by Dennis Young
When she was six (Theia years), Daddy took her to High Station for the first time, strapped her in his lap, and flew the fledgling base’s only Hellbore-equipped turbocopter through a full live-fire pass on the artillery range. Talice squealed and laughed and screamed all the way. Then she begged Daddy to let her push the fire button, just once. Then once more. Then once more. Then she squealed and laughed and screamed some more.
When she was ten, she joined the Girls’ Auxiliary, set up for kids of military parents. By that time, Northland Base was quickly becoming the headquarters of the Marines, not only for Theia, but other worlds, in the Laberos system and beyond. Northland Base accounted for nearly ten percent of Anchor Prime’s population of three million, and the Marines were the core.
When she was thirteen, she was promoted to the Young Women’s Auxiliary, and Daddy (now just “Dad”) was off-planet, somewhere on another world fighting for… Talice didn’t know exactly what, and Mom wouldn’t discuss it.
Talice excelled in her quasi-military classes, became a group leader, and developed a fondness for flirting with the boys from the Young Men’s Auxiliary.
When she was sixteen, her schooling was accelerated, and by eighteen, she was in Advanced Education and going for the first of her two degrees, one in computer science, the other in military history and training. Talice didn’t put all her eggs in one basket.
Dad was back home, but a changed man. Where he had been bright and open and laughing, now he was, if not withdrawn, certainly quieter and more contemplative. Mom was preparing for her own AdEd courses, but delayed a year, helping Dad get back more to his normal self. But he never made it all the way back, and in fact, the Marines put him behind a desk. Which didn’t help. Talice requested, and was granted, permission to become his aide-de-camp, not because she was his daughter, but because the Marines needed him. Just like she’d needed him when she was younger. And now he needed her. Life always comes around.
When she was nearly twenty-one, and in her third year of AdEd, she met a man, Saul, and they fell in love. Love, hell, it was like the Autumn Rut. While Talice was no stranger to sex, Saul took her to heights never imagined. She lost count of the classes she missed, events not attended, and opportunities not taken advantage of. All because she and Saul were fucking their brains out. Every. Single. Day.
They made love on a blanket in the park, under a full moon and fireworks. They screwed in the garden, Talice straddling him on a creaky bench. They fucked like rabbits (whatever a rabbit was) on a deserted metrolink at midnight as it made the rounds through Anchor Prime. And admitted it was the best sex they’d had to date. Then went on to surpass even that.
When she was twenty-two, Talice had the face of an angel and the vocabulary of an Olde Earth sailor. The Olde Earth curse words had survived nearly unchanged. Damn. Bitch. Hell, although the concept of Hell in the biblical sense was nearly lost. The lower case “hell” was pretty mild in comparison.
Talice’s favorite was simply “fuck”. The word had so many possibilities and endless applications. Sometimes it had the obvious sexual component. Other times, it was a curse, almost literally. Frustration; anger; disappointment; sadness; fear; awe. It was her go-to word. And she used it often. It just rolled off her tongue so easily.
Dad, being a proper gentleman, one seldom using street-talk or obscenities, couldn’t understand where this had come from. Mom only shook her head and chortled. It was at that point Dad began to think maybe he hadn’t known the lovely Laura as well as he’d thought when they married.
That was also the year Talice told Saul she wanted to enlist in the Marines, finish her schooling there, then see what she could see. Saul agreed enthusiastically, and they enlisted together, four-year terms.
When she was twenty-three, and had both her degrees, she signed up for Trooper training.
Oops.
Saul: “No woman of mine is going to go off on Covert-Ops missions with a bunch of men!”
Talice: “Uh… where did this come from? I’m around men all day. Hell, you’re around women all day. What’s the big deal?”
Saul: “You’re mine and I’m yours. And we’re together.”
Talice: “Yeah, I got that, no problem. But what’s with—”
Saul: “I said no, and that’s final.”
Talice: “Oh, really?”
Thus ended the only real relationship Talice ever had. And the best sex as well. Talk about withdrawal!
