MARINE (Agent of Time Book 1)

by Tanya Allan

  I can ski on snow or water and I have completed so many parachute jumps that I gave up counting at one hundred and fifty. I have dived in most of the oceans of the world, including those I should never have been anywhere near. However, the prospect of living in the civilian world frightens the shit out of me.

  Not only that, but those feelings I had suppressed for so long, were bubbling away just under the surface. While I immersed myself in my work, there was no problem, but if I spent time thinking about things, then there was a danger I would think too deeply. I was afraid of that.

  I went to the parking lot and got into my baby, my twenty-five year old Ford Mustang convertible. It carried me back to my billet, while I attempted to decide where I wanted my life to go from here. Once back at the base, I parked the car and went to my quarters, where I took some more time to reflect and think. On going into the bathroom, I looked at my reflection. I was lean and mean, with a square jaw, while my shorn fair hair was turning silver at the sides. I was tanned, with my face leathery with all the outdoor living. I had crow’s feet at the sides of both eyes, from screwing my eyes up in bright sunshine.

  There were scars from bullets and shrapnel all over my body, but there was still not an ounce of flab anywhere. I had looked at the civilians and found them to be a slug-like race, overweight, greedy, lazy and corrupt. I wanted no part of them.

  There was one tattoo on my right forearm and it was the Globe and fouled anchor of the Marine Corps emblem. I had lived and breathed the Marines for all my adult life, so I dreaded to think of any life outside.

  “First Sergeant Ryan?” A voice snagged me back to the here and now.

  An orderly clerk was by my door.

  “What?” I growled.

  “Colonel wants to see you, First Sergeant, when convenient,” the man said.

  “I’ll be over directly,” I said. The Colonel, Rick Masterton, and I went way back together. I had been his platoon Sergeant when he was a new Lieutenant, so I dragged his ass out of the shit more times than he wanted to remember. Mind you, he had dragged my ass out of shit a few times too.

  The difference was that his shit had been in combat situations, while my shit was usually in some small town jail somewhere obscure, where I had got drunk and hit some local bigwig.

  Ten minutes later, I walked straight his office and knocked, just to annoy the shit out of his personal clerk, who believed he was the patron saint of ass-lickers.

  The Colonel called me in.

  “Sir, First Sergeant Ryan reporting as ordered, sir.”

  The clerk rushed in behind me, looking somewhat distressed.

  “Yes, Ed, relax, take a seat,” Rick said, waving his clerk away.

  I remained standing, but relaxed a little.

  He smiled, as he knew I never sat in any officer’s presence.

  “The doc called me and told me your medical situation. There is no dishonour in a desk job, Ed. Hell, you’ve more than done your piece for Uncle Sam,” he said.

  “I don’t do desks, sir, you know that.”

  “Godammit Ed, you gotta face facts. You ain’t no spring chicken no more. None of us are. I need glasses to read, I gotta watch what I eat, and it takes me all night to get round to doing what I used to do all night,” Rick said with a small smile.

  “So what do you suggest, sir?” I asked.

  “Hell, I don’t know, but there are several administration posts you are more than welcome to, but I know that you wouldn’t stay in an office for more than ten minutes. How do you fancy a training post? There are some vacancies coming up at Parris Island, South Carolina,” he asked.

  Parris Island was the main Recruit depot for the East Coast.

  “Been there sir, I got no problem with training, but I gotta do what my recruits do.”

  “No, you don’t. You’ll have junior NCOs for all that shit,” he said, getting cross now.

  I thought for a moment.

  “A training post would do fine, sir,” I said, not exactly enthusiastically.

  He stared at me, and then looked down at my file. I saw the front, First Sgt. Edward J. RYAN.

  “You haven’t taken your full leave entitlement for five years,” he said. “Why not?”

  “Nowhere to go, few people to see, sir,” I said.

