II. Hard Rules

Collin lowered himself back down to his pad across from where Carrie had hovered over her pack. "I sent my Privates, Symms and Crow, to find our Trainee puppies and make sure they didn't get into any trouble. We've been here at Liberty Base for about 3 months, just doing pick up dirty work missions. We lost a few guys a while back, so I guess they're getting us back up to strength and a steady slot at Omaha." She nodded.

He was still judging her as she removed her jacket and then settled on her pack so she didn't have to sit on the damp floor. Even with her injuries she moved with efficiency. He'd thought the jacket had made her shoulders just seem wide, but now, only in her t-shirt and fatigue pants, he realized she probably needed that to haul around those big tank killing rifles. She wasn't bulky, more like the senior swim team captain he'd had a crush on freshman year of high school, right before Judgment Day. Though, he noted, Carrie at least had some hips.

She was also patterned with bruises now turning blue and red. All up her right arm and her neck was what he could see, and he could imagine what he couldn't. "Can you tell me what happened on that op? Or is it still under wraps?" he asked, picking casually at a fingernail, but there was nothing casual about the question.

She'd watched him as he'd taken her in, waiting, knowing the question was coming. "Details aren't important." She made a dismissive gesture. "Suffice it to say Rule #1 is the spotter doesn't leave your side; your rifle's not good in a close fight. He has the back up weapon. Rule #2 is that even the best trained monkeys go ape shit occasionally and don't do what they're supposed to. Rule #2 happens, and your spotter goes all Charge of the Light Brigade and gets himself killed with the rest of the squad, and leaves you all by your lonesome and just damned lucky to be alive."

Collin raised an eyebrow, "You don't seem too worked up about it." Maybe she was dead inside and just had a funny way of showing it.

Carrie's forehead creased and she rubbed it, "Oh, don't get me wrong. I care. I just -don't- get worked up about it. Rule #3, people will always die on you."

He could only silently agree, and wondered where the heck Symms and Crow were. "You have a lot of rules, Porter."

She leaned back against the wall and made a pillow of her jacket, "They're called 'Carrie's Rules to Live By'," she said with a low chuckle, "Because, I want to live. If you don't mind, you can call me Carrie. I've never been one for formalities. I always call everyone else by their last name, though. I don't have a rule number for that".

They heard the commotion coming down the tunnel and Collin knew that Crow and Symms were returning with their trainees, Klein and Forrow. He often felt they had to get this loud inside so that they could be as good as they were at being quiet outside. They could walk on jingle bells in the junkyard and not make a sound, but put them underground and you heard them coming from four intersections down.

Collin stood up and dryly announced, "Bring in the clowns. Privates Dave Crow and Jack Symms, and Trainees Aral Klein and Devin Forrow." Pointing in turn to a tall, wiry man with a shaved head, the tall, barrel-chested one and two thin boys that could barely reach her chin. She figured they were 15; that was when they took trainees, and these boys looked very green. Then Collin proved her assumption right about the Asian boy's name, "Someone found Devin wandering around after Judgment Day, too young to know his name".

Carrie took their scrutiny and shook hands around as Collin introduced her, "Corporal Carrie Porter." The Trainees ogled her, but she noticed it was her bruises they were wide eyed at. She knew Symms and Crow were aware those came with the territory. She remembered being that wide eyed trainee 10 years ago, just 3 years after Judgment Day. "Y'all can call me Carrie."

"Y'all!" Both Crow and Symms laughed and slapped their knees, "Where are you from?"

"Omaha Base, haven't y'all heard?" She replied coyly. Y'all was a Southernism she had never dropped. It was part of her mother and father. Stuck here so far away from home, she had to retain it, even though everyone laughed at it. So she played it up, even though she really didn't have the distinct accent of where she'd come from. "My family was from Tennessee. We were on vacation." She gave them a straight faced answer, and introductions seemed to be over.

