He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. His skin still itched, and he wanted a shower, but he just didn’t have the energy at the moment.
He got that energy in a jolt when the first sergeant knocked and stuck his head in the door.
“They found the CO, sir.”
“The CO?”
“LtCol uKhiwa. He and five Marines were trying to fly to Blue Barbell. Their shuttle went tits up when they casted, and all this time, they tried to join the fight.”
“Three grubbing days? What, they had to be a couple hundred thousand klicks out, right?”
If he’d thought Charlie Company’s EVA to Blue Barbell was long, this one was out of comprehension long.
“They’re picking him up now in Bay 3.”
“Let’s go,” Ryck said, his tiredness gone.
He and the first sergeant rushed to Bay 3, only to have to stand around for over an hour before a reki came in with the six Marines onboard. The Marines debarked and stiffly made their way forward, cracking open their helmets. Ryck went up to shake the CO’s hand, and once again, the CO had outdone him. Ryck had thought he had been about as rank as a man could get, but the odor flowing from the Marines was overpowering.
“Captain Lysander, I trust you’ll be turning the battalion back to me?” the CO said.
“Uh, sure, I mean yes, sir,” Ryck said, wondering how the CO knew that Ryck had taken command.
“OK, follow me. You five,” he said, turning to Major Snæbjörnsson, Virag, Drayton, Top Wojik, and Gunny Temperance, “get out of these damn suits and shit, shower, and shave. Meet me in the Officer’s mess in 30, along with senior staff and commanders.”
“But—” Top Wojik started.
“The officer’s mess, and if anyone says anything, have them wait for me.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Top said, a smile breaking out over his face.
The CO stripped off his vacsuit, and Ryck followed him as he made his way to the bridge. Ryck tried to hang back out of sight while the CO thanked CAPT Kurae for the rescue, pointing out the fellowship between the Navy and Corps. Kurae spotted Ryck and told the CO how much Ryck had screwed up, and how he was going to make sure action was taken. The CO nodded and said he was on it, then requested permission to leave the bridge. Ryck followed, a lump in his gut after he heard the CO’s response.
Ah, fuck it. I’d do it just the same all over again.
The CO went to the visiting flag officer’s stateroom and went inside.
“I take it you took the CO of Troops’ stateroom?”
“Yes, sir,” Ryck said.
I’m going to get shit on for that?
“Keep it. I’m taking this, and I’m going to be racked out for a long time when I’m done.”
The rough, tough CO started stripping off his longjohns, and in his skivvies, collapsed in the overstuffed chair. He looked drawn and defeated.
“Are you, I mean, are you OK, sir” Ryck asked.
“When we casted, the shuttle went down hard. No power,” the CO said, ignoring Ryck’s question. “Comms was down, and we couldn’t contact anyone. Thank God for Top Wojik, though. Using some spare parts that had not been powered up when we cast, he was able to rig up receivers. We couldn’t broadcast, but we could hear. And since we knew where the battalion was, we could aim our receiver.”
“So you heard all our transmissions?”
“All of them,” the CO said.
“So that’s how you knew I’d taken command,” Ryck said, more to himself than the CO.
“Yes, and I wanted to talk to you about that before I get back with the Three and the rest.”
Ryck waited, mentally prepared for anything. He was done trying to please this man. He’d done what he’d done and would stand by it.
“We had another talk on another ship not so long ago. I told you that you’d grown too cautious, that you were not the warrior you had been earlier. I wondered at the time if the responsibility had ruined you. Despite your record against the Trinolculars, I felt your commissioning was a mistake, and that it had gelded you.
“I didn’t think it was your fault, but the fault of your godfathers, who couldn’t see your strengths and weaknesses. It wasn’t your fault, but in the big picture, fault doesn’t matter. Finding men to lead Marines, does.”
This is eerily sounding like my conversation with Jeff, Ryck thought.
