In Every Clime and Place (17 page)

“Five by five.”

“Now get out. Send Corporal Sabatini in.”

“Aye, Gunny.” I paused at the hatch. “I’m sorry, Gunny.”

“Me too.”

As I stepped out, he called me back. “Collins!”

“Gunny?”

“I guess if you’re determined to fuck up your career, she’s a good choice,” he said with a pained smile.

“Thank you, Gunny.”

As I walked back to the squadbay, I felt the knot in my stomach loosen just a bit.

USS
TRIPOLI
/MARS STATION

We set a course for Mars, the headquarters for the planetary fleet. We were scheduled to receive replacements, supplies, and new orders. Our prisoners would be handed over to Higher Authority, and we would be sent back to the vast bleakness with a pat on the back and instructions to go get some more.

In truth, great and momentous forces were at work, which would have far-reaching consequences for us personally, the Corps as a whole, the government and intelligence community, and the spacefaring population at large. In our position at the bottom of the information food chain, we were largely ignorant of these developments.

We were just pissed off.

Lt Mitchell was angry and frustrated because his injury prevented him from fully resuming his duties. He spent a good deal of his time at war with the Navy medical staff, attempting to win his freedom.

Lt Evers smoothly took over the duties of temporary platoon leader, but was experiencing some difficulty as intelligence officer. Being Lt Evers, he bore his suffering in silence, so none of us knew what the problem was, only that there was something unusual going on at the Battalion or Regimental level.

Sgt McCray was abnormally surly after being told that he would have to undergo extensive therapy for his shoulder before the docs would even consider returning him to combat-ready status.

Gunny Taylor was displeased with me and Sabatini. We had thrown the mother of all monkey wrenches into his neat and orderly concept of rifle platoon personnel dynamics. He had little patience for social complications. He was the kind of career NCO who honestly believed that if the Marine Corps wanted you to have a wife, they’d issue you one. I thought of pointing out that the Corps had seen fit to put Sabatini in my fire team, but I honestly believe he’d have killed me.

To be fair, I was no bargain to work with myself. We had a short squad, a new corporal, and a very demanding gunnery sergeant as squad leader. I had to adapt my team tactics to a three-man configuration and be ready to help Sabatini out when she ran into a situation that was new to her. And I had to do it without igniting either my own lustful impulses or Gunny Taylor’s suspicions. We were both abiding by the gunny’s edict banning any inappropriate conduct while on board the ship, but it was a serious strain. So, to sum up, I was overworked, understaffed, closely watched by my exacting superiors, and horny as hell. All in all, not a pleasant mix.

On the plus side of the ledger, Sabatini also defied the order to break up. That meant more to me than I can express. The fact that she must have been feeling some of the same emotions as I was, was like coming in from the cold to a warm, familiar home.

I have to give credit to Johnson and O’Rourke. They took all the extra duty with less bitching than normal, and were more patient with me than I was with them. They sensed that something was bothering me and adjusted to my temper to help me out. They were a good team, looking out for me when I needed it. I hoped to God they didn’t guess the whole situation.

The ray of light at the end of the tunnel was the anticipated landing on Mars. The platoon would get replacements which would alleviate the short-handedness, we would be relieved of the prisoners, and thus spared extra guard duty, and we would get some R&R.

Marines always view approaching R&R with feverish anticipation, but I was looking forward to it like a man dying in the desert sighting an oasis.

I had never been this hot for any woman. Part of it, I will admit, was the situation. The fact that we had only just made our leap so shortly before the gunny slammed the door. It was like discovering booze the day before prohibition.

She was doing well as a team leader. Bauer, having tested the limits of insubordination, resumed his duties with his usual diligence. Li had somewhat recovered from Cpl Chan’s death, performing unimpeded by grief, but there was a hard look to his face now. He wanted to take out the pain of his loss on some pirates. Revenge might be a poor motivation, but it worked. I won’t make any judgment on it. We needed Li to do his job, his anger helped him do it, so it was a good thing. I don’t know what a psychologist would think of it, but stubborn pride and anger got me through some tight spots where higher sentiments might not have served.

In the midst of all this, Sabatini and I received a summons to Lt Evers’ office.

