The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins: The Complete Series: Books 1-5

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “So, yes, there is attention on you; attention we can’t ignore. And to minimize your impact to the running of this depot, you’ve been put into the same series.

  “So now, some ground-rules. While you are a recruit, you will talk to no one outside of your official duties without expressed permission from your DIs. If someone calls out to you to ask you something, anything, you are to ignore them. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” the twins said together.

  “If you receive any correspondence other than from family, you will inform your DIs. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “I know, with your background, I really don’t have to remind you of these things, but it’s better to get it into the open. We don’t need anything to interfere with the training here. It wouldn’t be fair to the other recruits, and it wouldn’t be fair to you. Recruit training is hard enough as it is, and you don’t need any further pressure added to you.

  “I will say, though, that we are proud to have you in the battalion. I never had the honor to directly serve with your father, but his legacy lives on in the Corps, and I don’t mean you two. I shouldn’t say this, but with the divide within the Federation, any good news needs to be both embraced and exploited.

  “So how does that concern you? You are good news. Your journey through boot camp is being followed, and the Sixth Minister’s office has listed your experiences as a Cat 2 interest. Do you follow me?

  So we have to make it through training, Esther realized. Can’t have us failing and spoiling the fairy tale.

  “So, if you’re having any problems—any problems—I want you to come see me. My door is always open to either of you.”

  Esther thought the CO looked like he had swallowed poison and was trying to force out the words.

  “If you are having trouble adjusting, if you aren’t keeping up, come see me. And if I’m not here, the duty officer will be able to reach me.

  “But I know none of that will be necessary. You’re General Lysander’s kids, right? You were born to this.

  “Do you have any questions now? Any concerns?”

  “No, sir,” the two answered.

  “Remember, I’m here if you need me,” he said again.

  “Staff Sergeant Hoteah, enter!” he said in a raised voice.

  The senior must have been waiting right outside the hatch. He immediately entered and marched to stand beside Noah.

  “Staff Sergeant, take these two recruits back to their series and carry out the remainder of the training day.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” the senior said before turning to the two and in a low voice, saying, “About face. Forward . . . march!”

  He guided them back down the long passage and out of the CP.

  “Halt,” he said, then took another step, leaning forward so his head was between Noah’s and hers. “All of that about the CO’s hatch being open? That is no longer in effect. You will not, I repeat not, ever come back here. Am I 100% clear in that?”

  “Yes, Senior Drill Instructor!”

  “I don’t care if God Almighty had angels carry you down from fucking heaven to grace us mere mortals with your presence, you are now nothing more than slimy worms, and I own you.

  “While you were up here wasting Marine Corps time, the rest of the series was stowing gear. In exactly eight minutes, the series is marching to the Classroom 2a for their medical officer brief. You will be with the rest of the series, with your gear stored.

  “Am I perfectly clear on that?”

  “Yes, Senior Drill Instructor!”

  “Then you better move your asses!”

  For the first time since they’d left the barracks, Esther took a hesitant look at Noah, who seemed as confused as she was. How could they get their gear stored and be ready to leave in eight minutes? When the senior didn’t seem ready to move, Esther, followed by a hesitant Noah, started walking.

  “For all that is sacred, didn’t you hear me? You’ve got eight minutes! You’d better double time, recruits!”

  Esther immediately broke into a dead run. The CO had practically promised that they both would get through recruit training. It didn’t seem like their senior had received the memo.

  Chapter 5

  Noah

  “Come on, Fan,” Noah said, slowing down to encourage the other recruit.

  The series was just over half-way through a gut-buster, the exhausting “motivational runs” that were anything but. Five klicks to the Lost Lady, a tall rock formation south of Camp Charles’ mainside, and back, all at a brutal pace designed to push the recruits past their limits. No more than ten or twelve of the recruits could stay up with Drill Instructor Hermanez—the rest would fall back to straggle in, and Noah was no different. Too much time spent playing games and not exercising had their effect on him.

