Chapter 4

"All right, let's go!" cried Jer Naddel, as the rear ramp on the assault shuttle crashed down. The men of his platoon surged forward in their battle armor. A few, the first ones out, carried only normal infantry gear; these spread out to form a perimeter. Most, however, were burdened with the heavy weapons and equipment that gave H Company its purpose.

Assault regiments were organized like ordinary infantry regiments: three battalions, each battalion with three 'rifle' companies and one heavy weapons company. The regiment also had some other assets like supply, medical, and sappers directly attached to it. Regular regiments had all that, too, but they would normally be attached to divisions and the divisions had all manner of heavy equipment including artillery and tanks to support the infantry.

But assault regiments usually operated independently and their 'logistical train' and support were much smaller. They were meant to be self-sufficient and highly mobile, able to fight on their own without the heavy support that normal regiments had. In a planetary assault they would be the first ones down, charged with securing a landing zone so that the other troops could follow.

The thing that allowed them to do this, of course, was their battle armor. A trooper in a powered suit was better protected, faster, and more heavily armed than any ordinary infantryman could hope to be. Some people had romantically likened it to an armored knight on an armored charger compared to a peasant foot soldier. It wasn't a fair comparison since even an unarmored infantryman was a highly skilled and deadly warrior; still it got the idea across. If it weren't for the enormous expense of the battle armor, everyone would probably wear them.

Still, even with their battle armor, the assault troopers needed some of the heavy support that the normal infantry had. This was where the weapons companies came in. They carried the most powerful weapons that could still be light and mobile enough to accompany an assault regiment.

The shuttles had dropped them off in a rugged and uninhabited mountain valley that the regiment used for firing exercises. Unlike the areas close to the fort, most of the valley had not been terraformed. Broad swaths were covered by the red and brown Barrayaran vegetation—or at least they were where they hadn't been torn to shreds by heavy weapons fire. "First squad, over there! Second squad, in those rocks! Third squad, with me!" commanded Jer. Today's activities would be primarily target practice, but they were supposed to act as though enemy troops were in the vicinity and act accordingly. And despite all their high-tech devices, one of the best defensive tactics was still the ancient one of finding some fat rocks to hide behind and keep your fool head down!

The first two squads carried a mix of heavy plasma arcs, man-portable rail guns and missile launchers. The third squad was equipped with even heavier weapons mounted on float-sleds. Jer led these down into a sheltered gully while the rest of his platoon deployed. A glance at the tactical display in his helmet showed him that the other two platoons of the company were also moving into position. First Platoon was equipped with rocket launchers and mortars to provide long-range indirect fire support. Second Platoon was the air defense platoon. They had automated lasers, rail guns, and missiles that were all supposed to defend the battalion from enemy aircraft, artillery, and missiles. Sometimes they did.

Jer's platoon was labeled the "Anti-Tank Platoon" but in reality it could have been better called the 'direct fire support platoon'. Yes, their primary function was to take out enemy armored vehicles, but from everything Jer had read, he could expect to be called upon to use his heavy weapons against any target the infantry couldn't handle on their own.

"H Company platoons, report your status." Captain Andronov's voice came over the command circuit. Jer glanced around and his troopers seemed to be where he wanted them. The platoon sergeant, a man named Shusterman, gave him a 'thumbs up'.

"Third Platoon, in position," he said. A few moments later the other two platoon commanders, Lieutenant Vorkerkas and Ensign Vorledge, reported the same. Jer was pleased that he'd been first, but he had to admit that the missile and air defense equipment were more clumsy to move around than his own.

"Very good," said Andronov. "Mr. Naddel, you're up first. Simulated targets will become active in sixty seconds. Get your men ready."

