There was a hint of longing in his voice, and Gracie raised her eyes to really look at him. She immediately knew that he’d jump at the chance. He’d been a not-too-shabby sniper in his day, with 12 confirmed kills as a corporal and sergeant before accepting his commission. Since then, once back into the scout-sniper community, he’d been relegated to supporting Marines like Gracie, to enable them to do their mission. For someone like Lieutenant Wadden, that had to eat at him.
For the thousandth time, Gracie was grateful that she’d turned down her own chance to earn a commission. She was a doer, not a director. And because she was a doer, she’d never doubted that she’d accept these orders. If the Marine Corps wanted her to do something different, then she was not going to argue. She’d hesitated not because she needed to think about it, but only because she wanted to know what she’d be doing. But even if it weren’t some sort of super-secret, high-speed-low-drag mission, even if it were only to perform in some sort of dog-and-pony show for a visiting VIP, she’d do what she was ordered. That’s what Marines did, after all.
“Of course, I’ll accept, sir. I’m not in the habit of turning down orders.”
“I know that, Gunny, and I knew you’d accept.”
“But how will I get there? You just sent my orders to their component electrons.”
“There’s a board convening to select the Commandant’s Enlisted Advisory Council, and you’ve just been nominated.”
“Oh, God save me,” she blurted out.
The CEAC was a group of about a dozen Marines, from corporal to first sergeant or master sergeant, E-4 to E-8, who advised the commandant mostly on matters concerning the enlisted Marines, but also on all issues pertaining to the Corps. The members served for two years at HQMC.
“Oh, you won’t get selected. Too headstrong, I’m thinking will be the reason. But you’ve got orders to get interviewed. After that, I imagine the General Truong can get you to where you need to be.”
“OK, sir. I guess that makes sense. When do I leave?”
The major looked at his PA, then said, “You’ll be on the 2000 shuttle, so you’ve got four hours. I think I’d get ready about now if I were you. Uniform is Alphas. Anything else you’ll need for the mission will be provided later.”
Four hours? Thanks for the huge lead time, she thought, quickly standing up.
“Well, sir, I’ve got a lot to do and not much time to do it, so I’d better get cracking.”
She came to a quick position of attention and started to perform her about face when the major said, “Do good out there, Gracie. But I know you will.”
She hesitated. She had known the major for going on nine years now, and to the best of her recollection, that was the first time he’d ever called her by her first name.
“I will, sir. Don’t worry about that.”
She stepped out of the office, then glanced at her PA. She’d have to really push it if she was going to make the shuttle. Gracie had a huge smile on her face as she made her way to the admin shop to pick up her orders. As much as she’d looked forward to becoming the next class’ SNCOIC, nothing beat being in the field for real, and she knew she’d be in the thick of things soon.
TARAWA
Chapter 34
62
Gracie strode up the flower-lined walk and rang the bell of the small duplex. A second later, she heard a screech inside and a “She’s here!” There was the sound of thundering feet, then the doorknob turned back and forth a few times. She tried to keep a straight face as a “Mom! I got it,” came from inside. It took a few moments, but the front door ponderously opened to the bright eyes of a six-year-old Daphne Gittens.
“Auntie Gracie! You’re here!” the little girl said as she launched herself into Gracie’s arms.
“Daphne! What did I tell you? Give your Auntie Gracie a chance to come inside,” Tiggs said. “Oh, it’s good to see you, she added, leaning in to kiss Gracie’s cheek. It’s been too long.”
With Daphne perched on her hip, Gracie entered the small home. The smell of something delicious filled the air, and Gracie’s mouth started to water.
“How’s the little man?” she asked Tiggs, nodding to the bassinet where Eli Junior lay sleeping.
“He’s a brat!” interjected Daphne.
“Daphne Ann Gittens, that’s no way to speak about your brother!” Tiggs scolded.
“But he is, mamma! He threw up on you today.”
“Well, sometimes babies do that,” Tiggs said. “You did it, too. Many times.”
