Star Marine!

by John Bowers

  She crossed Reagan Plaza and entered the brightly-lit lobby of the main building. The security guard checked her ID before letting her through the outer perimeter, and when she stopped at the second checkpoint she had to state her business. It hadn't been this way before the war, she remembered; at one time a person could walk right in. Things were different now.

  "I'm here to see Senator Wells," she told the uniformed girl with the laser pistol.

  "Do you have an appointment?" The guard looked at her suspiciously.

  "I'm his daughter."

  "Just a moment."

  The guard punched a comm unit and talked into it, never taking her eyes off Regina. The redhead felt a twinge of annoyance, but was too depressed to get angry. She sighed wearily and waited until the guard nodded to her.

  "Someone will escort you up," she said in a flat, professional voice. "Take a seat."

  "How long … "

  "Take a seat, please."

  Regina scowled and settled onto the edge of a Solarglas chair. The security guard busied herself at her console, although at this hour there were no other visitors and Regina suspected she really had nothing much to do. Every few seconds she glanced up as if to make sure Regina hadn't fled the building.

  Four minutes passed. A beefy male guard appeared out of the antigrav lift and strode forward, his face an expressionless mask. He stopped at the console and the woman pointed to Regina. He stepped over and stared at her as she stood uncertainly.

  "Your ID?"

  She handed it to him. He examined it for himself, passed a weapons scanner over her, then nodded toward the lift.

  "Follow me."

  The outer office was empty when they arrived at the twenty-eighth floor, though the overhead lights still blazed. Regina stepped off the lift behind the big security guard and followed him toward the door to her father's office. He stopped at the receptionist's desk and keyed an intercom.

  "Senator Wells?"

  "Yes?" Henry's voice sounded surprised.

  "Sorry to disturb you, sir. Federation Security. I have a Regina Wells out here to see you. Claims to be your daughter."

  "Just a moment … "

  The door slid aside and Henry stepped out, a wrinkle of concern on his forehead. He looked at the big security guard, then saw the petite redhead standing to one side.

  "Gina? What are you doing here?"

  "Hi, Daddy."

  "Everything okay then, Senator?" the guard asked.

  "Yes, thank you. She is my daughter."

  The guard touched the brim of his cap and headed back toward the lift. Henry took the redhead in his arms for a quick hug, then peered closely at her face.

  "Honey, is something wrong?"

  All the way from Berkeley, Regina had rehearsed what she would say. Something casual, offhand, unconcerned. Now, facing the man who loved her more than anyone else in the galaxy, she instantly burst into tears.

  "Daddy! They threw me out of school!"

  * * *

  They took a hovercab across the city to Fisherman's Wharf. Walking among the sidewalk cafes, breathing the aromas of steaming seafood, dazzled by the lights and the noise and the bustle of other diners, the situation seemed a little less bleak. Regina had cried herself out, first in her father's office, then in the hovercab. Now, drained of the sharpest emotions, she was able to see things more calmly. Her father hadn't disowned her, or even sworn at her.

  They worked their way into a crowded restaurant where they could sit down and be out of the wind. They started with bowls of chowder, and the steaming soup spreading through her stomach dissipated some of the chill she'd felt earlier.

  "So exactly how did all this come down?" the senator asked his daughter. "Sirian Philosophy, you said?"

  "Yes. Dr. Elliott."

  "Elliott! Is that old buzzard still there?"

  Regina's green eyes widened as she looked up.

  "You know him?"

  "Oh, yes. My junior year, I think it was. Galactic History. He was pretty young back then, maybe thirty, but he was a radical among his own kind. Most college professors tend to be a little liberal, but he made the rest look like right-wing Bible-thumpers. That was about the time the Sirians were gearing up to invade Vega, and he was extremely pro-Sirius."

  "He still is."

  "What did he do to you?"

  "Actually, I guess I did it to myself. But I've been sitting there for three months listening to him berate the Federation and excuse the Sirians, and I just couldn't take it any more. He made some of the most insane statements you could imagine, but we're never allowed to ask questions, even for clarification. So I finally stood up and challenged him."

  "You challenged him?"

  "Yes."

  Henry swallowed a spoonful of chowder and gazed thoughtfully at his daughter.

  "How did you challenge him?" This ought to be good.

  Regina shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

  "I asked him if he ever had a real job."

  Henry tried to fight back the smile, but part of it broke out anyway.

  "You did? What did he say?"

  "Plenty. Called me a whore and ordered me out of his lecture."

  "He called you a whore?" Henry was no longer smiling.

  "I accused him of defamation of character, threatened him a little. I think he wanted to hit me, but there were too many witnesses. After I walked out, Wade Palmer followed, and he said everyone else left, too. I guess I should feel vindicated, but I don't. I just feel stupid."

  Henry pushed away his half-eaten bowl of chowder and gazed across the restaurant, his jaw clenched in anger.

  "Elliott calls you a whore, and you get thrown out of college. I think something might be done about that."

  Regina saw the look in his eyes and was startled.

  "Like what?"