I felt my stomach sink at the news. I noticed her face go a little paler than usual. The squad raised a few eyebrows when the announcement was made. Both corporals getting called before the acting platoon leader did not bode well.

I put my cards down and heaved myself to my feet. “Away all boats! C’mon Marine, ya wanna live forever?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” she smirked and rose to follow me.

We entered the office and halted the regulation two paces from the lieutenant’s desk. When he returned our greeting and told us to stand at ease, I noticed he was smiling. This was a good sign. He was a cold-blooded son of a bitch, but not a sadist. If he were going to tear off stripes left and right, he’d have been unhappy about it. I had no doubt that he’d shoot us dead for the good of the Corps, but he’d do it with stern-faced regret.

“I called you in here for a couple of reasons. First, you two are doing an outstanding job with your teams. Third squad is coming together real well, especially considering you are the most short-handed. Corporal Sabatini, you are doing a fine job working with a new team, and a short one. You’re adapting real well. I’m going to recommend your promotion be permanent. Collins, you’re still doing a decent job despite having a rookie and O’Rourke in your team.”

That’s the thing about Terry. Officers can’t stand him, sergeants tolerate him because his abilities outweigh his insubordination, but if you have to share a fighting hole with him, you love him.

“I don’t know if you had your heart set on it,” he continued, “but you aren’t getting the promotion to squad leader. It’s got nothing to do with your abilities, it’s just that we are expecting something big and I want you where you’re doing the most good. When we get our replacements and reorganize, Corporal LeBlanc from Sergeant Pilsudski’s squad will come over and replace Sergeant McCray. Hope you don’t take it personally.”

Hell no. I was expecting to be punished. A lack of promotion was hardly something to cry about. “I’ll get over it, sir,” I smiled.

“The good news is that third squad is getting the first shore leave. We’ll be on Mars a few days, and everybody will get 48 hours leave. Your Marines will get it before the bartenders raise the price of drinks, the security doubles the patrols and the whole planet hides the booze and hookers.”

I smiled at this news. There was a certain amount of truth to it. The platoon’s arrival would be greeted first with greedy anticipation by the bars, shops, hotels and brothels that inevitably fill a port city, be it for ocean or spacegoing vessels. Their tune would change quickly. A few days in port after so long out in space would be an opportunity for us to indulge all the vices we had spared for the voyage. Our intent was to cram as much into 48 hours as possible. This might have to last us six months.

The squad was thrilled with the news. Anxious not to lose their privilege of first squad out, they were picture perfect Marines for the next five days. Johnson had just turned twenty and was howling to get near some female company. I noticed Terry spending some extra time in front of the mirror himself. I even caught Li smiling a few times.

After we docked and before we boarded the shuttle to the surface, Gunny Taylor pulled me aside. “Take care of my Marines on this trip, Collins.”

“You’re not coming, Gunny?”

He shook his head. “Too much to do.”

I very reluctantly asked, “You sure you don’t need a hand?”

He gave me a sour smile. “I ain’t that big an asshole. You and her have both been good since I chewed you out. Go enjoy the next forty-eight hours. Get it out of your systems for a while. Me and the lieutenants got stuff to consider. You just make sure you don’t lose half the squad.”

“Aye aye, Gunny.”

“Now get outta here before I decide I do need your help.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. Ma Collins didn’t raise any real stupid kids.

We hauled out our dress uniforms. Terry looked at his new Purple Heart and smiled. That should be good for a few free brews or an extra dance. Sabatini had sewn her corporal chevrons on her blue jacket and the red “blood stripe” of an NCO down the sides of her skirt. I wasn’t used to seeing her in a skirt. The combat uniform was no different for men or women, but the dress uniforms retained the old styles. I think she looked sexy in blues, but I may be biased.

The shuttle ride was less than an hour, but seemed like days. We were all looking at landfall like a wolf looks at a lame and very nervous sheep. Finally, the ship shuddered to a halt and the green light came on. The hatches opened to shore leave instead of a battle. This was a nice switch.

Dressed to kill, figuratively instead of literally for a change, we made our way down the gangway. Under the dusty dome, the lights of Mars Central Station glared their garish greeting.

