Captain (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 4)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “I called Colonel Ketter and asked him. Most of the new billets have already been assigned.”

  “He’s our new monitor?[19]” Ryck asked needlessly as that was who the colonel had to be if he had Donte’s next assignment.

  “Yep. He’s the O4 monitor. Just got off the comms with him. Nice guy, too. I bet he’s already got you pegged, too.”

  “What time’s it there?” Ryck wondered aloud, looking at his watch.

  Like most watches, the local time was foremost in the display with GMT in small numbers above local. He pushed the function button three times and got Tarawa time where the majors’ monitor was stationed.

  “Sixteen-twenty,” Ryck said. “He’d still be at work, right?”

  “He was 15 minutes ago, my man. Go for it,” Donte told him.

  “Yeah, maybe I will,” Ryck said. “I’ve got to run if I’m going to catch him. Meet up with me at the O-Club after, and I’ll let you buy me a beer while I tell you what great job I’ve been assigned.”

  “I’m already on my way there now, Ryck. And the first beer’s on you.”

  Ryck hurried to the comms shed. The battalion had six hadron communicators, three of them twinned to Headquarters on Tarawa. There were plenty of commercial communicators on the planet, but the Marine comms were secure, and while Ryck’s future billet was hardly a state secret, Marine business was always done over the secure circuits when possible. Ryck hoped he wouldn’t have to wait, and to his relief, two of the comms lines were open. As a captain, he didn’t need any authorization. He simply signed in with the clerk, and moments later, his instantaneous transmission was connected with the Headquarters comms AI. A few moments later, and a civilian woman was asking him what he wanted.

  “I’m Captain Ryck Lysander, ma’am, and I’m on the select list for major. Captain Ward, that’s Donte Ward, is out here with 11th Marines with me, and he said—”

  “Let me see if the colonel is free,” she interrupted, the visuals switching to some sort of quiet mountain stream.

  Ryck stared at the stream, watching birds flit through the tree branches. He idly wondered if the image was real or some construct. A minute passed, then two. Ryck wondered if the colonel might have already left for the day when the woman came back.

  “Colonel Ketter will see you now,” she said as the feed flickered once and opened on a thin-faced colonel, sitting behind a large wooden desk.

  “Captain Lysander, I’m Colonel Ketter, the O4 Monitor. Congratulations on your selection. I imagine you would like to know what your next duty station will be,” he said with a tone that hinted he’d been receiving calls like this all day.

  “Uh, yes, sir. I would, sir,” Ryck said.

  “Well, I see you’ve had a successful tour as a company commander,” the colonel said, looking down at his PA, “so you’ve checked that box. We try and move new majors out of their current duty station, and with two years on station by the time you’ll pin on your leaves, your qualify for a PCDS

  [20] move.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ryck said, wondering where he’d be assigned.

  Hannah wouldn’t be too happy, having to pull up stakes again after only two years. She had a pretty important position, and while she wouldn’t lose any seniority due to the move, her work would have to change. But it didn’t sound like the colonel was going to assign him anywhere on Sunshine.

  Ryck was hoping against hope that he’d be heading to recon. There were nine recon companies in the Corps, and these were the only combat commands available to a major. Surely his experience in recon as well as his Federation Nova would hold some weight in getting him one of those companies.

  “You’re expected to be promoted on Novewmber 1st, and on November 28th, you are to report to the Federation Training Center in Zurich.”

  What? Earth? Ryck wondered, entirely confused.

  “After your 12-week intensive course in diplomacy, you are to be assigned to the Federation Embassy on New Mumbai.”

  New Mumbai? In the Confederation? There were the Marine Guards at the embassy, but they were enlisted.

  “Uh, sir, at the embassy? In what billet?” Ryck asked.

  “I would think that would be obvious. You are being assigned as the assistant naval attaché.”

