First Squad was finally reunited after months apart. Marc-Andre and Leary were waiting for Logan and Martin at the bottom of the loading ramp leading to the Venus Vandal's cargo bay. Zeke's robots rolled by slowly, carrying large metal crates full of flexiron ore fresh fresh from the Olindor AstroMining Company. “Well if it isn't my long-lost subordinates,” Leary greeted, his helmet's speakers projecting his voice. “When did you get that Corporal stripe, Martin? Last I checked, I was in charge.” Leary shoved his friend in the chest playfully, eyes resting on the gray Corporal rank displayed on Martin's shoulder. “I found it in a cereal box,” he replied. Logan adjusted the sling on his carbine to keep it from hanging loose while he watched the fleet of cargo ships being loaded and unloaded in Port Malcom's primary shipping sector. He wondered, how many of those ships were going to be robbed by pirates without their Marine escort? How many would be taken by the Department of the Navy to fuel the war machine? “And you,” Leary addressed him while he watched dozens of bots carry dozens of crates to a dozen different destinations inside the sorting facility. “The trouble child. How many pirated movies do you have loaded on that AIHAR by now?”
“Franky–“
“Squad Leader Leary! It looks like all those months without Gunney Hartman beating you senseless has made you disrespectful.” The four of them left the Venus Vandal's loading ramp and crossed the open floor to the exit.
“You know I saw you fuck up in the Kill House. How does a Squad Leader who comes in second place expect to command respect?”
“And I saw you lose quite a bit of blood just a few yards away on that same exercise. At least I didn't nearly get zipped by a girl.”
“If you can call A-Cup a girl.”
“Don't call her that around Sixth Squad,” Marc-Andre broke in. “Apparently they don't know one of their Marines is a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee.”
“No shit? Maybe we should help them get to know their team mate better.”
“Shit Garvey, she already threw a grenade at you when she liked you. What do you think she'll do to you when she's really angry?” By the time they finished greeting each other, they had left the building and were making their way to a red pickup parked on the street. It was a two-seater, and the driver's seat was already occupied by a man in Navy Combat Dress sans Maglock armor. It was Lewis Speers, First Lieutenant, Executive Officer for First Company of the Eighth Marine Battalion. He pushed the passenger side door open and everyone broke out into a full-tilt sprint. Marc-Andre passed them all and whooped in victory as he reached the door. “That's it,” Leary announced. “I'm pulling rank. Squad Leader gets shotgun, peasants go in the back.”
“Afternoon, LT,” Logan greeted the grinning officer. The last time he had seen Speers, the man was just beginning to soften up after Officer Candidate School turned him into dick. It looked like the transformation had been fully reversed. “Long time no see, Garvey. How's the lung?”
“No more holes, sir. The doctors said if I get hit by any more grenades I should develop immunity.”
“And here I thought that was just snake bites. Hey there Martin.”
“Sir,” Martin nodded at the driver as he lifted himself into the back. “You guys couldn't get a van or something?”
“No room in the dee-oh-en's budget to buy every company a bus. We never thought we would have to recall everybody at once. I've been running a cab service all day bringing in the others.”
“I feel like Marines of our caliber deserve at least a Captain with an SUV.”
“Haldain's busy. He spends most of his time with the Major this week. Lots of things have to be taken care of. We can't just cram Marines into a Destroyer and point them at the enemy. Hop in, we're on a tight schedule these days. That's an order.” Marc-Andre and Logan piled into the truck bed alongside Martin. Soon they were speeding along Port Malcom's Shipping and Receiving Center, angling for the main highway into the city. They stopped briefly at the checkpoint manned by the military police to assure them that the truck carried no fugitives, smuggled goods, or explosives and were on their way.
	Finally on the highway, Logan got his first glimpse at Port Malcom since he finished Marine Infantry Training School. He felt like a man who had been away from home on a business trip for many months. In the sky he spotted the top of the Republica Tower, the tallest building on the colony. He tried to spot anybody jumping out of the windows but no such luck. The owners of the Republica had a deal with the Department of the Army where they let the Airborne Rangers train for “rapid air deployment.” The Rangers jump out of the top level's windows with a glider pack strapped to their backs and have to maneuver between the buildings to reach the designated landing zone inside the city. It was good practice for jumping out of high-speed dropships that don't always get to touch ground before releasing it's passengers. It always had a remarkably low accident rate for how dangerous it was. As far as Logan knew, only a handful of recruits died from the Republica jump. One high profile incident did occur years back though, after both the Rangers and Air Cavalry got permission to use the airspace around the Republica for training on the same day. A Ranger got sucked into the blades of an XRC-1 helicopter, which then crashed into the pavement below, killing the pilot and gunners inside the chopper as well as a civilian on the ground. It was a huge incident that cost several people their job and nearly killed the Rangers' deal with the Republica.