“But here, I was pleased, no proud, of you. You took decisive action and frankly saved the day. I was mentally trying to send orders to you, and lo and behold, you were doing them as if you could hear me. Without you, many more Marines would have been killed, and the battalion, what was left of it, would have had to surrender. First Battalion, Eleventh Marines, the Tiburónes, my command, would have surrendered to a Confederation cohort.
“So before we meet with the rest, I wanted to personally thank you, for the men of the battalion, for the Marine Corps, for the Federation, and I admit it, for me, for being the officer that others saw in you and for leading Marines. I was wrong.”
“You weren’t wrong, sir. I was cautious, too cautious. I was trying to protect my Marines by becoming ineffective, and that put them in more danger.”
“Hmph,” the CO snorted. “You realize that?”
“Of course, sir, and you pointed it out to me. That, and a few things happened that took me down a few pegs.”
“Oh, the ‘Do you know who I am’ thing?”
“You knew about that, sir?”
“I’d be a pretty piss-poor commanding officer if I didn’t, right?”
Ryck felt his face turn red. He knew he had a long way to live that down.
“You know, sir? I thought you were calling me here to chew my ass for the truce.”
“The truce? Why? It was the right thing to do,” the CO said.
“Well, Captain Kurae—
“—is a jerk, a political hack. He got command of the Ark Royal but has never had her fire a shot in anger. He saw the capture of the Confeds as his combat check mark.”
“But he said he’s going to make sure—”
“Make sure nothing. No one gives a flying fart what he thinks. You leave it to me. You did the right thing, and even more so to stand up for it in front of the worm,” the CO told Ryck.
The CO looked at his watch and then stood up.
“I’ve got to take a quick shower. My skin is crawling, and you’re pretty ripe there, too. I think you need one more than me,” he said.
“Me? No disrespect intended, but wow! You need one far worse than I do,” Ryck said.
“I do?” he asked, sniffing his armpit. “I can smell you, but maybe I’ve gotten used to my own stink.”
Ryck got up, and the CO held out his hand.
“We like tradition. We like having a patron for each battalion. It gives us a sense of, of belonging to something greater, something that will be here long after we are gone. But sometimes, things seem to fit. Our patron, the Mexican Marines. They were not going to surrender, and you kept that tradition alive.”
“To the Tiburónes, sir,” Ryck said.
“¿Mi bandera? ¡Jamás! Captain Lysander!”
TARAWA
Epilogue
Major Ryck Lysander, United Federation Marine Corps, sat on the couch in his new condo in T-ville, just a few kilometers outside of Headquarters, Marine Corps. The condo was off-base, but it might as well have been base housing for all the Marines who lived in the complex. Most of the Marines in this complex were senior SNCOs or field grade officers, none of who were senior enough to rate base housing at the Puzzle Palace itself. The rent on the condos was higher, but with Hannah getting her promotion, they could afford it.
They had planned on staying on Sunshine while Ryck was in school on Earth and at his new posting, but with Hannah’s promotion and new job opportunity at Headquarters, it made sense to make the move.
Despite Ryck’s promotion ten days earlier, Hannah’s bump made her technically Ryck’s senior, something she enjoyed rubbin
g into him. Ryck took it in good stride. Promotion or not, Hannah had always been the boss in their household.
After returning from the Cygni B System, Ryck had been transferred from Charlie Company to the S-3—not for Virag, as he had feared, who had taken Donte’s spot as the Bravo Company commander—but for the experience, the CO told him.
Ryck had been more than a little upset, but as he worked under Major Snæbjörnsson, he realized that the CO had just been watching out for him. During the next seven months, he’d gained a wealth of experience in battalion planning and operations. He’d even run a force on force with Second Battalion while the Three was on leave, and while the Tiburónes may not have been judged the winners, the experience was of incalculable value. This was going to stand him in good stead in future billets.
The CO hadn’t even been pissed that Second Battalion had received a higher evaluation. Instead, he’d spent the next weekend with Ryck, dissecting and discussing the plan Ryck had developed and put into action.