  Ryck’s heart fell. Not only would he not be getting a command, but he wouldn’t even be with the Marines. And he was supposed to be a diplomat? Not grubbing likely. He was a warrior, not some schmoozing pogue.

  “Uh, sir, if I may, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m not, well, the diplomatic type,” he began.

  “Well, it really isn’t up to you now, is it? This is your next assignment.”

  Ryck felt the anger begin to rise. He’d been hoping for a command, and he thought he deserved it. And they wanted to stick him in some sort of diplomatic post, and in the Confederation of all places? No way!

  “I don’t think you understand, sir. I’m not going to take this assignment. There are others much more qualified than me for it.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Captain. These are your orders.”

  With the colonel’s emphasis on “captain,” Ryck blew up.

  Who the grubbing hell does this skinny admin puke think he is?

  “Do you know who I am?” Ryck asked, actually rising from his seat as if he could physically lean in through the screen.

  “Yes, I know who you are, Captain. I have your file right here. Do you know who I am? Obviously you don’t. I am the O4 monitor, and I control who goes where based on the needs of the Corps. I decide, and majors salute smartly and march off.”

  “I’m not just any major, sir. I know people, important people, and we’ll just see about this,” Ryck said, his face red with anger.

  Colonel Ketter just stared at Ryck over the light years of distance, then calmly said, “You have fulfilled your obligated service and can refuse any orders, Captain, and be released from the Corps. These are your orders, and you have until tomorrow at 0900 GMT to acknowledge them. Out,” the colonel said, cutting the transmission.

  Ryck wanted to scream at the obstinate asshole, but he was staring at a blank screen. He gathered himself, then spun around and walked out of the comms shed. He was a grubbing Marine Corps hero, and he’d pull in favors until these stupid orders were canceled.

  Chapter 24

  “The Confederation? Why not send me to the Trinoculars instead? I fought them, too,” Ryck exclaimed, sticking a beer in the cooler.

  He put the timer on ten seconds and waited silently, still fuming, as the beer cooled down. The cooler dinged, and he removed the beer and took a long swallow. He had promised to go meet Donte at the O-Club for a beer, but he’d been so upset that he’d gone straight home to tell Hannah.

  The Inchon had only returned to offload the battalion the evening before, and tonight, for his first home-cooked dinner since getting home, Hannah had dialed up pot roast, one of his favorites. But she stopped her rare foray into domestic endeavors and sat down as Ryck came in the door, listening to him rant.

  Ryck came around the kitchen island and took a seat on the couch. He took another long swallow, and that helped calm him.

  “So do you know what I said to him? I asked him—”

  “Do you know who I am?” she interrupted, her voice gravelly in a poor imitation of him.

  “What?”

  “You probably asked him if he knew who you were,” she said.

  “Well, yeah, but how did you know?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Because that’s what you usually say,” Hannah responded.

  “No, I don’t,” Ryck protested.

  “Hecs told me you said that to that FCDC officer on Kakurega. And you said that to the mechanic for the Hyundai before you left.”

  What? Hecs and Hannah were talking, and Hecs said that? I didn’t tell that asshole fuckdick anything of the sort.

  But then he thought about it. Well, maybe he had said something like that in the jail, and maybe he’d told tha
t idiot mechanic in town. But he didn’t really think that way. He’d just said it to get the hover fixed before he deployed. Did Hannah think he was leaning on his medal?

  “Well, I never meant it like that. Sometimes, you’ve got to use what resources you have to get things done,” he said. “Right?”

  “I’m not criticizing you, Ryck. You’re one of the few living Marines who have proven themselves as you have. I be proud of you.”

  “Then why did you say that?” Ryck asked, his righteous anger at Col Ketter fading as he worried about Hannah’s opinions.

  “I’m not meaning anything by it. It just came out,” she said, getting up from her overstuffed chair to come sit by Ryck on the couch. “If you don’t want this posting, then you know better than me what you should do about it.”