"Yes sir!" He switched to the platoon circuit, silently cursing when it took him two attempts. Damn, he really missed the neural interface! With the new suits all you had to do was think: Platoon Circuit and you got it. With the older suit he had to focus his eye on the appropriate box in the heads-up display projected on the inside of his helmet and tap a button inside the finger of his suit to make the choice. "Third Platoon, listen up! Target exercise will begin in forty-five seconds. Remember, this is not a free for all! Check what you are shooting at! First and second squads, don't waste your fire on heavy targets, third squad don't waste your fire on light ones. And pay attention to the IFF beacons! Sometimes they'll throw in a friendly just to trip us up." At least they'd done that to him a few times at the Academy…

"Attention Company," came Andronov's voice over the general circuit. "Weapons are free, repeat, weapons are free. Confirm one-quarter power on all weapons."

Jer called up the master status display for his platoon, but before he could even check it out Sergeant Shusterman informed him that all weapons were set at one-quarter power. Well, that was part of his job after all. Jer confirmed the power setting to Andronov. Even at one-quarter power the weapons would still obliterate an un-armored man, but the reduced levels would save wear and tear on the equipment.

The exercise began. In many ways it was like some of the video games he'd played as a kid. Colored icons appeared on the tactical display inside his helmet and the idea was to blast them as quickly as possible. Of course the big difference here was that while the targets weren't real, the weapons certainly were! The first blips appeared on his tactical display and Jer briefly stood on tip-toes to peer over the edge of the gully. The blips were also superimposed on his view of the valley. His sensors identified them as a half-dozen light recon vehicles, skimming along from left to right across his front.

"First squad, those are yours," he said. "Commence firing." The words were scarcely out of his mouth before his men opened up. Dazzling blasts from the plasma arcs—automatically dimmed down to a safe level in his visual display—and the thunderbolt crack of the rail guns assaulted his senses. Donner and Blitzen the boys called them. The missile launchers, in contrast, were relatively quiet. The target icons started to wink out and in a few moments they were all gone. Almost immediately another group appeared, this time from the right and moving left. Jer gave the command for his second squad to engage them. They'd made plans earlier to divide the target area up into two zones with each squad taking a zone and not firing at targets in the other zone unless specifically ordered to.

The second batch of targets was dispatched and then two more groups appeared at once and both squads had to engage. Jer suspected that, just like a video game, things would get faster and the targets more numerous until it would be impossible to get them all. Not terribly realistic—or fair—but it would force his troopers to respond with every bit of speed and precision that they could muster.

Things went on well enough for a few minutes. The squad sergeants assigned targets, while the gunners aimed and fired. Other men in the squads scampered back to the gully where the float sleds were waiting to grab spare power packs and take them back to the gunners. So far nothing had gotten through. A thin haze of smoke and vaporized rock drifted up from the valley in the cool morning air.

Then a new blip appeared and it was bigger than the others and it flashed red on Jer's display. "Check fire! Check fire!' said Jer urgently. "Heavy target! Third Squad, it's yours!" The newcomer was reading as a medium tank, not as formidable as one of the Mark XXIs that the 283rd boasted, but still big enough to mount a full plasma mirror and other shielding. The plasma mirrors on their battle armor were capable of deflecting a bolt from a plasma arc, but the ones on a spaceship—or a tank—could actually redirect the bolt back against the ship or person who fired it. If Jer's heavy plasma arc men in the first and second squads fired at the tank they could well end up frying themselves—if the tank had been real.

No, this was a job for the rail guns. The heavy rail guns. He had two of them on the float sleds of third squad and now they went into action. The targeting information was fed into them while they were still out of sight in the gully and then on command the pair rose up until they were just high enough to draw a line of sight to the target. In unison they each let off a round. Even at just one-quarter power there was a concussion powerful enough to be felt even inside a suit of armor. Jer had turned down the volume on his external microphones, but the sonic boom still seemed loud. The recoil pushed both float sleds back sharply and they instantly sank down into the gully to evade any return fire—not that there would be any.

The target icon winked out. Jer doubted that just two shots would have been enough to do that against a real target, but wasn't the point of this exercise. "Good shooting," he complimented the gunners.