“Did not!”
“Oh, yes, you most certainly did young lady!”
“Well, if I did, it’s OK ’cause my spit-up is sweet like a rose,” she said, the imp in the girl showing through the innocent-looking façade.
Gracie couldn’t hold it in, and she broke out into laughter.
“Oh, please, don’t encourage the girl, Gracie. I don’t know where she gets this.”
“Not from her father,” Gracie said, “so that leaves who?”
“You’re probably right,” Tiggs said, tousling her daughter’s hair. “There might be a bit of me in her.”
“Daddy says I’m all you!” Daphne said.
“Well, All-me, let your auntie sit down and catch her breath, OK?”
Gracie took a seat on the couch with Daphne welded to her side while Gracie, hostess extraordinaire, brought her a glass of fresh lemonade with a sprig of mint in it. Knowing Tiggs, she’d squeezed the lemons by hand and grew the mint in a small garden. Gracie would probably have problems simply asking a fabricator to make lemonade. For the thousandth time, she wondered how such opposites could be such close friends.
“I wish you could have given us some warning. I didn’t have time to make a special dinner and just had to throw something together.”
Gracie took a long, lingering sniff. If this was how something “thrown together” smelled, then she wondered what a “special” dinner would smell like.
“Sorry about that. This came up at the last minute. I literally had four hours to get packed and on the shuttle.”
“Well, Eli will be here in about an hour. The platoon just came in from six days in the field.”
The two friends, with only intermittent interruptions from Daphne, started to catch up with each other’s lives. They hadn’t seen each other for over a year, and there was quite a bit to cover. At one point, Eli Junior woke up crying, and without missing a beat in her re-telling of Daphne’s recital, she reached into the bassinet, picked him, up, and pulling down on the collar of her blouse, put him to her breast.
Gracie was mesmerized by the sight, and inexorably, she felt a tingle in her nipples. Gracie wasn’t the mothering type, at least not now, so she was surprised that her body had reacted to what was a very natural sight.
Tiggs noticed her attention had slipped, and misreading the meaning of that, stopped her story to say, “I’m so sorry about Zach.”
Even six months after the fact, Gracie felt a small stab of pain in her chest. She and Zach hadn’t really been a thing, at least as others assumed they were. They had mutual respect for each other, and despite him being a 180 from what she admired in a man, they had kindled a small degree of a romantic relationship. Part of it was that they understood each other’s world, and part of it was that once she opened up to him, Zach could make her laugh. And if they found comfort in each other’s company, then why not?
But Zach had been killed 189 days ago on Epsilon Erdi, the Double E, when a primitive chemical rocket had shot down the Stork in which he was riding. Eighteen Marines were killed, the only ones to die on the mission.
Gracie hadn’t loved Zach in the Hollybolly sense of the word, and both of them knew that Gracie was not going to settle down until after she retired from the Corps. But the pain she’d felt when she’d found out had been as real as any other pain she’d ever felt—and Gracie had sworn that she would never again make the mistake of getting too close to anyone else while she was still in the Corps. Her
Ice Bitch nickname had gradually shifted to the Ice Queen, but even ice could melt, and she didn’t want to suffer like that again.
“Thanks, Tiggs,” she said.
“Is there, I mean, I know it might be a little soon, but is there anyone else?” Tiggs asked.
“Naw. And there won’t be. There’ll be plenty of time for that after I retire. I might want to get one just like him for myself,” she said, pointing at Eli Junior.
“Or like me,” Daphne whispered.
Their chat thankfully slipped back to more mundane matters, interrupted a few times while Tiggs checked the dinner. It was almost an hour later when the front door opened, and Eli came in, covered in six days’ worth of Tarawa’s burnt orange clay.
“Daddy! Auntie Gracie’s here,” Daphne shouted, running to him and hugging his leg.
“Honey, be careful! Daddy’s pretty dirty,” he said, trying to keep her away from the rest of him.
“I should say so,” Gracie said, pointing at the clumps of clay on his boots. “TA 15?”
