turboshadowcool

Hi, I wrote a story set in the Pinwheel universe by snekguy (which is NSFW btw). I posted first in the reddit community of snekguy and I might try to create a mirror community here as well. This is already the second update but I can't be bothered to reword it right now.

This time we learn about Marco's backstory and his crack team of friends. The new content starts at "The fuel lines are frozen solid."

Thank you for the kind responses to my last post. Part of the reason I posted at all was to motivate me to continue writing, and you helped me with that. And like last time, please feel free to let me know your feedback. I've still got much to learn in writing stories.

The convoy had halted, again. Marco could tell by the idling hum of the engine as he slowly woke up from a hazy sleep. It had a slight imperfection every few strokes. A chamber sealant ring must be loose again, the error small enough to ignore for now. There was already an indicator LED going off on his service phone, impatiently waiting for him to open up his new assignment. But the most obvious sign that they had come to a stop was that his cramped cot wasn't shaking him like a mechanical bull anymore. They had been traversing the rough undergrowth of a subtropical jungle for days now, his Puma personnel carrier following a path carved by the much heavier Kodiak tanks up front.

The jungle spanned most of the equatorial region of Meor, a lush moon with a recently established Betelgeusian hive calling it home. Their deployment here was part of a new doctrine, written after the bitter battle of Kerguela. The bug colony on this moon was still relatively new and weak, a good target to test out the UNNs new divide and conquer tactics. Marco's company was currently on clean up duty, squashing resistance in territories long bled dry of supplies.

He released the straps keeping him tied down on his cot with practiced speed while loosing a wide yawn. Super-light jump straps were usually found in spaceship beds to prevent passengers from injuring themselves during the stresses of FTL travel. These however were retrofitted, like so many things in his humble quarters. It had taken a few favors and two hours of work, but without them, Marco suspected he'd get even less sleep than he did now. He rolled out of his cot, landing on the metal floor of the cargo bay. This had been his home for weeks, though you couldn't tell by the look of it. He was standing in a glorified storage closet on wheels, with a wet room tucked into the far corner and his cot hanging scarcely forty centimeters from the low roof behind him. There was a medical bay opposite of his cot, currently folded away for storage. With these exceptions, every other available space had been filled with spare parts, ammunition crates and tools. A narrow corridor in the middle was marked with yellow stripes and left clear enough to allow a human to pass. Perhaps even a Borealan, if they ducked their head. Not like many of the towering feline aliens became mechanics, anyway.

"They want you at the front. Be ready for pickup in ten!" the driver yelled from the cab. Great, that meant he still had time to eat before packing his various tools and spare parts. Marco was used to the stressed life of a combat mechanic. Unlike the marines he traveled with who slept in tents when the convoy was parked, he had to work during those very downtimes to keep the company moving. That meant he had to sleep while on the move, hence the uncomfortable cot. Even then he'd often get called out of his sleep to fix combat damage or anything that couldn't wait until the evening. He wasn't about to complain, however. His job often earned him the thanks of tanker crews and Puma drivers. He was needed by others who appreciated him, and that was enough. Marco ate while sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading his assignment.

"Hmm, let's see. Hostile encounter, shots fired, three vehicles affected, ah - one immobilized." he muttered. "That would be why where stuck then. A Kodiak with battle damage. Surely that's just a broken tread, right?" he said, not quite convincing himself either. Marco took some notes with one hand while eating his dry ration with the other. It tasted so ambiguous that he couldn't tell what it was supposed to be, if anything. Just as he liked it. With one last bite, he rose up and turned towards a container labeled "Kodiak parts 2A-2F". Without reading most of the labels, he retrieved a myriad of fasteners, linkages and more complex components. He paused for a moment with two small plastic bags in his hand, referencing his notes, until he dropped one back into its box and kept the other. A collection of his chosen parts was piling up inside his old duffel bag, Marco adding tools and diagnostic equipment as he went. With a zip he closed his bag, stepped into his mud caked pants and boots waiting for him at the exit ramp and donned a sun hat before stepping outside. Here he could finally stretch out to his full height, relieving his back after hours of cramped living. He still wasn't fully awake yet, but the warm sun on his face did its best to help. To his back, he could already hear the approaching light vehicle that would take him to the convoy's front.

