Sergeant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 2) (29 page)

MacPruit colored, his face turning red, and he said, “You made us all proud. The whole Marine Corps knows you. And if you say I helped at all, well, thank you. I am humbled. I may be an asshole, like you say, I know. But I do respect you, and thank you for your words.”

He seemed to want to say something else, but
then let it go. He could imagine MacPruit’s guilt, alive only because he had been left in the rear with the gear. Ryck hoped MacPruit would realize that he had contributed after all.

“Well, we’re forming up. I’ve got to go,” Ryck said,
then hurried back to Golf Company.

Captain
Quartermain was the new company commander, but commander of a gutted company. Second Platoon was at full strength. Not one of them had died. They had boarded the abandoned French ship, then basically sat out the war after managing to return life support to the aft crew spaces and holing up there until rescued. Ryck had thought they were all dead, and to find out that each Marine had survived had been a welcome piece of news.

With five new Marines, Third Platoon
’s formation was up to nine with Keiji joining them again for the ceremony. Ryck was the acting platoon commander. There had been talk about disbanding the platoon, even temporarily, but Ryck had fought that, saying both the platoon commander and platoon sergeant were still alive, as were a number of the rest. As a “war hero,” his opinion had actually carried some weight.

First Platoon, though, had been disbanded. It would be reinstated later, once the personnel situation had stabilized.

The regiment formed up, and led by a single drummer, his leopard skin draped in black, marched onto the parade deck.

The
regimental headquarters led the way. Following them was 1/9. Sergeant Mark Tillhouse carried the battalion colors, a black streamer joining the other battle streamers, signifying their unit awards over the battalion’s years of service. Behind him, the other two surviving Marines marched. They were in turn followed by the new cadre staff of about 30 Marines.

Slowly, the rest of the regiment marched in. No music was played. Only the steady beat of the drummer kept a lonely cadence. When the regiment was formed, the Commandant
of the Marines marched forward, taking the new regimental commander’s salute. With the
Bismarck
Marines constituting the single largest loss of life, the commandant had travelled to Alexander for this year’s ceremony. He was accompanied by a large news contingent that was anxious to film the reading of names. Rumor had it that the commandant had wanted to make this a closed ceremony but had been overruled. It took someone very high on the pecking order to overrule the Marine commandant on something like that.

Without an order being spoken, the regimental sergeant major’s voice rang out with “Ninth Regimental Headquarters: Jerome William Able
.”

For a last call, ranks were never given. A Marine was a Marine.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Teleste was next with “John King Accord.”

Then i
t was back to the sergeant major with “Antonio Salcedo Pious Accounte.”

Back and forth, one after the other, they took turns, solemnly reading out each name. Ryck recognized a few.
The colonel, of course. The sergeant major. Several of the NCO’s. When they got to 1/9, Ryck could feel the tension increase. He knew the news hounds would be salivating, the reading of the Marines of the “Lost Battalion.”

Ryck’s back started to bother him, but he stood stock still. He hoped Keiji was doing OK. Regen took a lot out of a person.

The list of name went on: Kellen Lin Huang . . . Francis Kipriyanov . . . George Victor Lodgepole.

Finally, the sergeant major intoned “Second Battalion, Ninth Marines.”

Ryck and the rest tightened up their position of attention.

All the Marines in the headquarters and 1/9 had their names
read out in alphabetical order as they had died at the same instant, more or less. With 2/9, things were different. It started the same, with the company headquarters and First Platoon Marines’ names being read in alphabetical order, then those killed when the shuttle went down.

Ryck had to swallow when he heard the master guns call out “Paul Pope.”

After “Francis Sylian Westminster,” the last of those who had died on the shuttle, though, each name was read in the order in which he had fallen.

“Tipper Prifit,” the sergeant major said, the first of Ryck’s squad.

Ryck felt dizzy as he heard the name. He wanted to take a knee. It took an extreme amount of willpower to remain at attention.

“
Botros Khouri.”

“Jeb A. Stillwell.”

“Uriah Sampson Martin.”

Those were the first three to fall in the first battle.

“Priest Randall Hennesy . . . Giant Luck . . . Griffin L. Holderstead . . . Lin Chan Ho. . . Rosario Gambino” from First and Second Squads.

Then, “
Bobbi Samuelson.”

Rest in peace, brother
, Ryck thought, the tears that had been welling in his eyes now streaming down his cheeks.

“
Tizzard Fu Rey.”

Ryck could see his corporal, sitting in ships berthing laughing uproariously at one of his own stupid jokes.

“Hartono.”

Hartono was always a boot to Ryck. The guy only had one name, for goodness sake, and fervently avoided any nickname. It was against his religion, he
maintained.

“Albert Gomez Smith,” from First Squad.

“Jorge Jesus Jacamba Mendoza.”

The last of his squad to fall.
But all the Marines were his, not just those in his squad. He was in command in command when the next five fell.

“Jan
Rjils.”

“
Pacscal Stamos.”

“Evan John Denny.”

“Lawrence Peter Yuang.”