The CO was responsible for all facets of the battalion, and he could change any operations planned he wanted, but usually, it was the Three who developed and ran an operation. And the CO had not let his ego get in the way, letting his inexperienced assistant operations officer get his feet wet.
Ryck had come to admire the CO. The man may not have extensive combat experience, but it was not for lack of trying. He’d taken an incredible risk to cast from the Inchon, and his long flight in EVAs while running on barely enough oxygen to stay alive was epic. More than once, his men had passed out from lack of O2 and had to be towed by others, but he would not let them increase the flow. If he had, they would have all suffocated before the FS Tallyday found them.
The CO had found out about Jeff de Madre, of course, but when he asked Ryck about it, Ryck had simply said he’d taken care of it. The CO had nodded, and let it go at that. When orders arrived for Jeff three weeks after they returned, courtesy of General Ukiah, the CO hadn’t batted an eye. That small act of letting him take care of the situation impressed Ryck. He began to feel guilty for ever having disliked the man.
And the CO had been right. There had been no fallout over the operation. Far from it. The Tiburónes were heroes. Ryck had been surprised when shortly after Jeff left, the CO had called him into his office. The CO told him that certain forces in the government had wanted Ryck to be awarded another Federation Nova for the action. The top brass had resisted, thinking that two Novas when only one other living Marine, Major Timo Beekeeper, had even one, was not good politics. Other factions in the government did not want anyone to get a Nova for actions against the Confederation, fearful of the message it was sending.
First Lieutenant Albert, the recon Marine who’d driven his reki into the Confed ALC had been posthumously nominated for a Nova, but no one else would be recognized for the highest honor.
The CO’s tone was almost apologetic when he said that Ryck would be put in for a Battle Citation, First Class and nothing higher despite turning the tide of the battle. Ryck laughed. He didn’t need any more ribbons. But that gave him the opportunity to tell the CO what had happened with Jeff and Sandy, and how Sandy really changed the course of the battle.
The CO told the regimental commander, and both went up to the CG. The result was that an amazed and humbled First Lieutenant Sandy Peltier-Aswad was nominated for a Navy Cross. If anyone, he was the true hero of the battle, in Ryck’s opinion, so he was well-pleased with that.
Ryck was promoted to major on November First with the battalion, as it should have been. The next day, he took leave to move his family to Tarawa. With Hannah immediately stepping into her new position, it was up to Ryck to play househusband and finish the move-in while getting the twins settled into school. It had been a hectic few days, and today, the Marine Corps Birthday, had been a welcome respite. He’d taken the twins to the pageant, where they oohed and awed as the Marines marched by. The flyover by the Storks got a big reaction from Noah. Ryck promised his son that if he were good, he’d take him inside one later that afternoon at the static display.
It was almost four by the time he’d gotten the twins back, and he’d barely gotten them their scrambled egg sandwiches when Tand Ariana came by with Cindi and their kids. Tand had gotten out of the Marines, but he worked for one of the many companies in T-ville that serviced the Corps. Cindi and Hannah had become close, and now that the family was back on Tarawa, they’d be spending more time together.
“How do you do, Major Lysander,” Joshua Ariana said solemnly as Tand pushed him forward. “Happy birthday, sir.”
The seven-year-old named for Hannah’s brother—has Joshua been gone from us for that long now, Ryck could help but to wonder—was a serious boy, as if he felt the burden of being named for the man who had saved his father’s life. He was nothing like Joshua Hope of Life, but Ryck knew the little boy was precious to his wife.
“Thank you,” Ryck told Joshua. “Did you enjoy the pageant?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” the boy said, his eyes lighting up. “I loved it. I’m going to be in the pageant some day, sir.”
Ryck noticed the slight clouding of Tand’s eyes. Ryck knew he didn’t want his son to become a Marine, but it was as if things were in motion that were too big to be stopped.
“Noah and Esther, finish up your sandwiches and take Joshua and Greta down to the playground, OK?”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Major,” Tand said as the kids filed out.