  He shook his head. Then he stood up, walked over to the window and looked out. There were pictures of his wife and two children on the side. His wife had died of cancer when we had both been in the Gulf a few years before. His kids had grown up and were living over on the West coast. He hadn’t seen either of them for a year at least. An aircraft took off and went low over the building, carrying another batch of trainees about to take their first jump.

  “We’re both a couple of sad bastards,” he said, staring across the base.

  “Sir, yes sir,” I replied, he was right, we were.

  He smiled, turned and looked at me.

  “What has happened to us, Ed? We were going to conquer the world.”

  “We got old, Colonel, and the world don’t want to be conquered no more,” I answered.

  Laughing shortly with little humour, he poured some scotch into two glasses, giving me one.

  “I’m holding a recruit training post open for you. You can’t stay on the Jumpmaster course with that knee of yours, but there is a lot you can give to recruits at Parris Island. First, I want you to take some leave, and I mean some leave. The doc wants you to keep off from using the knee too much so I am giving you eight weeks to think about your life and your future. Hell, you might even meet a lady and want to become a real human for God’s sake.”

  “With respect sir, the only humans I know exist in the corps, sir.”

  “Ed, just get the hell out, go and let your hair down and have some fun. I’ve a friend who arranges cruises in the Caribbean, do you want for me to give him a call?” He asked.

  “Does it involve drugs or guns, sir?” I asked.

  “No, why?”

  “Then I’ll pass, if you don’t mind,” I said, with a grin.

  He sat down again.

  “Do you remember Mickey Flynn?” he asked.

  “Yeah, he was Sergeant Major a few years back, what about him?”

  “Well, he has a boat now, and does the odd commercial deal for scientific parties in and around the Caribbean and South America, and before you ask, it is all legit.

  “He can always do with help, as he often has to arrange for guides and other specialists to help the parties when they reach their destinations. They are often from universities, so are not exactly rolling in bucks. I can call him and you could meet, to see whether there would be a job for you to do. What do you say?” he asked.

  “I’d like to think about it, sir,” I said.

  “Shit, Ed, you are so much a Marine. Do you not have any humanity left at all?”

  “Sir, I’ve had it with humanity, I’ll die with my boots on, once a Marine, always a Marine – Semper Fi,” I replied, grinning.

  He picked up the phone and dialled a number.

  “Mickey? It’s Rick Masterton, yes, Colonel Rick Masterton. How are you?”

  “Good, now, do you remember Ed Ryan?”

  “Yes, the son of a bitch who nearly killed Major Jackass. That’s the guy.”

  The Colonel looked at me and smiled, “He remembers you,” he said.

  So he should, as we once had a real asshole of a Major, Major Jackson was his name, but we all called him Major Jackass. He was determined to have Mickey on anything, as he just hated his guts for some reason. One night I saw him lurking in the bushes outside the base, just waiting for Mickey to return from a long-term drinking session. Mickey was twenty minutes after his time, so, if his usual routine was being followed, would be totally blasted. Jackass had blacked up, so as not to be seen.

  I was guard commander at the time so, pretending I did not recognise him, I challenged the man in the bushes and, as he was slow to react, I beat seven bells of shit out of him. By the time he made
his identity known, he was a hospital case and Mickey rolled past the gate and drunk as a skunk, but in the clear.

  “Well, Ed has been given some thinking time, and I’ve given him eight weeks off. Is he someone you could use on one of your contracts?”

  “Okay, right, No that’s fine, I’ll tell him, so on Monday at the Flying Fish. No problem, thanks Mickey, now take care of our boy. Bye,” the colonel hung up.

  He handed me a note with a name of a bar, and a phone number on it.

  “He is down at the Keyes, ten hundred hours on Monday, there’s a job if you want it, be there, and you have a job. It's for six to eight weeks, so I will see you when you get back. If you like it out there, then call me, and we will see what we can do. You're eligible for a pension, and you have a lot of life left in you,” he said.

  I looked at the piece of paper, and then at Rick.