	The truck full of Marines followed the highway all the way through the city. Whenever they stopped at a traffic light, they drew attention. The mysterious Marines, heavily armed and armored for a Sunday drive. Logan enjoyed the looks he got from the women, as if their pants were a locked door and Maglock armor was the master key. Marc-Andre's voice filled his helmet's communication system. “Don't flatter yourself, Garvey. Any panties that will drop for any old Marine, already have. Concern thyself not with the gazes of sluts, for they are riddled with the rot.”
“I've been stuck on a ship for four months piloted by a hot Separatist chick who doesn't like men. I'll take my chances with the rot.”
“Ah, forbidden fruit. I bet the walls of that ship were just covered.”
“Gross.”
“So you took care of it personally then? For four months?”
“Of course,” Logan lied. “What else was I supposed to do, reprogram one of the bots?”
“That's actually not a bad idea.”
“So. First night back home. I've been without women for four months. Please tell me we aren't confined to the base because of recent developments in galactic politics.”
“Good news! We totally are.” Martin and Logan groaned simultaneously. They had traded the close quarters men-and-lesbians-only environment of the Venus Vandal for barracks lockdown. Logan's only chance at getting any relief was to hook up with one of females on base, which meant a Marine, a sailor, or a girl married to one. As sad as it sounded, the wife was a definite possibility. The real problem was finding one that wasn't fat or ugly.
“You guys killed anyone yet?”
“What?” Logan asked, watching the apartments and bars speed by. He loved the big city scenery. When he was growing up on the Kinane Agriculture colony, the closest he got to a night out on the town was taking an hour long flight to the one major city on the colony so he could watch minor league hockey teams representing the regional governments or rich farmers fight it out every few weeks. “Did you guys kill anyone yet?” Marc-Andre repeated.
“We're working on it,” Martin answered.
“Third squad was on a cruise ship that got jumped, they were already here when me and Franky got recalled. Pirates were waiting for them, blew a hole in the ship's hull to get in when the captain wouldn't let them in. Dumb asses didn't know Marines were on board. Flerry and his boys got to come home early with a few notches on their Maglock.”
“Well, we don't all get the cushy cruise ship jobs. Some of us get stuck on freighters. What did you guys get?”
“Refrigerated freighter carrying what was apparently the most expensive meat in the galaxy. It was cold as hell.”
“What makes you think the meat was expensive?”
“Because it was worth shipping from the colonies to Earth. It must be for rich people.”

	Marine Barracks Port Malcom was the newest addition to the colony's naval base, When Logan got off the new arrivals bus for basic training, it had just finished being built. It still looked brand new when the truck pulled through the entrance to park in the Officer's Garage. Lieutenant Speers exited the cab while the rest of them hopped out of the bed. Logan stretched his legs and yawned. “I feel like some kind of old school extremist, riding a technical into battle.”
“Corporal Martin, you and Garvey are in Building Double-Dee, Room Two. If you need me for anything, don't. I still have to pick up Twelfth and Thirteenth Squad today.”
	Building DD was near the end of a long row of completely plain looking square single-story buildings, each one housing its own platoon of Marines, two to a room. It looked more like a motel built on a budget than living quarters. Room Two was identical to every other room in the enlisted section of the barracks. Plain beige-painted walls, enough room for a single desk with a bunk bed, and not much else. The idea was that sine Marines wouldn't be staying in the rooms more than a few days, they wouldn't need anything more than a bed. “How long are we supposed to be here again?” Logan asked as Martin pushed past him to claim the top bunk. “Until the Department of Defense gives the invasion fleet the green light.”
“Assuming there is an invasion fleet.”
“They nuked our colony and we killed their ambassadors. If we don't invade first, they will. They recalled all the Marines from civilian ships and sent Destroyers to guard the colonies. The Council of Planetary Representatives already declared war. Olindor is digging up every bit of flexiron between Earth and Deep Space so DeepSilver can turn it all into Maglock. I'm not making assumptions, I'm stating facts.”
“So we just wait around here until the Admirals can decide which ships gets to kick Alien ass first?”
