Lieutenant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 3)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  In back of the talking heads, the scene changed to one that had been going viral—that of two laughing farmers pulling chunks off a capy being roasted on a spit, then taking huge bites, mugging for the holo recorders.

  That holo had come out a few days ago, much to the outcry of certain groups. Even some doctors got their 15 minutes in, discussing if it was even safe to eat the foreign flesh.

  “What do you think?” he asked Hannah.

  Hannah had recently earned her Ph.D., and Ryck respected her view on life in general. He wasn’t too proud to admit that her academic intellect was on a higher plane than his.

  “We’ve got specimens throughout most research facilities, and they’ve recovered cells from the dead animals for cloning, but still, it seems like a waste. Those animals were there long before we humans arrived on the scene, so I think something should have been worked out,” she said, snuggling closer, her Torritite accent fading as she shifted to a more academic subject.

  As she moved, some of the bubbles opened up to reveal a long expanse of smooth skin along her side. Ryck tried not to notice as he attempted to come up with something that sounded astute.

  “What do you think of the claims that the capys never evolved on G.K. Nutrition?” he asked.

  “I’d have to see more results, but if they evolved elsewhere, then how did they get to the planet? That would be a rather intriguing question,” she said.

  “So how long do we have?” she asked, changing the subject as a questing hand reached to his belt.

  “About two hours,” he said, reaching over to cup her breast.

  “Two hours?” she screeched, suddenly standing up, bubbles and water streaming off her. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve got to get ready!”

  She stepped over Ryck, getting out of the tub. Ryck had a glance of a lovely rounded ass as she darted towards the bedroom, continually complaining that she had no time.

  Ryck looked down at himself, fully clothed in a bathtub full of rose-scented bubbles. His capable, accomplished wife had changed in one second from professor to high-school girl getting ready for prom. He sighed, then got up, water streaming from him as well. He pulled off his sopping clothes and stepped into the separate shower to rinse off. It would take him 15 minutes, 20 max to get ready, so he toweled off, slipped on one the Escalante’s terry cloth robes, and went out to see what he could do to help.

  He knew there wasn’t much he could do, but even he knew he should at least ask.

  Chapter 5

  The commandant’s voice boomed out over the gathered midshipmen and guests, “I, state your name . . .”

  Each Marine in the class repeated after the commandant, right hand raised.

  . . .do solemnly swear, to support and defend Articles of Council of the Federation of United Nations, against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same and above all others; and that I will obey the orders of the Chairman of the Federation of the United Nations and the orders of those appointed over me, according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.

  “Congratulations, lieutenants,” the commandant said as he lowered his right arm. “I look forward to serving with all of you. You are dismissed.”

  “Ooh-rah!” burst out of 67 throats of some very happy second lieutenants.

  “Refreshments are under the canopy,” a civilian staffer shouted out over the rising clamor.

  Ryck took a punch in the arm.

  “Congrats, devil dog,” Prince said, his smile beaming.

  Ryck pulled him into a back-pounding hug.

  The class had sat through two speeches: one from the commandant, and another even longer one from the Tarawa governor. The day was hot, and the dress blues made it even hotter. The high collar had dug into Ryck’s neck as he had sat at attention. But finally, the commandant had given them the oath, and that was that. They were second lieutenants of Marines.

  They milled about, shaking hands and pounding backs. The 26 Academy Marines among them had spent five years together—four at the Academy and one with the rest of the class—but even the direct commissioning lieutenants had been together for a year. That was more than enough time to forge bonds.

  A few of his fellow lieutenants started to drift off to meet with family. Ryck looked back to the spectators and caught Hannah’s eyes. She blew him a kiss, then nodded her head. He had told her what he had to do next, and she understood.

  The commissioning had been on the lawn in front of Marine Headquarters. As the newly commissioned Marines started to leave their seats, there was a slow maneuvering of the enlisted staff as they tracked down their prey. Ryck caught a glimpse of a petty officer closing in on him and barely avoided the man. His eyes searched until he finally caught a familiar face standing off to the side, under General Salizar’s statue. Ryck almost nonchalantly walked over, only speeding up when his peripheral vision caught sight of another Marine sergeant closing in.

