Pirates of Mars (The Pirates Trilogy Book 2) by Chris Gerrib

Author:Chris Gerrib [Gerrib, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chris Gerrib
Published: 2018-05-02T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Friday, 38 Virgo Year 52 19:45 local (March 10, 2074, 00:25 GMT)

Port Lowell, Mars

Sean walked up to the cashier station, and placed his tray on the checkout scanner. The place had all the ambiance of a hospital cafeteria, which fit, since that's what it was. But it was nearly deserted at this hour. Not a lot of people spend their Friday nights in a hospital cafeteria if they could help it.

Penny’s going to try and talk me out of this, Sean thought, as the overhead light for the checkout machine, suspended about head-high, flared brightly for a second. Immediately after, a price flashed up on the screen.

“I got this,” Penny said, reaching around him and tapping her hospital ID card against the reader. The machine deducted the cost of the meal from her account, then said “Thank you for using General Food Services” in what was supposed to be a pleasant tone. But something was wrong with the speaker, so what came out was grating.

“Thanks, Penny,” Sean said. He looked around the cafeteria. “Plenty of seats.”

“Nobody eats in a hospital cafeteria unless they have to,” Penny said. “although the Chicken Ala King is usually pretty good.”

Sean made a face. “If you say so.” They headed to a table in the back.

“Puke on a plate,” Sean said, pointing to Penny’s plate. “The army put me off of that. Janet recommended the Rueben, although I’m still not sure how ‘fresh’ this clam chowder can be.”

“Clam farm, or ranch as they call it, is at the end of our street. Kid brings a bucket to the hospital every morning.”

“Weird planet,” Sean said.

“I guess so,” Penny said. “So what does the Army have to do with Chicken Ala King?”

“We were in Korea,” Sean said. He felt a sudden chill, which always followed that thought. “After we went north, somehow my platoon got two whole skids of nothing but Chicken Ala King MREs. Ever eat that stuff frozen?”

“No. Haiti’s not known to be cold.”

Sean leaned back. Penny was full of surprises. “You served?”

“Navy corpsman. Got attached to a Marine platoon doing so-called peacekeeping.”

“That was after my time.” He dipped a fry in ketchup. “They put you through nursing school?”

“GI Bill.”

“I heard ‘so-called’ was an apt description – for Haiti.”

“I spent a year there – two deployments.” She paused, her fork in mid-air. “There wasn’t much peace to keep. We tried peacemaking instead.”

“What did that involve?”

“Mostly we hiked up into the hills. If the Skinnies—”

“Local slang?”

“Yeah. If the Skinnies took a potshot at us, we shot back. Mostly by calling in artillery fire from the gunline. Then I got to try and clean up the mess.”

“There were days I could kiss those Navy SOBs,” Sean said. “God was it cold.”

They both ate for a minute. Penny broke the silence.

“You saw combat, yes?”

“Lots.”

“But you trained for it, right?”

Sean grinned. “Until we were sick of training.”

“And people still got killed, yes?”

I think I see where she’s going. “Yes.”

“So why are you in such an all-fired hurry to

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