And finally, “Harris Theodore Grbil.”

These were men that Ryck had led, led them to their deaths. Ryck swore to himself that he would etch their names in his memory. As long as he remembered them, they were not gone.

Ryck felt a surge of guilt, guilt that had been building up
since he had been taken aboard the French shuttle and flown off the planet. Why had he survived, without really a scratch, when so many had died? Was he really meant to be a leader? Everyone was telling him he was some sort of hero, but he’d just been lucky. Only he wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

He’d killed human beings. Not crazed terrorists like the SOG.
Just normal guys. If
Ezekiel
Hope-of-Life had been facing him, Ryck would have cut him down in a heartbeat. The brother of Joshua, the brother of Hannah. He’d have killed the man, simply because
Ezekiel
had turned right instead of left into the Legion office back when he’d enlisted.

He’d killed men, beating one to death with his fists. Civilized people just didn’t do that.

More damning, he’d gotten his own men killed.

Lost in his thoughts, Ryck hadn’t noticed that the long list had finally reached the end. The sergeant major and master guns, their voices hoarse, stood back. A lone Marine marched onto the parade deck.

The classic Amazing Grace reached out as the Marine bagpiper poured his soul into his music. The mournful sounds reverberated among the Marines, and somehow, they cleansed Ryck’s thoughts. When the last notes faded away, Ryck stood up straighter. He would miss his men, his friends. But the best way to honor them would be to become a better Marine, a better leader.

Could he have done a better job? Could he have brought home more of his Marines? He was sure of it. And if it ever came to that again, he was going to be better prepared,
he would make better decisions.

There was no march in review. The regimental commander saluted the commandant,
then turned to dismiss the regiment. There would be six services at the two chapels, a service for each recorded faith of the fallen Marines and sailors, and Ryck decided he was going to attend each one.

Prophesy

“You don’t want to see your sister first?” Joshua asked.

“No, I cammed her before we landed. She understands.” Ryck said.

“OK. I just thought you’d want to get cleaned up first.”

“I’m grubbing nervous enough as it is. Waiting any longer will just make it worse,” Ryck told his friend. “Do you really think this is the right thing to do?”

“
You kidding me? Of course it is.”

“Yeah, but now?
With, you know?”

“Look, Ryck. Shit happens, and this has been a horrible year. Not your fault, not my fault. The guys on top, they play their games, and it’s the troops in the trenches who pay the price. It’s always been that way, from the Greeks to us here now.”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“But nothing.
Life goes on. If things are meant to be, they are meant to be,” Joshua went on.

They sat in silence as the cab brought them closer. The taxi driver was studiously ignoring them, but Ryck could catch him glimpse at them in the mirror every so often.

Both men were in civvies. Ryck hadn’t even brought a uniform with him. But they had the air of soldiers about them. Prophesy was behind the Federation, and most people had bought the Federation’s grand claim of victory. The driver had to be wondering if the two were Marines, Navy, or Legion. If he said the wrong thing, he could be jeopardizing his potential tip.

“So, what do you think?” Ryck asked
, pulling his thoughts away from the driver.

“Don’t rightly know,” Joshua said matter-of-factly.

“But she’s your sister. Hasn’t she said anything to you?”

“Hey, she likes you. But after that, who knows? She’s pretty strong-willed, and she doesn’t come running to her big brother with every little thing.”

“Big brother” sobered them up. With
Ezekiel
gone, Joshua was in fact the big brother of the family, something pretty important in Tortie culture.

“What about you, you ready?” Ryck asked.

“Born ready. No matter what happens, don’t come knocking on my door for at least a day. I’m taking Hope, and we’re locking out the rest of the world.”

Joshua
had spent the war at Camp Charles, but all dependents had been required to leave Tarawa and go back home for the duration. The recruit training surge had continued after the war as the new recruits cycled through training, and this was his first opportunity to see his wife. The fact that it coincided with I-Day was a happy coincidence as it meant he could travel with Ryck back home, but Ryck knew Joshua’s only goal was to spend time with Hope, not attend I-Day celebrations..

“You guys in the war?” the taxi driver asked, his curiosity overcoming his common sense.

“Yep,” Ryck said, offering nothing else. For once he wanted to leave the Corps behind him for a few days.

The taxi driver was waiting for
more details, but Ryck turned back to Joshua and asked, “So are you happy being a married man? Last time we were here, you were a little nervous.”

“Yeah, I am. I think of her all the time. I think of little Ester, too. She’s growing by leaps and bounds, and I can’t wait to see how big she’s grown.”

“I’m married. Me and the wife’s got three,” the driver said.

Joshua keyed up the privacy screen.

“It was the best move I’ve made. If I make staff sergeant, I can get married quarters, so Hope doesn’t have to sit in some apartment out in the ville. Maybe we can start on number two, a little guy?”

“Holy shit!
If you do, you better hope he takes after Hope and not you!” Ryck told him.

That started a smack-talk session that hadn’t ended
by the time they reached the Hope-of-Life compound. Ryck only had his backpack, so he took the driver’s meter and swiped it while Joshua grabbed his suitcase, full of presents for his family.