"How's the clamshell?" the driver of his new taxi asked. His name was Jeremy, they'd spoken in passing. "Luxurious as ever - what do you think?" he replied, grabbing a handhold and swinging himself inside. "Honestly, I have no idea how you do it. My ass hurts after an hour of riding through this jungle. Do you even sleep in there?" Jeremy asked. "Yeah, until ten minutes ago." It wasn't Jeremy's fault, of course, but their convoy was almost back home and frustrations were at their highest. "That would explain your creative hairstyle." Marco had taken his hat off and was now beginning to untangle his blonde locks. There was a reason why most marines whore buzz cuts. "Oh, you're just jealous, man." Marco replied. They both laughed as Marco caught an especially unruly lock and fastened it down with a hairband. "- and look at the road, for fuck's sake."

"Did you hear the shots, by the way? No way you slept through those!" Jeremy inquired. "Like a baby." Marco said with a grin. "Well, they really didn't hold back. The Kodiaks know they don't have to ration ammo for much longer. Presumably they found something worth shooting at." Jeremy continued. "I heard the bugs had trenches this time." Marco was listening closely now. He knew that different Betelgeusian hives had used trench warfare before, but often only to protect their higher value targets. They had faced off against simple outposts armed with little more than pillboxes so far. He wasn't worried about their success chances, even against larger fortifications. Not with a full mechanized company shooting tungsten down range, but this meant they might have sustained more substantial damage. Marco didn't very much fancy the idea of a field tank repair so close to the finish line. "Well whatever they broke with their little stunt, we're not moving 'til I fix it" Marco said.

After a bumpy ride through the lush forest, the front vehicles came into view. They hadn't driven very far, but the thick, dimly lit undergrowth blocked sight lines after only a few dozen meters here. The damaged tank was easy enough to spot. It was separated from the others by a few vehicle lengths and tilted precariously forwards. A thin line of smoke was rising from its right side, from just out of view. Marco found the tanker crew standing not far from the backside ramp. As he approached, he could hear them arguing among themselves. The tank commander, an older woman with a dark complexion and a wicked scar on her left hand, turned to greet Marco. "Good morning beauty. Sleep well?" She asked sarcastically. It was well past noon and no, Marco hadn't slept well. "Great, wonderful, yeah." he replied. "I'm Anita, commander of the Wiesel, name-code 235-598 Kodiak" the commander introduced herself. "And I sure hope you brought a replacement fuel manifold, 'cause she's bleeding gas"

"If the fuel system is beyond repair, then your crew has to find spots on the Pumas while I mark your tank for retrieval. You know the rules." Marco argued. "Only if she's actually beyond repair! All she needs is a quick touch up, and we'll be on the road again." Anita replied with determination. "Luckily, we have a master mechanic on hand." She added with a tone that suggested ulterior motives behind her flattery. Marco knew how attached tanker crews could become to their vehicles and wasn't about to argue for naught. "You're not gonna leave me alone til I fix your Wiesel anyway. Just make yourself useful, starting by attaching your towline to another Kodiak." he conceded. "Already on it!" Anita replied. She gave quick orders to her crew as they continued running a heavy cable to the nearest tank. While they were busy, Marco used the opportunity to get a closer look at the damage. The Wiesel as she was apparently called had sunken one tread into an overgrown and abandoned trench. Immobilized, she could still make for an impressive pillbox, but the easy target had drawn much of the enemy fire. The bulk of the damage seemed confined to the well armored front as well as the right flank. One of the ammunition stores had burned off safely to avoid the charges going off prematurely under the intense heat of accumulating plasma shots. It seems they had gotten lucky, their tank was damaged, but not enough to fully abandon. Their gain, Marco's loss. This would mean extensive repairs and before that diagnostics. Far from a simple tread change. The coming night was already shaping up to be a long one.

"The fuel lines are frozen solid. I think I can literally hear the liner cracking. - The pipe wrench please. - This jury-rigged fitting must have been leaking gas for days! - Hose clamps. No, the larger ones, yeah those." Marco was buried under the rear of the Kodiak. It had been pulled clear and lifted a few centimeters by now. The temporary supports where sagging precariously in the mud, threatening to buckle and drop a few tons of badly serviced machinery and steel on him. At this point a part of him welcomed the idea. The closer Marco looked, the more damage he found. The sun had set a while ago and by now his work area was bathed in the harsh light of his deployable work lamps.