“Don't think of it as being stuck in the barracks. Think of it as an opportunity. All those boots fresh out of basic, or MITS. Remember how much we looked up to anybody with a set Maglock when we were recruits. That's us now! An army of recruits, prepared to wait on us hand and foot just because we got the armor.”
“What is this, high school? I'm not hazing the recruits.”
“When you get bored of staring at the blank walls tomorrow, come find me. We'll start up a fight club, make them battle to the death gladiator style.”
“They'll probably make us mop the floors and clean the barracks, just like basic training.”
“Fuck that I'm a pirate hunter, I don't clean floors, that's work for boots.”
“You're a Marine, and you do whatever Leary tells you to. Or Speers, or Captain Haldain, or Major Mathis, or Colonel Byrd, or Admiral Tyson...”
“I get it, I'm just another hard and ready minion of the establishment.”
“Why you always gotta talk like some kind of English professor?”
“It's Thompson, you fucking philistine. Even you should know that.”
“Thompson like the gun? I didn't know he wrote books.”
“Oh my God I'm going to kill you if I don't leave now.”
“What did I say? I don't understand!” But it was too late. Martin closed the door loudly and emphatically behind him, and Logan was left alone in his room.

	“Open the fuck up, I'm lonely!” Logan pounded his gauntlet-clad fist against the cheap wooden door on Room Twelve, calling after its inhabitants. “Then go to a whore house!” a rough voice shouted back. It was a rare woman who had a voice like that, if Anderson O'Neal could be called a woman. Logan hadn't seen it for himself, but he was sure she had a bigger set of balls than him. It evened out though, since he was the reason she was known amongst the men of First Squad as “A-Cup” O'Neal. “I thought I was!”
“You're cruisin' for a brui–“ Anderson stomped to the door and swung it open angrily. She wasn't wearing her Maglock, just the skintight Naval Combat Dress with a baggy pants thrown over them.“Oh, it's just you,” she said around the cigarette in her mouth. “What, I don't warrant a bruising?” Logan feigned offense and pushed past her into the room. It was the same exact room he shared with Martin, the same room every other enlisted Marine in Port Malcom had. “If anybody on this rock deserves a bruising, it's Logan Garvey,” she countered. “When did you get back?”
“Just a few hours ago. The LT picked us up in his truck like a couple of day laborers.”
“You and Martin? I know it wasn't Martin and Marc-Andre, Martin would be all over him.” She wasn't wrong. Hell, half the men in the barracks would make an exception for Marc-Andre. He was the kind of guy they put in the recruitment ads, complete with dress blues and sword, slaying a dragon with his perfectly shaped face and rippling muscles. Logan took a seat on the bottom bunk in her room and tried to bounce without much success. “This mattress is almost as flat as you are.”
“Remind me to never do anything nice for you again.” Anderson made sure the door was closed before pulling a drawer open in her desk. She pulled out a plain-looking white paper square wrapped in plastic. Cigarettes, fresh from the Post Exchange. “Welcome back gift,” she called them. “I don't smoke,” Logan insisted. “You do now.” He relented and ripped the plastic off, slipping the roll of paper and lab-grown tobacco between his lips. Anderson reveals a shiny silver lighter bearing the Eighth Marine Battalion colors from one of her many pockets. “I thought unit lighters were just for old men,” Logan jokes. She flicks the top and lights the cigarette for him. They both fall silent for a long stretch.
	Logan remembered when they first met during MITS. They both had their heads shaved, fresh from basic training, and Logan thought she was a feminine-looking man. He gave her all kinds of shit after that whenever they came across each other, her in Sixth Squad and him in First. The true seeds of friendship were planted the first time they ran the Kill House though, First and Sixth Squads teaming up to work together. Logan ran ahead of all the others while they cleared the mock-up ship, Anderson threw a grenade into the course's “bridge” without knowing he was in there. The Maglock armor saved his life, but a few pieces of shrapnel still got through. While he was laid up in the hospital, she showed him her tits as an apology. Logan called her “A-Cup” ever since, just to get on her nerves. He could still see them as they sat there smoking, a slight outline pressing against the totally-not-latex NCD's. Surely so could every other man in the barracks, if she ever took her armor off. It was the first time he had seen her without Maglock since that day in the hospital. It never occurred to him that she might be sensitive about her lack of breasts, but he decided it was a possibility.
“So why are you here?” she asked, breaking the silence. “I heard there was a recall on defective Marines,” he shot back. “Figured I'd come laugh at the rejects.”
“I mean, in this room.”
“I told you, I was lonely.”