  Up ahead by almost 100 meters, even Esther was straggling just behind the first rank. She was now a recruit squad leader, the bright red tab on her t-shirt collar visible all the way back in the rear of the pack.

  Noah was hurting, but Fan was about ready to die,

  “I can’t do it,” he managed to get out between breaths.

  “Sure you can,” Noah said. “Here, hold on. Don’t let go,” he added, putting Fan’s hand on his shoulder and trying to pull the recruit along.

  Grubbing hell! he exclaimed as Fan’s weight became an anchor dragging him back.

  He kept trudging ahead, trying to clear his mind—which was difficult with Fan wheezing like a pair of old-fashioned bellows right behind him. Slowly, they fell farther and farther behind the rest of the tail-end recruits: ten meters, back, then twenty. Noah peered ahead as they made their way into the training area, hoping to see that the front of the pack had reached the obstacle course.

  His lungs were burning and his side felt like it was being stabbed with a sword when a couple of figures broke away from the front to begin to make their way back. It looked like Esther joined them as well. It still took a couple of minutes before Sergeant Hermanez, Recruits Walton and Inspiration, and Esther reached the tail-end charlies.

  “You two are the last ones,” the DI shouted as he reached and circled around them to head back forward. “You had better move your freaking butts, or the entire series will pay the price!”

  “Paying the price” generally meant EI, or “extra instruction.” Only there wasn’t any “instruction” to it. Two hundred pushups or squat-thrusts were punishment, nothing more.

  “Come on, Lysander,” Courage Inspiration shouted. “You heard the DI. Put some effort into it!

  Courage was one of the alpha recruits, good-looking, fit, and fast as a deer. Like Esther and him, he was a Marine brat, with his first sergeant father still on active duty. He seemed to like Esther, but he also seemed to find Noah seriously lacking.

  “Noah, what the hell?” Esther said as she closed in on him. “We’re Lysanders, and we don’t finish last.”

  At least she had the courtesy to be breathing heavily, not like Super Recruit Inspiration.

  “Fan, why are you even here?” she asked as she dropped back a step, putting her hands on Fan’s shoulders and trying to push him along—which almost made him fall.

  “I’m trying!” Fan protested. “I’m not used to all this running.”

  “What did you think the Marines were? Altoon Attack?”

  Noah rolled his eyes. Altoon Attack had long been his favorite game, something of which Esther was well aware. She might as well have been attacking him directly.

  Esther had been openly supportive of Noah enlisting, but he had a sneaking suspicion that on one level, she almost resented his presence, as if he was leaching from her part of the righteousness of what she was doing.

  Courage followed the DI, his nose so far up the sergeant’s ass that Noah thought it would break off if the sergeant suddenly stopped. But Klepper Walton stayed behind with Esther, pushing Fan while Noah pulled.

  Ahead, the rest of the back-of-the-pack straggle
d into the finish. Recruits who had completed the run stood, hand on their knees, a few puking that good Marine Corps chow they’d had for lunch into the sand. One of the recruits yelled something out, and most of them straightened and slowly jogged back to the stragglers, yelling their encouragement.

  “So help me, Noah. If you’ve earned us EI, I swear. . .” Esther told him.

  Noah bit back a retort. No, he would not have finished up with the rabbits without Fan, but somewhere in the middle of the stragglers, most likely. But he wasn’t going to let Fan struggle on alone.

  At least ten minutes after the rabbits finished, the four recruits reached the stairway to heaven on the O-Course, the unofficial finish line. Fan fell to the ground where he started puking. Noah wanted to join him, but he managed to keep standing, hands clasped on top of his head as he took in huge gulps of air.

  Sergeant Hermanez came back to the four, looking like he hadn’t even run a hundred meters yet.

  “Good job,” he told Klepper and Esther. “That’s how you look after your fellow recruits.”