When she was twenty-four, and no longer prisoner to the “I gotta get laid!” shakes on a nightly basis—but had developed a mild case of carpal-tunnel syndrome in her right wrist—she met Staff Sergeant Jonie Macauley: Mac.
Mac was the classic Drill Instructor. Voice you could hear and recognize for half a kilometer, tough as nails, in-your-face mean, and a heart of gold. Mac got Talice out of her self-imposed shell and into a top-notch Trooper company. Before graduation from training, Talice was in one of the remaining three teams out of fifteen that started. And second-in-command of her team. Twenty-four out of a hundred and twenty applicants. Not bad.
When she turned twenty-six, that very day, Mac pinned Talice’s Trooper insignia above her left breast.
“This doesn’t mean we’re engaged or anything,” whispered Mac. She showed that wide, toothy grin of hers, bright against her dark skin. Talice didn’t know whether to smile in return or start bawling, right then and there. All she knew was, at that very moment, she couldn’t wait to show her Wings to Dad.
* * *
A Close Encounter…
It was an Off-Base Social, and Talice, with two teammates, needed a break. A seventy-two- hour pass was granted. They packed hurriedly, caught the metrolink into Anchor Prime, dropped their bags at the hotel (not a microtel, but a real hotel, with room service and everything), and headed for a shindig (Olde Earth term).
There was food. There was alcohol. There were men, not boys, and not just Marines or Space Fleet. Civies. Men not wearing uniforms. Talice found it… odd. And interesting.
Jance and Konee, her teammates, found company quickly. Talice was more selective. Or maybe the shreds of her breakup with Saul were still lingering. Regardless, she danced with several and shared a drink with two or three.
One of them introduced himself as Mikal, an off-world engineer in town for meetings. He pointed out Jance and Konee currently dancing with his business partners, and would they like to go back to Mikal’s hotel for a private party?
Alarm bells sounded early and often in Talice’s mind. The shindig was just getting started. It wasn’t that late, only 2200 Hours. Mikal seemed a bit… anxious. But he was nice. Smooth. Didn’t smell like he’d recently been on a twenty-mile hike or spent the day in live-fire exercises.
He slipped a business card into Talice’s hand. She looked it over. The company was one she was familiar with, that did contract work for Northland Base and High Station. She declined, but said “maybe later, we’ll see”.
Mikal smiled a million-creditmark smile and nodded. Then he slid into the crowd and disappeared.
Talice watched him walk away. Watched Jance and Konee dancing with Mikal’s friends. Wondered what the hell she was doing where she was. She looked around, seeing nothing suspicious, but her gut was in a knot. Something was wrong, but she didn’t know what.
She pressed the panic button embedded in her left wrist. Jance and Konee would get the signal, see her prominently standing at the bar, and be there in a flash.
But they weren’t. In fact, they were nowhere on the dance floor that Talice could see.
Shit. Decoy. Keep the third one busy, grab the other two. Fuck. Time to take off the dancing shoes.
She slipped aside, knelt and touched the heel of each shoe. Her three-inch stylers quickly became flats with decent soles. She ran down the stairs and into the crowded walkway.
A flash on her Marine seeker implant. Two. Moving west, slowly, so on foot. She followed.
It took a bit of time, with the evening crowd and tr
affic. Talice took care. As long as they were moving in the open, not inside buildings, she didn’t get too close.
There. Ahead.
Konee’s dark evening dress and Jance’s long reddish-blonde hair. Three guys, and yes, one was Mikal. She’d never seen a man wear his hair over his ears or collar in… years? Dumbass. You may fit in where you’re from, but you’re not where you’re from. This is a military city, where men know how to groom. I could track you by your way-too-much cologne.
Talice looked ahead through the thinning crowd, dropped back a few paces, and caught sight of a hotel sign. Mikal and his cohorts steered Jance and Konee into it, making a hard-right turn.
Gotcha.
Talice followed up the steps, entering the lobby just as the lift door was closing. She turned to the desk. “Where is that lift going? Floor? Quickly, please!”