Ryck and Tand had never formed much of a bond, either in the Corps or now with Tand out of the Corps. Ryck knew that Tand would never completely get over the fact that he had initially wanted to send Tand on that suicide mission, not Joshua. If Joshua had not interceded, then Tand would not be alive today.
That was OK with Ryck. He understood it. Let the wives become fast friends, but the two of them merely tolerated each other.
When Hannah came home, Ryck made his leave, going into the master bedroom. For the pageant, he’d had on his ribbons, but that wouldn’t do for what was next. He wanted full hangers. He took off his blouse and put it on a homemade tree, took off his ribbons, and carefully put on his medal bar. Once they were aligned to his satisfaction, he put the blouse back on and took his Nova from the case on his dresser. He put the black ribbon around his neck, letting the multi-pointed nova hang at his throat. He stared at his reflection, wondering how he had gotten to where he was today. He’d made great friends and lost great friends. Why he was still alive was a question he couldn’t answer.
Ryck looked at his watch. He still had some time, so he went back out to the living room and sat on the couch. The Ariana’s were with Hannah and the kids in the kitchen, so Ryck had the room to himself, which was just as well. He wanted to be alone.
As if she had daddy-radar running, Esther came walking out into the room and stood staring at him, spoiling his solitude. She didn’t say a word but crawled up beside him, then forced her head under his arm. He relaxed and enfolded the little girl. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone after all.
“Don’t be sad, Daddy,” she said with her high little voice.
Tears came to his eyes at her words. So many of his friends, so many of the men trusting him to get them through a fight, had died. He had learned not to blame himself so much anymore, but that didn’t make the loss any less intense.
His tears dripped on his medals as he sat there, arm around his little girl, drawing comfort from her warm body. Esther was life—she was potential. She was why he fought, for all the little Esthers, Noahs, Joshuas, and Gretas. For new life, he thought as he pregnant wife came out, surprised to see him.
“I thought you had left already. Esther, come here and let Daddy go. He has someplace to be.
“Give me a kiss, snugglebunny,” he said, offering his chin.
She gave him a sloppy one, and Ryck got up, straightening up his blues blouse.
Hannah came up and adjusted the hang of his medals and gave him a kiss on the cheek, too. “Yo
u’ll be back by eight, right? The ball starts at eight-thirty, but I don’t want to stand around too much.”
“Yes, eight o’clock sharp,” he said, reaching to cup his wife’s belly.
She was huge, having gotten pregnant just before he’d taken off for the Cygni B System, and the baby was due in another three weeks. He’d offered to skip the ball, but she said no. He thought she enjoyed it more than he did.
He gave her one more kiss and left, carefully getting into the new Lancer they’d just bought. It wasn’t a sexy car, and it screamed “family,” and that was fine with him. He pulled out and made the short drive to the Globe and Laurel.
Several others were present when he arrived, and he exchanged quiet greetings with them. He hadn’t seen some of them since commissioning. More trickled in over the next 20 minutes until 51 of them were there. Others coming to pay their respects were in the pub, outside in the main room, but when Jorge Simone nodded at Mr. Stuart, the pub manager, he cleared the club, sending general and lance corporal alike outside to wait.
The gathered Marines were in the back room, where the class time boxes hung silently on the wall, some empty, some with one or two bottles, and only three boxes with all three bottles in them. One was for the latest class that had only graduated a few months ago. Another was from the class previous to that, and as soon as this ceremony was done, that box would be down to two bottles as well. The third was Ryck’s class’ time box. Over the years, while other classes had removed the bottle of port, Class 59-2’s box had stood proud, all three bottles present. The class began to earn a reputation of being lucky. Ryck getting the Nova and no less than five classmates earning Navy Crosses added to the class’ mystique.
That mystique was broken, as they all knew it would be someday. They gathered around the time box, looking and remembering.
They’d been so young back then, so full of idealistic fervor. They were all going to be heroes; they were all going to become generals. Well, for one of the 67, that dream ended back in the Cygni B System a little over seven months earlier.
Captain (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 4) Page 22
