Sniper (Women of the United Federation Marines Book 2)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “Thank you for coming, Corporal.”

  He’s coming on to me, and he’s still calling me corporal, she thought, almost smiling despite the gravity of the situation.

  Most of the two-man sniper teams were on a first-name basis, especially when the ranks were close to each other, but between them, it had been “Gittens” and “Corporal.”

  “What do you want to say to me that you had to drag me all the way out here?”

  The waitbox chimed, and the voice asked, “Would you like to order now?”

  “I already ordered a cherry slushiemax,” Eli said. “Do you want anything to drink?”

  Yeah, a shot of Jack might be good.

  “No. I want to hear what you have to say,” she answered, keeping her voice steady but firm.

  “OK. I, well. . .oh, lizards, this is hard to say.”

  “Just say it. I don’t have all night.”

  “OK, right Corporal. Well, here it goes,” he said before taking a deep breath, then letting half out sniper-style as if he was preparing for a 2,000-meter shot. “Do you think, I mean, do you believe in marriage?”

  Oh, hell! It’s worse than I thought.

  “No!” she blurted out. “I mean, of course, I believe in marriage, but not now, and only if there is love between the two people.”

  A huge smile broke out over his face as he leaned forward and said, “So if two people love each other, then you think it’s OK? To get married, no matter the regulations?”

  Suddenly she understood. E3’s and below were generally prohibited from getting married. There were exceptions, and married people could technically enlist, but that was rare. For a lance corporal to get married took a lot of paperwork and time.

  She could use that as an easy out, she realized. But that would only delay the problem. Eli would probably pick up corporal in a year, and this would surface again.

  “Love is the most important thing, I think. Not that I understand love. I’ve never been in love, and I’m not in love now.”

  Get the hint, Gittens?

  He didn’t seem fazed. “But if two people are really in love, do you think it’s OK?”

  She wanted to say no just to get it over with. But she couldn’t lie.

  “Of course it’s OK. That’s what marriage is about.”

  “You don’t know how happy that makes me, to hear you say that,” he said before motioning over to someone behind her.

  Curious, Gracie turned around as a young woman got out of an adjoining booth and hurried over to slide into Eli’s seat and up against him, her arms wrapped possessively around his right bicep.

  Gracie stared at the two beaming people in confusion, then shock as it all became clear.

  How friggin’ conceited, she admitted to herself. It was never me!

  “This is Antigone, I presume,” she said.

  “Yes, this is Tiggs,” Eli said, positively beaming.

  Eli had told her about his high school sweetheart, but he’d never seem to put much emphasis on her, and Gracie figured that was ancient history. Evidently, it wasn’t, and he’d brought her to Tarawa. How he’d managed to support her out in town on a lance corporal’s salary, she had no idea.

  “Hi, Corporal Medicine Crow,” Tiggs said. “I’m so happy to meet you, ma’am. Eli’s told me all about you.”

  She held out a dainty hand for Gracie to shake.

  Tiggs was almost exactly as Gracie had imagined. Almost as short as Gracie, she was curvy and had pale blonde hair cut in a bob. Her cheeks were honest-to-goodness rosy, and her smile had to be the best that modern orthodontic medicine could create. She’d been a spirit leader at their school, exactly as Gracie had surmised when she first saw Eli. The jock and the spirit leader, the classic Hollybolly young couple.

  Gracie shook her hand, then asked, “So you two want to get married?”

  “Yes,” they both answered in unison.

  “You know the regulations, right?” she asked Eli.

  “Yes, but like you said, love is what matters. Besides, it’s not illegal.”

  Which was true. Both of them were adults, and they could marry if they wished. The regulations were only for Marines, and it wasn’t as if the Corps would even do anything about it. That fact that some non-rates were married was not a big secret. Married non-rates and their spouses could not get any of the benefits married Marines received, however, so that usually meant the spouses stayed on their home planets until the Marine made E4, and considering a corporal’s salary, maybe even not then.

  “True. But why now? What’s the rush?”

  Tiggs looked up at Eli, squeezing his arm tighter as the smile faded from her face.

  “Well, Tiggs came over for two weeks to visit. . .”

  Which explains how you could afford it. She’s not living here.

  “. . .and we got the call-out. We don’t know what’s going to happen there, but if, you know, if something happens to me, I want Tiggs taken care of.”

  Geeze Gittens! Don’t you know what happens in every Hollybolly flick when someone says that? They’re a goner for sure!

  Gracie wasn’t particularly superstitious, but there were some things which you just did not challenge.

  “Nothing’s going to happen. The fighting’s died down, and we’re just there to keep the peace until they can sort things out.”

  “I know, but still.”

  And he’s breaking all sorts of regs by letting his girlfriend know we’re deploying, too, she thought, before letting that slide for the moment.

  “OK, you want to get married. But I don’t understand. Why are you asking me?”

  “You’re my team leader, so we wanted to know what you think. Besides, if something does happen, I want you to let the Marine Corps know about Tiggs so she’s taken care of.”

  If getting married while still only a lance corporal was against regulations, that would have no impact on survivors’ benefits. They would go as by law, and in most jurisdictions that was to the spouse.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  “I know. But if it does?”

