Coda: A United Federation Marine Corps Short Story

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by Jonathan Brazee


  “When you enlisted, I had my doubts you’d make it. The Corps can be rough on good people. But you did make it. I don’t mean your Nova, and I don’t mean becoming Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps. I’m proud about those, of course, but I’m more proud that you made the Corps a career while still retaining your core values. You made the Marine Corps a better organization, and no one can be asked more than that.”

  Noah slowly looked around him at the walls. The one thing he’d always wanted was his father’s approval. Even after he thought his parents were dead, he’d joined to make his father proud. Noah wasn’t as overtly religious as his mother was, but he hoped, somehow, somewhen, his father would know what he was doing and approve. He’d never dreamed that his parents would actually be doing that, out here on some backwoods planet.

  He locked eyes with his father, and he could see a proud man in his own right almost pleading for the approval, or at least acceptance of his son. A missing piece of his heart fall into place.

  I don’t have to be Esther. I don’t have to be Ben. I am Noah, and my father is proud of me.

  He didn’t know how to put his feelings into words, and if he tried, he was afraid his father would feel uncomfortable in turn. Action would be better than awkward words.

  “So, what are you going to do, now?” Noah asked him.

  If the change of subject surprised his father, he barely showed it.

  “I’m not sure. Keep the farm going. It’s mostly automatic, anyway.”

  “Alone?”

  “Not by choice, but that’s been taken out of my hands. It probably won’t be too long, anyway. I’ve still got the Brick, after all.”

  “And you have the meds for that.”

  “If I take them, but yeah, I do.”

  Noah could hear the cries of loneliness in his father’s voice. The man had essentially lived isolated with their mother for 44 years, and now it was just him.

  Or not.

  “Father, I want you to come back with us to Tarawa.”

  His father’s eyes lit up for a moment before he scowled and looked down.

  “I can’t. Thank you, but I can’t. I’m dead to the universe, and that can’t change.”

  “I don’t mean as Ryck Lysander. What is your name here? Donte Giuseppe? Come back as him.”

  “I . . . I appreciate the offer. Really, I do. But I can’t.”

  “Why not? What’s keeping you?”

  “If anyone found out.”

  “How are they going to find out? You’ve been here for 44 years and no one has found out. I imagine you had help, like from your Confederation contact in getting your new identity? A DNA scan would point to an established history?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Aha! Ess was right. You did have Confederation help!

  “So, what’s keeping you?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, but not sounding as firm.

  “It’s a better idea than you sitting here all alone. And if you think Ess and I are just going to ignore you now, you’re crazy. What will the AIs think of the two of us continually coming to this place? Don’t you think that will be a flaming arrow to their filters? No, it’ll be far better if you simply come to Tarawa. As Donte Giuseppe, family friend. If your Confed friend is still around—”

  “He’s still around. He contacts us once a year to make sure we’re OK.”

  Noah hurriedly continued, “If he’s still around, I imagine he could tweak the records to show that you’ve served with, well, you. That we’ve been in contact all these years.”

  “What about Ess? Does she think this is a good idea?”

  “Of course, she does. Are you kidding me?”

  Well, she will after I tell her, at least.

  “I . . . maybe I should talk this over with Hans and Jorge,” he said, the slightest bit of hope in his voice.

  Strike now, Noah. Don’t let him think of an excuse to say no.

  “You don’t need them, Father. You were the Chairman of the Confederation. You were the Commandant of the Marine Corps. Don’t tell me that being a farmer took away your backbone. You’ve made universe-shattering decisions, so make one minor one now.”

  His brows furrowed in the way he did when he was concentrating, and despite the different face he now wore, that gesture pulled Noah back to the man who raised him. Noah recognized the moment that his decision was made.

  “I know you’re angry, Noah. And I understand. So, I have to ask you, do you want me to come. Not from filial duty, but you, Noah Lysander, do you want me to come with you?”

  His father’s eyes bored into his, waiting to see any sign of dishonesty in his answer.

  He looked back. From his heart, said, “Yes, I do.”

  “Then I think I’d like to come.”

  TARAWA

  Ryck

  One year later . . .

  “And you must be Chance,” Ryck said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “And I’ve heard so much about you. So, you knew my grandfather?”

  “Yes, fairly well, I’d say.”

  “Chance! You can interrogate him later. I’m sorry, Mr. Giuseppe. Chance can be a worry wort at times. I’m Deidre, Chance’s wife. And these are Greg, Chantel, and Meadow, our kids.”

  My great-grandkids. Wow!

  Ryck maintained a well-practiced look of mild amusement and said, “Please, I’m Donte. And I understand that you don’t know me.”

  “Uncle Donte, not Donte,” Jimmy said, coming forward to grab Ryck’s leg and stare at Chance.

  “He and Bryce use ‘Uncle,’” Ryck said apologetically. “When I’m babysitting, you know. ‘Mr. Giuseppe’s’ too formal for me, makes me feel old, and Esther insists that just ‘Donte’ is too informal. So, ‘Uncle’ it is.”

  “Can I call you Uncle Donte, too?” Chantel asked.

  “We’ll see about that,” Chance said.

  “But where are my manners? Please, come in. Everyone’s in the back.”

  Ryck led his grandchild and great-grandchildren through the house and to the back yard where Noah and Tim Howard, Miriam’s husband, were good-naturedly arguing over the right temperature for the grill.

  “Chance! Come give your sister a hug!” Hannah called out. “I’m too big to get up.”

  “I should say so, Hannah Belle! You look about ready to pop!”

  “Three more weeks, and I can’t wait to get the little devil out of there.”

  “Mommy’s got a little devil inside of her,” Jimmy said.

