“I told you your father would be proud, and I mean it.”
The general stepped back, the signal for Lessa, the far right Marine to say, “Hand . . . SALUTE,” then “Ready . . . TWO” after the general returned it.
Every Marine who’d been at the battle had received some sort of medal, from a BC3 on up. Staff Sergeant Mauser-Lopez had been presented with a Bronze Star, and then Noah and the lieutenant had received the Silver Star.
“Left . . . FACE!” Lessa ordered, then “Forward . . . MARCH.”
Noah, as the far-left Marine stepped off, knowing the rest would match his cadence. He tried to keep it steady, but the tears in his eyes were making it hard to see.
The general had told him that his father would be proud of him. Noah knew in his heart that Ben had been his father’s favorite. Heck, Ben had been everyone’s favorite. And Esther was now an officer, one with a Navy Cross no less. His father would probably have been shocked to see Noah follow him into the Corps in the first place. But Noah hoped that the general was right, and somewhere, somehow, his father was looking down at him and finally proud of the man, of the Marine, he’d become.
Chapter 30
“Hey, Noah. You’ve got a fucking asshole for a TC,” Lessa said, her eyes looking like they could shoot out sparks at any moment. “You can tell him to keep his fucking dick to himself or I’ll cut the tiny little thing off and feed it to him.”
What the hell? Noah wondered as he looked up from the readouts.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your TC, Staff Sergeant Cain, that’s who,” she said, standing in front of him in gym shorts and tank top, the anger emanating from her.
“I guess he can be an asshole, Lessa, but what’s this about his dick?”
The staff sergeant was full of himself, Noah had discovered, and he was free with his opinion on civilians, the Navy, the FCDC (who he seemed to hate with a passion), and yes, women in “his” Marine Corps, but his opinions seemed to be just bullshitting with Llanzo and him. Noah wasn’t particularly comfortable with the bitching and pontificating, but the guy knew tanks, and he was a wizard at maintenance. Noah had already learned more about keeping the Hombre (the name still stuck in his throat) up and running than he’d managed to learn over the previous three-plus years.
“Oh, the little fact that he likes to stick it in my face? How about that?”
“What are you talking about, Lessa?”
“What I’m talking about is at the gym. I’m on the bench, and he comes up, saying something like “That’s a lot of weight for a little lady like you. I think you need a spot,’” she said, lowering her voice in a mocking imitation.
“So, he comes up, and I think what the fuck, if he wants to spot, no skin off my nose, right? I start lifting, and since he’s spotting, I’m going for failure. And I get up to 17 reps, right? And he keeps yelling ‘You got it,’ only I don’t. But when he moves to help me rack it, he sticks his dick in my face.”
“What? He took out his dick?”
“No, not out. In his shorts, but he tea-bagged me.”
“I . . . what did you do?”
“I was so fucking pissed that I got out of there before I unloaded on him.”
Noah didn’t know what to think. Sure, the staff sergeant had his opinions, but that seemed a little much, even for him.
“Are you sure he did it? Could it have been an accident?”
“Accident? I could feel him, half hard and shit. No, he fucking meant to do it.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“I’m telling you, that’s what I’m going to do. I should just turn his ass in to the new lieutenant, but you pass the word to him that if he does some shit like that again, I’ll come down on him in a fucking world of hurt.”
She leaned forward and poked Noah in the chest with her forefinger, saying, “You tell him that.”
She spun around and stalked off.
Noah sat back. In his mind, he tried to put together what she’d said. It did seem odd, as he pictured the staff sergeant in back of her spotting. If he’d had to take the weight, he should have bent back at the waist, taking his crotch away from Lessa, not towards her. Something didn’t make sense, and with a sinking heart, he knew he had to confront the staff sergeant.
He closed the assessment, calling out to Pure Dick that he’d be back and have it finished before chow.
“Make sure you do, Sergeant. I don’t want to have to chase you down.”
