I. Warm Body

A heavy body plopped down on the foam mattress beside him. Sergeant Collin Wall knew just by the size who it was. Symms topped Collin's six foot frame by almost 3 inches, and his broad shoulders seemed puny compared to Symms' proportions. How a man got that big eating as little as they got he had no clue, especially with chow being so bad here at Liberty Base.

"I hear we're getting a new warm body", Symms huffed.

"Better than a cold one," Collin replied, not looking up, as he rubbed cleaning oil on his M16 with an M203 grenade launcher attachment. "Have any better info than that?" As much as he'd enjoyed the solitude, he wanted information.

"Sniper", replied Crow who'd followed Symms in. He handed Collin a plate of beans and rice. Collin nodded thanks at the food, but grimaced at the gray contents on the dented aluminum plate.

"Never had one of those under me before," Collin grunted between bites of the bland food.

Snipers were an uncommon specialty in The Resistance. In the thirteen years since Judgment Day the war had essentially been entrenched tank and guerilla warfare. Snipers had evolved from one shot, one kill people killers to Scout-Sniper teams that did more long range missions and they killed the machines.

"Keep talking. You're normally a group of magpies. You've obviously been doing some chattering in the chow line," he ordered.

Crow and Symms exchanged a grim look, Crow answered "Scout-sniper squad from Omaha Base was wiped out near here... except for one. We're getting 'em. Name's Porter, a girl... err, woman."

"Never had one of them under me before either," Collin said, "Know her? Know if she's any good?" He flicked a stone out of the beans.

The magpies snickered, "Oh, I'm sure you have before, boss! I don't know if she's good, though!"

"I meant as a team member, dammit!" Collin scowled at them. A serious boy by nature, that Judgment Day had made an even quieter man, and he'd been saddled with two of the biggest jokers for underlings.

The two looked properly chastised, and Crow gave him the answer he wanted, "Don't know anyone from Omaha. She's still at Med now, got banged up, but will be over shortly I heard."

Collin had never commanded a woman, but he'd fought beside many. He never took into account whether there was a man behind the rifle or throwing the grenade, just that they had a good aim or throw. Many still saw women as the ones that made the ammo, not the ones that shot it. They were also often discounted, because it was easy for them to retire; they just got knocked up and they were out. But, that attitude only appeared underground; once you got out in the junkyard no one cared. The junkyard was the great equalizer and Collin had walked beside women who busted metal more efficiently than many of the men he knew. He knew that Crow and Symms had also, and were just being silly. However, you just don't joke about someone who lost everyone in their squad, probably her best buddies. They could commiserate with recent loss, also. Corporal Porter was filling the slot that just eight days ago was held by Ted Brandt who'd taken a plasma bolt in a fight that had also claimed one of their privates and a trainee.

He looked up when he heard Ford announce down the tunnel, "Hey, Wall! Here's your package! You'll be moving to Omaha Base in 2 days to fill in the TOE for Porter's squad". He stood to examine his new team member. He hadn't even been told more than her last name yet, and it's not like they got files on anyone. He wasn't used to much more official information unless they were briefing him on a mission. He watched her watching him; they both were playing the same game of figuring out quickly if this were a square peg trying to fit in a round hole.

All he could think at first was how clean she was compared to the dirty children that played tag around her. He knew it was because she'd just got out of Medical, but her brown hair wasn't stuck to her head like everyone's normally was and hung freely to her shoulders. Her face was pale like everyone's from lack of sunshine, but hers was painted blue and red with bruises up her right jaw, cheek and temple. He knew it would be covered in dust in a matter of a day or two. He could tell that she'd been at least 10 or 11 before Judgment Day, because, even though not tall, she was almost 5'7". She'd had enough food growing up and had built strong bones those crucial years. Lots of kids younger than that didn't get much taller now because of malnutrition.

He looked down to her jacket sleeves and checked for kill patches; you just couldn't not check for those. Sometimes he felt angry and that the patches were just a game, but Terminator kills counted meant saved lives counted- often it could tell you a lot about a person. A woman who moved liked that wouldn't have bare sleeves; she'd probably picked up a rifle as soon as they'd allowed her one. He thought she might fit in, but he'd have to see her eyes up close. If they were dead eyes, then he wasn't sure. Having had your entire squad killed around you can kill you inside. Having an already dead person on the team endangers the whole team.

Lieutenant Ford pointed down the tunnel and directed Carrie Porter down to the next intersection. "Hey, Wall! Here's your package! You'll be moving to Omaha Base in 2 days to fill in the TOE for Porter's squad", he yelled after her as she dodged human traffic in the tunnel. She nodded over her shoulder figuring Ford wasn't big on formalities, and hid the wince at the mention of her former team.

She hiked up her pack, and then regretted it when her ribs gave her a twinge but didn't let it show on her face. She saw a soldier haul himself up off the tunnel floor and watch her approach. He leaned casually against the wall and didn't hide the fact he was examining her. As she got closer she noted the three kill patches on his jacket and she mentally nodded her approval that it matched her own three.

She knew that she wouldn't be a sniper with this squad- sniper-scout teams were few and far between. Being bruised and battered and not being able to carry, let alone losing, her rifle didn't help either. This was TechCom, blowing shit up- not that she couldn't take out equipment, but she was used to doing it from cover at 2,500 meters. She wasn't sure where she'd fit in here, and she knew that she was being sized up. After the short scrutinizing walk she looked squarely at Sergeant Wall and said in her clear contralto with just a hint of a Southern accent, "Corporal Carrie Porter".

"Collin Wall. Settle down on your pack, Porter. I'd introduce you around, but as you just heard, we won't be here for long." She slung her pack down against the wall, avoiding a stream of muck. It was harder to hide that hitch from the bruised ribs and had to lean against the stained wall. "Were you ready to leave Med yet, Porter?

"They don't keep you in Med for bruised ribs, and they still give you 40lbs of kit." She gave him a wicked grin and a wink of a green eye, from where she leaned against the wall with one hand, the other against her side. "I'm not complaining, I just make this orgasmic face sometimes it feels so good."

When she was able to straighten up she lightly waved at the battered pack and stated, "I plan to trade half of it before we move out". She watched closely to see his reaction. She could always play that off as a joke if necessary if he was a "by the book" guy. However, if her judge of character was right, by the way he leaned against the wall and the scruff on his face, he wasn't. His smile that went to his hazel eyes showed that she was right, and she began to think she might be OK here, even if she wouldn't be on a sniper team for a while.