Free Opening Moves by James Traynor Page A

jinx the unit with bad luck. One such superstition was to not talk about company secrets out loud. Luckily, most jinxes could be easily lifted, usually through buying excessive amounts of alcohol or performing a challenge or dare. It was silly but in many ways it brought the troops together more.
    “Anyway, come on guys.” Lee stood, the single stripe on her shoulder requiring her to take some extra responsibilities in her unit. “We've got a briefing to attend in half an hour about 'galactic events'.” There were some – expected – groans. “Yeah, I know. Nothing to do with us, but you might learn something. And then we'll hit the dome.”
    That cheered them up a little, and gradually they started moving their kit away and cleaned up their little corner of Mars. The 1020 th was an old outfit, having first been formed in the heydays of the first stellar wars of the early 23 rd century. Still, since they couldn't exactly be expected to have five hundred year old corpses piloting their suits, most of the unit as it was had seen only limited action. Hunting down Martian separatist groups was the most combat the soldiers had. 'Real' combat, going toe to toe with experienced and well-equipped opponents, was something only the Colonel and a few of the officers who had transferred from the outer colonies had seen. As a unit operating powered armor suits the regiment was specialized in operations in hostile environments in every sense of the word. Most of its training took place outside the Martian domes in the harsh climate earning them a reputation as hardy and uncomplaining soldiers. They could look back at war games on Europa's icy surface and in Altair colony's unforgiving jungles. But they still had to experience their baptism by fire.
    Lee squared away her bunk and adjusted the old school photograph on the wall beside her. It showed Natasha and their eleven year old son Michael. Every time she glanced at the picture she had a swelling of pride for her family. Natasha was a manager at one of the smaller Martian shipping firms. It didn't pay a lot, but it was solid work arranging cargo drops and setting up contracts. Their son was in junior school a few blocks away and was already an accomplished sportsman. Better even, he had shown himself to be pretty bright. Samantha and Natasha had high hopes for the future. His grandmother had already said he'd make a good cop, maybe even a detective, though of course Samantha wanted to see him join the armed forces and experience the comradeship she had grown to respect and appreciate herself during her service. Either way, their son was going to be a success. Both of them would make sure of that.
    With a lingering smile she headed out of the barracks with the rest of the platoon and headed for the briefing on the fall of Toklamakun.
     
     
    Purgatory Club, Mars.
     
    The barman threw a quick glance at the crowd walking in, laughing loudly. Even though they were dressed in casual shirts and pants he could see from their stance and walk that they were clearly soldiers. He of course didn't mind. The local garrison provided a huge amount of his business, but he could see a couple of his clients getting a bit agitated at the sudden increase in noise. He shrugged. Wasn't really a matter of concern to him. After all, it was a free country. They didn't like his service they could bloody well get lost. There were plenty of other bars in town if they didn't like it here.
    One of the grinning soldiers headed for the bar with a credit chit clutched in his hands.
    “ Twenty-one beers for my buddies over there!” he said enthusiastically to the wild cheers of his comrades.
    “ Nice one, Grunt!” one of them called.
    The barman ran the card with a smile. “On its way, trooper. Take a seat!” Whenever a party of soldiers came in – which was most nights, really – the barman rolled up his sleeves to display a tattoo on his forearm. It was the unit emblem of the 7 th Armored Cavalry, his