  Noah felt a pang of annoyance, only somewhat alleviated by the look of Courage’s face when he didn’t receive any praise.

  Any hope, though, that his comment meant they would not be punished evaporated, though, when the DI shouted out, “That was extremely poor, recruits. You’ve been here six days, and you’ve still got that nasty civvie poison in you. Some of you barely walked on that little jog we just had. So I’m going to have to try and sweat more of that fat poison out of you. EI time, recruits. Two-hundred squat thrusts. Starting position. . .move!”

  Civvie poison running through their bodies or not, they’d already learned not to groan when given EI. Ninety-seven recruits, eleven fewer than who’d started boot camp, immediately came to attention. Even Fan, with vomit still on his chin and on his t-shirt, managed to stand.

  “Ready. . .begin! One-two-three-one, one-two-three-two. . .”

  No one said anything, but Noah could almost feel the waves of hate emanating from the other recruits.

  Chapter 6

  Esther

  “Freemont just quit,” Rosalee Barrent-Hyde said under her breath as she took a seat on Esther’s rack.

  “It was only a matter of time,” Uri Weis said. “We knew she was about to pop a molt and DOR.”[4]

  Of the 108 recruits in Platoon 9055 that started A-1, 82 had lasted until T-8. Three admin days and eight training days had knocked out 26 of them. Twenty-one of the initial recruits had been female, and a full twelve of them already had been dropped. Two had been recycled due to stress fractures and would join a later series after a couple of weeks, but the rest has either DOR’d or been found “not suitable for further duty.”

  “So, that’s nine of us left,” Esther said as she continued to clean her combat harness.

  “And I’m not giving d’Lane much of a chance. I heard her crying last night after lights out,” Uri said without looking up from her cleaning.

  “Shit, Uri, half the guys cry here, too,” Tanya Nguyen said.

  “I’m not saying the boys aren’t crying,” Uri said. “Let those sorry asses get kicked out, too. You need to be the best to become a Marine.”

  Esther looked up from her cleaning at Uri before dropping her gaze again. This was gear maintenance time, not free time, and while they could sit where they wanted, they weren’t supposed to be chit-chatting. The DI’s would let a little slide, but they couldn’t go overboard.

  Uri was a rock-stud. A jujitsu black belt of some lofty number of degrees that Esther didn’t quite grasp, there was little doubt that she could kick almost anyone’s ass in the series, male or female. She also brooked no excuses for weakness. You had to make the grade to fight in the ring or earn the title of Marine. Still, she socialized, if anything that recruits were allowed to do could be considered socializing, with the other women.

  The Sisterhood of Ten—no, Nine, now with Freemont gone, Esther corrected herself.

  It wasn’t as if they excluded any of the guys. They couldn’t, not and make it through to graduation. It was just that a bond was forming between them.

  And she’s right!

  When her father opened up the military again to women, it was with the strict guidelines that no standards would be lowered. This wasn’t the Navy where anyone with enough brains could serve—or where many women were proving to be superior pilots. This was the Marines where physical fitness and capabilities were paramount. And given the facts of life, without genetic modification, most women were not as strong as men, nor could their bodies take the same amount of abuse. Only 30% or so of the general male population had the needed entry qualifications, and that number dropped to about 10% of the female population.

  There were no “PC” changes in the training, no “diversity adjustments.” The Corps turned a blind eye to gender. What mattered was if a Marine could do the job or not.

  The standardized requirements were a little tougher on Esther than she had expected them to be. She was fit and probably could have played pro e-ball. But many of the men were just as athletic, just as fit when compared to others. And that made them physically more capable than she was. Uri was Uri, a freak. And Jama Boutou ran like lightening, but those were the only two who were at the top of the fitness pecking order. Esther was solidly in the next level.

  And that frustrated her to no end. She had to be the best at anything she did, and second-best just wasn’t going to cut it.

  But she wasn’t second-best in all ways. She didn’t have to look; with her peripheral vision, she could see the red tab on her breast pocket, signaling her position as one of six recruit squad leaders.