  "Legal action, maybe. At the very least, I can think of some news agencies that might be interested in what Elliott has been teaching." He relaxed a little, then forced a smile. "I can think of a lot of things that might happen."

  "Daddy, I don't want to get revenge on Elliott, or the university. I appreciate your intentions, but you have a lot more important things to worry about than taking on your alma mater."

  "Well, the university is going to hear from me. Privately, anyway. I think just the threat of media exposure will be enough to get you back in. Not even U.F. Berkeley is completely immune to public opinion, especially in wartime."

  The main course arrived then, and for a few minutes Regina struggled with her lobster. Once she had it cracked and under control, she glanced up again.

  "Daddy, I'm not so sure I want to get back in."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I only have a little over a semester left to get my degree. I may transfer my credits somewhere else."

  "Where?" Henry was frowning. "And why? You're already here, you've got your housing all set, your family is here. Why transfer if you don't have to?"

  "I don't have to leave the area," she pointed out. "Stanford is nearby, and there's U.F. San Francisco, U.F. Davis, Sacramento — lots of possibilities."

  He worked on his lobster for a moment, still frowning.

  "Also," she said slowly, trying to sound casual, "I might even finish by correspondence school … "

  He glanced up sharply. "What are you talking about?"

  Their gazes locked for five seconds, then she looked down and took another bite.

  "Gina, what's going on in your head? What are you not telling me?"

  Regina shrugged, bit her lip, and tried to smile.

  "Nothing."

  "Gina?"

  She blinked nervously, then steeled herself to meet his eyes.

  "Maybe … " She stopped, sucked in a deep breath, and blurted. "Maybe it's time I enlisted," she said quickly.

  Henry Wells sat stunned for several seconds, staring at the pretty redhead as if she were a stranger. He shook his head slowly.

  "Enlist?" he repeated.

 
"Yeah. You know, the war? Everyone is doing it, Daddy. Wade is dropping out to join the Space Force. I'm twenty-two now, so maybe it's time I did my part, too."

  "Wait a minute … "

  "Lots of girls are joining up," she said hurriedly. "The service needs women in lots of capacities. And not just as gunners."

  "I forbid you to join the Fighter Service!" he snapped.

  "I'm not going to join the Fighter Service," she said. "I don't want a combat role. But there are lots of jobs … "

  He held up his hand, shaking his head impatiently. "Slow down here. What makes you think you have to join up?"

  "I don't have to join up! I want to. Daddy, so many people are doing something to fight the Sirians. I haven't done anything at all. At first I was too young, but I'm old enough now. I want to do something."

  "What brought this on all of a sudden?" His eyes were filled with alarm.

  "It's not all that sudden," she hedged.

  "I think it is. You've never held secrets from me," he said, "and if you'd been thinking this way I think you would have said something before now."

  She sat silent for a moment, her green eyes guilty.

  "Well?"

  "I — I've wanted to join up for a long time," she said quietly. "I never mentioned it because I knew you would object. Anyway, I was too young. I had to finish high school. And then I thought I would finish college. The war is going to last for years, so I knew there was time."

  "And so there is. What's the rush?"

  "It's … Well, we've taken back the Outer Worlds now. I don't know how much longer the war can go."

  Henry laughed.

  "Is that what's bothering you? Honey, the Outer Worlds campaign isn't the end of the war. It's only the end of the beginning of the war. Like the prologue to a book. The war will run at least another decade, probably two. If you want to get into it, you don't have to hurry."

  She sat thoughtfully, took a deep breath.

  "Why were you thinking about it in high school?" he asked. "And why didn't you say something back then?"

  "I couldn't. It was too painful."

  "Painful? Why?"

  Her eyes lost their focus as she gazed out the window at the dark water in the bay. When she spoke, her voice was soft, far away. Her eyes misted unexpectedly.

  "I was scared at first, when it started," she said. "The bombings, all the panic. Then things got better, and I didn't think much about it. Until — until Johnny Lincoln was killed." She bit her lip, forcing the tears back.

  Henry deflated slightly with understanding. Johnny Lincoln had been a Federation hero, the ultimate fighter pilot. He and his Vegan/Norwegian gunner, the stunning blonde named Onja Kvoorik, had fired the imagination of billions with their daring, often single-handed combat against overwhelming Sirian forces. Johnny had been killed in '22; his gunner had narrowly survived. She was still out there, still fighting, but Johnny …

  Regina had known Johnny all her life.

  Henry placed his hand over Regina's, squeezing it gently."I should've known," he said. "I'm sorry, honey. I guess I didn't realize how much his death meant to you."

  She wiped her eyes and forced a laugh.

  "I know it's silly," she said. "He was too old for me, but I had a schoolgirl crush on him. It almost killed me when he died."

  Henry nodded. "You and millions of others. Enlistments soared for several months after his death."

  "Daddy, I don't want a combat role. I'm not an Onja Kvoorik. But there must be something I can do, a support role of some kind. I want to be a part of it. When it's all over, I don't want to look back and be ashamed of not doing my part."

  "Honey, girls are under no obligation to serve in the military."

