Vacation

That afternoon's inspection ceremony went off without a hitch. Major Maibika of the rookie training camp and Lieutenant General Anderson, who was stationed with his troops at Turaxis-Prime Base for rest and refitting, attended the parade.

Augustus and his squad graduated as scheduled. The camp officers and the virtual sergeant, Travis, gave them all high marks.

Every rookie in the camp received the leave they had been looking forward to. Before being assigned to frontline units, they had two days of rest. From then on, Augustus would only have a chance to apply for leave that long when his unit was rotated out.

The gates were unlocked after six in the evening. Nearly all the rookies poured toward the nearest Alpha Gate, while Augustus's squad followed him out through the less crowded Beta Gate.

Beyond the base lay a free-fire zone a hundred yards deep, packed with pressure mines. From atop the base's towering steel walls, heavy machine guns, autocannons, and electromagnetic artillery operated by the Confederate Marine Corps watched the area at all times.

War in the twenty-fifth century was not entirely different from war centuries ago. On the ground, armies still followed the strategy of covering targets with heavy artillery fire before advancing with tanks and infantry.

Land mines had not faded from history. They had merely been replaced by smart sensor mines with greater destructive power and more sensitive, intelligent triggering mechanisms.

Augustus and his soldiers crossed the free-fire zone amid the bustling crowd. The night sky was exceptionally clear, and two jade-like moons hung overhead, making Turaxis's nights brighter than Earth's. Another moon lay on the far side of Turaxis, and this planet's tides were far more pronounced than those of ordinary rocky worlds.

Before long, Augustus reached the nearest town to the base, a place called Braddock. It was the closest town; the next nearest settlement was twenty miles away.

Turaxis II had once been a Terran Confederacy colony, so most of its residents were more sympathetic to the Confederate military. But their proportion was nowhere near as encouraging as Turaxis Command Center and the Combat Command believed. A considerable number of locals had still lost their homes in the war, becoming Kel-Morian slave laborers, anarchists, and desperate interstellar refugees.

Even in areas controlled by the Marines, Federal Soldiers had to watch out for shots fired from some unseen corner.

Braddock had been built around a desert oasis. Most of its buildings were square, dark-brown alloy structures, their materials delivered here from orbit by interstellar freight companies decades ago.

Such young colonies were common in the pioneering era. By now, the residents here had survived and multiplied for more than two generations.

The town was not without buildings of other styles. Its sole church was lavish and magnificent, combining the Romanesque domes and columns of the Earth era with Rococo splendor. The sword-shaped cross atop its spire showed that most of the residents were Christians.

The town's streets were fairly clean and orderly, and two rows of well-maintained streetlamps cast bright light. Apart from small groups of Marine rookies walking arm in arm, Augustus saw few locals.

At the end of the road, however, the scene was entirely different. There were department stores, clothing shops, and tobacco and liquor stores, but bars and strip clubs were the most numerous.

The locals feared war and the military. They disliked these reckless young punks and worried they would cause trouble. But over the last two years, soldiers who had just been paid, had money in their pockets, and were eager to spend it had always been generous. The industries that sprang up around them greatly boosted the town's economy and gradually replaced tobacco cultivation as its economic mainstay.

As Augustus passed those neon-lit establishments, he had to frown and dodge the women throwing themselves at him. The girls wore flesh-colored, backless, midriff-baring outfits that made them seem almost naked.

Augustus looked unusually awkward. He had truly never seen anything like this before. What reassured him somewhat was that none of the girls appeared to be underage.

"They're amazing!" Harnack made no attempt to hide his desire for them.

"That isn't permitted under Shiloh law." Jim Raynor was still an innocent eighteen-year-old. Though military life had taught him swear words and some bad habits, he was still not used to such things.

"Oh, come on, Jim. You just don't understand how good women are." Kurt Josephine, the Korhal-born rookie, slung an arm around Raynor's shoulders, his face full of knowing smiles.

As a Sterling nobleman, the handsome Josephine was already an old hand at romance. He had been with many women, and it was precisely because of that that he had joined the military after graduation to lie low.

Even now, Augustus had not figured out what foolish thing Josephine had done that forced him to flee to this godforsaken place. Something like getting Universal Enterprise's chairman's daughter pregnant probably would not appear in major newspapers or news sites, so he had no way of knowing what had happened.

"Hehe~" Harnack followed Josephine as they tried to drag Raynor's childhood friend and fellow townsman, Omo, into a strip club. Omo resisted fiercely, his face flushing red.

"This isn't right, is it?" Raynor looked at Omo.

At that moment, a rotating light fixture outside the strip club cast dark-red silhouettes resembling naked women across the ground. The entire club was decorated with blatant sexual innuendo. Under the circumstances, things became chaotic for a time.

"I've heard Kel-Morian spies often mingle in places like these. Hank, if you want to die in some girl's bed, don't drag Omo into it." Augustus called Harnack by his surname, making it immediately clear that he needed to know when to stop. This was not the time for fooling around.

"Fine, fine." Harnack released Raynor and spread his hands. "Boss, don't tell me you just think the women here are too old for you."

With that, Harnack and Josephine put their arms around each other's shoulders and embraced the street girls. Several rookies behind Augustus craned their necks, eager to try their luck, but since Augustus clearly did not seem to like the place, they ultimately suppressed the heat in their hearts.

Augustus memorized the place and its name before continuing onward. His destination was the largest bar in town.

"Aren't you going to stop them?" Raynor followed with mixed feelings. He had to admit that his will might not have been as strong as he had imagined. Those beautiful girls had made a deep impression on him. Raynor was ashamed to admit that he had actually blushed just now.

"Josephine knows his limits. As for Harnack... well, I am indeed worried about him. But perhaps only a true scoundrel can thrive in a den of filth and vice," Augustus replied.

"Why didn't you go with them?" he asked Raynor.

"I'm only eighteen. God, what would my mom think if she found out? I really don't want to disappoint her," Raynor said awkwardly.

"You never know. Maybe one day, someone like you will become a legendary ladies' man." Augustus glanced at Raynor and burst out laughing. The rookies behind them acted as if they had heard the greatest joke in the world, and soon everyone was laughing at Raynor.

"Screw you!" Raynor could only curse under his breath.

And so, this group of rookies in chestnut uniforms bearing their branch colors, flat-topped caps, and gleaming leather boots entered a bar called Bloody Mary.

In accordance with hygiene and uniform regulations, their leather jackets and trousers with broad pockets had been pressed razor-sharp with sonic irons. Two white creases, each about a quarter inch wide, ran from top to bottom along each trouser leg.

Their uniform, neat attire made these rookies look somewhat less like a disorganized rabble.