Starfist: Lazarus Rising Read Online Free PDF Page B

begin to scab over.
    He could see the same thing happening in his Marines. When he went through the troop areas, as he did at least twice a day, everything was more shipshape than it had been following liftoff from Society 362 and until the make-work began. The Marines were standing more erect, they looked more determined, and hardly any of them appeared depressed. Angry, most certainly, but not depressed. That was all he asked for. A rueful smile flickered across his face and he wondered how long it would take for his Marines to figure out he was behind the "squid work" they were doing and transfer their anger to him.
    Well, nobody ever said a commander had to be loved by his troops.
    Corporal Claypoole wasn't the only Marine in third platoon's second squad who promised himself he was going to take the matter up with Staff Sergeant Hyakowa.
    He was the second-to-last man to make it back to the squad's compartment, and had to get in line behind Corporals Kerr and Chan and then elbow Lance Corporal MacIlargie out of his way—they were already chewing on Sergeant Linsman, the squad leader, about the squid work they were doing and demanding to see the platoon sergeant.
    Claypoole warily looked at Lance Corporal Schultz. Surely Schultz would have blood in his eyes about what they were doing. But no, Schultz was calmly lying back on his rack, plugged into the ship's library, reading who knew what, seemingly oblivious to the indignity of the squid work he'd spent his day at. The tip of Claypoole's tongue peeked from between his lips as he considered Schultz's uncharacteristically mild behavior. It worried him. He sidled a half step away from Schultz, a half step being as far as he could go in the cramped confines of the squad compartment, and turned his attention to the squad leader and the two fire team leaders already chewing on him.
    "I'm not putting up with any more of this shit!" a loud voice declaimed from the entrance to the compartment. Everybody—except Schultz—looked at the voice in surprise. Not in surprise at the words, surprise at the speaker. It was Corporal Doyle. Corporal Doyle hadn't been heard to raise his voice since he'd come back from his premature transfer out of 34th FIST when Company L's first sergeant, Top Myer, wanted to court-martial him for insubordination following the Avionia deployment. Before the premature transfer, he'd been the company's chief clerk; after it, he filled a PFC slot in third platoon. And he'd never been known to raise his voice in the face of a blaster squad.
    "What's your problem, Doyle?" Linsman snapped.
    "I just spent the day cleaning heads for the damn squids, that's what!" Doyle snapped back. "I left those heads clean enough to eat off. They're probably cleaner than the squids' galleys!"
    "I doubt it," Kerr grumbled. "Chan and I spent the day cleaning their galleys."
    "See! They're treating us like galley slaves," Doyle declared, unaware of the pun.
    "I'm surprised they don't have us painting this scow!"
    Wordlessly, Linsman pushed back a sleeve and held up his arm to show Doyle the drops of paint spattered on the back of his hand and wrist.
    Doyle's eyes popped wide. "You too?" he squeaked. "They've got a squad leader doing squid work?"
    Linsman nodded. "Rabbit and Hound too," he said, naming the first- and gun-squad leaders. "I'm not sure, but I think the platoon sergeants were doing squid work in the chiefs' quarters and officer country."
    There were gasps, and everybody—except Schultz—looked at their squad leader, horrified at the very thought of platoon sergeants doing menial labor.
    There was a sudden, albeit restricted, surge of movement away from Schultz when everyone simultaneously realized he hadn't reacted. Surely, Schultz was about to go on a rampage, and nobody wanted to be standing in his path when he launched himself. But, no. Schultz was totally immersed in his reading.
    "Then it won't do us much good to go to Staff Sergeant Hyakowa, will it?" Chan