Everlast Doesn't

[Cassie Granger 0]

Everlast Doesn’t

A Granger Log

 

At precisely 0630, Cass came to parade rest dead center, exactly three feet away from the desk of Major Souta Ishiiu, Commanding Officer, 2nd Platoon FORECON,* currently assigned to Border Patrol, USS Comanche Creek.

 

“Warrant Officer Granger reporting as ordered, Sir.”

 

His lips pursed slightly into a partial frown as he leaned back in the desk chair, hands clasped, arms on the arm rests. Even with eyes-front she could feel his stare, several rungs down from his normal casual business manner, but these weren’t exactly normal times and hadn’t been for weeks.

 

“At ease, Gunner. Siddown,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes as he rocked forward to lean his elbows on the desk. “Half hour into the day and already there’s more to do than any sane person can in a week. But who said we’re sane out here?”

 

One hand dropped to slide a slate in her direction. Cass caught it just short of the floor as she eased into the chair, forcing back a sigh of relief as she focused on him instead of the wall behind. His weariness had paled his olive skin, there were rings around his eyes from lack of sleep, and his uniform... looked like it might have been at least napped in. So much for relaxing at North Star while the Fleet took care of its own.

 

“Remember that, Sunny?” The major’s wave drew her attention to the slate. Headlined with the image of an Everlast 100-year, 100 lb. ‘indestructible’ punching bag split open, decorating the Marine gym floor, it was a list of repair/replacement charges from North Star Maintenance.

 

“Hell, Gunner, it’s not even their equipment,” he continued as he stood for a stretch before stepping around the desk, gesturing as he spoke. “Not even Fleet’s. They came in here and found every little thing they could to fix, tweak, or replace so they could charge us for it.” A final sigh accompanied his perch on the desk corner, arms crossed. “For that,” he pointed at the slate, “quartermaster says I have no options. It comes out of my budget... your budget... your team’s budget... and something has to be done to make it right. Follow me?”

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

“Question is, what.” He paused, his dangling foot bouncing a bit as his look forced hers back to the slate she cradled, not exactly hanging her head, but definitely not happy about the consequences of losing her temper.

 

“Finally found a solution, Gunner. And, as elementary as it may be, it’ll be effective in more ways than one.”

 

Cass placed the slate on his desk, waiting for the ax to fall.

 

“For the next month you’ll be in charge of equipment maintenance in the Marine gym. All the maintenance, from the floors and mats to the heavy and light equipment, to the ropes, guy-wires, and anything attached to the ceiling or walls. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” she said, surprised there wasn’t more, like several trips through the obstacle course, fresh insect parts in the masterfully putrid-ified dunk beneath the unpredictable ropes - the ones often greased up for recruits and unsuspecting low-life.

 

The major’s mood lightened a bit as he watched her reaction. “Looks to me it comes from the genes, Sunny. Bear* did the same thing when she was your age, maybe a little younger. Take it easy next time. Dismissed.”

 

Outside the office she came face-to-face with Alpha team member GySgt Gleason Momoa, aka “Kahuna/Moa,” who seemed to know what the whole thing was about. Those damned radar again.

 

“Cat’s* out of the bag?” he asked, falling in step next to her.

 

“Hell, yeah. And the Bear’s up the tree this time, too.”

 

“You didn’t split it, Gunner.” He flashed a grin when she stopped to face him. “Just loosened the stitches a little. PFC Conroy took it down.”

 

Her brows shot to the hairline. “Five foot six raw recruit skinny-as-a-rail can-hardly-make-the-ropes Conroy?”

 

“The same.”

 

A broad grin erupted as she dropped her eyes to the deck, rubbing the back of her head. “Got footage?”

 

“Damn right.”

 

“Bring it on,” she said. Their Alpha recon huddle in the recesses of the locker room would be busy for a few. Might even be worth a month’s maintenance. Hell... a year’s.

 

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* FORECON - Force Reconnaissance Company, 1st Reconnaissance Battalion, 1st Marine Division, 1st Marine Expeditionary Force.

*Cat - code name for Frank Granger, Cassie’s dad

*Bear - code name for Samantha Granger, Cassie’s mom; usually used as the dominant code.