by Dan Cragg
EPILOGUE
The Marines of 34th FIST weren’t bedraggled when the Essays landed them at Boynton Field, the combination airfield, Essay field at Camp Major Pete Ellis, and 34th FIST’s home on Thorsfinni’s World. Two and a half weeks on board the CNSS Lance Corporal Keith Lopez, where they’d been able to clean their weapons, their bodies, their uniforms, and their equipment, and heal their wounds, had seen to that. Still, aside from isolated whoops of joy, they were a somber band as they dismounted from the Dragons that rolled out of the Essays that had borne them from the orbiting starship and formed up by platoons to board lorries for transport to the barracks.
When the lorries dropped off Company L, the Marines formed up behind the barracks. Captain Conorado didn’t make his Marines wait for him to come out of the company office; he went directly from his lorry to stand in front of his assembled Marines. The Marines didn’t move fast, but it didn’t take them long to assemble and straighten their ranks. They stood at attention, waiting patiently for their company commander to say what he had to say.
Conorado looked over his company. In garrison utilities, all were visible. Remarkably, considering the severity of the action they’d so recently seen, there were no holes in the formation. Even First Sergeant Myer, who rarely attended formations, was present. The lack of holes in the formation wasn’t because the casualties were light on Ravenette; it was because of the replacements they had gotten from the Whiskey Company that Commandant Aguinaldo had provided for 34th FIST well before the war. Conorado had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, each hole in the formation would have been a reminder of a member of Conorado’s Marine family who was dead or severely injured. On the other hand, there were too many faces he didn’t recognize, or barely recognized, men who’d already replaced the company’s dead or severely wounded.
“Marines of Company L,” Conorado finally said. He didn’t speak as loudly as he normally did when addressing his company, but his voice carried well enough for every man to hear. “You did an outstanding job, one in the highest tradition of Company L, 34th FIST, the Confederation Marine Corps, and the Naval Services. I want you to know that I am proud to be associated with men such as you.
“I don’t know yet how long we have before a new training cycle, or what we will be training for. When I dismiss you from this formation, you are to retrieve your belongings from the company supply room and take them to secure in your squad bays. You have one hour to do that, and then the company will reassemble here to march to the battalion mess hall, where base personnel are preparing a meal to welcome us home. I will have information about liberty when we reassemble after that.”
Conorado stood tall, looking over his company again. He hadn’t indulged in hyperbole—he really was proud to command these Marines. He filled his chest, then bellowed, “COMP-ny, dis-MISSED!”
The Marines broke ranks and headed to the company supply room. Even though they weren’t in formation, they lined up by platoons and squads to get their belongings.
Brigadier Sturgeon declared five days liberty for the entire FIST, effective immediately. Not everybody took off immediately.
Ensign Charlie Bass was one who didn’t. He went to the officers’ club for a drink, then returned to the barracks and made the rounds of third platoon. Most of the Marines were in their fire team’s room, sleeping, watching trids, reading, studying, or simply staring into places only they could see. One room was occupied by only one man.
“Lance Corporal Ymenez,” Bass said. “How ya doing?”
“Sir!” Ymenez said, jumping to his feet to stand at attention.
“As you were, Lance Corporal.” Bass patted the air and indicated Ymenez should sit down again. He pulled a chair out from one of the minuscule desks in the room and sat himself. “As I said, how ya doing?”
“I-I’m good, sir.”
Bass cocked a disbelieving eye at him, but let it ride. “That’s good, Ymenez.” He looked around the small room, and listened for sounds from the adjoining head that second squad’s second fire team shared with the third fire team. “Where are Corporal Claypoole and Lance Corporal Schultz?”
“They went out on liberty, sir.”
“And they didn’t take you with them?”
“N-No, sir. C-Corporal Claypoole said something about personal business.”
Bass nodded. He had a good idea what the personal business was.
“Are you going on liberty?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, I think so. Later. With some other men from the squad. Or the platoon.”
“Very good. You should get out and blow off some steam.” Bass stood to leave.
“Sir?” Ymenez stood and returned to attention. Bass looked at him. “Sir, what’s going to happen to me? I mean, if Lance Corporal”—he tried to remember the name he’d heard, couldn’t, and used the nickname he’d heard instead—“Lance Corporal Wolfman comes back?”
Bass looked at him soberly for a moment. “I don’t know. First I have to find out if Lance Corporal MacIlargie—and Lance Corporal Longfellow—are coming back at all. Once we know that, then a decision will be made. Why do you ask?”