  “If it does, I’ll make sure they know you’re married.”

  As soon as Gracie said that, she realized she’d not only given her blessing, but she’d become complicit in it. The gunny had told her to get to know her subordinates and express an interest in their lives, but she was sure he didn’t mean this.

  “Thank you so much, ma’am,” Tiggs said. “I knew we could ask you.”

  “Don’t call me ma’am, Antigone. I mean, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

  “You mean I can call you Gracie?” she asked, surprised.

  “That’s my name. I feel old with you calling me ma’am.”

  “Sure, uh, Gracie. But please, call me Tiggs. And there’s one more thing we’d like to ask, though.”

  “What? I really don’t see anything I can do for you.”

  “We want you to be a witness,” Tiggs said.

  “Really?” Gracie asked, surprised.

  She’d attended weddings before, and she’d even been a bridesmaid for her sister’s wedding. But no one not of her family had ever asked her to be an actual part of a ceremony. She was surprised to find out that she welcomed the offer. She felt honored.

  “When? We’re embarking soon.”

  “Right now,” Eli said.

  “What? But it’s. . .it’s 2125.”

  “They have a kiosk at the county center,” Tiggs said.

  Gracie immediately felt deflated. A wedding should be a grand affair. Back with the tribe, a wedding might take all weekend, with both a traditional Crow ceremony and a modern ceremony, each planned out in exquisite detail. If Gracie ever did get married herself, she wanted all of that.

  But this wasn’t about her, she realized, looking at their eager faces. This was about them, and if a kiosk marriage was good enough for them, then who was she to feel disappointed?

  “I’d be happy to.”

  “Then m
aybe we should go. We don’t have much time,” Eli said, swiping his card to pay for the cherry drink still sitting untouched in front of him.

  The county center was about 500 meters away, and with those two walking, Gracie pushed her bike along to walk with them. She could have ridden, she thought without rancor. Those two were so enthralled with the moment that she doubted they even knew she was there.

  The county center was in Lysander Plaza, along with city hall and the Federation’s administrative center. Tarawa was a federally mandated district, so it did not have its own government. The planet was carved up into 23 counties and the vast unincorporated areas. All of the major cities were located in counties, and the counties answered to the Federation governor. As such, there were limited regulations when compared to other planets and nations and even fewer restrictions. Getting married on Tarawa was a simple process. There was no license, no blood testing. During working hours, a marriage could take place with a county clerk, and a holographer was available to immortalize the moment. However, there was no need for the clerk to conduct the process. A kiosk could be used. The couple submitted to a retinal scan, affirmed their intent, and paid the 500 credit fee. That was it.

  The three of them walked across the plaza center, past the Lyre Fountain, and up to the county center. The kiosk was empty, so there was no waiting. Feeling kind of foolish in her smelly black t-shirt and holding her bike, Gracie stood back and watched Eli entered their names and ID’s, Tiggs holding onto his left arm, looking almost enraptured as the screen gave them their prompts. They both leaned forward in turn for the scans, then Eli turned back to Gracie.

  “It’s asking for witnesses.”

  There was no requirement for a witness, but it was an option. Gracie knocked down the kickstand, stood the bike, and then stepped up to the kiosk. She entered her information, and then leaned in to be scanned, too. The light flashed green, and Gracie started to step back as the prompt asked for payment. She fumbled out her PA and held it up to transfer the funds.

  “Hey, I’ll get that,” Eli protested.

  She held up a hand, palm facing him, and said, “Call it my wedding present.”

  “I didn’t want that,” he protested.

  She figured he might protest, but she was a corporal who didn’t spend much, and he was a lance corporal who’d probably spent more than a few credits to bring Tiggs to Tarawa for the visit. She could afford it.

  “Too late, now,” she said as the green light lit once again to indicate the funds went through.

  There was one more thing for them to do. Gracie stepped back as the two read the final screen. It was the affirmation that they wanted to be married. Without hesitation, the two reached out, their hands clasped together, and hit the accept button as one.

  Mr. and Ms. Gittens turned around together, wonder in their eyes as they realized that they were joined.

  Gracie felt a lump in her throat. This wasn’t in any way the kind of wedding she would have wanted, but it was the end result that mattered, not the ceremony.

  “Congratulations,” she told them.

  She knew they wanted to be alone, so she said, “Formation’s at 0630. You’ve got about eight-and-a-half hours, so I’d suggest you two get back to whatever room you’ve got and, uh, celebrate your marriage.”

  She’d almost said “consummate,” but that would have felt too weird.

  “Thanks so much, Corporal,” Eli said. “I really appreciate it.”

  For some unknown reason, going completely against character, Gracie stepped up to her spotter, arms out. It was an awkward hug, but still, a hug nonetheless. They broke quickly, and Tiggs stepped up and gave Gracie a much stronger, more heartfelt hug.

  “You bring him back, Gracie,” she whispered into her ear. “Promise me that.”

  “I will. I promise,” she whispered back.

  And it wasn’t an empty promise. Gracie would do everything in her power to bring Eli back safe and sound; not because of their marriage, not because Tiggs asked her, but because they were Marines, and she was Eli’s leader. And that’s what NCOs did.