Noah checked in the gym first, but the staff sergeant wasn’t there, so he headed to the SNCO barracks. Cain wasn’t married, so he lived on base.
“Staff Sergeant, it’s Sergeant Lysander. I need to talk to you,” he said, speaking into the interface.
“What do you want, Lysander. I’m in the shower.”
“It’s important, and I don’t want to say it out here.”
“Shit, Lysander. It can’t wait? OK, give me a moment.”
Noah stood there, nervous as he waited. After about a minute, the door opened and the staff sergeant, naked except for a towel around his waist, stood there.
“What’s so fucking important that you’ve got to pull me out of the shower?”
“Uh . . . it’s about Sergeant Franklin.”
“Franklin? What does she want?”
If Noah was expecting some sort of guilty reaction, the staff sergeant didn’t produce. He just stood there, looking annoyed.
“She just came and told me that you spotted her at the gym . . .”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“She says you stuck your dick in her face while you spotted her.”
The staff sergeant looked at him in amazement, then a huge smile took over his face as he broke out into laughter.
“Is that what the little bitch is saying? For reals?” he asked.
“Well, yeah. That’s what she’s saying.”
“In her dreams I did that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, she wishes she could see my cock,” he said, grabbing it with one hand through the towel. “Look, she comes in the gym with shorts five sizes too small and a tanktop that flashes her titties. What do you think she’s trying to do? What do you think she wants?”
“Uh, Staff Sergeant. I think you might have the wrong impression of things. Lessa’s got a wife. She’s not into guys.”
“She’s a lez? No shit? But she’s kinda hot. But no matter. If she’s a lez, that’s because she’s never had some guy give it to her good. Am I right or am I right?”
“Staff Sergeant, what she is doesn’t matter. She said if you do it again, she’s not going to hold back.”
“What, little bitty Franklin’s going to jump me? Me?” he asked, flexing his pecs.
He had a point, Noah had to admit. Lessa was a small Marine, maybe tipping the scales at 50 kg. Staff Sergeant Cain was short like many heavy worlders, but also like other heavy worlders, he was a big, muscular man, probably 120 kg. Lessa could be full of bluster, but there wasn’t a way she could take the staff sergeant in a fight.
“Maybe, maybe not. But she said she’d take it to the new lieutenant if it happened again. She was going to do it this time, but she came to me instead.”
The smirk on his face disappeared, and he said, “Look, Lysander. I don’t fucking know what she thought happened. I spotted her. When her spindly arms failed, I grabbed the bar, you know, to protect her. Maybe the front of my shorts got close to her, maybe they didn’t. I wasn’t paying attention, you know, ’cause I was trying to keep the bar from slamming back down on her. I can’t help it if she’s got it into her head that I was trying to get my nut off that way.”
Noah stared into the staff sergeant’s eyes, trying to read what was behind them. Maybe Lessa had misconstrued what had happened. Maybe the staff sergeant hadn’t intentionally done anything. And it wasn’t like it was that much of an event. Noah had probably done worse during MCMA[30] training when fighting female Marines.
He’d sure had more than a few dicks in his face while rolling around the ground, after all.
I’ve done my duty. I’ve passed along Lessa’s message.
He was about to tell the staff sergeant that and leave, when the mental image that he’d constructed came back to him. Physics was physics, and there wasn’t a way that the staff sergeant could have accidently brushed her like that. Unless Lessa was lying—and Noah was pretty sure that she wasn’t, given her anger—he’d meant to do it. Whether he was joking or meant something more serious, he’d done it, and now he was lying. Standing in front of Noah, he had a look of disdain on his face, but there was something else there, something he was trying to hide.
He was scared.
And Noah knew for certainty that Cain had done it. Whether it was a joke, disdain for women in the Corps, or some perversion, Noah couldn’t tell, but he was sure it had been a purposeful action.