  As he walked up to Gunny Meader, the SNCO came to attention and gave a drill field salute.

  “Congratulations, sir!” he said, this time with none of the dismissive tone he had used so often before.

  Ryck came to attention and returned the salute with as much precision as he could muster.

  “Thank you, gunnery sergeant,” he said before reaching into his pocket and taking out a silver dollar and handing it to him.

  Gunny Meader started to pocket it, but he couldn’t help but glance at it first. His eyes lit up as he recognized it, and he faltered.

  “Well, I mean, that’s, well, uh, thank you, sir,” he said, stumbling for words for the first time since Ryck had met him.

  The Federation used electronic credits as individual currency. Several planets and nations issued commemorative coins, including Tarawa. Most new lieutenants bought the United Federation Marine Corps 300th Anniversary Commemorative Silver Dollar to give to the first enlisted Marine or sailor to salute him. These were not inexpensive, and enlisted Marines and sailors scrambled to collect as many as they could when each class was commissioned.

  Ryck wanted something special, though. He searched the net and found what he wanted: a 2123 O.R.

  [14] Australian Kookaburra Dollar. Gunny Meader was from Earth, Perth, Australia, specifically. The Kookaburra dollar cost Ryck quite a bit more than if he had bought a Tarawa commemorative, but he wanted his first salute to be special.

  “Thanks for everything, Gunny,” Ryck simply said, letting the dollar express his gratitude more than words.

  “You’re going to do well, sir,” Gunny added. “Just remember you don’t have to put the world on your shoulders. Use your NCOs. Let them do their jobs.”

  “I will, Gunny. I promise you that,” Ryck said as he turned to find his wife.

  She was in deep conversation with some colonel’s wife, by the look of the woman. All trace of Hannah’s Torritite accent was gone as she spoke. Ryck rather liked the way she spoke—it was endearing. But in social occasions, she shifted to Federation Standard mode.

  “If I can interrupt, ma’am,” Ryck said to the woman, “I’d like to steal my wife.”

  “Certainly, young man. And congratulations,” she added.

  “Let’s make the rounds, here” he told her as they walked toward the canopy and refreshments. “We’ve got that dinner with Prince and Fera and some of the other couples, but after that . . . ?” he left it hanging.

  “Afta that, lieutenant,” she told him in a throaty voice, “I be goin’ to give you a real commissionin’.”

  This was turning into one great day.

  Zephyr-Hadreson

  Chapter 6

  “Sergeant Timothy, get in here!” Second Lieutenant Ryck Lysander shouted out for his acting platoon sergeant.

  “Yes, sir?” the sergeant said as he entered the small, cramped office from which Ryck was trying to organize his platoon.

  “What’s going on with the Class B[15] issue?” Ryck snapped out.

  �
�Sir, supply’s holding out. We’ve got First squad camped out at the issue bay, but the supply chief says the chain of custody tags haven’t been inputted yet.”

  “Come on, Sergeant! Get your ass down there and get it unscrewed. The skipper’s going to be inspecting tonight, and he can’t inspect anything if we don’t have the gear, right?”

  “Uh, right, sir, but–” his sergeant started, only to be cut off by Ryck.

  “No buts! Just do it!”

  “Aye-aye, sir. I’ll get down there again,” the harried sergeant said before hurrying out of Ryck’s office.

  Ryck knew he was being unjustly harsh towards Sgt Timothy. The supply chief was a staff sergeant, and there wasn’t much Timothy could do to speed up the process. This might have been a time for Ryck to head over to the supply shed and see what he could do, but his plate was just too full at the moment. Timothy would just have to get it done.

