Retreat Hell Read Online Free Page A

he’d been sent to Avalon – and they couldn't marry, not while they were holding important posts.  What is it like to lose a child ?
    Losing a Marine was always a tragedy, all the more so when he had been in command, responsible for the lives of his men.  But Marines were trained to the very peak of human capability before they were set loose on an unsuspecting universe and assigned to individual Marine companies.  Ed had never been responsible for training his men.  A child, on the other hand, was raised from birth by its parents.  There was a connection there that even the most loyal and determined NCO failed to grasp with his men.  How could he blame Councillor Travis for his grief?
    He caught sight of the older man, leaning over the grave and shuddered.  Councillor Travis was older than Ed, his body carrying the scars of struggle with the old Council’s stranglehold on Avalon’s economy.  His hair had faded to white long ago, but there was a grim determination in his eyes that had carried him far.  Now, that determination was turned against the military itself – and the Commonwealth.
    Ed sighed, bitterly.  The hell of it was that he believed that Councillor Travis was right.
    ***
    It felt strange, Brigadier Jasmine Yamane considered, to be wearing civilian clothes.  She hadn’t been a civilian since she’d turned seventeen and walked right into the Marine Corps recruitment station on her homeworld.  At Boot Camp, she’d worn the khaki outfits the new recruits were issued by the Drill Instructors, while the Slaughterhouse had expected them to wear combat battledress at all hours of the day.  Even when she’d gone on leave, which had only happened once between her qualifying as a Marine and being exiled to Avalon with the rest of the company, she’d worn undress uniform.
    But the instructions for the funeral had been quite clear.  No military uniforms.  None of the guests were to wear anything that could even remotely be construed as a military uniform.  And, for someone who had never really considered how to dress herself for years, even picking something to wear had taken hours.  It annoyed the hell out of her that she could react quickly and decisively on the battlefield, but found herself utterly indecisive when trying to decide what to wear.  There was no way she could talk about that with the other Marines.
    She caught sight of her own reflection in the growing puddle of water on the grass and sighed, inwardly.  Eventually, she’d settled for a black shirt and a long black skirt that swirled oddly around her legs.  It was loose, but it still felt constraining.  The first time she’d pulled it on, she’d had a flashback to one of the nastier exercises she’d undergone at the Slaughterhouse, when she’d been chained up and dropped into a swimming pool.  It hadn't surprised her, afterwards, to learn that several recruits had quit when they’d realised what they had to do to proceed.
    The preacher started to speak again, his words hanging on the air.  Jasmine had once been religious, religious enough to understand why Councillor Travis and his family sought comfort from their belief in God.  It had been a long time since she’d prayed formally, she reminded herself, although heartfelt prayers on the verge of battle were probably more sincere than anything she’d offered back on her homeworld.  But listening to his words was a bitter reminder that over a hundred young men and women were dead – and most of them had died under her command.
    I'm sorry , she thought, directing her thought towards the coffin, now buried under a thin layer of earth.  I’m so sorry .
    In the days of the Empire, she knew without false modesty, she would be lucky to have risen to Lieutenant by now.  Promotion was slow, even within the Marine Corps – and a brevet promotion could be cancelled without affecting her career.  It was worse, far worse, in the Imperial Army, where officers were often