During the weeks long missions of clean up convoys, like their own, tanker crews were tasked with most routine maintenance of their vehicles. Clearly the Wiesel's crew had taken that as more of a suggestion. "Oh god, are those zip ties? And please tell me you haven't used sparking metal fasteners for the fuel filter." Marco asked Mikhael, the gunner and his impromptu assistant. After a conspicuous pause he replied "Probably not. Would that be bad?". Marco crawled out from the muddy underside of the tank while complaining "'Would that be bad?' Do you have any idea of how dangerous that is? You'll blow up yourself before the bugs get to it!". "No, I don't. That's why you're the mechanic not me. If it's so dangerous than just fix it!" Mikhael retorted. Their blood shot eyes locked as Marco stared incredulously at him. Both men were tired and frustrated, and had been taking that out on each other for hours. There was a palpable blend of tension and exhaustion in the air. Like they would either fight or fall asleep any minute. "He's right you know." Anita interjected. She set down the fuel canister she was carrying. "As a tank commander my duty is to ensure the safety of my crew and to complete our objectives. If they keep us rolling than zip ties it is. I knew of the leaking fitting, but our fuel level projections were still within the margin of error." she explained. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Marco asked. "What I'm saying is, just because our maintenance isn't top-notch doesn't mean you have to be an asshole about it. It's not like they ever taught us more than some basic repairs anyway." Anita said with a little kindness in her voice. Marco took a moment before responding "Fine, maybe you're right. To be fair I think those zip ties will probably hold until we're back at the FOB, but you'll give some poor mechanic a heart attack during your next servicing." He pulled out the notes on his phone to cross one off. "The sparking metal fasteners are a different story though. If you don't use inert metals around flammable gases, a single spark could cause an explosion any time. I guess they skipped that part in your maintenance refresher. I'll change those, reroute your coolant and replace one last fuel line. Shouldn't take long anymore." he promised. "I'll start cleaning up some of the mess around here." Mikhael offered. Anita shot them both a broad smile and left of with the fuel canister on her shoulder.

It had taken a few more hours, but Marco had finally mobilized the Wiesel again. Now he was packing up the last of his tools. Mikhael had already gone to build his tent half an hour ago. They had parted tired but reconciled. Marco was glad for Anita's interjection. If he had picked a fight at that moment it would have done wonders to get the pent-up frustration out of his system. But by now he'd be regretting it. His odd schedule was isolating enough as it was, no need to make it any worse. He closed his last toolbox and pulled out his service phone. While most of the company had gone to sleep by now, he still had a few more hours before he would finish for the night.

Marco was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to his cot again. He could feel the cold metal floor through the light clothing he was wearing. The only source of light was the blue hue emanating from his tablet screen. It was early in the morning and the sun had yet to rise. The ringing tone of his video call was jarringly loud. Marco adjusted the volume slightly. Real time calls where a rare luxury, even to navy personnel, but at this time of day no one was waiting in the cue. The person on the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi Yuki. I hope you can see me, it's still quite dark here."

"Oh, hi Marco! No, the light's fine. So good to see you again! How is life on the front treating you?"

"I wouldn't know. The front line is currently hundreds of clicks to the west. My company's on clean-up duty, and I've been sleeping through most of our engagements."

"Pfft, I can imagine. You spent more time asleep than awake in calculus class if I remember correctly."

"Well Mr Simmer could've made anything sound boring. Also, in my defense, I've been awake during the last dozen or so nights. You should see the nocturnal fauna on Meor."

"That good?"

"Enough bioluminescence to make an angler fish blush. And highly complex hunting and mating patterns. I found a butterfly looking species that only lives in a single type of hollow tree."

"Wow, you better send me your notes. The biologists of old would have done anything to discover such new species."

"Already in the cue."

"You know, sometimes I feel like you get to do more science than us. My lab recently found a promising lead on that strange subtype of high temperature superconductors. This might our biggest break since Kemal's doctors thesis."

"Oh, I remember the waves that made. That was still the early days of experiments using the energies of super light travel reentry."

"Yeah, but guess who got to review our application for another test run."

"Wouldn't Dr Connor usually do that?"

"He's tied up on Val'ba'ra so it went straight to Dr Cheung. And you know how she hates my gut. She knows damn well that my team is onto something here, but she doesn't want to give us the victory."

"That has to qualify as scientific misconduct, right? Get her reviewed. They might even find all the other shit she's been pulling."

"The moment I report her my lab is done for. Even if she's punished she can still drag me down with her. And that's still a big if."

"Oh that bitch. Sounds like little has changed since I left."

