No pussy on a ship. At least, none we’re allowed to touch. No fraternization allowed. Bad for morale,” said Lackey, a scowl furrowing his brow.

  “Bad for moral my ass. The ship snobs want to keep them all to themselves. Not one of them knows how to catch the eye of a woman. And they wouldn’t know what to do with one if they found themselves naked in the same damn room with one.” Walker rolled his eyes. “Come on, you saw them. All stiff, like they hadn’t been laid in a year, or longer.”

  “And what’s it been for you, two years now? A date with your hand doesn’t count.”

  “What the fuck, man. I had a girl back on earth. Real beauty too. With a sweet set of--”

  “Yeah, of the automated kind.” Walker laughed, cutting him off. “Only thing real about her would be the batteries you have to charge up. And maybe her hair, if you went for one of the deluxe models.”

  Cora leaned back in her chair and let the banter roll over her. It didn’t matter to her how they talked, sex was sex, they used the terms without harm, and she’d seen more than one man, or woman, trip over themselves to gain the attention of the man or woman in uniform. It was the same anywhere she’d been, some loved a body in uniform, others, not so much. As for the talk, she’d joined the Marines, not the girl scouts. If she couldn’t take a bit of swearing, or the way the men often openly lusted over a woman, real or imagined, then she was in the wrong place.

  For them, it was a habit. For her, a test of how to keep her temper and learn to grow a thicker skin. Women were as bad, though normally not as obvious. And talking wasn’t the same as doing. The men and women she’d served with over the years might bluster about the things they wanted to do, but the corp had a strict policy.

  Consent.

  Which could be withdrawn at any time.

  By the way, this meant everyone.

  Cross the line and the only uniforms you were likely to see in your lifetime was the prison garb you’d spend the rest of your life wearing, and the ones worn by the prison officers. And that was after you’d been fixed. Words were one thing, actions another.

  First year it had been hard. Civilian life wasn’t the same. Rules were different, the way you spoke to people wasn’t the same as the way it was in the military. And after six months on a ship, surrounded by men and women who followed an old, weird code about marines being less than the fliers. Grunts, men and women who lacked intelligence, and couldn’t make it through the basic training for the enlisted, let alone the officers.

  Rich, considering she doubted one of them would be able to deal with the training marines went through. Too damn brutal for the majority of them.

  She’d made the right choice, joining the marines. Sure, the other branches had been open to her, and her family had nudged for her to join one of the more respectable branches, but what did they know? She’d already broken the family rules by signing up. It went against the codes they lived by to resort to a life which included violence, death, and men who swore every third word.

  Cora relaxed as she took in the bar. The building was three klicks outside of the base, accessed through the tunnels built initially when they first surveyed Pluto for the best place to build the base. A trek but worth it. There were tunnels the majority ignored, but everyone used them if they wanted to visit one of the underground chambers, bars, or storage holds without being tracked every step of the way. This didn’t take into account the extra passageways known only to a rare few. Oh sure, there were sensors planted in the doors which opened into the tunnels. Officially no one entered or left the main colony without permission. Officially the bar wasn’t a bar, but a storage facility for the miners making their way from the main settlement to the outlying claims and back again. A place to clean off, get themselves decent, then face the realities of what passed for civilization out here.

  Screw civilization.

  “Drinks. Remember. Party over here. Payment on delivery.” Gunner called out as a server shimmied her way to the bar.

  She paused and glanced back at the table, eyes narrowed until she took note of the group. “Be right there.”

  “Now what have you got that I don’t?” Lackey grumbled and traced a line of condensation down the side of his glass. “I’ve been trying to get her attention for the past ten minutes.”

  “Age, maturity, experience, funds. Oh, yeah, and rank.” Gunner tapped his arm where his insignia would typically sit. “Would have been the same if Lawbook had tried it. They know these stripes mean they’ll get paid regardless of what else is going on.”

  Lackey glowered. “She knows you’re going to pay her. The cash is what caught her attention.”

  “Earn the rank, and you’ll be treated t
he same way, Lackey.” Cora lifted her drink. “Money talks. Always has.”

  “Don’t call me that, Sarge. You know I don’t like it. I didn’t kiss my way to the rank. If I had, it would have been to jump into officer training. I mean, shit, who’d want to sit around drinking with you lot when they could be in the officer’s lounge, being waited on hand and foot by the stewards.”

