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

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  Tanya turned from where she was at the front, not looking too happy.

  “One-thirteen,” she mouthed to Esther.

  Oh, sucks to be her!

  The Thirteenth Marines were stationed on Aegis 2, the “Asshole of the Federation.” A valuable source of rare earths and other minerals, the planet was barely terraformed, had horribly hot weather, and an almost complete lack of social amenities. On the “Egg,” it was pretty much stick to the bases or try the mining camps during their free time. The 13th Marines had a pretty good professional history, but their quality of life might be the worst in the Corps. Heck, most of the Outer Forces had a lower quality of life than the Inner Forces.

  Esther slowly pressed forward until she was close enough to read the list. She scanned down until she could see “Lysander, Esther. 1/16.”

  Her heart dropped.

  How the hell did that happen? I put down 2/3 and 2/9!

  The dreamsheet was just that, a dream. The Corps did not have to follow those preferences. But Esther thought her case was different, and the attention she’d received from the battalion CO and even the CG should have made this a slam dunk. And now, she was going to Wayfarer Station?

  The 16th Marines, the “Limitanei,” was the farthest-stationed regiment from Earth, deep within the Far Reaches. While both the capys and the Klethos had invaded from the opposite side of human space, the regiment, along with the Navy’s Task Force Deep, was still considered the first line of defense against a threat coming from the galactic center. Except for during the War of the Far Reaches, the regiment had only minor participation in the various wars since the Federation’s founding, with putting out brush fires and fighting piracy being their main actions.

  With the “war” with the Klethos under control, and no huge immediate threats on the horizon, the 16th Marines perhaps offered Esther a better chance of a skirmish or two in which she could get blooded in combat, but the problem was the regiment was so far out in the Dark that it was usually out of the public’s eyes.

  One-sixteen wasn’t even with the regimental headquarters. It was located in Wayfarer Station, a multi-purpose station deep into empty space. Esther didn’t know that much about the station, but her dad had visited the battalion once, and he’d noted the lack of space for proper training.

  No, 1/16 wasn’t her idea of a good first duty station, and she was considering how she should approach the CO to see about getting that fixed. She looked up once more at the list, as if it could have changed in the last ten seconds. Her eyes then went down a line to “Lysander, Noah.” To her surprise, his assignment was to 1/16 as well.

  She ran an eye through all 68 names on the list. There were a few recruits going to 2/16 and 3/16, but no one else to 1/16. This just wasn’t right, and she had to address the orders with someone high enough on the ladder to do something about it.

  She turned around, pushing back through the other recruits.

  “Who’d you get?” Noah asked her from where he was standing behind the mass of recruits.

  “One-sixteen,” she said, noting the tiniest narrowing of his eyes as he heard her. “Don’t go thinking you made out over me, Noah. You’re going there with me.”

  At that, he gave a shrug nodded.

  “Not that this is going to last long. I’m on my way to Colonel Sung’s office now, and if he can’t help, I swear I’m going to the CG himself.”

  Noah put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from pushing past him.

  “Uh, I might want to rethink that, if I were you.”

  “Why not? The CO said he had an open-door for us,” she said. Then after seeing his puppy dog expression, another thought hit her, and she said, “Look, we came to boot camp together, which was probably a mistake. But we can’t be connected at the hip as Marines. We have to go our own way. You have to make your own way.”

  Noah seemed to brush off her statement and said, “Think, Ess. Think of what Colonel Sung told us about why were in the same platoon, so that they could keep the public away from us with minimal interruptions to their operations. And this is at Charles and Lympstone, two camps closed off not only to civilians, but to Marines who aren’t part of the staffs. What do you think it’ll be like out in the fleet, when in an open base, or just out in town to get a pizza and beer?

  “It will be bad enough tomorrow when we graduate, but what do you think it’ll be like when the flick comes out?”

  A major Hollybolly production about their father was nearing production, and Esther knew Noah and she would be receiving even more attention when it was released. Part of her looked forward to the attention, but she understood that her new unit might not be as welcoming.

  “The Corps wants a minimal impact created by our service. And I think they want us to be able to develop without interference. Where better than on Wayfarer Station? What reporter is going to come all the way out there to interview one of Ryck Lysander’s kids?”

  “So you think this was planned?”

  “It has to be, Ess. ‘Minimal disruption’ and ‘easy to manage?’ This was decided from on high, probably all the way to the top.”

  “The commandant?”

  “I’d bet so. And if we fought it, well. . .”

  Shit, he’s right. This was all thought-out, she realized. And even if he said “we fought it,” he means if I fight it, I’ll look like a whiny, self-entitled bitch.

  He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her response.

  Hell, even now, he’s looking out for me.

  She felt a little guilty for avoiding him for the last seven months.

  “OK, so I’m not going to go see the CO. I guess we’re off to the Far Reaches.”

  A smile broke out on his face, and he pulled her in for a hug. She hesitated only a moment before returning it.

  “But, so help me God, if we’re assigned to the same squad, I’ll call the chairman herself!”

  Chapter 13

  Noah

  . . .and so, I send you off to make your own mark, to start your own contribution to the traditions that make us the finest fighting force in human history! Audaces Fortuna Iuvat,” Brigadier General Konstantinov said to the two series standing tall in front of him.