“I thought you and Martin were like a straight gay couple, the instructors couldn't get you guys apart without putting you in the Party Bus.”
“I don't want to talk to Martin.”
“Why not?”
“It's weird now.”
“What happened, you finally sleep together?”
“Yeah.”
“That's fucked up.”
“I have to say, your lack of surprise makes me worried.”
“What do you want me to say, congratulations?”
“I'd like you to flash me again so I can say I'm not gay.”
“That was a one time deal, and you blew it. So are you worried about being gay? It's the Twenty-Third Century, we don't toss homos in the castle dungeon anymore.”
“But I'm not gay.”
“You aren't gay, you just like dudes.”
“This isn't a joke, A-Cup.”
“I'd tell you to suck my dick, but that's actually a possibility now.”
“Alright, fine, get it out of your system.”
“So were you the fucker, or the fuckee? Top or bottom?”
“Top.”
“Well that isn't gay. You were just looking for something to fuck, all men do that. Martin was looking to get fucked though, that is gay.”
“I guess that is reassuring.”
“Take your pants off.”
“I think I need an adult now.”
“Only one way to make sure you're straight.” Anderson stubbed her cigarette out on a glass ashtray sitting on the desk before pulling at Logan's belt. “I think showing me your tits would have been a lot easier and quicker,” Logan said as she pulled the length of webbing free. “You should hope for your sake it isn't quick,” she threatened back. After the belt, she quickly lowered the zipper on his own totally-not-latex suit, not bothering to remove the armor covering his chest and legs. While she concerned herself with his pants, Logan helped her out of her own. Finally free of the baggy tan pants, her lower body was still covered by the Naval Combat Dress. A zipper above the crotch was meant for quick access without needing to take the suit completely off. As soon as Logan pulled the little piece of metal down, she was fully exposed to him. He felt warm hands reach into his pants and grab his member, pulling him free so that they were both equally naked.
	Anderson's hands were surprisingly soft as her fingers wrapped around Logan's member, rubbing up the shaft slowly as it grew and hardened. The feel of her fingers massaging the underside lightly sent little shocks of sensation through his spine. When he was sufficiently stiff, she climbed into his lap and wrapped her legs around his torso. There was a scorching heat emanating from where there two parts touched, so hot that Logan felt they would fuse together. Anderson's face was an inch away from Logan's, her cheeks rosy red. “This isn't about making sure I'm not gay, is it?” he grinned at her. “No,” she breathed back, her already rough voice taking on a husky tone. Her hips ground against his erection, unable to slip inside without lifting upwards, but too caught in the moment to separate. Logan grabbed her around the waist and raised up enough to position himself directly below her. She took care of the rest, lowering until she felt him poke at her entrance. For him the wait was unbearable, his body urging him to sprint towards the finish line as she pulls him in agonizingly slowly. Logan does his best to release the tension in his muscles, falling backwards onto the bed and letting Anderson ride him. She repositioned her legs to straddle him and planted her hands on his cold metal chestplate. Her hips rolled back and forth, just barely pulling away before swallowing him whole again. Logan pulled his eyes away from the mesmerizing sight of their pelvises grinding into each other up to his partner's face. Her face was still red, and the ceiling light shone brightly behind her head. Her mouth was open as she breathed heavily, her chest pushing out against the fabric of her clothes. He ran his hands up along her legs to her hips, feeling them move rhythmically beneath his fingers before gliding up her sides to her breasts. He couldn't feel the skin through the black suit, but he knew she could feel his touch. As he fondled her through the suit her juices stuck to his groin, strings of liquid forming between them whenever she pulled away. Soon their movements became more dramatic. She pulled away until only the tip was inside before taking him all the way to the base again, increasing the pace until the sound of her flesh slapping against his thigh armor filled the room.
	They kept up their hurried pace for as long as one of them could stand it, both in a hurry to reach climax. Logan heard her reach completion before he felt it, her gasps of pleasure turning into orgasmic shouts as her contractions nearly squeezed him out. Her hips quit moving and her arms folded beneath her, her chest resting on his. A series of quick thrusts was all it took for him to join her in climax, his muscles tensing up again as his load shot up through his member into her. They both took a long pause to catch their breath, Logan's cock wilting and returning to its original size as his seed ran down her thighs. She was the one to break the silence once again. “Congratulations. You aren't going to the castle dungeons. Unless you need extra assurances.” She rolled off of him onto her back to lay beside him on the bed. “We should have done that back in the hospital,” he replied, his gloved hand finding hers, their fingers wrapping around each other.