"No, some things have improved. My team has been making meaningful advancements for a little while. But every time you think you're in the clear, there's just one more elitist prick waiting for you. It helps to talk about it though. Thanks for letting me vent."

"Please do. I know frustrating that can get. I couldn't stick it out after all. All the more respect for you though. It's good to know some teams still do research for the sake of knowledge and with a moral compass."

"That's kind of you to say, but I'm not sure if I can live up to that. I'm just running experiments to satiate my own childish curiosity"

"Exactly. Take some pride in your work. In a lot of ways it's what I always wanted. You know, except for the Dr Cheungs"

"Well I guess I'll just have to prepare another test run request. Thanks for motivating me. I'll read through your notes as soon as they arrive. George will probably want to see them too, if that's fine with you?"

"Oh sure! So long as you don't publish them in your name it's cool."

"Haha, I didn't expect you to think so lowly of me."

"And send me your unclassified notes too."

"Like always, of course."

"Bye you lab rat."

"Bye, and get some sleep you adrenaline junkie."

The Alarm on Marco's watch went off, but he was already awake. After 4 hours of sleep it was mostly his excitement that had woken him up. When the convoy had halted this time he could feel the difference. The sound of a refuel hose being hooked up to the Puma, the off-road tires rolling on metal grating. He knew they had arrived at the FOB, of course, but he could just as much feel it, no alarm needed. This meant beds that stood still. It meant ceilings taller than him. Most of all it meant he could adjust to a normal sleep schedule again.

Gathering his personal belongings took all of 10 minutes. Before stepping out Marco said his goodbyes to the driver and thanked the vehicle for safe passage. An old habit. Before reaching the bottom of the ramp he was hit with the sweltering heat. After that came the noise and numerous smells of the FOB. It was a clear evening and just now beginning to cool down. The FOB lacked any tall trees to provide shade and so it was even hotter that the surrounding jungle. After weeks spent in relative calm the bustling paths and roads of the FOB where an adjustment. Marco began walking towards the direction where he knew the mess hall to be. Dinner, or rather breakfast was sounding like a brilliant plan right now. Before he had left the convoy's parking area he heard a voice call out to him. "Yo, Marco!" it was Anita, waiving from a few vehicles over. She approached with hers and another tank's crew in tow. "Hey, we're about to cash in our alcohol allowance at the bar. Thought we might collect our master mechanic along the way?" she said with a raised eyebrow. Marco looked over to Mikhael and the others. "Sounds like fun, but not today. I've already got some friends to catch in the mess hall. But tomorrow evening I'm free." he said. "Well you know where to find us. Come by later if you want." Anita said before setting off with her friends. As much as Marco was happy to meet new people, right now he was focused on finding his own friends. According to the deployment records, they had all arrived back at the FOB recently as well, and he had an idea of where to find them.

As Marco ducked under the canvas flap into the mess hall tent he could spot his friends almost immediately. They were occupying the only table with proximity to an outlet, as usual. An extension cable had been run up to the table. A fully filled power strip sat in the center powering an assortment of appliances. Mechanics and medics had the best access to quality of life supplies and his friends were living proof of that. The first to spot him was Viktor. A slender man with high cheek bones. From his black hair to his neat navy overalls, everything was clean and orderly. His medic badge sat clearly visible on his dominant left arm. Next to him sat Anna, a smaller woman with lively brown eyes. The overall she was wearing had been adorned with colorful patches and modified far beyond dress code standards. Her buzz cut was the only thing that wouldn't get her written up by an angry sergeant. But as a medic one sometimes got to skirt some of the stricter policies. With her back to Marco sat Edith. A powerfully built woman with the signature hands of a mechanic. She was the oldest of their bunch and had more experience than many of their superiors. Her rolled up sleeves and cotton bandanna made her look like a sailor of old.

"Ah Marco, finally home too. You hungry?" Viktor greeted him. "There you are man! How I've missed those blood shot eyes." Anna said with a wide grin. "I have my qualities" Marco replied. "Hi Viktor, hi Edith". "Hello Marco, you're just in time. We're about to eat." Edith said, while making space on her side of the table. She had been using a coffee mill to grind her personal bean blend. There was a miniaturized coffee machine hooked up to what looked like the power supply of a welding unit. Even a water filter was standing among the mess. Loaded in the coffee machine was a comically small cup as though to punctuate the absurd ritual. Her meal for the evening was no less decadent. Edith was frying a Borealan sized steak in a pan that was just peeking out from under the edges of the massive hunk of meat. It was already developing a perfect golden brown crust around the edges, she knew what she was doing. "All you need now is a box, a stick and a string, and you could catch a mad cat with that you know." Macro joked, gesturing to Edith's steak while sitting down. "After working for that perfect sear I'd never waste my steak on bait." she replied while transferring her coffee grounds.

