Free The Ninth Circle by R. M. Meluch

Gotta.” Ranza shrugged her big shoulders and slid off the table to get dressed and collect her things. “See yous guys in nine.”
    Months, she meant.

7
     
    K ERRY BLUE. TRYING to get her locker to shut.
    Each Marine was given a locker into which to stuff all his or her stuff. The locker was built into the Marine’s berth, and it was just large enough to hold subatomic particles.
    If your locker don’t shut, whatever is hanging out gets spaced.
    Kerry yelled through the thin partition to the men’s side of the forecastle for backup. “Can I get some meat in here!”
    She had lots of volunteers. Big guys trooped in to muscle her locker closed. Would have been easier if Kerry knew how to fold stuff, but she didn’t. Kerry smushed. She only ever passed inspection because her mates helped her out.
    The guys helping her weren’t much for folding either. But they got her locker closed. Bent the door in the process. The locker door had a distinct outward bow, but it was shut.
    The Yurg. Tall, hulking blond guy. Flew as Baker One. The Yurg noticed the empty sleep pod here on the girl side of the forecastle. The empty berth was Ranza Espinoza’s.
    “Hey.” The Yurg gave a back-knuckle rap on the empty rack. Asked Kerry, “Is your Flight Leader AWOL?”
    “Nah, he’s here,” Kerry said.
    “ He ?” Last time Yurg looked Ranza Espinoza was still a she.
    “Cain’s in charge,” Kerry said.
    Dak Shepard, Alpha Two, pulled his head back. “Cain’s Flight Leader? Cain? How’d that happen?”
    “Ranza’s in a civilian way,” Kerry Blue said.
    Cain was just walking in the hatchway. Yurg turned to Cain with a big grin and deep chuckle. “Cain! You dog!”
    Cain yelped. “It wasn’t me!”
    “Who did that to her!” Dak cried.
    “A very brave man,” said the Yurg solemnly.
    Cain’s glance fell on the bent locker door in Kerry’s rack. As Alpha’s new Flight Leader Cain said, “Kerry, ballast something.”
    “It’s shut!” Kerry cried.
    “Your gear don’t fit the dimensions, and I ain’t bending the rules for you.”
    Not the little rules anyway. Just the really big ones.
    “Fine,” Kerry snapped. She popped the locker open. The contents exhaled and slowly tumbled out. Kerry pulled out a pair of jeans and handed them sourly to Cain.
    “Oh, no! Not the jeans!” Gunner Stokes of Baker Team cried.
    Kerry Blue’s jeans were form fitting, threadbare across the ass. They showed off Kerry Blue very nicely.
    “Can I have them?” Gunner said.
    Cain scowled. “What you gonna do with them? Sleep with them?”
    As if it were obvious, Gunner said, “Well, yeah .”
    Cain threw the jeans at Gunner’s face.
    Gunner sounded blissful from under the denim. “Thank you.” He pulled the jeans off his face. “Hey, Kerry. Any time you want to borrow these you know where to find them.”
    “I remember where you live,” Kerry told him.
    “ Do ya?” said Gunner, a lament. Been a long time since Kerry Blue been around.

     
    Space Battleship MERRIMACK SBB 63

     

     

     
    Colonel TR Steele stood before his Marines assembled in the cargo hold. It was the only place on board where two companies of Marines could fit.
    The Old Man stood six foot even. Wore his white-blond hair buzzed short. His skin was white when he wasn’t crawfish red from bellowing like a drill sergeant. Looked younger than forty years, but that was because he’d needed a few rounds of repair work after the war.
    The medics as well as the intelligence officers had taken a hard look at Steele after his time in Roman custody. Steele had some unscheduled body work done on Palatine. That made everyone, especially TR Steele, hugely nervous. The IOs had run him through a nanosieve before allowing him to return to duty.
    Colonel TR Steele commanded a loyalty of the kind only ever seen for John Farragut. But where Farragut was dramatic, TR Steele was a brick.
    Like John Farragut—like any man—Steele could get real protective around a woman.
    And