  “That’s your new sister, Jimmy,” Ryck said. “What did I tell you about that?”

  “She’s my sister, and I need to love her and take care of her,” the little boy said.

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s so good to see you, Chance,” Esther said, coming over to give him a peck on the cheek. “You, too, Deidre. Now, if we only had Jim and Shiloh, this would be a real family reunion.

  “Deidre, Chance, can I get you something to drink?” Ryck asked.

  “I’ll take a beer,” Deidre said, “And Chance’ll have his usual bourbon on the rocks.”

  “I can answer for myself,” Chance said.

  “So, what would you want?” Ryck asked.

  “Well, yeah, a bourbon on the rocks,” he said to a round of laughter from the rest.

  “Smart man,” Ryck said. “I’ll go get them.”

  “So, bartender and babysitter?” Chance asked before Ryck was out of earshot. “And he just dropped into your laps?”

  “Zip it, Chance. He’s been a godsend. He’s a good man and a good friend,” Hannah said.

  Ryck didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as he prepared the bourbon. He didn’t blame his grandson. He’d just shown up as Donte Giuseppe, an old friend of the family of whom the next generation of Lysanders had never heard. This was the first time he’d met Chance and his family face-to-face, and it might take the young man a little while to warm up to him.

  He retu
rned with the drinks, then checked with Noah and Tim to see what they wanted. The two men were still at it over the grill temperature.

  “Donte, you knew Master Sergeant Ekema, right? Best chef in the Marine Corps, my father always said. How hot would he heat the coals to?”

  “Yeah, I knew Top Ekema,” Ryck said, keeping a straight face. “Even ate a few of his meals, and he was a master, best I could tell. As to what temperature, I wouldn’t have a clue, though. I never was much of a cook.”

  Top Ekema had been a great chef and personal friend, but Noah’s mention of him was not casual. Ryck might not have ever understood Noah’s love for cooking, but he’d asked the Top to take his son under his wing. It was one of the few good things he’d managed to do for Noah as he’d reached his teenaged years. Noah’s innocent-sounding comment was a private communication between the two of them, as much of an acknowledgment as they could have in public.

  It warmed his heart.

  Tim asked for a beer while Noah wanted another lemonade. Ryck hurried off to get the drinks, and when he returned with them, Noah was showing off the package of organic steaks he’d bought, some new strain named Fat Fernando.

  “Dad! Stop it,” Hannah was saying. “I’m going to barf!”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, baby!” Noah protested.

  “I’m not going to eat real meat. I told you. Brassard Farms is good enough for me.”

  “That’s fab food. I won’t even call it meat. What about you, Tim? You going to eat the real thing?”

  “You can’t stop me, Noah.”

  “See, both of your fathers are going caveman,” he told her.

  “I don’t care what you’re doing, I’m not poisoning my baby!”

  Ryck sat down next to Esther, simply taking in the scene. The kids were running around the yard like chickens with their heads cut off, their screams probably annoying the neighbors, but music to his ears. The adults were relaxing, holding conversations. Ten people, ten of his descendants, were there, surrounding him with their presence.

  Ryck missed Hannah terribly, every hour of the day and in his dreams at night. But he wasn’t alone. He had Jorge and Hans, who he met at the Globe and Laurel two or three times a week. He had a few new acquaintances from the gym and apartment building. Most of all, he had his family, even if most of them didn’t know who he was. He knew, and that was enough. All things told, he was far happier than he deserved to be.

  Esther leaned over him as if to pick up her cider on the low table in front of them, and as she leaned back, she said, too quietly to be heard by anyone else, “Love you, Dad.”

  He raised his hand to his mouth and coughed out, “Love you, too, Ess.”

  General Ryck Lysander, ex-Chairman of the United Federation, former Commandant of the Marine Corps, settled back into the patio sofa, drinking in his family.

  Grubbing hell, I’m one lucky man.

  Thank you for reading Coda, which ties together the United Federation Marine Corps and the Lysander Twins series. I hope you enjoyed this book, and I welcome a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other outlet. If you do leave a review, please don’t reveal the end of the story in the review. Thanks!

  If you would like updates on new books releases, news, or special offers, please consider signing up for my mailing list. Your email will not be sold, rented, or in any other endway disseminated. If you are interested, please sign up at the link below:

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  Other Books by Jonathan Brazee

  The United Federation Marine Corps

  Recruit

  Sergeant

  Lieutenant

  Captain

  Major

  Lieutenant Colonel

  Colonel

  Commandant

  Rebel

  (Set in the UFMC universe)

  Behind Enemy Lines

  (A UFMC Prequel)

  The United Federation Marine Corps’ Lysander Twins

  Legacy Marines

  Esther’s Story: Recon Marine

  Noah’s Story: Marine Tanker

  Esther’s Story: Special Duty

  Blood United

  Women of the United Federation Marine Corps

  Gladiator

  Sniper

  Corpsman

  High Value Target (A Gracie Medicine Crow Short Story)

  BOLO Mission (A Gracie Medicine Crow Short Story)

  The Return of the Marines Trilogy

  The Few

  The Proud

  The Marines

  The Al Anbar Chronicles: First Marine Expeditionary Force--Iraq

  Prisoner of Fallujah

  Combat Corpsman

  Sniper

  Werewolf of Marines

  Werewolf of Marines: Semper Lycanus

  Werewolf of Marines: Patria Lycanus

  Werewolf of Marines: Pax Lycanus

  To The Shores of Tripoli

  Wererat

  Darwin’s Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor

  Venus: A Paleolithic Short Story

  Secession

  Duty

  Non-Fiction

  Exercise for a Longer Life

  Author Website

  http://www.jonathanbrazee.com

 

 

 


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