  The CG looked out over the recruits, and Noah felt a sense of anticipation rising within him. It was silly, he knew, but there it was.

  “Colonel Rischer, I think there’s one more thing, isn’t there,” the CG said, toying with the recruits. “Do you want the honor?”

  Noah was standing at attention, eyes locked straight ahead, so he couldn’t see what the training regimental commander replied, but a moment later, the CG said, “Very well, then. Lieutenant Colonel Sung, you may dismiss your MARINES!”

  There! He’d said it. Noah, and all the rest, were no longer recruits—they were Marines! He still had the 12-week IUT, Initial Unit Training, before he joined 1/16, but that would be as a Marine, not a recruit.

  The battalion CO called out, “Captain Morrisy, you may dismiss your Marines.”

  This was repeated down the line, from the company commander to the series commanders to the platoon senior DIs.

  Staff Sergeant Hoteah waited, and from down the line of recruits. . .no, Marines, the seniors of 9052, then 9053, and 9054 dismissed their platoons, and roars of new Marines shouted their elation.

  “Platoon 9055, dis. . .MISSED!”

  Noah felt a surge of joy as he stepped once to the rear, did an about-face, and with 29 throats yelling in unison, shouted to the heavens.

  A fist pounded his back, and he turned to hug Fan.

  “We made it, Marine,” Fan said, his face flushed. “And thanks to you, bud. Thanks to you.”

  “Ah, bullshit. You were always going to make it.”

  Whatever else Fan was going to say was lost as Leto crashed into them, an arm around each of their shoulders.

  “Hey, Marines! We fucking did it!”

  Noah had long-since distanced himself from Leto, but if the Marine had noticed
, he never let on. Still, Noah was in too good of a mood to let his petty grievances take over, so he pounded Leto a few times on the back.

  “Hey, Noah, come here. I want you to meet my folks,” Leto said, starting to drag Noah away.

  “Wait up,” Noah yelled at Fan from over his shoulder. “We’ll catch a ride out tonight.”

  Some of the new Marines were going to hit the town tonight before the general exodus to their new divisions started in the morning.

  Probably a third of the new Marines had family at the ceremony, and they were just now making their way out of the stands. Leto pulled Noah to the far left where an older couple and a teenage girl were waving.

  “Moms, Pops, this is Noah Lysander, the Chairman’s son. I told you about him.”

  Mr. Smith’s eyes lit up, and he shook Noah’s hand.

  “It’s so good to meet you, Private Lysander,” the man said. “Leto’s told us all about you, and we’re happy you two have become such good friends. Are you going to Alexander with him, too?”

  Good friends? What other BS has he told you? he wondered, but instead said, “No, sir. I’m going to Sixth Division, in the Outer Forces.

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Leto’s mother said. “You two are so close. But please, if you ever get to Freeman’s Anchorage, you simply must stop by and visit. We insist.”

  Noah was saved from having to respond when a corporal rushed up, saying, “There you are, Lysander. The major needs you now.”

  “The major” was Major Fox-Mason, the depot Public Affairs Officer. A gruff, no-nonsense Marine, he’d been grooming Esther and him for their first news conference as members of the Corps. The depot had been protecting them as recruits, but now as Marines, the major felt it was better to give the press some access in what was still a controlled environment.

  “It was good to meet you,” Noah said to Leto’s parents as the corporal led him away.

  “We’re going to the Butcher Block for dinner. Why don’t you join us?” Leto shouted.

  Noah ignored him. Even if he considered Leto as a friend, the Butcher Block would not be his choice for his emancipation meal. The chain was designed to appeal to the senses with intricate animatronics and programming. The tables were massive, and the vibe was to overwhelm the guests with just how great the place was. But the food itself was typical fab food. Good, but not great. Their recipes were designed to appeal to the median, not the sophisticated.

  Oh, yeah, and I’m SO grubbing sophisticated, Noah thought with a smile. After 294 days of messhall food, even the Butcher Block would be quite a step up.

  Noah followed the corporal to where the major and Esther waited, standing in front of about nine reporters and camcordermen. At the moment, the CG was speaking in front of them. Noah slid beside Esther.

  “Looking good, PFC Lysander,” he said, nodding at the new PFC stripes on her sleeves.

  “Thanks, Noah,” she said, not bothering to hide her smile.

  Esther had been appointed as the series guide just before the Crucible, and she managed to keep it through the grueling three-day culmination of training. Along with their sister series guide and the four platoon guides, she’d received a meritorious promotion to PFC.

  “OK, Marines. . .”

  Grubbing hell, that sounds good, Noah thought, savoring the sound of the word.

  “. . .just remember what I’ve told you. Short, succinct answers. Don’t volunteer anything, don’t pontificate. You’ll be fine,” the major said.

  “And remember, this is your day, not theirs. Be proud!”

  The CG carried on for a few minutes, but the media-types were looking beyond him to the two twins. Noah was still amazed that anyone really cared enough about them to send reporters to a boot camp graduation, but with the flick coming out, he figured that anything peripherally connected to their father would gather attention. It wasn’t about Esther and him, it was about their father.