  “And be bored out of your skull. Why else do you think Gunny’s here instead of hanging out at the base.”

  “The beer. It’s better here. Still got a bite to it.” Gunny hefted his still empty glass. “You wusses don’t know what real beer tastes like. Obviously never had anyone drag you out to the old bars. No, you wet your whistle with the legit stuff, with no more than 3% alcohol. I pity you all. No understanding what it’s like to hold a real beer and this is as close as we’re going to get out here.”

  “Yeah, and occasionally you get extra chunky bits in the beer, added bonus,” Ready smirked.

  “You’re kidding?” Lackey peered into the remains of his drink. “Bits? What the -- I ever get a mug of beer with bits in it, and I’m sending it back.”

  “Wuss.”

  “Hey, I like to drink my beer, not eat it.”

  “You wouldn’t know a real drink if it bit you on the nose.”

  Cora glanced over her shoulder as she allowed the conversation to fade into the background. The server leaned over the bar, her tight pants making it clear she wore little or nothing beneath them, as the bartender added full glasses to her tray. Her mouth watering at the memory of a decent beer. A bar in Scotland, a trip ten years ago. The real bar hiding behind the facade of a tourist trap, but if they knew you, if you had a local to speak for you, then they showed you the hidden door, and you scooted your way in, found a table, and drank the nectar of the Gods, either in the form of beer, or single malt.

  One day, when she had enough time back on earth, she’d take a trip and drown the dreams.

  “Refill should be here in a few.”

  “Fantastic, a man could die of thirst around here.” Gunny’s dark brown gaze lowered to Cora’s glass. “You’re falling behind. Going to make people think you’re not a real marine.”

  “Always do, fall behind I mean.” It was one thing to drink and enjoy it, another to pass out. The only place she planned on face-planting herself was in her quarters where no one could see or take advantage of the situation. “Here to enjoy, not be carried out.”

  “They’d see you home, you know that, right?” Gunny leaned in, his voice lowering. “Have to learn to trust your people one day.”

  “I do, I mean, I will. Shit. You know what I’m saying.” She shot a sideways glare at him. “One of us has to remain sober in case the Red Caps stumble our way.” Military Police, the bane of their existence. Except when you needed them, then she’d buy them a drink and be polite until they were gone. At the end of the day, they were still brothers and sisters wearing a uniform and heaven help any civilian who got in the way. “Better one of us is able to handle the mess if it heads our way.”

  “Know what you’re not saying, Cora. I’ll make it clear, we’ll talk tomorrow. When we’re both awake, sober, and in clean uniforms.”

  She tensed, knuckles white as she cupped them around her glass. “Is that an order, Gunny?” Of all the men and women she’d served with, Gunny was one of the few she could and would listen to. The man had seen it all, taken care of everything ever thrown at him, and took care of those who served under him. It was the only way you lived long enough to make Gunnery Sergeant out here. Back home, it was different. Kiss the right asses, play within the rules, and in time you’d get promoted. Out here, you worked for it. Or you filled dead man’s boots.

  “Would it help if it was?”

  She allowed herself a smile. “I doubt it. I’d still disobey. Personal reasons and all.” She had her reasons, had her own experiences to draw on, and she’d take the step when she was ready, not before.

  “Don’t make me come looking for you tomorrow. You’ll show up, at noon, at the door to my office. Got it.” He caught and held her gaze.

  “Yes, Gunny.” Shit, there went any plans for the day.

  “Glad you understand where I’m coming from. Now it’s time to get drunk.” He grinned and sat up, barely missing the server as she carried the tray over. “Sorry lass, nothing spilled, right?”

  “It’s all good, Gunny. You know I’d get replacements if there was an issue.” She set the drinks down and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Anything else you need? Like some company? I’ll be off in an hour.” Her soft brown curls bobbed as she leaned in against Gunny.

  “Ah, not today, lass. I’ll be back in a few days. We can discuss matching up our free time then.” He patted the server’s ass with one large, tanned hand.

  “You know where to find me.”

  Jakob Blyemon shifted in his seat. School functions, the last thing he wanted to spend his free time on, but at least it was almost finished. A few more minutes, and it would be over. Would he have enough time to catch Gail before he had to return home?