“TA 23, at Wilson. Good to see you, Gracie.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, Eli. Into the garage with you!” Tiggs said, coming into the room. “Daphne, don’t you be getting any of that on you!”
“OK, OK, I’m going. I just wanted to see if Grace was here yet,” he said as he went back out the door. “Grace, meet me in the garage.”
Gracie rolled her eyes, a more of a snort than a laugh escaping from her. It was rather funny for her to see Staff Sergeant Eli Gittens, all 2.3 meters of him, being controlled by the tiny Tiggs.
“Come one,” Daphne said, pulling Gracie by the arm to the inside garage door.
It took two of her little hands to turn the knob, but she managed it and pushed the door open just at the outer door was rising. A moment later, Eli walked in, trailing little clods of clay as he stepped.
The garage was full of boxes, stacked almost to the ceiling.
“I thought a garage was for a hover, not boxes?” Gracie said.
“You know how it is,” Eli said as he started to slip off his boots.
Gracie didn’t know how it was, however. Since enlisting in the Corps, all her personal possessions would fit in two seabags and a mount-out box. It made things much easier.
Eli dropped his trou, then stepped out of them. He used his right foot to hold them out to Daphne, and she held her nose while taking and dumping them in a clothes hamper.
“Thanks for not going commando there, platoon sergeant,” Gracie said.
“Kinda got out of the habit once someone came into the family,” he said, tilting his head at Daphne.
“So, you still living large as a ground pounder?” she asked him. “No itching to get back to a scout-sniper platoon?”
“Living large and loving it,” Eli said. “I’ve got a kick-ass platoon, my LT’s staying out of my hair, and things are looking good for gunny next year.”
Eli has stayed with 2/3’s Scout Sniper Platoon for only three months after coming back on active duty. He’d picked up E4 and gotten orders to NCO School. After graduating, Eli had gone to 3/9, but to a rifle platoon, not the sniper platoon, and he had stayed a grunt ever since. Where Gracie loved the act of being a sniper, Eli loved the act of being a leader, and from everything Gracie had been able to find out, he was excelling at it. Still, she couldn’t help but give him shit about it whenever she could.
“I’m still a HOG, Gunnery Sergeant, but I’ve seen the light. I’m a ground-pounding, snake-eating, grunt, and damned proud of it.”
“Damn! Damn!” Daphne said.
“Now you’ve done it!” Gracie said, trying to stifle a laugh.
“Daphne, honey. Why don’t you go help your mother, OK?” Eli asked as he bent down to her level.
The little girl gave her father a kiss on the cheek, then obediently trundled back into the house.
“It’s like I’ve got to speak a foreign language when I’m home,” Eli said as he stepped up to a shop sink alongside the near wall of the garage.
“The life of a married man.”
Eli looked around for a towel, and seeing none, simply shook out his hands, sending droplets flying over the boxes.
“The CEAC? You?” he asked her.
“I know. I’m probably not the right fit, but I got nominated, so I’m here.”
“Well, I guess you could go into the interview picking your nose and farting. I’ve heard they frown on that sort of stuff at headquarters.”
“Yeah, right. No, I’m here, so I’ll give it a shot. But they probably won’t select me.”
“It’s your life, and I don’t have to add better you than me.”
“Eli, you coming?” Tiggs shouted from inside the home.
“Let’s get back in. I’ve got to put on a different shirt, and yeah, a pair of pants. You don’t have to remind me. But after dinner and we get Daphne to bed, and maybe before Eli Junior wakes up, let’s sit down and talk. There’s a lot to catch up on.
“And sorry about Gunny Pure Pleasance. I was shocked when I heard the news.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Gracie agreed.
She followed Eli back in the home, and as he bolted up the stairs to get something else on, she took a seat at the table while Tiggs brought out some sort of seafood pasta. The aroma rising from it was amazing.
Gracie didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, she would relax with friends, and that was something pretty hard to beat.
