Free Indomitable by W. C. Bauers Page A

me pretty green and—”
    â€œSounds like life in the RAW-MC to me, Lieutenant Paen. There’s never enough boots to go around, let alone veterans to keep tabs on the newbs. The Lusitanian Empire continues to increase its military expenditures, which is forcing us to do the same just to keep parity. This brings us back to Sheol’s military importance. In some ways we are already on a war footing, which says nothing about the uptick in worlds seeking formal admission to the RAW, or the defense needs of our protectorates, or our antipiracy operations and force protection for interstellar commerce. I suggest you learn to love the suck.”
    â€œAye, aye, sir.” Promise steeled herself for a diplomatic fight. “I love the suck, sir, yes I do, love it like a RAW-MC screw.” She sung the words to the familiar cadence, chin held high and proud.
    Halvorsen’s lip twitched but otherwise he said nothing.
    â€œBoot camp used to last fifteen standard weeks, sir. Now it’s eleven, and BUPERS is pushing for nine. The School of Infantry has been shaved down too. I know we’re strapped for manpower, but I have ‘slick sleeves’ that barely passed their weapons evolutions and others who couldn’t take a piss in a mechsuit if their lives depended on it.”
    â€œI’m fully aware of the Corps’s manpower needs and the … unprecedented steps we’ve taken recently, including a reduction in training times, to hit our quotas. I have my own reservations about that. Under the circumstances, I fully support the powers that be, and so should you. You take my meaning?”
    â€œSir, I mean no disrespect. My concern is for the safety and operational integrity of my command, and that of Charlie Battalion.” Colonel, please hear me out, please. “I have Marines with subpar range scores, sir, and a few with marks significantly below a passing grade at long distances. Scuttlebutt says our drill instructors are being leaned on to pass subpar Marines through their evos, instead of recycling them, to help the Corps meet its goals. I can’t believe that’s the case, sir. But, the rumors are circulating the vents, about scores across all competencies being averaged together to generate an overall passing mark, particularly for Marines with subpar rifleman skills. Not in the RAW-MC, right, sir? Marksmanship is still as important as it used to be, correct, sir? With respect to the powers that be, I have a half dozen boots who can’t consistently hit a silhouette at five hundred meters while prone, with a compensated Triple-Seven carbine racked to a bipod. With optics, sir, and an AI-assist. Why were they allowed to graduate with their class?”
    *   *   *
    Halvorsen wanted to blow his top and tear the lieutenant a new one. Promise was treading on dangerous ground. Questioning the brass like this was a one-way ticket to a short-lived career. If she kept it up there was no way she would ever make it past the rank of major. And she was taking a significant risk by speaking so freely with him, because he could kill her career with a single efficiency report. But I can’t very well scuttle her career because she’s right. She shouldn’t have to make the argument in the first place. I don’t know many full birds who’d risk the ire of their COs by going on the record.
    The caliber of the average Marine private had fallen measurably over the past few years. Too many greenhorns—and one was one too many in Halvorsen’s estimation—were joining the fleet with glaring training deficiencies. A Marine who couldn’t shoot at distance was a liability. A handful of sergeants had personally griped to him—off the record, of course—about the substandard skills of the Marines they were seeing coming out of boot camp and SOI. One particular staff sergeant had bemoaned the decrepit state of the Corps and the amount of