More targets appeared and they engaged them appropriately. Had this been a real battle, they'd have a ridiculously high kill total. But in a real battle, it wouldn't be this easy. Just target practice.

But the targets kept coming in greater and greater numbers and some of the heavy targets did require multiple shots to eliminate. Jer had to start personally directing some of the fire, ordering one squad to help the others if they were threatened with being overwhelmed. A few targets did start slipping through, getting beyond their firing area intact, but so far only a few.

But then a new wave of targets appeared and there were just too many to stop. Jer was sweating and snapping out orders when Captain Andronov's voice came over his communicator. "First Platoon, it looks like Third Platoon could use some help. You are ordered to engage."

Only a few seconds later there was a roar off to his left and Jer saw missiles streaking into the air from a fat clump of skellytums about five hundred meters away. Explosions started to erupt in the valley. Flashes, fireballs, huge gouts of smoke leaping upward. Targets started winking out in large numbers, but not all of them. "No one said to cease fire!" snapped Jer over his platoon circuit. "Keep at 'em!" His men opened up again, picking off the ones who survived the barrage.

They managed to beat off this wave, but more were coming. Working with the artillery Jer and his platoon fended them off, but it wasn't easy. Jer glanced at two of the float sleds, the ones where they stored the mines. He wished they had time to plants some of those, but for this exercise they weren't allowed to.

It went on for another fifteen minutes and then a new message arrived: "Incoming! We have incoming fire! Second platoon engage!" A swarm of fast moving blips was on Jer's tactical display, closing rapidly on the company's position. Jer had no time to see what the Air Defense Platoon was doing since there was no let-up in the number of ground attackers still coming on, but the new swarm of blips diminished in number rapidly so clearly they were doing something.

Another ten minutes went by and Jer felt exhausted even though he had done little but crouch in the gully and issue orders. Sergeant Shusterman was circulating between the squads, but Jer stayed put like he was supposed to.

Finally they got a break and the attacks dwindled to almost nothing. Were they done? No, not quite.

"Oh crap," hissed Jer. Nine large blips appeared on his sensors. Heavy tanks. None of the company's weapons were likely able to hurt them. What was he supposed to do?

"Okay, time to go people," said Andronov suddenly. "Our shuttles are inbound and we will withdraw. Second platoon will go first, First platoon will deliver a full salvo to cover us and then they go. Mr. Naddel, you will be the last to pull out. Give a full-power volley with your guns and then scram. Everyone understand?"

"Yes sir!" Full power? Yee ha! He'd never had a chance to do that before!

New blips were appearing on his display and for once they denoted things that really existed: the assault shuttles coming to pick them up. Nine of them all told, three for each platoon. "Plasma and missile men, fall back for pick-up! Rail gunners, set your weapons for full power." A chorus of acknowledgements came over his com. The rail gunners sounded as excited as he felt.

But First Platoon got the first crack. A salvo of missiles, much larger than any of the others streaked away from their position and a few moments later the whole valley disappeared in flame and smoke. Shuttles were landing now and Jer's tactical display showed Second Platoon disappearing into them. First Platoon, their job done, was falling back to their shuttles, too. Sergeant Shusterman was ushering the spare float sleds back toward where Third Platoon's shuttles were landing. Like clockwork.

"All right, stand by…" said Jer.

"Fire!"

The rail guns let loose and their thunderbolts made the prior fire seem like a handful of firecrackers. The incredibly powerful magnetic fields inside the guns accelerated the three-kilogram slugs up to a velocity of almost two hundred kilometers per second. As the rounds left the guns their outer layers instantly began to vaporize from air friction. A pair of bright red beams of light appeared, linking the guns to the cliffs at the far end of the valley. Two large explosions blasted outward from those cliffs and a small avalanche of stone came sliding down. A batch of smaller explosions accompanied the first two as the rail gunners from the other two squads joined in. Wow…

"Time to go, sir,' said Sergeant Shusterman, who had materialized next to him.