"You guys look like you've all been busy." Marco added. Viktor had spread out an assortment of foraged plants and mushrooms before him. There were root vegetables, legumes, tree- and ground mushrooms next to a dissected vegan ration pack and various spice containers. He was busy cutting a cleaned root that reminded Marco of a carrot. On a slab of steel that he had welded replacement heating elements onto he was making tortillas. "If I want to eat anything besides this poor excuse for a vegan field ration I have little choice. You'd think that the UNN could come up with tofu sticks that aren't soggy and mushy. The curry is completely bland out of the box." Viktor complained. "Looks like you made it work though, as usual. Are you making your special wraps again?" Marco replied. "Yeah, with these roots and mushrooms I should be able to make it work. By the way, I have some special delicacies for you again. I don't feel like trying anything too dissimilar from the ingredients in my recipes, but you'll probably get a kick out of them. Some of the mushrooms glow in the dark." he said while lifting a cloth sack over the table. Marco had to be careful not to knock over anything as he took it.

"Hey, if there are any sour fruit in there I call dibs!" Anna interjected. "My citrus supply ran dry 4 days ago." She was loading chopped fruit, the same species as what Viktor had foraged, into a blender. From the assortment of glassware that was standing around her Marco could tell she was mixing cocktails again. It all smelled very fruity and sweet reminding him of tropical resorts. "Not sure I should support your alcohol problem. You know, as a friend." Marco teased. "Hey, I'm doing this for science! Pretty sure no one has ever mixed with these fruits before. And you better be nice, or I won't share my sunset colada with you." she defended herself. "Is that what you're calling it? Can't wait to see if the taste lives up to the name. I guess you can have my sour fruit if there's more than one." he replied.

Marco added his own pouch to Viktor's and began unpacking. He produced exotic flora from it, one stranger and less edible looking than the other. His friends looked on with curiosity and some disgust. When it was all laid out before him, he got out a non-standard issue food scanner and his phone. Picking the first item, an angry looking flower with thick leaves and thorns, he ran his scanner over it, taking notes of the results. Next he broke of a petal and took a tentative bite, grimacing briefly before taking more notes: 'Acidic with light earthy aftertaste'. After removing some more thorns he took a bigger bite out of the flower's head, savoring the sensation. It tasted somewhat like vinegar at first but after chewing on it, the taste abruptly changed to cauliflower mixed with pomegranate. Setting the mostly eaten flower aside and taking more notes, Marco moved on to his next strange delicacy. "God, you're the weirdest person I know, and I've seen Viktor attempt to dance. What's today's banquets review, oh strange creature of the forest?" Anna asked with a laugh. Viktor paused his wrap assembly for a second before continuing with a scowl. "Don't mock my pursuit for knowledge. In your own words: 'I'm doing this for science'. And in case you care, the flower was earthy, the stick looking thing tangy and sweet, and this slimy seed cluster tastes like it would be at home in one of your frilly cocktails." Marco explained. "Oh hell no! That alien egg looking thing will never enter my clodas nor my mojitos" Anna said, while covering her glass to protect it. "Wait, this one is sour though." Marco added already with the next fruit in his mouth. "You can have the other if you stop mocking my breakfast." he proposed. "Oh, that one? Fine, I think your alien goo and spiky potatoes look totally delicious." she conceded. Marco tossed her the fruit with a smirk.

"Breakfast? I'm going to assume your sleep schedule is all backwards again. You should work out before going to bed, that should help you sleep tight." Edith said. "-helps me anyway." "Alright mom, will do." he replied. "Oh you piece of- That was not warranted. Be happy at least someone is looking out for you." she shot back. "OK fine, cheap shot. I'll be nice now." he promised. By now Edith had finished her coffee and was already halfway done with her steak. "I would offer you this new herb I just tried that would go perfectly with some venison, but somehow I doubt you'll take me up on that." he offered. "Damn right. After they invented salt and pepper they could've just stopped. Why use all those nonsense spices when there's already the only two I'll ever need?" she answered. "Pretty sure curry or like chili came first, chronologically speaking" Viktor considered. "Well not into my kitchen." she responded. "Heads up!" Anna alerted Marco as she held out a decorated drink across the table. "Where's your creativity, no desire to try something new Edith?" Marco questioned. He took his drink from Anna with an acknowledging smile. "No need for that." Edith said.