Chapter 35
62
Gracie looked into the retinal scan on the bulkhead, which confirmed she was who she was supposed to be, and the hatch slid open on a whisper of air. Gracie stepped inside—and was surprised to see quite a few familiar faces, including one Staff Sergeant Tibone Mubotono.
“Ah, the Ice Queen,” T-Bone said as he leaned back in his chair. “I should have known you’d be invited to the party.”
“Gracie, good to see you again,” Shaan Ganesh said, standing up to shake her hand.
“Good to see you again, Shaan. Dutch, Brooke, Spig, Cezar: happy to see you too,” she said, nodding at a few of the Marines in the room. “Anyone know why we’re here?”
“What, no love for your old spotter?” T-bone asked with a laugh.
“Good to see you, too, T-Bone,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
She’d never gotten along well with her old spotter. He’d been just too full of himself, and he’d never seemed willing to follow her lead. They’d survived two missions together before she’d received orders to 2/6, and she’d fervently hoped that would be the last time they’d be in the same unit. It looked like that wish was not going to be kept.
T-Bone was not incompetent with a weapon in his hand, and Gracie had to grudgingly admit that he was probably a better marksman than she was, but there was more to being a sniper than being able to hit the target, and T-Bone’s rash personality left him open to mistakes—at least in her opinion. Still, he’d racked up a very respectable 28 kills, which was three more than Gracie had over the same period of time.
“No, none of us knows yet, but looking at who’s here, it’s got to be a high-priority mission,” a pleasant-looking Marine said as he stood up to offer his hand. “Staff Sergeant Carlito Rapa.”
“You’re Bomba?” she asked, surprised.
“Guilty as charged,” he said with a warm laugh.
This is the Grey Death? she wondered, surprised.
Gracie had spent her entire career with the Inner Forces and Rapa had been with the Outer Forces, so while she’d heard of him before, and she’d even seen him on the holo when he’d received his Navy Cross, she’d never met him. In person, he looked like an accountant—no, like a chaplain, the kind of guy with whom she’d lay out her problems. This was the sniper who’d tallied 52 kills in two days on Florin-3 despite losing three teammates, having half of his body paralyzed, and having a couple of hundred of Baron Keister’s men trying to flush him out.
“Well, good to finally me
et you, Bomba,” Gracie said, impressed.
“Likewise.”
She caught a glimpse of T-Bone, studiously ignoring the mutual fan fest going on a meter from him, but with a slightly disgusted look on his face.
What? Little baby T-Bone doesn’t like not being the center of attention? she thought, holding back a smile.
She took a seat between Bomba (it was the press that named him “The Grey Death.” His Marine nick had long been “Bomba”) and Shaan. Over the next few minutes, several more Marines came in, including Sergeant Tennerife Delay and Gunnery Sergeant Manny Chun.
“Four Fuzo snipers?” T-Bone announced to the room. “They must really want the best.”
“Eat me, Mubotono,” Spig McConnaughy said.
Gracie looked around the briefing room. There were 16 of them there, 16 of who were probably among the most accomplished snipers in the Corps. Whatever was up, it was big. She and Manny were the only two gunnies. The Corps had some incredibly accomplished E8s and E9s, so if the two of them were the oldest and most senior snipers present, then wherever they were being sent was probably going to be physically taxing.
When the hatch swished open again, Gracie looked up to see who else was joining them, then jumped to attention when she saw it wasn’t another sniper but a full bird and a captain. The colonel waved them all back to their seats as he went to the head of the table and sat.
“I’m Colonel Soeryadjaya, and I want to thank all of you for coming. This is Captain Lysander,” he said as the captain raised one hand in acknowledgment.
Captain Lysander? Captain Esther Lysander, as in the daughter of General and Chairman Ryck Lysander? Gracie wondered, staring at the captain for a moment before deciding, It is her!
“. . . you scan your acceptance, pass it to the next person,” the colonel was saying.
Sniper (Women of the United Federation Marines Book 2) Page 18