  “Thanks Rick, I appreciate it,” I said, dropping the formality of the corps for the first time in my life. Rick was surprised, realising how much I dreaded the outside world.

  “No problem Ed, as I said, you and I go way back.”

  We shook hands, and then I came to attention once more.

  “Will that be all, sir?”

  “Yes, thank you Ed. Enjoy your leave,” he said.

  “Yes sir. Thank you sir,” I said, turned about and marched out.

  * * *

  I wasn’t sure whether I wanted the job. After all, it was just perpetuating the lie. I was a Marine, yet I was the other thing too. I was shit scared of having it take over, as I had come to love the life I despised, and feared the life for which I’d always yearned, but denied myself.

  I returned to my quarters and packed a bag. I had half a mind to mosey on down to the Keyes, as it couldn’t hurt; I had nothing else to do. I threw the bag into the back of my Ford Mustang and drove out of the gates. It was a nice drive, so with the soft top down I made the most of it. It was getting late when I pulled off the road at a motel in northern Florida. It was in the middle of nowhere, with trees and scrub all around it.

  There was a diner the parking lot, so I checked into the motel and then walked across the parking lot, easing myself into a booth in the diner. It was a quiet evening, with around eight or ten other people having meals, so with subdued conversation, no blaring music and the gentle aroma of decent cooking wafting from the kitchen, I felt relaxed.

  “Hi there, how are you tonight?” asked the heavy blonde waitress. She had the name Carole on a name badge.

  “I’m just fine thanks, Carole. You seem quiet tonight?”

  “Yeah, well, some days are better than others, you know how it is?”

  I ordered a steak and some fries and a beer, and sat back and closed my eyes for a moment. I was getting old. My eyes got tired after I drove a long way these days.

  When I opened them, a man was sitting opposite me. He looked to be in good shape for a man around fifty, with steel grey hair and dark grey eyes. He was wearing an immaculate grey suit, which made him look like an executive. This was weird, as there were several unoccupied booths, so there was no call to encroach on mine. Besides, I hadn’t felt the booth or table move when he’d sat. I frowned, and was about to say something when he spoke.

  “Sergeant Edward Ryan. I apologise at approaching you like this, but sometimes, needs must,” he said, he had a very neutral accent, New England or perhaps even British.

  “Who the hell are you?” I said.

  “My name is Michael. I have a proposition for you.”

  “How the hell did you know where to find me?”

  “Ah, tricks of the trade I'm afraid,” he said, looking at the menu.

  Carole came with my beer. After depositing it on the table, she asked Michael if he was ordering.

  “Just a coffee, please,” he said.

  “Who the hell are you?” I repeated, as Carole waddled away.

  “I told you, my name is…”

  “Not your name, I don’t believe that in any case. Are you with the Government?”

  Michael looked at me. He had very odd eyes. They were very grey, but so dark as to be almost black.

  “No sergeant, I am not with the government. But I do represent authority, of sorts.”

  “What authority?” I asked, intrigued despite myself.

  “An authority that can justify offering you some gainful and very profitable employment. Your experience and, ah, unique personal qualities make you perfect for our agency.”

  “What qualities, what agency?”

  “Ed, you don’t mind if I call you Ed, do you?”

  “It’s my name.”

  “Ed, let me just say that there is nothing about you that we do not know, and I mean nothing. You’re a courageous and highly decorated Marine. You have served your country faithfully and well. But you also are unfulfilled and frustrated. You are fearful of that aspect of your life that you have hidden for so long coming to the fore, and causing you more distress. Need I really go into details?”

  It’s not often that I’ve felt afraid, but now was one of those few times. The icy tendrils of uncertainty and fear tickled my spine, and I swallowed.

  Before I could say anything, Carole brought my steak and his coffee. I waited for her to leave us. I was curious as well as not a little afraid. Who was this guy, and how did he know things that I had told no one about?

  “How do you know so much?” I asked.