“Bullshit, Staff Sergeant. You did it and you know it. If you pull that kind of thing again, Lessa, or whomever else it is, won’t have to report you because I will.”
Anger flowed across the staff sergeant’s face replacing any fear he might have had.
“Fuck you, Lysander. I thought you were a man, not a fem. Oh, yeah, I spoke with Leto Smith, from your recruit platoon. He told me you were a pussy, but I thought how could General Lysander’s son be one? I wanted to give you a chance, but here you are, siding with the bitches. You’re what’s wrong with the Corps, let me tell you. And let me tell you one more thing. Your sister? She’s got more balls than you. Your father would be sick to his stomach if he could see you now.”
He shoved Noah in the chest, pushing him back out of the quarters, and slammed the door in Noah’s face.
Chapter 31
Things had rapidly gone downhill since his confrontation with the staff sergeant. The Hombre was an arctic landscape, cold and bitter. Staff Sergeant Cain didn’t speak a word to him unless it was related to the tank. He kept Noah busy with every imaginable scutwork, but he never went over the line, he never raised his voice, even to the level of removing all profanity while addressing him.
He’d tried to broach the matter with Llanzo, but his fellow sergeant refused to be drawn in, saying he wasn’t going to get between his two crewmates. Noah resented that. He’d done nothing wrong. But it had become painfully obvious that Llanzo was not going to stick his neck out.
It wasn’t just within the Hombre’s crew, either. Several other male Marines, including Cliff, had turned a cold shoulder to him. Lanny Hirokyu had gone as far as to call him a “snitch” to his face, which made no sense. Noah had tried to tell Lanny that he’d snitched on no one, but Lanny wasn’t having any of it. He accused Noah of trying to get rid of Staff Sergeant Cain so he could become tank commander, which shocked Noah into silence.
Nobody—not one person—came up to Noah with support. To be fair, most Marines didn’t seem to either know or care what had transpired. They treated Noah as usual. But no one told him he’d done the right thing, not even Lessa, who acted as if she’d never brought Noah into the confrontation in the first place.
Noah had been lonely as a recruit, without much in the way of friends. Over the course of his two tours, he’d started to feel the joy of being part of something bigger than just himself. He’d felt as if he belonged in the Corps. Now, he was feeling isolated, like an outsider, once again.
And it wasn’t as if he was getting support at home. Now well into her pregnancy and taking care of Chance, Miriam had seemed to pull back from him. He’d tried to talk to her about his situation, but she seemed to think that everything would pass, and when he’d tried to bring it up a second time, she curtly told him to “be a man” and to take care of things himself.
Noah tried to bury himself in his work, and the staff sergeant was helping him in that, at least. Noah had just spent the last eight hours testing every one of the Hombre’s tracks, which was both a mind-numbing and back-breaking task. He’d called Miriam earlier to tell her he’d be late, and now, he was doing something he’d never done before. Instead of going home immediately, he’d walked into one of the many bars on Gasperson Street. He’d been in a few before, but never alone, and not when he should be going home.
He stared at the glass of arak sitting in front of him. The milky color did not look as appealing as any of the whiskey family, the “uisce beatha” water of life, but Noah had been curious as to the resurgence in popularity of the ancient grape and anise liquor. He’d stepped inside the bar on a whim, and on a whim, he’d ordered a glass of it.
Neither of his parents had been heavy drinkers, and his mother had always told him never to drink when he was depressed, advice he’d always tried to follow. And now, it looked like he’d ignore that advice.
His tour would be up in less than a year, and he’d have almost another year before his enlistment was up. Miriam expected him to get out, but he’d been leaning towards re-enlistment. Until now. With all the crap he was taking, he was beginning to wonder if it was worth it. Maybe it would be better out in the civilian world.
“You gonna stare at that all night, or you gonna drink it,” the bartender asked, stopping in front of him.
Noah looked up at the bartender, but he couldn’t detect any animosity in the man’s question.
