Gus shook his head and flared the ship at the last minute above the patrol’s position, then punched the landing ramp release. Lightning was popping all around and the thunder was deafening through his helmet.
The squad leaped from their positions and ran hard. When the last of them were exposed a tremendous blue bolt fell from the sky and danced from one Marine to the next. Puppet jerking as they screamed. Then it flared at Gus…
#
Recently “released from active duty” Governance Marine Gunner “Fancy” Nancy Stanski paused to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the Terne Station All Hands Club. She pulled at her stiff collar. Still not used to wearing these civilian clothes. Well, better get used to it, girl. I don’t think the Corps is going to offer your old job back. She was thirties, short blonde hair, pale blue eyes that crinkled when she smiled, and tall with a slim-hipped-broad-shouldered athletic build. The pagan hammer, Mjolnir, was tattooed on her right forearm. Several battle stars formed a halo around it.
Nan had struck out so far getting her current employers, miners from a rock named Lestus 884, released from quarantine. They were getting antsy at her lack of progress. She was looking for Terne Station’s Executive Officer now.
She walked up to the bartender and offered her hand, “Hi, Nan Stanski.” She spoke with the thick Slavic accent of northern Nakon, the Governance capital world.
“Mike” he replied as she gave him a firm handshake.
Harrison Grey pushed past without acknowledging her, “Mike, Mrs. Grey and I will be at our usual table.” He turned and walked away without waiting for a response.
Mike said, “Of course, Captain.”
Nan noticed Mike wave to an overdressed leggy blonde threading through the tables. She didn’t look too steady. “So that’s the Station CO’s wife?” Wonder what she ever saw in him?
Mike answered, “Yeah, looks like Mitzi has already been at it tonight. Her father is First Lord Admiral Falkirk McGowan, head of the whole damn Navy.”
Nan raised an eyebrow at that information and said, “Ah. Say, Mike, can you tell me if Fredrika DeWitt is here?”
“She’s the one sitting by herself, frowning at the data tablet.” He nodded toward a woman sitting alone at a nearby table as he polished a glass.
The Lieutenant actually had several tablets on the table and was working all of them.
Nan sized her up. Late twenties, brown hair in a regulation bun, still in the uniform of the day with a barely touched dinner. Cute too! “What’s she drink, Mike? Make it two.”
He poured a couple of frothy mugs of stout. Nan grabbed them and walked over.
“Mind if I join you?” Nan Stanski. Without waiting for a reply, she set one mug in front of the Lieutenant and offered a hand.
The Lieutenant looked up from her tablet, a little startled, “Uh, sure,” she shook the offered hand. “Fredrika DeWitt” she said.
Nan flashed a smile, “What do you drink, el tee?”
“Uh, Cronsburg,” replied Fredrika.
“I happen to have an extra here. You from Ransom? That’s the only place I know for Cronsburg.”
“Yes, I am,” Fredrika spoke with a posh accent to hide the fact she was actually from a backwater minor planet. She cautiously sized up Nan.
Nan began, “Fine place, Ransom, good people there. Always treated us Marines well.”
“Marine hmm, on leave?”
“Well, recently separated actually, pursuing new opportunities.”
“What kind of opportunities?” Fredrika actually welcomed the chance to ignore her tablets. Nan looked like an interesting distraction.
“Well, right now I’m working security for Sirace Mining. Pirates are making it hard for decent folks to survive. Plus, my crew is in quarantine because someone caught a cold.”
“I’ve heard some random reports. Sorry about that, the Governance is stretched pretty thin out here around Ix.”
Nan held up her hands, “Oh, I’m not here to ask any favors, just making small talk.” She raised her glass to Fredrika, who responded in kind. “Cheers to Ransom.”
The smiling pair had just finished a second round when they heard shouting coming through the doors. A group of regular Army came in laughing loudly. Their badges identified them as Dragger’s Raiders.
“Oh great, these assholes!” Fredrika said under her breath. “They’ve been causing trouble here for a week.”
“Hey XO!” one of the group called out and stumbled over to the table. “Who’s your friend? Mind if we join you?” the man didn’t wait for a reply before plopping down in an empty chair. “Hey, look who it is fellas, our friend Lieutenant DeWitt.”
The group smelled of stale beer and trouble. Nan could see this wasn’t their first stop of the night.
One of the Raiders noticed Nan’s tattoo. “Well, look here guys, we got ourselves a genuine war hero.” He grabbed her forearm and lifted it to show everyone her tattoo.
Fredrika jumped up, put the Raider in a wrist lock, and frog marched him out. Nan broke into involuntary laughter at the sight of a determined Dewitt, who barely came up to the guy’s shoulder, booting the drunk through the door. The bartender reached under the bar and raised a stun bat in anticipation of what he was pretty sure was going to happen next.
“Oh, think that’s funny huh, war hero?” sneered another of the Raiders. He lunged.
She batted away the punch. Unfortunately, it landed squarely on a Chief Petty Officer at the next table. The Chief yelled, spun around, and threw a roundhouse at the Raider.
Fredrika whirled at