  "Not a legal obligation. But I feel a moral obligation."

  "Historically, warfare has been mostly a male affair."

  "I know. But times have changed. There's never been a war like this one."

  He took a sip of wine and frowned at his plate.

  "And your education? You don't think you might let it slide once you enlist? You'll be pretty busy then."

  "I know. But I want that degree. Actually, I think I could qualify for it right now. I already know more about the Sirians than most of my professors. I've been to Sirius, and none of them have."

  Henry didn't reply. They'd debated the wisdom of Regina's choice of major almost four years ago. He'd made the point that majoring in Sirian culture was worthless unless she planned to work in the diplomatic corps, in which case it would make more sense to major in all interstellar cultures. But Regina had insisted that she found Sirius totally fascinating, and in any case, when the war ended there would be a need for her knowledge. Her mother had defused the situation by suggesting in private that Regina would likely get married and never have to work in any case, so Henry had relented. At least a university degree in something was better than none at all.

  He hoped.

  Regina was still talking, but his mind had drifted. Two or three minutes passed before he interrupted her with an idea.

  "I'll make you a deal," he said, pinning her pretty green eyes with a riveting gaze.

  "I'm listening."

  "You promise me you'll finish that degree, however you have to do it."

  "I promise."

  "And … " He held up a finger for emphasis. "You don't join the military."

  "But … "

  "If you promise me those two things, I might know a way for you to contribute to the war effort without having to put on a uniform."

  Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. A little smile played across her lips.

  "How?"

  "While you were talking I remembered a conversation I had a few weeks ago with someone in the Polygon. We've been fighting the Sirians for six years, and believe it or not, no one has taken the trouble to indoctrinate our troops about the Sirian people. They're looking into a program to put together educational materials for our fighting forces."

  "I would've thought they did that first thing!"

  "You would think so. But apparently the first few years they were so concerned with recruitment and combat training that no one thought much about anything else. Right now all the troops get is propaganda about what animals the Sirians are, but most people don't know the first thing about them otherwise."

  "That isn't too surprising. Most people on Terra don't know about the people on Mars, or any of the other Federation worlds."

  Henry nodded, finishing his wine.

  "You can imagine what happens when our people run into Sirian prisoners. They expect them to be illiterate and eat raw meat, but they're not like that. They're just people who happen to live in a different star system. It's a little disconcerting for our troops."

  "So what's the Polygon looking for?"

  "Factual instruction. Just the sort of stuff you've been studying. I'm thinking you might be just the face they're looking for to put on the instructional holos. Even if the troops find the material boring, that red hair and those green eyes will at least get their attention."

  She blushed and he grinned.

  "So … interested?"

  She stared at him thoughtfully for a few seconds.

  "Is it a sure thing?"

  "No. I'd have to make a few calls. But when a senior senator makes a suggestion, people at least listen. I'd say it's got a chance."

  Regina shrugged, then nodded.

  "It would be interesting. It might not last very long, though."

  "Who knows? Once you've recorded the material, they might have something else worthwhile for you to do. At least you'd stay in the Solar System, and I wouldn't have to worry about losing you. I don't want to go through what Oliver Lincoln did when Johnny was killed. This would give you a chance to help the war effort without getting shot at."

  "Okay, Daddy. See if you can set it up. If the job is open, I'll take it."

  "And you'll finish your studies?"

  "Yes."

  "And you won't join th
e service?"

  Regina crossed her heart and held up two fingers in a solemn oath.

  "I swear," she said.

  He smiled with relief.

  "Good. I don't want you doing anything dangerous."

  Chapter 5

  Monday, 15 October, 0227 (PCC) – Bradbury City, Mars, Solar System

  Mars had been terraformed to increase the pressure and oxygen in the atmosphere, but it was the biggest planet by far on which the technique had been tried. The procedure had worked, but was far from complete. One could now breathe on Mars without a pressure suit, but the effect was about equal to an altitude of twelve thousand feet on Terra. Several decades would be required to finish the job.

  Rico Martinez stared out the Solarglas window of the military hospital at the red, almost featureless plain that stretched away to the horizon. The hospital sat two miles outside of Bradbury, one of the larger cities on Mars. The hospital's location had been a lucky choice — the building had been spared when Bradbury was bombed. Rico was looking the wrong way to see the city, but it didn't matter. The very fact that he was alive to see anything at all was something of a miracle.

  His back still hurt like hell, and he would require another surgery to finish the repair on it. He'd been here several months already, and though his daily routine was more than a little boring, he was really in no hurry to leave. His one brief brush with combat had been enough to last him a lifetime, and he had no great desire to get back into action.

  He still wasn't sure how he'd survived. The last thing he remembered clearly was the lander burning above him as it twisted through the Titanian sky, while he fell away toward oblivion below. When they found him, he was told, he'd been tangled in his emergency chute, which had somehow activated in time to save his life. Parachutes were so ancient that no one used them any more, except for extreme emergencies, but the Star Marines had equipped their drop troops with them as a part of their standard gear … just in case. Thankfully, the chute had done its job.