  Finally, the CG turned and introduced the two of them.

  Immediately, one of the reporters asked, “Esther, you made honor graduate and have been meritoriously promoted. Do you think your father would be proud of you?”

  No, he’d be ashamed, Noah thought. Did you really wait through an entire ceremony to ask that weak-ass question?

  Esther, though, handled it like a pro, saying, “I’d like to think so. The Marine Corps was his life, and if either Noah or I can contribute to the Corps and the Federation, then I’m sure he would have been proud.”

  “What about your brother Benjamin?”

  What about him? What’s your question?

  The early word was that the flick was going to cover Ben’s death in depth, so the question had to be expected, as the major had warned them, but still, what the question was vague.

  “Our brother Benjamin felt he had a duty to the Federation. He gave his life for all of us, as did over 80,000 Marines, sailors, and FCDC troopers during the Evolution. We honor all of those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.”

  Noah could almost feel the major relax behind him. Esther had listened to his advice, and now she was on a roll.

  “Noah, are you proud of your sister, becoming your series honor man?”

  What is it with proud? Is that all you want to know?

  “Of course I am. My sister Esther is extremely capable, and I was not surprised that she was the series guide.”

  “What about you,” another reporter asked. “Why didn’t you get a promotion, too?”

  What?

  “If I can interject here,” the major said. “Private Lysander also performed admirably here at Camp Charles. But this is just a reflection of the super quality of young men and women who enlist. These stalwart citizens could excel in any endeavor, but they chose a life of service to Federation and Corps.”

  The reporters drifted back to Esther. Some of the questions they asked were ridiculous; some were reasonable. Noah was only directly questioned twice more, and that was OK with him.

  He started to relax, just listening to Esther handle the questions like a seasoned pro. Let her take over; he didn’t need the attention. Just earning the title of United Federation Marine was more than enough for him.

  PART 2

  WAYFARER STATION

  Chapter 14

  Esther

  The door whooshed open, the cool air of the station a welcome relief from the recycled air of the ship. Esther knew that was mostly her imagination; the scrubbers on the ship were just smaller models of those that were used in the much larger station. Imagination or not, she simply felt better stepping into the large terminal area. Cramped ships had always made her feel uncomfortable.

  That wasn’t to say the terminal was anything like a planetary terminal. Even the bare-bones spaceport on Malika’s World, where the Regimental headquarters was located, was much bigger and less enclosed than Wayfarer Station.

  Three years of this, she thought without enthusiasm. I can gut it out.

  Noah, standing beside her, on the other hand, seemed annoyingly happy.

  “You four newbies, over against the bulkhead until we can find our guide,” Staff Sergeant York told them.

  Esther dutifully lined up on Gregori Pusht, one of the two privates from the series that graduated the week after Noah and hers. Fi Muster, the other private from that series, took his place beside her with Noah on the outside.

  They’d met the staff sergeant at the regimental headquarters before they caught the ship to the station. He’d taken charge of the 12 lower-enlisted Marines newly assigned to the battalion. There was a lieutenant and a captain on the ship as well, but along with a first sergeant, they hadn’t mixed with the rest of them. Already, the four higher-ups were loading aboard a small shuttle cart, ready, Esther assumed, to be whisked to the battalion CP.

  “Sergeant Orinda, why don’t you go check with the kiosk and see who’s supposed to meet us,” the staff sergeant said.

  “Roger that,” the sergeant said, dropping her seabag and sauntering
off.

  Esther had grown up a military brat, and she was used to the interaction between Marines, but after 194 days at boot camp and another 84 at IUT, the formal discipline at both schools had become embedded into her consciousness. To see such a casual response to a staff sergeant was jarring to her. Senior Drill Instructor Hoteah was a staff sergeant, for goodness’ sakes. She couldn’t imagine anyone casually saying “roger that” to him.

  The four new Marines were standing at parade rest while they waited, eyes forward.

  “Relax, boots,” one of the corporals said. “You’re not at the depot anymore.”

  Fi gave an embarrassed-sounding laugh and made an obvious effort to stand normally. Esther and the other two newbies eased into a more relaxed posture.

  The station was busy, that was for sure. Wayfarer was a mid-sized station, a jumping off point for Navy patrols, prospectors, scientists, pioneers—anyone about to step off into the Dark. Home to a small four-ship Navy detachment and the Marine battalion, it also housed some 25,000 civilians and assorted government workers. Unlike the privately-owned Juliette stations, which had played an important role during the Evolution, Wayfarer was a federal property. The Federation administrator was technically in charge, but for all practical purposes, the Navy commander ran the station, with the Marine battalion CO as his right-hand man.

  And like most government projects, it was barebones, nothing like any of the commercial stations Esther had seen. It didn’t look inviting, but then again, it wasn’t a rundown hellhole that Esther knew existed in some corners of human space.

  “Battalion said to hang on,” Sergeant Orinda said, returning. “They’re sending a van to pick us up.”

  “You heard her,” the staff sergeant said. “Get yourself comfortable.”

  “Can I pop a stim?” one of the other Marines asked.