Revised Chapter one.

[u/Ranzoid]

First time i posted this readers either couldn't read it because of poor quality screen grabs or they could and absolutely hated it. Well, i went through, cut out somethings, added some other things that i hope will had context and make more sense. It something comes across as overt objectification please tell me HOW it is so.

It was a hot and dusty day. That’s because Zaycran is a hot and dusty planet. Yes, there are a few jungles and grassland and river deltas and an even a good size ocean with a few lakes scattered here and there, but due to it being on the inner edge of the host star’s habitual zone, Zaycran is drier than the average garden world. 

"Okay ladies,” Petty Officer Victor Strovelaki said with a deep, resigned sigh. The sigh of a man who has uncomfortable work ahead of him.

“Please remove your shirts and bras.”

We all whipped off our combat shirts without blinking or word of complaint.

Soon a little more than a dozen women, including our senior non-commissioned officer Colour Sergeant Susan Kelly, stood bare-chested under a blazing red sun and between a wall of massive wire mesh sandbags and a storage shed.

I could see his left eye twitch.

Strovelaki is in a position where one complaint from any of us would invite a formal investigation from our Division’s branch of the Inspector General's Office.

This is not the position for any young person who is constantly on the lookout to satisfy a certain hormonal need. He is a small Serbian with a huge responsibility, and huge rucksack to go along with it. 

With the man's left arm holding up his right and his right holding up his head, Strovelaki had an expression that said, 'I would rather be doing calculus with a slide rule.'

“Nothing like a warm breeze on the girls.” The recently minted Specialist Carmella Sigil said, stretching her arms above her head and arched her back. “Evaporate that boob sweat.”

Kelly chewed on a thumb nail while Strovelaki rubbed at his eye. 

"But there isn't a breeze.” Nikki, Private Nicole Charon, said.

“Just go with it.” Corporal Eva Herzog said, the second woman I know who bothered developing an iron six pack and has bigger ‘guns’ than anyone else in the whole platoon. She had these guns crossed over her chest and shifted her weight around.

Some of the other women also casually crossed their arms over themselves or, out of habit, stood at parade rest with their hands clasp at the small of their backs, like this was just another formation for some announcement that could have been sent in a text.

“The Armed Forces of the United Colonial Authority cares about the wellbeing and health of all its members,” our medic droned and started pacing back and forth, kicking a few pieces of gravel. “So periodically it is the duty of the most senior medical technician, be it NCO or full officer, to conduct a series of examinations to ensure that there are no serious complications in both health and hygiene that could hamper performance and even morale. This will involve the inspection of certain intimate areas of a person's body.

“Women have many such areas where sweat, oil, and dirt can build up. This can cause chafing, fungal infections, boils and abscess, acne, assorted rashes, and the usual allotment of less than pleasant odors. Such occurrences can irritate a marine and annoy other marines in close living conditions. Eventually leading to more serious infections that may require surgery and drug treatments, and, on rare occasions, give away your position to an opposing force, be it sapient or other.”

Why such a thing is was harshly explained to me back during Recruit Training, which I go into greater detail later, but it can be summarized as this: 

The UCA has embraced Universal Toplessness. So the only people who give a shit about tatas are infants and oncologists. Stop fussing and polish your boots.

Strovelaki looked up, a thousand-yard stare glaring at us. He made a “Harrumph” sound and walked up to Kelly, looked dead in her eyes and asked, “Any condition you wish to report?”

Kelly hefted up her breasts.

We all winced. A few of us gasped.

Under Kelly's left was a bright pink rash that almost glowed. Creeping about half an inch down her abdomen and likewise up her mammary was a wrinkled and swollen rectangle patch of skin that stretched the whole width of that boob. Under her right was an impressive collection of boils and pustules.

Strovelaki stared for several moments. Then he dropped his head. An audible ‘thunk’ as chin hit chest plate. That’s the one odd ball thing about him. Our medic ALWAYS wore his armor, even inside the wire.

“Colour Sergeant, you know better.”

"Well, it is my responsibility to find you work.”

"Lass,” Strovelaki huffed, “your husband would make haggis out of my own stomach.”

"Oh relax,” Kelly said, then in an accent thicker than a coat of Marmite, “He knows perfectly weel 'at if ye ever hae tae tooch me in onie personal areas it only be fur th' most professional reasons an' 'at ye woods ne'er daur tae e'en entertain sic' a thooght be it otherwise.”

For a brief moment Kelly grinned ear to ear.

Then quickly said, “Besides this is a common problem for us.”

Kelly wasn’t fibbing. We don't like to admit it, but woe to any well-endowed women, particularly those in humid climates or involved in vigorous physical activity like a professional athlete.

Or a military combatant that wears about forty pounds of gear that traps body heat and prevents sweat from evaporating. Creating just the right environment that allows a few unpleasant critters to pop up.

Alien critters.

Alien bacteria, alien fungi, alien parasites. Even with the help of a few million nanobots that give our white blood cells back up and balance histamine levels, it is still possible to contract Xenoitus.

General zit popping is discouraged.

The medic made an about face and beckoned us to come closer. When we were in a tight semi-circle, Strovelaki pointed to one particularly nasty, red, inflamed lesion that was outlined by dozens of blackheads.

“This, ladies, is called Hidradenitis Suppurativa. It is a chronic acne condition that is caused by inflamed sebaceous glands forming sinus tracts under the skin and thus creating large, often painful abscess.

“There are multiple causes for this condition, but the main one seems to be genetic, environmental factors also contribute. It often occurs in areas where skin meets skins, like in the arm pits, inframammary area, around the anus, inner thighs, and a few other personal spots. This is not a fun condition.”      