  “I mean, it’s probably not even an accompanied tour. That means three years away from home, away from you and the twins,” he said, trying to bring her on board with his thinking, even if that wasn’t really the reason he’d objected to the assignment.

  “If it isn’t accompanied, we’ll be managing ,” Hannah said, taking his hand in hers, “like we be doing before. The twins be starting school soon, and they’ll be fine.”

  Ryck sat there, staring at her hand. He turned it over, noting how soft and fine it looked. Hannah took great care in her manicure, and he appreciated her attention to detail.

  Forget about her hands! he told himself. Does she think I’m being an asshole about all of this?

  “Uh, what do you think? I can call General Ukiah, and I’m sure he can fix this.”

  Hannah shrugged, then said, “Yes, I’m sure Hank would help, if you ask him.”

  Ryck didn’t think she seemed too enthused with the notion,

  “But should I?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but instead looked down at their hands and said, “That be your choice. It be your career after all.”

  She wasn’t voicing her real opinion, Ryck knew

  “What would you do, if you were me,” he asked, pressing the issue.

  She hesitated as if wondering what she should say. Ryck was going to ask again, but Hannah took a deep breath and began.

  “Do other Marines have godfathers that they can call to get their orders changed?”

  “No, not most Marines. But I am not most Marines.”

  “True, you be not most Marines,” she said, slipping into her old Torritite speech patterns, something she did when deep in thought or under stress. “And I be so proud of you. But you will be serving with your fellow Marines for years. What be they thinking if you get special treatment, if you go outside procedure when you be wanting to?”

  “But this is not because I don’t want the job,” Ryck protested. “I’m not suited for it. I’d be a detriment to the mission.”

  Ryck tried to convince himself, only partially successfully, that that was his only reason for objecting to the orders.

  “Maybe they be knowing more about you than you do,” Hannah said quietly. “You always be second guessing yourself, wondering if you be good enough. And each challenge, you rise to it, and you succeed. Just maybe, you be the right man for this job.”

  Ryck tried to take that in. What Hannah had said hit home. It was true—he had a deep-seated fear that he was a fraud, that he wasn’t up to being a leader of Marines. Every success he’d had was more a matter of luck than any particular skill he possessed. He could fight, and that was about it. Soon, someday, his weaknesses would be exposed, and everyone would know him for the fraud he was. This new assignment could very well be the one to expose him as a lucky, but basically incompetent street brawler.

  He didn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially Hannah. He couldn’t bear the thought of being a failure. But he didn’t want her to think he was some egotistical a-hole, either. He knew she could accept a failure better than a character flaw. He needed some more feedback.

  “Uh, Hannah, how long before dinner?”

  “Charise is bringing the twins back in about 30 minutes. So right after that.”—

  “I think I need to make a call, if that’s OK,” he told her.

  “Of course. I’ll just get the table set and call you when the twins get here.”

  Ryck kissed her forehead and went upstairs to the extra bedroom that served as a home office. He went online and connected through AT&T to Tarawa. It would be late there, but Bert wouldn’t mind.

  This wasn’t official business, so there wasn’t a need to use an official line, and Ryck didn’t want any scans that might draw attention to his conversation. So he was willing to pay for a commercial call.

  Major Bertrand Nidischii’ answered the call. He was dressed in a very old and ratty black t-shirt and had a cup of what was probably tea in his hand. He was in his living room, so at least Ryck hadn’t woken his friend up.

  “Ryck, good to see you. You got back yesterday, right?”

  “Yeah, last night here on Sunshine.”

  “I heard good things about your deployment. It went over well with the general staff,” Bert said.

  Bert was probably the closest Ryck had to a brother in the Corps. Donte and others were friends, even good friends, but Bert was the Marine in whom Ryck could confide. Ryck respected Bert tremendously, and he respected the major’s opinions on just about anything.

  “Uh, not so great, really. I don’t think the CO likes me, and the—uh, I can tell you about that later,” he said, remembering that he was on a public transmission, not a secure line.