Collin turned to address the trainees. Symms and Crow settled down on their pads and started passing a bottle back and forth. Carrie's strength was starting to lag, and whatever they'd given her for the pain was dragging on her, too. She dug around in her pack; she wanted to know what they'd deemed to supply her with. They'd just given her the pack in Med and told her where to go. Everything she possessed before was with her on that mission, and it'd been left on that hill when she'd been dragged away, straight to Med. Or, she'd assumed so, because it wasn't to be seen again. Not that she had much of value, no one did anymore, and she had always travelled light, all scouts did. What you did value were things like pictures and personal things, and who'd steal a picture of your mother? But, she didn't have a picture of her mother, or anyone. Anyway, her favorite thing she'd lugged around for two years was left on that hill; it was a cold piece of black metal, now probably in the shape of a pretzel. She stopped that line of thought and started a search for her bedding. She really was getting tired, and thought to herself, "Damn, those guys were loud".

"Hey, Carrie. You want some of this hooch?" Crow was holding a bottle next to her ear and it was obvious he'd been deep down in it.

"No, Med gave me pharmaceuticals that would have me drooling if I drank any of that." She tried to keep her mood light.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind seeing you drool," he drawled.

She forcefully responded, not even looking up, "I don't mess around with teammates!"

Everyone's heads turned.

"Oh... sorry, really. I'm just joking... I joke a lot." He looked remorsefully down at her as bent over her pack. Alcohol got the better of common sense, if he'd ever had any in situations like that. Her T-shirt rode up and he spied the rampant lion tattoo. He reached down and said, "Hey, what's that for?"

She shot up and had his hand bent behind him and his face against the wall on the other side of the tunnel before anyone realized what was going on, "Don't ever touch me unless you have permission!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Collin was up a millisecond later, "Crow that wasn't very smart. Carrie has rules. You guys move your party to another intersection. Puppies, it's bedtime"

As quickly as she'd grabbed him and moved, she let him go. She wasn't normally that quick tempered, but she didn't like people touching her when she wasn't prepared. No soldier did. She went back and sat down with her pack and put her elbows on her knees and covered her face. "Good move, Carrie. Now they think you're nuts. And, Fuck! That hurt." she thought.

Collin squatted down in front of her, "I don't blame you. He gets loud and obnoxious, but he's good at what he does. I'll definitely teach him a lesson I think he'll learn. I bet that hurt."

She couldn't help but grimly laugh, and that hurt, too. She looked up and rubbed her face, "More ways than one."

She looked to the ceiling, and sighed, "I'm not normally that short tempered, and I like getting into my cups. But, I'm also not normally this bruised up and dragged around. And, honestly, I feel naked without my weapon. I realized I was rooting around in my pack, knowing nothing in there was mine, but thinking something was missing. I haven't been without a weapon since I was 15 years old."

He nodded and reached behind his back, "I like to carry a little toy in reserve just in case. Pretend it's a teddy bear." He handed over a Glock. "We'll visit the armory tomorrow."

She gladly accepted his gift for the night. It was better than a lover snugged up next to her - not that she'd ever allowed anyone that close.

"My family was from Tennessee. We were on vacation." She gave them a straight faced answer.

Collin happened to look over towards Aral's pad and turned with the Trainees to dress them down them for not taking care of their gear.

"You think this is the proper way to stow your gear?" he asked.

He was crouched down pointing to Aral that he'd laid his rifle in a small puddle, when he heard Carrie setting down another rule. He swiveled on the balls of his feet to watch carefully to make sure the situation didn't get heated. Carrie returned to her task pink faced, but not appearing angry, then he saw Crow about to show his ass. He was amazed at the speed from the moment Crow's hand brushed her to when she pinned him. Collin wouldn't have been able to stop her motion.

Collin could tell if she'd really wanted to hurt Crow, not just send a message, she would have. Her quick release and retreat showed she was embarrassed and he needed to get down and straighten things out. He didn't need friction in the team. Once he'd established that Crow was a stupid drunk that he would lay down the law on, he was pretty sure he'd gotten that taken care of. It also dawned on him, he'd never slept without a weapon since he'd gotten one, either.