  Ryck had hoped to be assigned to First Marine Division, the unofficial premier division in the Corps. Instead, he’d received orders to Second Mar Div on Zephyr-Hadreson, where he took over Second Platoon, Kilo Company, Third Battalion, Sixth Marines. Not only was Second Mar Div considered out in the galactic boonies, 3/6 was only now being reconstituted back from cadre status. Most of the Sixth Marines had been pulled during the conflict with Greater France to fill up the T/Os[16] of units closer to the action. Now, almost two years later, the Sixth Marines were finally being brought back up to full strength.

  3/6 hadn’t always been considered a second-class status. It had been in the midst of the fiercest battle in the War of the Far Reaches, and no less than nine 3/6 Marines and a corpsman had been awarded the Federation Nova for their actions in that battle. The battalion had adopted the Dutch Royal Marines as their historical ancestor, taking the Dutch Marines’ Qua Patet Orbis

  [17] motto as their own. Storied history or not, though, the battalion was now in a state of rebuilding.

  Technically, Sgt Timothy was his First Squad leader, but as the senior enlisted Marine, and as the only NCO who had been with the platoon for more than six months, he was Ryck’s go-to guy.

  Ryck hoped Timothy could unfuck the supply situation. His Marines needed time not only to receive the gear, but they had to prepare it and display it for the skipper’s junk-on-the-bunk scheduled for the evening. Why Capt Portuno felt he needed to inspect tonight was beyond Ryck. The skipper knew the situation with supply, and it wasn’t as if the battalion was on a deadline for a deployment, after all.

  Ryck couldn’t make up his mind about the skipper. Capt Portuno looked the part of a Marine officer—tall, square-jawed, physically fit. There just seemed to be something missing in the man, something that Ryck couldn’t quite put his finger on. Ryck had only been with the platoon for two days, though, so he had to admit that he could be misreading his company commander. He’d thought that Lt. Nidischii’ had been somewhat reserved when he first met him, after all, and Ryck now had undying respect and admiration for the man.

  Ryck sighed and got back to his report. He had less than an hour to get it compiled and submitted.

  “Request permission to come aboard,” a voice sounded off from outside the platoon office.

  “Enter,” Ryck answered, looking up to see who it was.

  “Holy grubbing shit!” Ryck said, jumping up to rush the staff sergeant standing in front of his desk.

  Staff Sergeant Joshua Hope-of-Life was not only his oldest and closest friend in the Corps, he was Ryck’s brother-in-law.

  Ryck pounded on the larger man’s shoulder, then wrapped him in a bear hug.

  “What are you doing here?” Ryck asked as he released Joshua. “I’m up to my ass in alligators, but take a seat. I can spare a few minutes.”

  Joshua looked around the tiny office and said, “Nice hole you’ve got here. I had more room just with my desk and locker back on the drill field.”

  “Well, this is the real Corps here, devil dog. Not all that spit and polish BS,” Ryck responded.

  He wanted to take that back, though, when he saw the slight darkening of his friend’s eyes. Joshua had initially been assigned to First Mar Div, but due to the vagaries of timing, had never seen combat while Ryck, in Third, had gotten more than his fair share of it. Joshua had been on the drill field when the war with Greater France had broken out, so he had sat out that conflict as well. Just when he’d thought he could get back into the fleet, he’d been placed on a special task force to re-evaluate recruit training. As a staff sergeant, Joshua had to be one of a small percentage to SNCOs never to have heard a shot fired in anger.

  “So, what the heck are you doing out here?” Ryck asked, anxious to change the subject. “Your task force send you out to get feedback from the field?”

  “The task force is finished. I’m finally off Tarawa, finally going back to the fleet,” Joshua told him.

  “No shit? And you’re here, with Third? We’re both in the same division?” Ryck asked. “What unit are you in?”

  “That’s the thing. Right now, I’m tentatively assigned to Kilo, 3/6. That is if the Second Platoon commander accepts me as his platoon sergeant.”

  It took a moment for that to register.

  “You mean me?” Ryck asked.

  “That’s right, sir, you.”

  Sir? Joshua’s calling me sir now? Ryck wondered.

