Starfist: Hangfire by David Sherman & Dan Cragg Page A
Authors: David Sherman & Dan Cragg
Tags: Military science fiction
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alcove that served as a living room just off his sleeping compartment. Bachelor NCO quarters at Camp Ellis were comfortable but cramped.
"I had a little talk with Sergeant Major Shiro this afternoon," he began, nodding in the direction of the FIST sergeant major's room, just down the hall from where they were sitting. "Did you know Brigadier Sturgeon's gone back to HQ at Fargo?"
Top Myer's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He glanced over at Bass, who shook his head slowly. "The word we got was he took home leave. Fargo? Was he called back?" A worried expression crossed the first sergeant's face, and Bass leaned forward anxiously. The character of a FIST was determined by its commander. Thirty-fourth FIST was the best strike team in the Corps because Brigadier Sturgeon could bring out the best in a Marine. If he was being reassigned, that certainly was news, and it would affect every man in the unit.
"He took home leave to go back to HQMC and talk to the Commandant," Parant announced slowly.
The others just stared at him. Take home leave to go on official business? That was unprecedented.
"Something's not right in this universe, and he took it upon himself to go back to Earth and find out about it. I don't need to tell you, we've got Marines in this FIST who are way beyond their scheduled rotation dates. Way beyond. That's unprecedented. We are being deliberately isolated on Thorsfinni's World, and the brigadier wants to know why." Parant paused and took a sip of beer. "Gentlemen, I think it's got something to do with Lima Company and its deployments to Society 437 and Avionia.
"Now I don't know what you did on those deployments and I don't want to know," Parant continued,
"but no Marine commander would ever, I mean ever, quarantine a whole combat unit just because some of its Marines had gone on a hush-hush mission somewhere. Negative. So if this does have something to do with your company, it means someone very—very—high up is fucking with us."
"And the brigadier's gone all the way back to Earth to find out about it." Top Myer shook his head.
"That's only what I'd expect him to do."
Sergeant Major Parant took a long drink of his beer. "That's not all," he announced. "Colonel Ramadan got a message from Fleet this afternoon. Charlie, the Commandant himself has issued verbal orders assigning three men from your platoon TAD to some—some," he shrugged, "nowhere-place for an unspecified period of time. No explanation, just do it."
"Who are they?" Bass set his beer carefully on the table. A cold knot of fear was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.
"That new corporal of yours, Pasquin, and lance corporals Dean and Claypoole. A whole fire team."
Oh God, Bass thought, they talked! They're going to Darkside and this "temporary additional duty"
crap is just the Corps' way of handling it quietly!
"Captain Conorado will have battalion orders on his desk first thing in the morning," Parant continued.
"I just thought you should know."
"Well, I've been in the Corps all day," Top Myer said, "and this is not the first time I've been told to jump through my ass. So we'll get those lads ready to go, won't we, Charlie? And they're keepin' us all here on Thorsfinni's World till we croak?" He shrugged. "That ain't so bad, long's I got Charlie Bass commanding my third platoon." He laid his hand on Bass's shoulder.
Bass smiled weakly. Hell, he thought, before long they'll have the whole damned FIST in that penal colony! Then he did smile. A pissed-off Marine FIST on Darkside? Worst mistake those Ministry of Justice farts could ever make!
Captain Conorado sat at his console, reviewing Company L's training schedule for the next month. A block of three days had been set aside for low-gravity training on a navy vessel in orbit around Thorsfinni's World. Marine Corps regulations required that every Marine undergo the training annually unless excused by his commander. He was about to ask for a personnel status projection for
"I had a little talk with Sergeant Major Shiro this afternoon," he began, nodding in the direction of the FIST sergeant major's room, just down the hall from where they were sitting. "Did you know Brigadier Sturgeon's gone back to HQ at Fargo?"
Top Myer's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He glanced over at Bass, who shook his head slowly. "The word we got was he took home leave. Fargo? Was he called back?" A worried expression crossed the first sergeant's face, and Bass leaned forward anxiously. The character of a FIST was determined by its commander. Thirty-fourth FIST was the best strike team in the Corps because Brigadier Sturgeon could bring out the best in a Marine. If he was being reassigned, that certainly was news, and it would affect every man in the unit.
"He took home leave to go back to HQMC and talk to the Commandant," Parant announced slowly.
The others just stared at him. Take home leave to go on official business? That was unprecedented.
"Something's not right in this universe, and he took it upon himself to go back to Earth and find out about it. I don't need to tell you, we've got Marines in this FIST who are way beyond their scheduled rotation dates. Way beyond. That's unprecedented. We are being deliberately isolated on Thorsfinni's World, and the brigadier wants to know why." Parant paused and took a sip of beer. "Gentlemen, I think it's got something to do with Lima Company and its deployments to Society 437 and Avionia.
"Now I don't know what you did on those deployments and I don't want to know," Parant continued,
"but no Marine commander would ever, I mean ever, quarantine a whole combat unit just because some of its Marines had gone on a hush-hush mission somewhere. Negative. So if this does have something to do with your company, it means someone very—very—high up is fucking with us."
"And the brigadier's gone all the way back to Earth to find out about it." Top Myer shook his head.
"That's only what I'd expect him to do."
Sergeant Major Parant took a long drink of his beer. "That's not all," he announced. "Colonel Ramadan got a message from Fleet this afternoon. Charlie, the Commandant himself has issued verbal orders assigning three men from your platoon TAD to some—some," he shrugged, "nowhere-place for an unspecified period of time. No explanation, just do it."
"Who are they?" Bass set his beer carefully on the table. A cold knot of fear was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.
"That new corporal of yours, Pasquin, and lance corporals Dean and Claypoole. A whole fire team."
Oh God, Bass thought, they talked! They're going to Darkside and this "temporary additional duty"
crap is just the Corps' way of handling it quietly!
"Captain Conorado will have battalion orders on his desk first thing in the morning," Parant continued.
"I just thought you should know."
"Well, I've been in the Corps all day," Top Myer said, "and this is not the first time I've been told to jump through my ass. So we'll get those lads ready to go, won't we, Charlie? And they're keepin' us all here on Thorsfinni's World till we croak?" He shrugged. "That ain't so bad, long's I got Charlie Bass commanding my third platoon." He laid his hand on Bass's shoulder.
Bass smiled weakly. Hell, he thought, before long they'll have the whole damned FIST in that penal colony! Then he did smile. A pissed-off Marine FIST on Darkside? Worst mistake those Ministry of Justice farts could ever make!
Captain Conorado sat at his console, reviewing Company L's training schedule for the next month. A block of three days had been set aside for low-gravity training on a navy vessel in orbit around Thorsfinni's World. Marine Corps regulations required that every Marine undergo the training annually unless excused by his commander. He was about to ask for a personnel status projection for
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