  “It’s our business, Ed. But there’s no need for alarm, we are not in the business of divulging such information, and neither do I mention it in order to coerce you to do anything you do not wish to.”

  “You said our and we, just who the hell are you?”

  “Just eat your food, I’ll explain when you’re done,” he said

  I ate my steak without tasting it. It was a little tough, but I was hungry. He sat watching in silence, sipping his coffee and smiling enigmatically.

  I drained my glass, waved at Carole and ordered another.

  “So, what is this proposition?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  He looked at me, nodding, as if he knew I would be interested; smug bastard.

  “It will be worth your while, and you would still be in the Keyes for Monday.”

  I frowned.

  “Excuse me, but this is sounding just a little weird,” I said.

  He said no more, but simply watched me finish my steak and drain my second beer.

  “Come with me,” he said, standing up and leaving the diner.

  I paid for my meal and his coffee, stood and followed him into the parking lot.

  “Hey, you owe me for the coffee,” I said, as I almost had to run to keep up.

  He stopped and waited for me.

  “I am sorry, I forget such things. I will repay you soon,” he said, but then he turned and walked up a track leading away from the highway.

  “Hey, my car and stuff are at the motel,” I said, stopping.

  “Don’t worry, they’ll be perfectly safe, for you’ll be back in just a few moments.”

  I hesitated, as this was outside my experience.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  He continued walking, nodding but saying nothing; so I walked beside him in silence. I was glad I had my K-Bar in its sheath strapped to my calf, but I wished I had my Colt .45.

  We rounded a bend and there was a small shack set back amongst some trees. He went straight up to the front door and pushed it open. It hadn’t been locked.

  I followed, slightly cautious, but found myself in a pleasant enough sitting room. He put a couple of lights on.

  “Sit please,” he said, pointing to an armchair.

  It wasn’t a request, so I almost backed out of the room.

  “Please, Ed, sit down. You have my word that you are in no danger,” he said.

  I sat.

  I have tried to recall exactly what happened then, but it is still hazy. I remember Michael sitting in the chair opposite mine, taking a hold of what I
had thought was a cell phone, but after he pressed something, the room started to spin. I felt paralysed, being unable to move at all. He was sitting there, with that damn smile on his face. Then I blacked out.

  When I came to, the room was gone. I was lying on my back on a vinyl-covered bench. Michael was standing looking down at me.

  “Are you back with us?” he asked, some concern in his voice.

  I sat up, shaking my head to clear it. I felt hung over. “I’m okay, what happened?”

  “It often affects people the first time. But as you get used to it, it does get easier.”

  “What does?”

  “Come with me, all will be revealed,” he said, opening a door and walking out into a wide corridor.

  It appeared to be some kind of underground command centre, as there was no natural light, and uniformed men and women were coming and going everywhere. The uniforms were black, but the insignia was unfamiliar. I immediately thought I had been snatched by Russians. I knew Russian and the writing and insignia weren’t Russian. I then began to think UFO and Aliens. I began to worry. Was I going mad?

  A loud-speaker system kicked in with some announcement. It was in English, but meant nothing to me. It was directing some group to attend a centre for something.

  Michael pushed open another door and entered. I followed, feeling vulnerable and nervous.

  It was a rather plain but functional office. Everything was grey, black or steel. He sat down behind the desk, and pointed to another seat next to the desk.

  “Ed, please sit down and I will explain. If you have any questions, and I know you will, please wait until I have finished.

  “You are now in the Command Centre for an agency which goes beyond national and international boundaries. This agency has been in existence for a very long time indeed, and will be here long after you and I are no more. We recruit only the best men and women from their own eras, utilising them after they have become less useful in their chosen paths or professions. Special care is taken, so only a very few are approached to become agents. You are one of these few.

  “As you are aware, technology is developing faster and faster, new concepts are becoming reality every minute of every day, so the boundaries of science are expanding so rapidly that we can hardly keep up. The universe is a fragile place, and human life is constantly being threatened by all manner of things, least of all by mankind itself.