Colonial Marine

I selected COLONIAL MARINE.

The universe disappeared.

For several seconds there was nothing but darkness.

Then a woman’s voice whispered directly into my ear.

“Neural synchronization complete.”

My eyes snapped open.

I was sitting on a metal bench inside a steel box only slightly bigger than a coffin. Machinery hummed beneath my feet. A stale smell hung in the air. The only light came from a cluster of blue particles gathering in the air over my lap.

They danced for a moment before coming together to form bare feet, long legs, a curvy body, and finally the face of a beautiful woman. She stood perhaps eight inches tall, her entire body composed of translucent blue light. Streams of numbers and circuitry moved beneath her skin while long cobalt hair hung around her shoulders.

And those eyes.

Bright blue perfectly round and enormous, just like her breasts.

She put a hand on her hip.

“Are you finished?”

“With what?”

“Staring at me.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“My optical tracking systems can determine precisely where you’re looking.”

Shit.

She glanced down at herself.

“Thirty-seven percent of our interaction has been spent looking at my breasts.”

“That seems low.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Now it’s forty-two percent.”

I grinned. “It’ll be an even fifty by the time this sentence ends.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

Oh, I was going to like her.

“I am Tactical Intelligence Assistant 919. I’ve been assigned to you for the duration of your service with the Colonial Armed Forces.”

Every Colonial Marine received a TIA. They managed communications, targeting, navigation, electronic warfare, medical monitoring, and the thousands of systems built into a Marine’s armor. When you were mortally wounded and ready to succumb to the eternal darkness, it was her job to force your suit to inject you with enough adrenaline to keep you on your feet and killing until your very last breath. Plus the tits and ass really helped keep the men sane as they were face with death on a near daily basis.

“You need a real name, 919.”

Her body flickered as thousands of symbols raced across it.

“Most of us just get named Tia but Okay. Shoot.”

I looked once again into her big, firm brea—eyes. I mean eyes.

“Iris. Yeah, Iris works. On account of your big suckable—eyes! I was going to say eyes again!”

“Iris?” She paused. “The messenger of the gods in ancient Greek mythology. Appropriate for an intelligence specializing in information and communication.”

She actually looked surprised.

“I like it.”

“WE DROP IN THIRTY.”

A booming voice barked through the speaker overhead.

“We what?”

Before I could get a response, a heavy metal harness slammed over my shoulders and strapped me against the bench.

“What the fuck—is this a drop pod?”

“Of course,” Iris said. “A refurbished one, at that.”

“Refurbished?”

“You have a thirteen percent probability of the pod tearing itself apart during orbital entry and a seven percent probability of catastrophic failure upon impact.”

I stared at her.

“You mean exploding?”

“That would qualify as catastrophic failure, yes.”

“Shit. Where are we dropping?”

“On the front lines.”

She said it with what almost sounded like boredom.

“Thirty-six Marines will deploy from this dropship alone. The enemy possesses anti-armor rockets and plasma mortars. Current projections indicate approximately two-thirds of you will survive the battle.”

She smiled.

“All within acceptable parameters.”

“This is because I stared at your breasts isn’t it?”

“FOR THE COLONIES!”

The voice overhead screamed.

Something exploded above me.

My stomach shot into my throat as I felt the pod drop away from the ship.

The metal coffin immediately began shaking like a roller coaster running on a pair of rusty tracks.

“FUCK!”

The vibration became so violent my teeth rattled. This all felt way too real. My hands clamped around the harness as the pod screamed toward the planet below, my palms already slick with sweat. Outside, something exploded. The entire pod lurched sideways. A red warning light began flashing over my head.

Iris calmly sat down on my knee and crossed one holographic leg over the other.

“Good news.”

“There’s good news?!”

“The thirteen percent is now twelve.”

“HOW?!”

“Another pod just exploded.”

I stared at her.

She smiled.

“Statistically, that improves your odds.”