  “Uh, I mean, how did this happen? It can’t be a coincidence,” Ryck said.

  “No, no coincidence. I really did get orders to Second Mar Div, which wasn’t surprising given that the Corps is bringing the division back to T/O. But I banked a lot of favors with that task force, so when I found out I was coming here, I sort of called in some of those favors and got assigned to Kilo, and then to Second Platoon. If you’ll have me, I mean,” Joshua said, his voice flat, but with a hint of uncertainty to it.

  Ryck looked at his friend, his brother-in-law for a moment before asking, “Why do you want to serve with me?” he asked.

  Joshua shrugged before saying, “Shit seems to follow you. If I want to see some fighting, being with you seems like the best course of action. I talked to Hannah today before coming over to report in, and she told me I need to watch out for you, too.”

  Ryck stared at Joshua. He didn’t think he could do it. Ryck was a lieutenant and Joshua a staff sergeant, but they were friends, they were family. How would that affect their working relationship? This just wasn’t going to work.

  “Joshua, do you think this is a good idea? I mean, we go way back together. How are you going to feel when I have to give you an order? How am I going to feel? I think I can swing you another platoon sergeant billet with Fifth Marines, and no one will wonder why you changed units. Don’t you think that’d be better?” Ryck asked him.

  Joshua’s eyes clouded as he stood up and assumed the position of attention, eyes focused straight ahead and over Ryck.

  “If the lieutenant doesn’t believe I can do the job, he just has to say so. He doesn’t have to do me any favors with other units. I will go where the Marine Corps tells me to go.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Joshua, and you know it. It’s just, well, don’t you think it would be weird?” Ryck asked as he stood up.

  “A Marine can either perform his mission or not. Nothing weird about it, sir. I know I don’t have combat experience, and I know your platoon has to get trained up. So if you need a combat vet to assist you, if you believe I cannot do the job, then I request permission to be dismissed, sir,” Joshua said, voice steady.

  Ryck stood there, looking at Joshua, who refused to meet Ryck’s eyes. He knew Joshua was a capable Marine, combat or not. Just to be one of the few DI’s on the recruit training task force was proof enough of that. Ryck also knew that Joshua’s lack of combat experience gnawed at him. Joshua needed to prove himself in combat. If Ryck refused him, that would only verify the inadequacy that Joshua unfairly placed on himself. As a friend, as a brother, Ryck didn’t want to do that.

  This is really a bad idea
, he thought. I need to say no.

  Instead, he said, “Well, who am I to question orders? We’ve got a junk-on-the-bunk in four hours, but the supply chief won’t release the Class B gear. I trust that you can take care of that?”

  Joshua finally looked down and caught Ryck’s eyes.

  “You mean, I’m in?” he asked, relief evident in his voice.

  “You’ve got it, staff sergeant. And times a-wasting. I need you down at the supply shed now. There’s a young sergeant, Sergeant Timothy, there who’s going to be very happy to see you.”

  “Aye-aye, sir!” Joshua shouted as he started to turn to leave the office.

  “Joshua,” Ryck said, stopping his new platoon sergeant in his tracks.

  Ryck held out his hand, which Joshua took.

  “Welcome aboard, devil dog. It’s good to have you with me.”

  Killington Industries

  Chapter 7

  “I can’t believe Killington authorized the arty,” Joshua said to Ryck as they lay side-by-side on the ridge a klick from the plant.

  “Well, they’ve designated where we can fire, and most facilities are off limits, but yeah, that’s pretty flash,” Ryck responded. “We’ll see how much good it will do in about a minute,” he said before checking his face shield readout. “Make that 52 seconds.”

  The entire battalion had landed on Killington Industries five days before and had been cooling their heels waiting to either forge ahead with the mission or pack up and go back home. Most Marines thought their mere presence would goose the negotiations between Killington and Fukimoto Corp, with the Federation negotiating team assisting. But things had broken down last night past the point of no return, and the mission was given the thumbs up around midnight local time.