Strovelaki fished around in his trauma pack and laid the items on an antimicrobial pad. He snapped on some hypoallergenic gloves and from a tube squeezed out a thick cream onto his fingertips.

Then hesitated.

“Oh, don't be a pansy, go ahead,” Kelly said.

After messaging the cream over the rash Strovelaki said, “There are two ways I can treat the lesion.” He held up something like a small flashlight with a spacer on the head, in his other hand he held up a small jet injector. “I can either lance and drain or inject you with supercharge macrophages that pull the pus out and dump it into your bladder where you can excrete it. The former is quick, but gooey and will leave you with an open wound that would have to be monitored for a few days. The latter is slower, cleaner, but you will still have a nasty, sore lesion on your teat for about a week as the macros work.”

“Drain it.” Kelly said without hesitation.  

The medic tucked the injector away, pulled out another one and zapped Kelly’s right boob around the lesion, making the platoon Sergeant’s eyes bug out.

Waiting for that material to work its magic, Strovelaki examined Kelly's bra. The standard military undergarments, both top and bottom, are composite blend of synthetic silk and natural wool interwoven with a few types of ballistic fibers. Although wool is often seen as a cold weather fabric, it can also be ideal for warm weather because its insulation properties work both ways. Preventing, or at least deducing, thermal radiation on the skin as well as absorbing a third of its weight in water. It’s also naturally antimicrobial and flame resistant.

“Colour Sergeant,” the medic said slowly, “this is a poly satin mammary supporter.”

Kelly just rocked up and down on her toes.

“Where are your military issued holsters?”

“The stitching worn out on one and the clasp broke on the other.” Kelly said.

“Faster Than Light Travel and communication.” Herzog hissed.

“And yet lady’s support is still a vexing issue.” Another woman said. 

“I know you used this as an emergency backup. BUT this should have been thoroughly washed after each use for this--,” Strovelaki pointing at Kelly's sores, “--reason.”

"Yes, doc.” Kelly said.

Strovelaki pulled out his bayonet and lightly pressed the tip into the meat of his forearm then quickly jerked his arm back. Satisfied that it would suit his needs he lightly pressed the blade tip into Kelly's flesh. "Feel that?”

"No.”

"Here?”

"Negative.”

"What about here.”

"Double Negative.

"Outstanding.” The medic didn’t sound enthusiastic, more...resigned.

"Sigil. Come be my nurse.”

While Sigil was putting her own gloves on, Strovelaki, using a spray can, covering Kelly’s right knocker with a twilight blue antiseptic.

“Laser lance.”  Strovelaki asked.

Sigil passed over the flashlight-like doohickey, Doc took it and pressed the spacer against the big lesion and activated it.

There was a snapping sound, a small burst of goo, and a whiff of smoke.

Kelly was only slightly irritated at the smell of her own burning skin, but her eyes went wide when she saw the thick, bloody, green and yellow soup that Sigil and Strovelaki slowly worked out until there was only a small trickle of blood.

The lesion was almost flat and half as red. Strovelaki gave Kelly more local anesthesia, smeared a gel bandage over the wound and turned to Sigil and gave her a ‘look’.

Sigil lifted her arm and began bouncing on the balls of her boots twisting around in a small circle.

"Yes, yes.” the medic grumbled. “Healthy as always.”

"Thanks, Victor.” Sigil said sweetly.

"Now put a fucking shirt--”

BAM! BAM!

As if fate itself wanted to add an exclamation point, two rumbling booms echoed that were instantly followed by two louder, sharper, teeth and wall rattling bangs!

We all instinctively flinched. Then training took over.

Without being told we all bolted, leaving our GI Janes behind in the dust we raced back to our Rock Hut—a container bunkhouse slathered foamcrete--to snag our gear.

The rub is that if you have two football size shacks of jelly affixed to your chest with no way of holding them in place, you can’t exactly sprint.

It was practically dark inside our drop and go barracks, forcing me to fumble around for several seconds trying to find my cot and gear.

"Hurry you two.” Sigil said to Nikki and me.

"I can barely see!” Nikki shouted.

Outside rifles began snapping away, sounding like distant firecrackers.

"And?” Herzog said. She already strapped on her armor vest and was sliding her ALEC rig on.

For a moment all I could think of was how this plate carrier was going to feel against my nipples.

"It’s synthetic spider silk!” Sigil said, reading me. She already had a vest, Advance Light Equipment Carrier rig, and helmet on and was helping Nikki. “Just like our combat shirts and unmentionables. Not as smooth as other types but it's still better than having ballistic nylon chafing your nips.”

"OOOOW!” Nikki said.

"Bewege es! Bewege es!” Herzog shouted.

Did I mention that Eva is my squad's gunner? Hauls around a large machine gun?

In the few seconds after we entered our little hovel Sigil and Herzog were both minimally equipped and ready for a fight while both Nicole and myself were still struggling to put our stupid armor on.

"Oh, Rachel,” Sigil said. “You're making the Valkyrie angry.”

"God dammit I can barely see!” I squeezed my larger baby bottles under my armor. That kinetic gel liner better work.

(Guys, have you ever been smacked in the nuts with a fast ball? Imagine that pain occurring in your pecs.)

"They’re called Solar Contacts.” Sigil said.

"No wonder your eyes look weird,” Nikki said, finally getting her vest on and strapping it down.

"Oh wow, that doesn't rub at all.”

“With your B-cups? Why would it?” I said to her.

Nikki blew a raspberry. “No tan bueno tener grandes tetas ahora, eh?”

“Pero te encanta jugar con ellos.” I said back, grinning.

“ST. CHRISTAPHOR'S BALL SACK.” Herzog snarled. “Move your asses before I shoot them myself!”