"Right! Okay, that's it! Fall back! Get aboard!" His men started dashing to the rear and the crews of the two heavy rail guns directed the float sleds toward the waiting shuttles. Despite his elation at all the mayhem he'd unleashed, Jer grimly reflected that if there had really been a battalion of heavy tanks in that valley, then every one of these assault shuttles would be blasted out of the sky before they could get a kilometer away. Oh well, this had been fun anyway.

Jer was the last one aboard and the shuttle lifted off even before the rear ramp was closed. He had to grab the shoulder of one of his men to keep from falling out. He staggered over to a seat and strapped himself in. "Well done, everyone," he said. Jer was still getting to know the men of his platoon, but they seemed to be in high spirits. Nothing like blowing shit up to put a trooper in a good mood!

Fifteen minutes later they landed at the base and the next three hours were spent in checking and storing their equipment, changing into their fatigues and then, for the officers and NCOs, getting debriefed by Captain Andronov. The captain seemed moderately pleased at their performance, but naturally had criticisms and corrections for each of them. Jer had learned to never take such things personally and just filed the information away for future use.

After that, he spent the rest of the afternoon in the company office composing his own after-action report of the day's exercise. He thought it had gone well, although he had to admit that with no one shooting back at them, its value was limited. And, of course they couldn't do things like this very often due to the expense. He'd noticed the skepticism of some of the officers about the new simulator facility that Alby was working on, but the simulators were far more realistic than what they'd done today. And considering that they'd shot off about a hundred thousand marks worth of ordnance in the exercise, there would have to be some savings over the long run. I wonder how Alby's making out with that?

[Scene Break]

"If you put the roof panels on now it will restrict access to the data raceways!"

"If I don't start putting the roof panels on now your damn raceways will be full of snow instead of cables!"

"Snow? It won't be snowing for months!"

"All right, rain then. We have to get the building weather-tight before the bad weather comes! I'd think you'd want to keep all your fancy gear dry."

"Can't you rig some waterproof tarps or something?"

"There's nothing in my budget to cover that!"

"Well, there's nothing in my budget to cover the extra hours it will take to lay the cables if the roof panels are in the way!"

Alby sighed silently and tried to resist the urge to reach across the table and crack a couple of heads together. This seemed like a daily ritual: the manager in charge of constructing the simulator building and the manager in charge of installing the simulators at loggerheads over one point or another. Alby glanced at Lieutenant Pflugfelter, the guy who was supposed to be in charge of the entire project. As usual, he was just sitting there, doing nothing to straighten things out. Of course Alby had to admit that since both of the managers were civilians, there was a limit to what Pflugfelter could do.

"Perhaps the Quartermaster could lend us some tarps and the engineers could rig them up," suggested Alby.

"I don't know…" said Pflugfelter, looking uncertain.

"Why not?" persisted Alby. "I see them doing it all the time to protect piles of equipment out by the landing fields. Everything in that building is government property, and if it needs protection from the elements this ought to be routine."

"Uh, the engineers don't have the security clearance to be on the work site."

"Oh, so that's why we have civilian workers doing this? Can't trust the military?" Alby let the irony drip into his voice, but Pflugfelter seemed oblivious.

"The regulations don't make any exceptions."

Alby rolled his eyes. There was nothing secret about any of this technology. It was commonplace throughout the Wormhole Nexus. "Well, perhaps if the Quartermaster can supply the tarp, Mr. Hale's boys can rig them up and give Mr. Klemperer's people the time they need on those raceways?" He nodded toward the two contractors.

They argued and kicked it around for a half hour before finally agreeing, but in the end they did agree and the meeting wrapped up—with half a dozen other items on the agenda untouched. Pflugfelter seemed pleased. "I thought that went pretty well, don't you think?"

"Better than a lot of our meetings, yeah," admitted Alby.

"How are you coming on your software review?"

"I had it finished a week ago. Now we just need some hardware to install it in."