“Sir, I know I haven’t been with third platoon very long, but I think this is a good platoon. I’d rather stay here than be sent back to Whiskey Company.”
Bass studied Ymenez for a few seconds, then nodded. “Thank you, Lance Corporal. I accept that as a compliment to me and to the Marines of third platoon. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’ll find out as soon as I can—and I’ll do what I can to keep you in third platoon.”
“Thank you, sir!”
Bass reached out a hand and shook Ymenez’s. “Don’t forget to get out of here,” he said as he left the room.
His next stop after the barracks was the base hospital, where he visited MacIlargie and Longfellow. Staff Sergeant Hyakowa had already been there, as had Top Myer and Gunnery Sergeant Thatcher. Both were doing well and looking forward to returning to the platoon. The other platoon commanders were there about the same time Bass was. Captain Conorado arrived as Bass was leaving.
After he left the hospital, Bass checked on the location of a couple of his men who’d already left for liberty—the ID bracelets each Marine wore transmitted his location. As Bass had suspected, Corporal Claypoole was at a small farm in Brystholde. Bass knew that’s where Claypoole’s girlfriend, Jente—what was that young woman’s last name? He’d have to find out—lived. Bass had to look up the address of Schultz’s location. He grinned when he found it; it was the home of the new cook at Big Barb’s, Einna Orafem.
“Speaking of women,” Bass told himself, it was time he took off himself. Katie would be getting anxious.
Ravenette wasn’t a small campaign like so many that 34th FIST embarked on; it had been a full-fledged war. For the vast majority of the Marines and sailors in the FIST, Ravenette was the biggest campaign they had ever been on—even those who had been in the Diamundian War. The Marines, sailors, and soldiers who’d been deployed to Ravenette weren’t going to get another campaign star for their Marine, Navy, or Army Campaign Medals. No, Ravenette rated its own campaign medal, which would be issued as soon as one was designed and struck.
Brigadier Sturgeon finally made good on a promise that had been implied when Charlie Bass had been shanghaied into finally accepting a commission: Sturgeon promoted Bass to lieutenant. But he left him in command of third platoon rather than moving him into a proper lieutenant’s billet.
Oh yes, one more detail. The Marines of 34th Fleet Initial Strike Team didn’t know it yet, but the Skinks were back and had to be dealt with. But that’s another story.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
DAVID SHERMAN is a former U.S. Marine and the author of eight novels about Marines in Vietnam, where he served as an infantryman and as a member of a Combined Action Platoon. He is also the author of the military fantasy series Demontech. Visit the author’s website at www.novelier.com.
DAN CRAGG enlisted in the U.S. Army in
1958 and retired with the rank of sergeant major twenty years later. He is the author of Inside the VC and the NVA (with Michael Lee Lanning), Top Sergeant (with William G. Bainbridge), and a Vietnam War novel, The Soldier’s Prize. He recently retired from his work as an analyst for the Department of Defense.
By David Sherman and Dan Cragg
Starfist
FIRST TO FIGHT
SCHOOL OF FIRE
STEEL GAUNTLET
BLOOD CONTACT
TECHNOKILL
HANGFIRE
KINGDOM’S SWORDS
KINGDOM’S FURY
LAZARUS RISING
A WORLD OF HURT
FLASHFIRE
FIRESTORM
Starfist: Force Recon
BACKSHOT
POINTBLANK
STAR WARS: JEDI TRIAL
By David Sherman
The Night Fighters
KNIVES IN THE NIGHT
MAIN FORCE ASSAULT
OUT OF THE FIRE
A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE
A NGHU NIGHT FALLS
CHARLIE DON’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE
THERE I WAS: THE WAR OF CORPORAL HENRY J. MORRIS, USMC
THE SQUAD
Demontech
GULF RUN
ONSLAUGHT
RALLY POINT
By Dan Cragg
Fiction
THE SOLDIER’S PRIZE
Nonfiction
A DICTIONARY OF SOLDIER TALK
GENERALS IN MUDDY BOOTS
INSIDE THE VC AND THE NVA (with Michael Lee Lanning)
TOP SERGEANT (with William G. Bainbridge)
Starfist: Firestorm is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by David Sherman and Dan Cragg
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sherman, David.
Firestorm / David Sherman and Dan Cragg.
p. cm.—(Starfist; bk. 12)
1. Marines—Fiction. 2. Life on other planets—Fiction. I. Cragg, Dan. II. Title.
PS3569.H4175F56 2007
813'.54—dc22 2006036422
www.delreybooks.com
eISBN: 978-0-345-50050-2
v3.0
