serve won’t understand—which is true enough about some things but will have bugger all to do with most of what she’ll be referencing. She’ll join a veteran’s organization and organize the shit out of it. Eventually, she’ll run it.”
The major grinned. “Seems harmless.”
“Unless she’s heading for officer’s training, sir.”
His grin broadened. “I’ve had second lieutenants just like her.”
“Did they survive their second battle?”
He opened his mouth and closed it again while Torin piled hat and gloves on top of her folded bodyliner. Years in it had given her enough familiarity with the one-piece garment. She was able to pull gear for both herself and the major she knew would do, leaving only the bootliners to be fitted. It was one thing if a sleeve was a bit long and another thing entirely for footwear to go wrong. Marines were infantry. They used their feet.
Major Svensson stared thoughtfully into the crowd of half-dressed recruits. “Now I feel like we should hack Kichar’s files and direct her away from officer training if that’s where she’s headed.”
“She’ll survive a lot longer if she’s never in command,” Torin agreed, glancing over at where the recruit in question—already in her combats while most of her platoon were still working out the seals in the bodyliner—was reaching for her vest. Overachievers were only a pain in the ass until they became responsible for other lives. Then they became dangerous because they tended to demand those they led share their views. Sometimes, experience dulled down the shine a bit, and the Corps got its money’s worth. More often, because at least they led from the front, they didn’t last long.
Beyhn nodded once in approval at Kichar as he passed her—she did, after all, have the fastest gear-up time—and then continued moving among the recruits, touching a shoulder here, adjusting a seal there. He was touching a lot. That was usual for a di’Taykan, and Torin would have thought nothing of it except he seemed…
Fussy?
He was a lot more involved than his junior DIs, going so far as to wave Sergeant Jiir off in order to adjust a Krai bootliner himself when it would have made more sense to have Jiir do it. Torin made a mental note to make certain the Krai sergeant checked the fit later. They weren’t her platoon, but they were Marines and Krai feet with their opposable toes required a specialist’s touch.
Had the staff sergeant been so
involved
when she’d been training?
Actually, when she was in training, she’d been too damned intimidated to notice.
“All right.” Beyhn moved back to one end of the VTA’s troop compartment and touched the big screen. “The purpose of this exercise is to move from our drop point here to our pickup here.” A second touch and the pickup point lit green. “We’ll be covering 340 kilometers of mixed terrain—you’re getting off easy because we’ll be escorting a civilian. There are three villages en route; we may control them, we may not. During our stroll, systems representing the
Others
will be trying to stop us. We’ll be trying to take them out. Simple really. Even you lot should be able to do it. This map is being loaded into your slates as I speak. I’d suggest you familiarize yourselves with it, but I shouldn’t have to remind you of such basic survival prep by now, should I? Any questions?”
“Sir!” A short Human, so skinny he’d look like a mushroom with his helmet on, stepped out of the crowd. “Is it likely to snow while we’re there, sir?”
“Do I look like a weather satellite, McGuinty? There’s snow on the ground now, and it’s winter; the chances are good it’ll snow. You want to know more than that, check the data yourself.”
“Sir! Will we be able to access the actual weather satellite from the planet, sir?”
“No, you will not be able to access any of the satellites from the planet. I will. Whether I’ll bother is another question.” Half
The major grinned. “Seems harmless.”
“Unless she’s heading for officer’s training, sir.”
His grin broadened. “I’ve had second lieutenants just like her.”
“Did they survive their second battle?”
He opened his mouth and closed it again while Torin piled hat and gloves on top of her folded bodyliner. Years in it had given her enough familiarity with the one-piece garment. She was able to pull gear for both herself and the major she knew would do, leaving only the bootliners to be fitted. It was one thing if a sleeve was a bit long and another thing entirely for footwear to go wrong. Marines were infantry. They used their feet.
Major Svensson stared thoughtfully into the crowd of half-dressed recruits. “Now I feel like we should hack Kichar’s files and direct her away from officer training if that’s where she’s headed.”
“She’ll survive a lot longer if she’s never in command,” Torin agreed, glancing over at where the recruit in question—already in her combats while most of her platoon were still working out the seals in the bodyliner—was reaching for her vest. Overachievers were only a pain in the ass until they became responsible for other lives. Then they became dangerous because they tended to demand those they led share their views. Sometimes, experience dulled down the shine a bit, and the Corps got its money’s worth. More often, because at least they led from the front, they didn’t last long.
Beyhn nodded once in approval at Kichar as he passed her—she did, after all, have the fastest gear-up time—and then continued moving among the recruits, touching a shoulder here, adjusting a seal there. He was touching a lot. That was usual for a di’Taykan, and Torin would have thought nothing of it except he seemed…
Fussy?
He was a lot more involved than his junior DIs, going so far as to wave Sergeant Jiir off in order to adjust a Krai bootliner himself when it would have made more sense to have Jiir do it. Torin made a mental note to make certain the Krai sergeant checked the fit later. They weren’t her platoon, but they were Marines and Krai feet with their opposable toes required a specialist’s touch.
Had the staff sergeant been so
involved
when she’d been training?
Actually, when she was in training, she’d been too damned intimidated to notice.
“All right.” Beyhn moved back to one end of the VTA’s troop compartment and touched the big screen. “The purpose of this exercise is to move from our drop point here to our pickup here.” A second touch and the pickup point lit green. “We’ll be covering 340 kilometers of mixed terrain—you’re getting off easy because we’ll be escorting a civilian. There are three villages en route; we may control them, we may not. During our stroll, systems representing the
Others
will be trying to stop us. We’ll be trying to take them out. Simple really. Even you lot should be able to do it. This map is being loaded into your slates as I speak. I’d suggest you familiarize yourselves with it, but I shouldn’t have to remind you of such basic survival prep by now, should I? Any questions?”
“Sir!” A short Human, so skinny he’d look like a mushroom with his helmet on, stepped out of the crowd. “Is it likely to snow while we’re there, sir?”
“Do I look like a weather satellite, McGuinty? There’s snow on the ground now, and it’s winter; the chances are good it’ll snow. You want to know more than that, check the data yourself.”
“Sir! Will we be able to access the actual weather satellite from the planet, sir?”
“No, you will not be able to access any of the satellites from the planet. I will. Whether I’ll bother is another question.” Half
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