  “Jakob, over here,” she called out from across the room, her voice half muffled by the background noise from the gathered families.

  “Gail wasn’t certain you’d make it. I mean, not after yesterday. Didn’t your family ground you?”

  She snorted and pushed one hand through the wild dark curls as she joined him. “Yeah, well ‘he’ can’t tell me what to do, and mom won’t be back for two weeks. By the time she arrives, it’ll be too late, and she’ll brush it off. Maybe they’ll fight, but then she’ll drag him out to a bar or the bedroom to smooth things over.”

  Jakob grinned. “Think this one will last any longer than the last three? And why do always insist on calling them your stepdad?”

  “He’s made it six months, but I can see it’s starting to wear thin. She’s upfront about what she expects, the whole house husband or whatever you want to call it. But they always think it’s going to be easier. And why bother to learn their names? They’re never around long enough for it to matter.” A single shrug as she turned away from him.

  Did it hurt, having men wander in and out of her life as the various test periods for a house husband? He didn’t ask, nor would he unless she gave him the right opening. “You have plans for the free day?”

  “Not yet, depends on what happens tomorrow.” She turned back to him. “What about you?”

  “Figured I’d steal time for myself. Once the chores are done.” Her gaze moved over the rest of the gathering. “The usual. But there’s a new holo showing in the community center. If it all works, I should be able to catch the second showing.” Would she take the offer, or make the casual suggestion she might be present, and he’d spend the rest of the night wondering if she’d turn up.

  “Yeah, heard about it. Might give it a go and--”

  A shrill siren echoed through the large room.

  He grabbed Gail’s upper arm. “Evacuation, we need to get to the lower levels.” He didn’t wait for her to reply, his grip tight as he turned and pulled her toward the doors. “We need to move. Before everyone starts to move.” The doors weren’t wide enough for a mass exit.

  “Another drill, you know they pull one of these a month.”

  He wanted to believe her. Needed to. But it didn’t fit with how things ran. “They always give a warning to the heads of department.”

  “And?”

  “My Dad didn’t say anything about a test.” He tugged on her arm. “Come on, we have to get out of here. Might be nothing more than an explosion outside the dome, but better if we’re down in the shelter before they announce what’s going on.” The words felt wrong. The alarm higher pitched and shriller than he’d experienced before.

  Others now moved. Slow and uncertain. Confusion, protests, the request for answers, mingled in the room as people found their way to the doors. The floor trembled, sending vibrations up into his legs. Not a quake, there were no quakes on Pluto.
Only the occasional tremor from an explosion, be it uncontrolled or an accident.

  “Shit,” Gail whispered.

  “Not good, this isn’t how things work.” He darted through the door, heading for the top of the stairs.

  “The elevator?”

  “No, if we lose power, we’ll be trapped in it.” Think. He had to think. His mind raced as he went over everything he knew about the drills. Nothing fitted with what was happening now. Did it mean nothing like this had ever happened before? He wanted to push the idea into the deepest pit as his feet slapped against the steps, one hand resting on the rail. More footsteps above them. The mass finally moving now saner heads, or the drive to survive had kicked in.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The lower levels, there’s a series of doors and ladders into the deep levels. The ones we only use in a dome emergency.” His heart raced, sweat slicked his hands, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t look back at Gail.

  “Dome emergency?”

  “Where the dome has cracked.” It was the only thing he could think of. And he didn’t want to know what else could have happened.

  “Cracked dome means no air. Shields. We have to get the suits on.”

  “Lower levels, then we’ll have a chance. The building alerts will become active if the sensors pick up a loss of atmosphere.”

  Lights flickered and changed, no longer casting the soft illumination in the building to the red he had feared would follow.

  “You mean like this?” Gail stopped on the landing before the next flight of stairs, one hand slapped the box holding the suit on her belt, opening it before she pulled it on. He did the same. No more questions. The suits would keep them safe for the short term, once they were in the bunkers, the lower levels, they would be safe. They had to be.

  “Keep moving, kids. Don’t block the stairs.”

  Gail turned as she secured her suit in place. “Get your suit on, unless you want to die.” She gestured at the lights. “Dome problems.”