Chapter Text
The Star Beagle Adventures
Episode 4: Starship Trooper
Scene 12: Donation
4.12
Donation
The sleeping cots had been moved all the way to the back of the Bluebird’s rear compartment. They were lashed firmly to the cargo, as a precaution so they would not be lost if another hostile boarding party were to need to be vented to space. Given the recent traumatic events they had endured, none of the marines wanted to be alone in that area.
Raanda slept only fitfully. Spike’s presence was comforting. Guz and Sasha were in the flight cabin up front. Raanda could tell that Spike wasn’t sleeping either.
“You all right there, Boyfriend?”
“Yeah. Can’t sleep…” Raanda Habib rolled over - which was a delicate operation on the cot. “Did they do klingon week when you were coming up?”
“They’ve been doing that for hundreds of years now,” Spike responded. “The first hundred or so prisoners of war the klingons took among us died from diseases they caught from eating the food. The lucky ones died from food poisoning.”
“Yeah… I used to gross the other trainees out by chowing down on the gagh,” Raanda snorted. “Turns out it’s the safest klingon food for humans - especially if eaten live. I kind of aced klingon week…”
Spike made an amused noise. “Your family… mostly doctors?” she asked. “Why did you join up?”
“All the United Earth Governments military forces are the same… They’re fielded by the old nation states, but they’re all UEG, you know?” Raanda patted the subdued UEG flag on her shoulder - just above the subdued U.S. flag and below the subdued United Federation of Planets flag. “But at the same time, they’re not. Each service still has a lot of its historic traditions…”
“Mmm hmmm,” Spike responded.
“Same thing with the way the old nation states work. I was born Israeli. Became American when I was 12. Americans are really proud of their military tradition, but most of them don’t ever serve. Israelis all serve. I never thought of not serving. Everyone in my family serves. My parents served. Their parents. All my uncles and aunts, cousins, my sisters, my brothers… All military. Most of them Israeli Army, but for me and my siblings, it’s the U.S. Marine Corps…”
“Yeah, but you could have chosen planetary duty,” Spike rejoined. “Quartermaster. JAG. Military Police. Port duty…”
Raanda rolled into a position where she could see the older marine. “Not for me. I figured I’d go out for the easy duty. Space Hound. Travel the galaxy. Meet interesting people…”
Spike laughed.
“My family never went for port duty. Kind of something unspoken among us. We serve on the front line. A lot of us died there. I’ve lost two sisters and my oldest brother is still missing. Whatever we do with our lives… I have an uncle who just sits on a beach and stares into the bottom of one beer bottle after another. Another who is a champion bicyclist. Whatever we do with our lives… we earn it on the front line. How about you… why did you sign up?”
“I didn’t,” Spike replied. “I was born a U.S. Marine. Seriously,” she added in response to Raanda’s suppressed guffaw. “Mom’s a master gunnery sergeant. Granny’s still alive - she was the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps - highest NCO position.”
“What about your father?”
“Don’t have one,” Spike responded. “Our family tradition. Men are good for a weekend of sport and sperm donation. That’s it. I have no idea who my sperm donor was. Could have been any of a dozen guys. Same way for Mom. And Granny. And Great Grandma.”
“You don’t want to get married? Have a family?” Raanda asked.
“Family, yes. Marriage, no.” Spike picked her canteen up off the floor, unscrewed the lid and had a drink. “When it comes time that I want a pup, I’ll screw a lot of different men so that none of them ever get to pretend to have a right to me or my child. Sperm donors. Nothing more.”
“You’re serious,” Raanda said, letting it sink in.
“Like Mom said, never sleep with a man. Ride them till they pass out and try to arrange it so that they never see you again.” Spike yawned cavernously. “I know you’re still seeing that klingon commander’s blood… how gross his body was when that scary guy about carved him in half. How scary that klingon was… Tarron Rerg…”
“Yeah…” Raanda squirmed a little. Uncomfortably.
“Bastard beat the shit out of me. Was a heartbeat away from spilling my guts all over his d'k tagh. Garse. That was his name. Bastard deserved what he got.” Spike’s voice dripped with venom.
Raanda shuddered a little. “And the scary one - Tarron Rerg?”
“He likes us. I guess we remind him of his kids or something. I don’t know. He’d kill us without hesitation if he thought that’s what he needed to do. But all things being equal? He’s just as happy not to.” Spike made an amused (if sleepy) noise. “Damn I’d love to be able to fight like that…”
Spike turned to look at Raanda. “Remember them telling you a klingon feast is incomplete until the first dead body hits the deck? Not so funny now, is it?”
Raanda’s response was very quiet: “Nope. Not so funny now…”
4.12