"It'll get here, don't worry." As far as Alby could see, Pflugfelter had no real desire to see the project completed. It was a cushy job and once it was done it would go down in his records as a successful project. He found the man's attitude exasperating at times.

"Well, almost quitting time," said Alby. "See you tomorrow."

"Stay a minute, Vorsworth," said Pflugfelter, raising his hand. "Been meaning to talk to you. You're pretty tight with that Payne girl, aren't you?"

"We've been friends since our plebe year," replied Alby cautiously.

"Friends or friends?" asked Pflugfelter, not quite leering.

"What the hell do you mean by that? Sir." Alby frowned at the man.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just been hearing some pretty… interesting rumors."

"Like what?"

"Oh like that she slept her way through the Academy, if you know what I mean."

Alby's mouth fell open and his hands were clenched in fists. "That's a damn lie! Sir."

"Really? I've got it from a reliable source that she's sleeping with that Komarran fellow."

"That… that started after they graduated," sputtered Alby. "Nothing against the regulations in that!"

"Huh, well, if you say so, Vorsworth. I suppose you'd be in a position to know."

"She was an outstanding cadet—and a hero! And now she's a damn fine officer! You can tell that to your 'reliable source'!"

"Calm down, old man! Not trying to start an argument. Was just curious, that's all. Well, see you tomorrow." Pflugfelter sauntered off, leaving Alby fuming.

[Scene Break]

Jer was on his way back to his quarters to get ready for dress parade. He'd finished his report and sent it off to the Captain. He hadn't seen Anny all day and she wasn't there now, either. He knew that they'd been incredibly lucky to be assigned to the same regiment, but their luck had run out about being assigned to the same battalion. Their duties would often keep them apart and it was only going to get worse. 1st Battalion—and Anny—were scheduled to be assigned ship duty next year and she might be gone for six or eight months. And then after she got back, his own battalion would probably ship out. They might not see each other for a year or more. He didn't like that at all.

Well, he reminded himself as he did often, that he hadn't joined the Imperial Forces in order to fall in love. He and Anny would just have to take what time they were given and be grateful for it.

He did see her for a few moments before dress parade but they had no time to talk. The parade was routine except that at the end, when Colonel Fetherbay was addressing the officers he said: "Oh, as I'm sure most of you have heard, the reservists of the 139th will be arriving the week after next for their annual refresher training. As usual things will be a bit of a madhouse and we may be asked to provide assistance on short notice. I'm also informed that Brigadier Vorsilva is planning a major exercise with the whole brigade as part of the 139th's stay here. I don't have any details of that yet, but I will keep you posted. All right, that's all for now, dismissed."

As the formation broke up, Anny had to dash off somewhere. She said she'd see him at dinner. He hadn't seen Alby at the parade at all, so Jer joined the general clump of officers heading for the mess. They were all discussing the upcoming arrival of the reservists.

"Ah yes, the circus is coming to town, gentlemen!" said Lieutenant Haskell of F Company. "Two-headed chickens and dancing bears will be in the streets!" Jer laughed along with the others, but then he asked:

"Will it be as bad as all that?"

"Who said anything about it being bad?" quipped another officer. "It'll be the most fun we see here all year."

"The troops themselves aren't all that bad," said Captain Voring, the commander of E Company. "At least the younger ones who haven't been away from the regulars all that long. No, what Mr. Haskell was referring to was all the camp followers who will be flocking into the town. It seems like half the troops bring their families with them for the month. Like it was some damn vacation. They set up tent cities on the outskirts."

"And not just the families!" exclaimed someone else. "Gamblers, hucksters, and half the frills on the planet show up to ply their trade with the troops who don't bring their families."

"That's probably why most of the women follow their men here," chuckled Haskell, "to keep them away from the frills!" Everyone laughed again.

"Some of the girls aren't bad, I hear" ventured an ensign from G Company. "At least a change from the batch that live in town."

"Planning to give them a try?"