  JERICHO

  Chapter 14

  6

  Gracie followed in trace of Lance Corporal Britta Harrison. She scanned the buildings on either side of the road, mentally picking out hides—and where enemy snipers might be right now observing them.

  The problem with that was that she didn’t know who the enemy was. No one knew that yet, or even if there really was an enemy. The Fuzos had been sent in as a neutral force of peacekeepers. This should have been entirely an FCDC mission, and there were two of their regiments on the planet, but the fact that the Marines had been sent in as well was a pretty good indication that the Federation Council thought the situation was teetering on war breaking out again.

  Marines were trained to attack and destroy the enemy or defend Federation citizens from foreign attack. In this case, both sides of the conflict were Federation citizens.

  With 217 planets and stations and another 87 nations in the Federation, it was probably inevitable that mini-wars would break out between Federation worlds. On Jericho, the war had been over resource rights, with the northern continent’s population revolting over what it saw as the western and eastern continent’s control over its resources. When they shut down the mines, the government had sent militia to reopen them, and fighting had broken out. The militia was driven back, and a state of war was declared.

  It wasn’t so cut-and-dried, though. Svealand, the northern continent, was controlled by the Opal Party, which was the minority party on the planet as a whole. The PRP (the People’s Rights Party, which had members spread over half of the Federation) and the local Republic First Party were the major political powers in the two southern continents. All three parties were spread throughout Jericho, however, and between them, controlled more than three-quarters of the planetary parliament, with the remaining seats belonging to independents and minor parties. So when war broke out, 40% of Kaglsand were self-declared loyalists and almost 15% of the southlands supported the north.

  One FCDC regiment had been sent to Nya Asgard, the main city of Svealand, and the other regiment was at the planetary administrative center of San Martin. The Second Battalion, Third Marines had been sent to Skagerrak Point, the 300,000-person city on the isthmus connecting Svealand with the eastern continent of Gran Chaco. Skagerrak Point, besides have a protected deep-water harbor, was the nexus for the roads and maglev lines between the two continents. While within the borders of Svealand, the population was pretty evenly divided between those supporting the north and those supporting the southlands. The war’s worst fighting had been in the city, both sides had committed atrocities, and now the Marines had been plopped down right in the middle of it.

  The signs of the fighting were evident. The patrol had just passed a Svea neighborhood where an entire block had been reduced beyond mere rubble to almost gravel. Gracie wasn’t sure just what had the power for such absolute destruction. Most of the buildings showed at least some signs of fighting, even if nothing so severe. As they crossed Drottninggatan, which the Marines designated Route Gazelle, and into Barrio Blanca, a Tino neighborhood, the signs of war were even more pronounced. The streets within the barrio were small and winding, and almost every building showed signs of damage.

  Gracie felt positively claustrophobic inside the barrio. She was a scout-sniper, using long fields of fire to reach out and touch the enemy, and within the neighborhood, she couldn’t see more than 20 or 30 meters in any direction. She was armed with her M99, but she was glad that she was surrounded by regular infantry who continually trained in combat in a built-up area.

  Thank goodness the ill-advised MEEP was not in play and the Marines had their full command and control systems. The patrol was preceded by hummingbirds, dragonflies, high-altitude drones, and the new nano-drones which combined gathered terabyte’s worth of data that were fed into one of the FS Joshua Hope of Life’s CIC AI’s and then downloaded back down
to the battalion’s PCS. Gracie’s helmet display sparkled with possibles, people who may or may not wish the Marines harm.

  With the bulk of the Tinos supportive of the PRP, and the PRP being a Federation-wide party, logic would dictate that here in the barrio, the citizens would welcome the Marines. Logic was not a universal trait, however. Gracie’s Uncle Jason was a tribal cop, and he’d said time and time again that domestic disputes were the worst calls—both spouses often turned from fighting each other to fighting with the cops.

  Gracie hadn’t marked very many potential hides as they wound through the narrow streets. She asked her AI to piggyback Eli’s display, but his was not much better, with only one more potential hide within the barrio. She zoomed out and was pleasantly surprised that his overlay pretty much matched hers in the Svea area they’d first patrolled.

  Maybe that’s not so good, she thought after a moment’s contemplation. If we’ve both got the same hides, then maybe others might, too?

  She decided she’d discuss that with the gunny. With 26 confirmed kills, the gunny was one of the top HOGs on active duty, and she valued his opinions on the art of sniping more than anyone else’s.

  The patrol wound its way through the barrio and emerged back on Route Gazelle, only 800 meters from where they crossed it on the way out. Gracie felt the weight lift off her shoulders. She knew that if she now had the fields of fire she wanted, so would an enemy sniper observing them. But within the barrio, it would only take a disgruntled teen dropping a grenade over the edge of a building to cause some damage.

  It took more than two more hours before the patrol returned to the battalion’s camp in the port’s bonded cargo facility. The two scout-sniper teams broke away from Hotel to go back to the container that was serving as the platoon’s CP. There was a lot of planning to be done. Things were quiet now, but Gracie had the feeling that things might get hot any moment.