The well-dressed concierge gave her a quick glance, noted her flushed face, piercing eyes, and decided there was a problem. “Thirty-third. Ah… Miss…”
“Wyloh. Call security, please, and have them meet me there.” Talice bolted for the stairwell.
She took the stairs three at a time. Landings every five seconds. If she timed it right, she would arrive as the lift doors opened or Mikal and her teammates were in the hall. That is, if she didn’t stroke out before she got there. Thirty-three floors. No worse than trying to scale that fucking wall. With a full pack. Under fire.
She hit the last landing, paused at the door, then cracked it open. Nothing. No one.
She crept out, walking to the lift, thanking whoever might be listening for the thick carpet. She pressed the lift button and the door opened immediately. Empty. Did they stop at a different floor? Please say no. Please say I was just a bit slow.
She eased her way down the hall, listening at every door. How many rooms on this floor? Fifty? A hundred?
A sound behind her as the second lift door opened and three dark-suited men exited. She held a finger to her lips, and they nodded. They didn’t look especially tough, but since Talice spent her days around military-grade firearms and Special-Ops Marines who knew how to use them, she made a mental allowance.
She backed down the hall and turned to the leader. “Two friends of mine left with three guys from a party down the street. At this time, I don’t think they’re in trouble, but one of them activated her tracker implant.”
The security leader raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The second one listened to his comm unit, then spoke quietly to Talice. “Room 3345 engaged the door lock about two minutes ago. No other door activity on this floor.”
Talice thought quickly. “I don’t have authority to enter, but I assume you do, right?”
“Why don’t you just ring?” asked the third agent. “If your friends are in there, wouldn’t someone open the door if they know it’s you?”
She nodded after a moment. “You guys stay out of sight, right?”
“We’ll be right there against the wall,” said the leader.
Talice finally noticed they all wore ID. “Thanks, officer… Martinez.”
“Call me Emilio.” He nearly smiled, then turned to the other two and pointed down the hall. They took point, with Martinez and Talice behind.
“Implant. So you’re military?”
Talice started. Damn. Loose lips sink ships. “That’s right. We’re on leave.”
“You’re all military? And you called for security?” He nearly laughed.
Talice opened her mouth to answer, but the other two men slowed to a stop. Room 3345 was to their right. Well, if this becomes a furball, we’ve got witnesses. She motioned Martinez to the side. “What if this is nothing? What if they’re just…”
“Then your friends are safe, no harm done, and we say good night.”
Talice nodded. “Good. Thank you.” She turned, took a breath, then another, and pressed the ringer.
The door opened to the sounds of relaxed talk and laughter. Mikal stood, a drink in his hand, eyes widening as Talice flowed past him and into the room. Martinez and his men followed. Conversation stopped. The proverbial pin could be heard dropping. Fortunately, it was not the pin from a grenade.
The room was… nice. A suite with three doors leading to presumably bedrooms, bar on one side, and a holoscreen in the corner playing soft music. Jance was at the bar with the guy Talice had seen her dancing with, both with champagne in hand. Konee was on the balcony with the other, talking quietly, breezes fluttering through the open door. They turned and stood watching as Martinez’s men checked the bedrooms, scanners in their hands. In seconds, they were back.
“Clear.”
“Clear.”
Mikal hadn’t said a word. For that matter, neither had Jance or Konee. Talice’s practiced eye looked for… anything, everything, and saw nothing.
“Nice of you to join us…” Mikal managed to stutter his way through the words. Talice ignored him.
“Report.”
“Green,” said Jance, all business now.
“Green here,” said Konee, entering from the balcony.
Talice nodded, still stern-faced. Green was not their trigger word, so apparently, things really were ‘Green’. She blew a breath of heavy relief and swallowed, then turned to Martinez. “Thanks. Well done. We’ll put in a plug for you with the manager.”
Martinez’s gaze swept over the room again, stopping at everyone and meeting them eye-to-eye. “Glad we could help.” He looked to Mikal again. “Happy to see things are safe here. Enjoy your evening.” He nodded to Talice, then left with his men, closing the door softly behind him.