"You're one to talk. Where's your 'desire to try something new'?" Anna probed. Marco looked at her with a confused expression. "Something like, what's her name? Anita, right!" she continued. "Oh, I get it now. How did you even find out? Never mind, I came here instead 'cause I thought you'd missed me so much." he said. "Oh, the FOB has intranet, and I've got a little birdy telling me you finally got close to someone other than us." she explained. "Look, while I'm totally happy to have you looking after my.. social connections, I'm really not in the mood for this after weeks in a can. You can ship me with whomever you like after I've had my beauty sleep." he said. "Why would you care so greatly about his hookups anyway? What do you get out of this second hand experience?" Viktor asked. "Oh, sometimes there's fun in just following the drama. No need to participate." Anna responded. "I still think it's weird" Viktor said. "You don't get to judge me on this. Just 'cause you're only into garlic bread or whatever doesn't mean we all are." she retorted. Edith turned to Anna, now with a whiskey glass in one and a lit cigar in another. "Honey, sounds to me like your problem is self-made. You can't use Marco's relationships to replace your own. You don't need gossip, you need a date." "Don't say that! You're right, but still, I'd rather not hear it. I've already checked our deployment records and there are like almost no aliens here. The only Borealans are mercenaries from Rask, so they stick to themselves. And the Jarilans are all female." she lamented. "And I'm guessing you're not gonna try dating humans again? I'm sure they have excellent therapists in this jungle." Marco said sarcastically. He knew enough of Anna's past experiences to not mean the suggestion seriously. "Oh, isn't deep-seated trauma just so hot nowadays? I'm sure nothing could go wrong." she replied with a chuckle. "How do you do it, Edith? You spend months away from your husband and not to make this awkward, but I'm guessing you keep your relationship monogamous." Anna asked. "Well, what interests you? Do you have a pastime that you don't connect with dating? I know cocktails are more than cheap alcohol to you, but no wonder they make you think of past flings. I've seen you glued to some random string of Wikipedia articles before, maybe try that to distract yourself." Edith suggested. "Hm, that might actually work. I mean Wikipedia hyperfixations still remind me of that one Val'ba'ran, but I get your point." Anna said, lost in thought. "Well so long as you don't use me as some kind of second hand dating relief I'll keep you updated on Anita. Although I think we'd be better as friends. I've warmed up to her crew." Marco promised.

Their conversation ebbed naturally, but nobody was bothered by the silence. Everyone tended to their own odd meals and appliances. They spend the remainder of the evening trading food and stories about their trips. After a while they finished cleaning up together, said their goodnights and Marco headed to his assigned cot for the night. He stashed his things, but before going to sleep he went outside one last time. Even though he sometimes mocked Edith's advice, he knew she was right. Getting his sleep schedule in order was genuinely important and nothing would tire him out as quickly as a few laps around the FOB. He wouldn't be allowed to leave the secure perimeter so he headed to the nearest wall, made from dirt filled drop-in sections. The fresh air smelled of jungle nights. The dirt crunched under his feet as he took off. Marco wasn't built like the marines on posters. He had always avoided the crowded gyms on UNN ships. Instead, he had cultivated a cardio routine. It didn't give him the bulk to wrestle down a Betelgeusian drone, but he could work tirelessly for hours and run in full gear for kilometers. Under his scuffed navy overalls he was all muscle and bone. No fat to conceal his defined thighs and calves. Vanity wasn't very useful during deployments, but he was glad to feel content in his body. During his years in academia that hadn't always been the case and only later did he realize how much that had affected him. As he rounded a corner he suddenly had to think of Anita. Anna's comments came back to him, but he knew her direct humor well enough not to take them very seriously. In truth, he was just happy to make more friends. It's not that he felt lonely, but he suspected that some company during his trips could help ease tensions with the other marines. Too much of his time was wasted arguing over nothing. While Anita reminded him more of a mother figure in many ways he had to admit, that his view of Mikhael had changed over the last days. Perhaps they could be friends, at least. Marco veered off from the wall shortly before his tent was in sight. He'd take his much needed shower before heading in for the night.