The place always amazed me. Less than a hundred years had passed since the first unmanned probe landed on the planet. Barely forty years ago the first mines were opened. With the snowball effect of technology, less than ten years later the mining operation was expanding to the asteroid belt. It was the new Gold Rush. Mars became a boom town on a grand scale. As more and more companies sent mining crews out, others realized the money to be made serving the great open market. Liquor, gambling and prostitution were probably the biggest moneymakers, but any Earth-style comfort fetched a high price from the captive audience of laboring exiles.

Territorial disputes and the threat of piracy led the Navy to build a port and the Army to station a division on the planet. Some soul who dearly loved irony sent the First Infantry Division, the Big Red One. I guess the Big Red Planet was a good place for them. The added military and government personnel fueled the local economy.

Then the nanotech revolution happened. Factories on Earth discovered that they could get results just as impressive without all the cost of mining and shipping ore millions of miles through the solar system. Mining companies’ stocks plummeted. Cutbacks were made, unions rolled up their sleeves to take on management over conditions. What nobody wanted to admit was that the market was gone. It was like fighting for control of the wheel of a sinking ship.

Government reaction was sadly typical. They poured money into failing industries to help cushion the blow. Most of the independent governments of Earth had some stake in the asteroid mines, so they didn’t let the fact that the economic equation was a losing one bother them. The end result was that the mining companies slowly sank into debt, but were shackled to deals that forced them to keep open, throwing good money after bad. The labor situation got worse. Unemployment, crime and finally riots grew on the new outposts.

The upshot was, we got a lot of work.

Mars central was still a busy place. It was the hub for all travel from Earth. The bars and hotels still did a huge business, only now most of their customers were government officials, military, or labor organizers. So long as the money was genuine, the attractions made no distinction. The sprawling spaceport was a little like a cross between Ellis Island and Las Vegas, with a Calcutta slum thrown in for stark contrast.

When we exited the shuttle at the docking port on Mars, all decked out in our dress blues, gleaming brass and shined shoes, the many temptations of shore leave greeted us immediately. I insisted that we go grab some chow and a few beers as a squad before my flock scattered to the winds.

“But Corp,” Bauer complained, “I got plans.”

“Yeah, Mick,” Johnson agreed, “can’t keep the ladies waitin’. They been without me for so long, it’s cruel to prolong that.”

“Look, you got two days to collect diseases. One meal, on me. I want to make sure you dumb jarheads know the routine for shore leave so you don’t get robbed blind, beat up and thrown in the brig. I spent a lot of time and effort training you and I don’t want to have to start fresh with a new squad.”

I wanted them to ease into leave. Dinner would allow me to set up a buddy system for them and arrange a meeting time and place so none of them got lost or left behind. We stood as much chance of losing Marines here as we did in battle.

I picked a little place I knew where the drinks weren’t watered, the food was decent and the waitresses were just waitresses. It was a little pricey, but that was a reasonable concession for the safety it afforded. It was a branch of a big hotel chain on Earth and didn’t want its reputation to suffer, so the managers made sure they didn’t screw customers too badly.

After a few beers and some chow that hadn’t been worked over by the Navy, I outlined the situation. I didn’t want my charges falling prey to the streets of the city.

“OK, everyone gets a buddy. O’Rourke and Johnson, you two keep an eye on each other. Li and Bauer, you do the same. Stick together, know where your buddy is. If your buddy gets drunk and passes out, you get him someplace safe. Lose your buddy and I’ll feed you to Gunny Taylor. Have fun, that’s why you’re here, but don’t cause too much trouble. You all got condoms issued to you. Use ’em. You have no idea what ship was docked here last week. I know the girls of Mars love you and you alone, but don’t bet your pecker on it. Lance Corporal O’Rourke knows the safe places to drink. Don’t go to some dive where you don’t know what’s getting slipped into your glass. Bottled or canned beer is your safest bet. You want to buy mixed drinks, do it here.”

“Aye aye, Mom,” Terry said.

“Just watch out for each other. Don’t start fights with the Army, but by God don’t take any shit from ’em. Any Army equipment not nailed down is to be appropriated for use by a real service. The US government paid good money for that equipment, no point in letting it rust away on base. Now go out there and have a good R&R.”