“Drink it,” he said, reaching down to pick up the glass and send the sweet liquor cascading down his throat.
Chapter 32
“One more push,” the nurse-midwife said from between Miriam’s legs.
Noah watched as Miriam first grunted, then shouted as Hannah Belle Lysander made her entry into the universe. He felt an ache in his heart as his daughter opened her mouth and screamed her displeasure.
With deft hands, the nurse-midwife cut the umbilical, gooped it shut, and placed the baby girl on Miriam’s chest. Noah crowded close, putting his hand on Hannah’s back, marveling at the pulse he felt. What had before been to him merely a concept, an idea, was now a living, breathing person.
“She’s beautiful,” he said, his voice in awe.
There’d been no way he was going to miss her birth. No deployment, no duty, and thanks to the first sergeant running interference for him, he’d made it, catching an Albatross ride in from the Winston Training Ranges when Miriam started labor. Six hours later, Hannah Belle had made her appearance.
Unlike with Chance, this time, Noah was going to be part of the naming. “Hannah” was from his mother’s first name. Miriam had chosen “Belle” simple because she liked the sound, and Noah was OK with that. Right now, they could have named her “Hombre” and he’d love her no less.
Hannah’s squalls quieted, and she fell asleep on Miriam. Noah leaned over and kissed his wife’s head.
“You did great, honey.”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I? Look at her.”
“I can’t keep my eyes off her.”
While things could always change, it looked like Noah would finish up his enlistment with Third Tanks. He hadn’t re-enlisted, so the Corps was not about to PCS[31] him with a year left in service. Gunny had even asked him if he wanted to transfer up to the battalion staff for the remainder of his time, and Noah was seriously considering it.
Things had gotten better with the company. Staff Sergeant Cain still kept him at a cold arm’s length, but when nothing happened to the staff sergeant, the other Marines who’d rallied to him seemed to forget about Noah. They weren’t as welcoming, but neither were they antagonistic. From comments they’d made when things were tense, Noah was pretty sure Cain had misrepresented what had happened, but Noah’s pride was such that he never tried to set the record straight.
Still, Gunny had sensed the tension, even pulling Noah aside to find out what was wrong. Noah denied that there were problems, but he knew the gunny didn’t believe him. He was pretty sure, though, that was the reason she’d asked him about moving up to battalion.
Looking at his daughter, he’d just about made up his mind to accept the offer. He’d mi
ss the Hombre, but this way, unless the battalion deployed as a unit, he’d be there every night for Hannah and Chance. It seemed like a good trade-off.
“Hannah Belle, don’t you worry about a thing. Your daddy’s here to take care of you.”
Chapter 33
“Chance, leave Tabitha alone!” Miriam said.
“Come here, little man,” Noah said, lowering himself to one knee, and when his son slowly wandered over, continued, “You have to remember not to bother other children. Tabitha wants to talk to her mommy now, so don’t interrupt.”
Chance lifted a hand to the back of his head and said, “I’m not bothering her. She wanted me to.”
“Don’t fib to Daddy,” Miriam said, pushing the stroller with a sleeping Hannah in it back and forth.
“I’m not fibbing!”
“Look, Chance. I told you I’ve got to go away for awhile. You have to be a good boy and do what mommy says, OK?”
“Why do you have to go?” he asked.
That tugged on Noah’s heartstrings, but he kept his voice calm and said, “It’s my job, Chance. But I’ll be home soon, I promise.”
He didn’t have to be going at all, he knew and as Miriam kept reminding him. He’d delayed accepting the battalion job, wanting just one more exercise, one more chance to play. And it wasn’t as if it would be forever. Rampant Force was only scheduled for twelve days. In three weeks, he’d be back, and then it would be up to battalion to work on the training schedule until his release from active duty.
“So, you’ll be a good boy? You’ll take care of Hannah?”
The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins: The Complete Series: Books 1-5 Page 71