  She was immensely proud of the small red piece of cloth. The DIs saw something in her that made her worthy of the responsibility. There were only two positions higher: platoon guide and series guide, and she knew in her heart that she would achieve series guide by graduation and earning the meritorious promotion that came with the honor.

  She snuck a glance across the squadbay where Recruit Gaston Nunci was cleaning his boots with a brush.

  Watch your ass. I’m after you!

  Esther had nothing against Nunci. He was a good recruit, and Esther would be happy to serve with him as Marines. But he was the current guide, and nobody was going to stand in her way.

  “Speaking of crying boys, have you decided what to do about, you know. . .” Tanya asked.

  “About who?” Uri asked.

  Esther glared at Tanya, trying to use telepathy to tell Tanya to shut up, but her friend didn’t look up and said, “She doesn’t want Noah in her squad. She thinks it makes it hard to come down on his ass.”

  All five of the other recruits looked to her as one.

  “Are you trying to invite a DI here? Look at what you’re doing,” she hissed. “And no, Noah hasn’t been crying. But, you know, you’ve seen him on the runs. I want to ream him, but, you know. . .”

  “So what are you going to do?” Uri asked, a slight bit of excitement evident in her voice.

  “She’s going to ask the senior to move him to another squad,” Tanya said.

  Shut the hell up, Tanya!

  “That’s a good idea,” Uri said.

  Esther wasn’t completely sure about that. Noah would take it wrong, she knew. But maybe it would be for the better. He was twice the recruit of most of the others, but he always seemed to be with the walking dead.

  She looked to where he was, two racks away, where he was actually cleaning that negat Fan’s assault pack.

  Come on, Noah. Take care of your own shit, first!

  That settled it. Someone, and not his sister, had to push him in the right direction.

  “I’m doing it,” she said.

  “OK, then go for it,” Uri said. “The shack is open.”

  Esther thought there was a bit of a challenge in Uri’s voice. That didn’t matter, though. Now was as good a time as any.

  “Watch my gear,” she said as she stood and straightened
up her blouse.

  She marched down the center of the barracks to the front where the DI’s shack was just off to the left. As usual during scheduled maintenance time, there was only one DI present. This time, it was Senior Drill Instructor Hoteah.

  Esther wanted to sound professional and in complete control. She took several calming deep breaths.

  “I hear you out there, Recruit!” Senior Drill Instructor Hoteah. “Don’t waste my time dawdling. Enter!”

  Esther came to attention, then marches smartly into the office, centering herself in the middle, and looking up where the overhead met the bulkhead.

  “Recruit Squad Leader Lysander, E., requesting permission to address the senior drill instructor!”

  With her peripheral vision, she watched the senior DI spin his chair to look at her for an unbearably long ten seconds before he said, “What do you want, Lysander?”

  “After some consideration, I think it would be best if Lysander, N., be transferred to another squad, Senior Drill Instructor!”

  “After some consideration?”

  “Uh. . .ye-yes, Senior Drill Instructor.”

  “And why, pray tell, did you decide that, ‘after consideration?’”

  This wasn’t going as Esther had imagined, but she had committed herself, so she charged on, “It is my belief that with the two of us being so familiar with each other, it might make it awkward for me to be, well, jumping on his case when he screws up,” she got out in a rush.

  “Very well. Consider it done. You won’t be his recruit squad leader anymore.”

  Whoa! That was easy!

  “Hand it over, Recruit Lysander,” he continued.

  “Uh, I don’t understand, Senior Drill Instructor. Hand what over?”

  “Your recruit squad leader tab, of course.”

  Esther felt as if she’d just been sucker-punched.

  “My. . .my tab?”

  “Of course your tab. If you cannot lead a Marine, for any reason, then you should not be in a position of leadership. I would think that would be obvious.”

  “But—” she started before the staff sergeant stood up.