"Why not?" said someone else. "Considering how few prospects we poor unmarried men find here in the wilderness and with Vorbarr Sultana so far away, we quite look forward to this."

A flurry of ribald comments followed that had them all laughing. Well, nearly all, some of the married officers whose wives had come to see the dress parade as they often did had drifted away from their raucous unmarried comrades.

They reached the Regimental Mess and went inside. Jer got a beer and stood near the bar and waited for Anny to arrive. The cost of belonging to the mess was not trivial, but at least it almost guaranteed that he and Anny would share at least one meal a day. The other officers were milling about, drinking, and still making jokes about the upcoming arrival of the reservists and their camp followers. Jer had to admit that it did sound like quit a show.

"Of course we won't be needin' the local frills much longer!" said one overly loud voice. "I hear they'll be issuin' us our own before long!" Jer looked and saw that it was Lieutenant Vorkerkas, the commander of 1st Platoon in his own H Company. The man was looking right at him and Jer froze. "Right, Naddel?"

A few men laughed, but it died away and the general noise level in the mess dropped off to almost nothing. Jer met Vorkerkas' eyes for a few moments longer and then turned away, hoping he'd just misunderstood, but fearing he hadn't.

"Don't turn your back on me, Komarran!" said Vorkerkas. "I asked you a question!" Jer turned back to face him.

"Hey, calm down, Adrien," said another man who slapped Vorkerkas on the shoulder but the man shook him off. He'd clearly wasted no time downing a few drinks and he wasn't drinking beer. It had been pretty obvious to Jer during the last few weeks that the man didn't particularly like him, but he'd never given him any trouble before either. What was this?

"I asked Naddel a question and I expect an answer!"

Jer glanced around the room, but all the senior officers seemed to have disappeared. "I… I'm afraid I don't understand the lieutenant's question," said Jer as evenly as he could.

"It's simple enough: as the first man in the regiment to be issued his own frill, I just wanted to know how she is. I imagine she must be very experienced after four years at the Academy." Vorkerkas had a leer on his face. "I hear they're training a whole lot more. I hope they don't forget us when they start handing them out!"

Jer was well aware that 'frill' was the Barrayaran equivalent of 'whore', but somehow the word didn't have the same sort of power. Even so, he was furious inside. This jackass had just called Anny a whore! He supposed that by this time pretty much everyone knew that he and Anny were sleeping together, but he hadn't expected anything like this! He slowly set his glass on the bar and clenched his fists…

"Lieutenant Vorkerkas, if your remarks are in reference to Lieutenant Andreanne Payne, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."

Everyone twitched—including Jer, because the words weren't his, although they nearly had been. Alby Vorsworth had silently entered the mess and now he was standing a few meters from Vorkerkas and he looked as furious as Jer felt. Vorkerkas spun around and goggled at Alby for a moment. Finally he said: "Beat it, Vorsworth. This is none of your business."

"When you insult a fellow officer—and my friend—I'll make it my business. You owe Lieutenant Naddel and Lieutenant Payne an apology."

Vorkerkas snorted derisively. "I'll see you in hell first."

"That can be arranged." Alby took a step forward, looking angrier than Jer had ever seen him. His own anger was still there, but it took back seat to his amazement at Alby's words and actions.

"Okay, that's enough!" said Captain Andronov, coming forward. "Simmer down, both of you!"

Alby still looked angry, but he backed off a step. Vorkerkas sniffed and said: "What's with you, Vorsworth? You screwing her, too?"

Alby gave an angry cry and flung himself at Vorkerkas, but he was intercepted and held back by several of the other officers. "Shut up, you bastard!" This set Vorkerkas off and he lunged forward until he too was restrained.

"All right! All right! What the devil is going on here?" Jer looked and saw that Major Waski had appeared and was pushing his way through the crowd. "Well?" he demanded when he reached the front. There was an awkward silence.

"Uh, nothing, sir, nothing going on at all," said Jer.