  Ryck’s opinions on their Kakurega mission would have to wait until he could speak freely.

  “Hey, Bert, sorry to bother you in the evening like this,” he began as Bert waved off the apology, “but I need to talk to you. I’m on the list for major—”

  “Yes, I saw that. Congratulations.”

  “Well, yeah, thanks. But I just found out my orders. I’m going to—” he started before pausing, wondering if he could say that on a public circuit.

  It would all be a matter of public record, though, so he thought it would be OK.

  “I’m going to be the assistant naval attaché to New Mumbai.”

  “Yes, I know. I was asked about that before the decision was made.”

  “They asked you?” Ryck said, surprised.

  “Colonel Ketter did, yes. He’s just on the deck above me at Headquarters.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said you were a fine Marine, of course. What did you want me to say?”

  “That’s just it, Bert. I don’t think I’m the man for the job. I mean, think of it. Me, a grubbing diplomat?”

  Bert shrugged but said nothing.

  “You had a recon company as a major. I think with my record, I’ve shown that would be where I belong, not in some embassy.”

  “So you want a company?” Bert asked, his voice steady.

  “Hell, yeah! You wanted one, and you got it.”

  “Yes, I did. And now I’m pushing papers at Headquarters that will never see the light of day.”

  “But you had your command as a major, and that’s going to stand you in good stead when you are up for a battalion,” Ryck said.

  “Or hurt me. Maybe the command board looks at that and says I already had my chance, so now let’s let someone else have a command.”

  Ryck hadn’t thought of that possibility, and that gave him pause as he considered it, but only for a moment.

  “Look, I’ll crash and burn as some sort of diplomat. You know it—”

  “No I don’t know it,” Bert interrupted. “Give yourself more credit.”

  “So I was thinking I could contact General Ukiah, or maybe General Praeter. He’s retired, but he still keeps in touch. I think either one could call that pencil dick Ketter and get my orders changed,” Ryck said, ignoring Bert’s comment.

  “Hey, Colonel Ketter’s good people, Ryck.”

  “That skinny pogue?”

  “I’m a pogue no
w, too,” Bert said with a little steel in his voice. “And you remember the FS Hudson Bay?”

  Of course, Ryck knew about the ship, an ore freighter that had been one of the first taken by the SOG.

  [21] A Marine platoon had boarded what looked to be a derelict ship, only to be surprised by the SOG with a long and difficult battle. The Marines prevailed, but it had been a close thing.

  “Sergeant Ketter earned a Navy Cross in the fight,” Bert told him.

  Colonel Ketter had been in on that fight? Ryck thought, feeling a little guilty now for the pogue comment.

  Still, the billet was the wrong one for Ryck, one he didn’t want, Ketter being a righteous warrior or not.

  “Bert, what do you think? I know this is a mistake, and I can get it fixed.”

  “You probably could,” Bert said with an obvious lack of commitment.

  That took Ryck aback. He’d hoped that Bert, a fellow fighter of note, would back him up and validate his feelings. It didn’t sound like Bert was totally on-board.

  “Uh, I spoke with Hannah a few minutes ago. She seemed to infer that I’ve been maybe pushing my medal around, using it to get my way.”

  “And?”

  “Well, do you think so? I mean, you’ve got a Navy Cross. Do you ever use it to tip the scale sometimes?”

  “No,” was Bert’s simple answer. “I’m just a Marine major, and that’s what matters.”

  “But, I don’t think I do it, either, unless it’s important.”

  Bert didn’t say anything, but he pursed his lips like he was pointing back at Ryck. This was a habit of Bert’s using his lips that way in the manner of the Navaho people. Ryck knew Bert was singling him out, challenging him.

  “Do you think I do?” he asked Bert.

  “Do you want the friend supporting you answer, or do you want the truth?” Bert asked.

  That didn’t sound good, Ryck thought as his heart fell.