Mikal stepped closer. “I won’t ask what that was about, because it’s pretty obvious.” He glanced to Jance and Konee, standing aside and looking anything but pleased. “But maybe we can still chat. Drink?”
Talice slowly calmed, and her teammates came to her side. “We’ll talk about this later,” she whispered.
“Hua,” said Konee quietly, chagrined.
Talice nodded. “Yes. A drink would be appreciated. Any single malt Scotch? Straight? Double?”
The rest of their leave wasn’t nearly as exciting.
* * *
Mission 283IEJJ - Code name: Born Free…
The ready room was filled with the Red Raider platoon, eighteen men and women preparing for their fifth mission together in twenty months. Situations on Theia had cooled. Hostage-takers for hire had been cleaned out by local authorities supplemented by the regular Army, and Marines were now beginning to focus on other things.
Two planets out from Theia in the Laberos system were on the verge of hostilities, or as Troopers called it, “Fun and Games”. Both were small colonies and presented no real threat to Theia, but both were also poor and desperate.
Northland Base was alive with activity. Six Trooper platoons had already been dispatched, and Red Raiders were up next. Word was, negotiations were ongoing, but muscle would aid in deterrence. Besides, hostage-takers weren’t unknown in either place. Hence… Marines.
Talice was squad leader for Support, Jance her second. A big, hulking brute named Rory Dunham was leading Primary. He was all black skin and muscles, but surprisingly mild mannered, and had a great smile. A tiny woman with Olde Earth Czech ancestry, named Bělinka Orlik, was his Second. Talice knew her as an explosives and counter-personnel wizard.
This could be a very interesting mission, thought Talice. In the Olde Chinese sense.
Mac was a Staff Sergeant, and the lieutenant was a newbie by name of Serpens. Talice didn’t know him and was concerned their regular OIC was absent. She watched him at the podium preparing for the briefing as Mac slid into the seat beside her.
“His third command,” whispered Mac. “Louie is out, sick as a fucking dog, and they don’t know why. Serpens was the only Butterbar Lieutenant with combat experience.” She huffed a breath. “And for whatever reason, we don’t rate a full Lieutenant.”
“Maybe we’re fodder,” said Talice.
Mac shook her head. �
��Something still hush-hush about this. Maybe we’ll learn that now.” She slipped away, moving to the front of the room and standing at the side.
“Good morning, Marines.” Serpens’s voice was high and nasally.
Can’t be more than twenty-five, thought Talice. Right out of Academy. Not good…
The briefing was… brief, with little new information. The planet they would go to was Eos, second out from Laberos, and nearly a twin of Theia, with the same orbit, but at what scientists on Olde Earth called a “Lagrange point”, sixty degrees ahead of Theia, in orbit of the star.
Scientists all the way back on Olde Earth and those on Theia marveled over the double-planet system, and had concocted dozens of theories, not only of its formation, but how it maintained balance. Best case they’d found was, in about fifty million years, the planets would likely collide. Worst case, both would eventually spin off into space due to gravitational perturbations and “other factors”, as they vaguely put it.
Talice had paid little attention to the announcement, but noted a subtle shift in some of her friends’ attitudes. Kinda doubtful we’ll live to see it, she had thought sardonically. So why bother? Get stuff done, live your life, and love your fellow man. Or woman. Whatever your preference is. Then she would chuckle.
They boarded the carrier that afternoon and sat in on more meetings enroute. Now details were presented, contingencies discussed, and options sorted through. Primary would land in PODs, Support to follow, and make their way to the target. Subject was a known terrorist cell planning to disrupt a peaceful march and demonstration demanding working condition changes and better benefits. It was the same on many planets, and usually handled locally, but things had gotten nasty, and the opposition gutsy. Then things got… political. Local law enforcement found themselves outmanned and outgunned. And in many cases, out-thought.
Nemesis Corp had spread to Eos some years ago, but only now was getting a foothold. And when weapons came into the hands of opposing forces, the “crazy-dumb factor” increased exponentially. People with no training and no experience in warfare got stupid. And very, very dangerous. Hence, Marines.