"Good! Keep it that way!" snapped Waski. Jer moved over and took Alby by the arm and led him away. The other officers relaxed and dispersed. Vorkerkas sent a nasty glare his way, but Jer ignored it.

"That miserable son-of-a-bitch!" hissed Alby. "How dare he talk about Anny that way!" He stared at Jer. "And how come I'm not holding you back instead of vice versa?"

"Well, you were doing such a good job I didn't want to get in your way." He continued to haul Alby toward the door but stopped in his tracks when he saw Anny standing in front of him. She had a look of great confusion on her face.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I'll tell you later."

[Scene Break]

"I was afraid something like this might happen."

Jer looked at Anny, snuggled against him, and ran his hand down her bare shoulder and along her arm. Her face was very serious and that wasn't right considering what they'd just been doing. "Well, there's not much we can do about it now. Even if we stopped seeing each other everyone would assume we still were."

"I don't want to stop seeing you. And it's no one's business if we do!"

"No, it isn't. Still, I can see why some of them might be upset."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, the prospects of finding female companionship on the edge of the wilderness aren't very good and here I am bunking with the most beautiful woman in the known universe. Might tend to make them a tad jealous." That got a smile out of her and Jer grinned and kissed her. But then her smile faded again and she let out a long sigh.

"All those years at the Academy, acting like the Maiden of the Lake, I had just hoped that once we were graduated… hell. Guess I should have known better."

"You're still blazing the trail, Anny, and I guess you always will be," said Jer, holding her a little closer. "Everything you do will always be a first. First woman at the Academy, first woman in combat, first woman decorated for gallantry… first woman officer with a lover…"

"First woman officer to get married?" Anny's green eyes were very large and staring right into his.

"Are you proposing to me?"

"I…" she looked away. "No, not… not yet."

"Well don't wait too long or Alby and Abbie will beat us to it and your record will be broken!" He laughed and after a moment she did, too.

"Do you want to get married?" she asked.

"To you? Yes. Right now? I'm not sure."

She clutched him tightly and rubbed her face against his chest for a moment and then pulled back to look at him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For not… demanding anything from me." He didn't say anything but he smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"I do want to marry you, Jer, it's just that… that…"

"Your career comes first. I understand."

"Oh, it sounds so selfish when you put it that way, but yes, I guess there's no getting around it."

"Anny, you don't have to make any apologies. Not to me. I saw what you had to go through at the Academy, saw how hard you fought and how you'd never give up no matter what all the jerks tried to do to get you to quit. Why do you think I love you so much, girl? I'm sure not going to expect you to give it up now. Not for anyone… even me. I can wait. I waited for four years and I can wait for four more. Or forty if that's what it takes."

"I hope it won't be that long! But right now… I've looked over every word of the regulations concerning married personnel and it's all so damn vague! Naturally they are all written with the idea of a male soldier and a female spouse, but there's all this stuff in there about keeping wives and dependents out of combat zones. It makes sense if there are no women soldiers, but if someone was really out to get me, they could use those same regs to get me banned from any sort of combat duty if I was married. Maybe I'm just paranoid…"

"Not that you have any reason to be!" snorted Jer.

Anny responded with a snort of her own. "Yeah. But anyway, right now I just don't know if we can risk it, Jer."

"Like I said: I can wait if you can. And once some of the other women start getting their commissions, the regulations are going to have to get clarified eventually."

"Yeah… do you think there will be any more trouble like you had with Vorkerkas tonight?"

"Hard to say. Alby had a run-in early today with his co-worker, but he said it wasn't serious. Have you had any trouble at your end about this?"

"Not so far. Of course now I'm going to be looking at everything everyone says looking for hidden meanings…"

"Yeah. But you know there is one thing we could do."

"What?"

"Get off the base. Out of the BOQ. Get a place in town even if we do have to allow Alby to subsidize it."

Anny sighed. "Yes, that might be best. It won't solve all the problems, but it still might be best. Let's talk to him."

"In the morning," said Jer, pulling her close again.

"Yes, in the morning."