The driver’s surly attitude at having been cut off changed when he saw the tip Ryck keyed in.

“When you want to leave, you call me, OK?” he said, slipping Ryck his card.

Ryck absentmindedly pocketed it as he followed Joshua to the main house. A rocket streaked out, slamming into his friend, knocking him back a step. Hope clung to his neck, her face buried into his shoulder. They both wer
e crying.

Joshua’s mother followed at a more leisurely pace, a small girl on her hip. When Joshua opened his eyes, he saw her,
then reached out for the small girl, who recoiled slightly at the strange man hugging her mother.

“It’s OK baby, that be your papa,” M
rs. Hope-of-Life said.

“Papa?” the little girl asked, clearly getting excited.

She squirmed down from her grandmother and rushed to hug Joshua’s leg.

Ryck felt out of place, like an intruder.

“Why don’t you come on inside,” Mrs. Hope-of-Life suggested. “Leave these three for a piece. I imagine you be thirsty. I also imagine you be wanting to see Hannah?” she asked, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” Ryck said.

“Yes to what?”

“Uh, both?”

She laughed, a deep throaty laugh.

“Of course, I just
be teasing. Come on in. I’ll fetch Hannah.”

Ryck left the small family in front of the house and followed M
rs. Hope-of-Life inside. She got him a home-made lemon squash, telling him how much better it was for him than what he could get at the stores. She left him there nursing it.

This really is pretty good,
he thought as he sipped the drink before a slender form moved in front of him.

“Ryck, Joshua didn’t tell me you be coming. I . . . where be your sister? I think Joshua will be a mite busy to be socializing with you. Maybe you should be with Lysa?”

“I didn’t come to be with Joshua, and Lysa knows where I am,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed.

“And why be you here?”

“It’s I-Day in two days. I promised you I would be back to see you this I-Day.”

“That you did, Ryck.”

“Did you forget that?” Ryck asked, suddenly less sure of himself.

“No, of course I didn’t. But soldier boys make many promises to girls. Most promises are not kept.”

Her face clouded over while she said that. Ryck wondered if
Ezekiel
had made a promise to come back.

“Well, I’m here,” he said.

“So you are.”

She didn’t seem talkative. Ryck wondered if things had changed between them. Her brother had been killed by Marines, after all. Did she blame him for that?

“Well, so what will you do now that you be here?” she asked.

“I wanted . . . I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to ask you something.”

“OK, then ask,” she prompted.

“Uh, not here in the kitchen,” he said, pointing out her sister who had just come in and opened the fridge.

“How about the library?” she asked.

He followed her to the library, where she sat down, pointing to a plush chair for him to sit. He sat, but it was very deep, pulling him away from her. He
scootched forward and sat on the edge of the chair.

“I’m . . . I mean, I,
well, this has been a very rough year, for both of us. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here for
Ezekiel
’s funeral, and all.”

Shit, this is hard!

She sat silently, waiting.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking of you.
Of us. I really like when we’re together. I feel comfortable with you.”

“Comfortable?” she asked, arching her eyebrow.

“No, not like that. I mean, I care for you. I mean, I love you, and I want to marry you.”

That’s not how I wanted it to go!

She sat there, not saying a word.

He started to panic. She wasn’t jumping up to agree, like the
women did in the flicks.

“Ryck,” she began. “I care for you, too. Maybe I love you. I never meant to. I was just going out for fun. You be J
oshua’s friend, and I wanted to see the kind of man he would love. Somewhere in there, I think I fell a little in love with you myself. You are strong, yet kind. You have a gentle heart. I’ve watched you with your nieces, and I know you would be a good father.”

His heart gave a little jump of hope.

“But I told you long ago that I am not a soldier’s girl. I am not like Hope, bless her heart, ready to follow her man from base to base, sitting in apartments, waiting for him to show up.”

“But I’m a staff sergeant now. I can get base housing.”

She held up her hand to stop him.

“I
be a little more than a year away from my Ph.D. This has been my goal since I was a little girl. I am going to make something of myself. I love and respect my mother dearly, but I am not going to be the matriarch of some household. I have my dreams. And I will not marry someone and have them taken away from me.”

“Why would they get taken from you?” Ryck asked, heartbroken in the direction this was taking.

“You be not a Torritite. That be OK, and I respect your beliefs, but your kind do not suffer women to make their own way in life.”

“Why do you think that?” Ryck asked, confused.

“Because of the laws. Making women little more than chattel. You don’t have women in your precious Marines, right?”

“Hannah, I think you are mistaking things here. Sure, the Federation is behind the times on things, to include women in the service. But that
’s not what all people think. Of course, you should finish your degree. And whatever you wanted to do in your life, I would support you. I can’t promise that I will be home every night. I can’t promise that I wouldn’t be gone for long periods of time. But if I am going to be gone, do you think I would be attracted to a woman who needed me every minute of the day to make every single decision? Part of the reason I love you is that you are so capable. You are strong.”

Hannah looked at him in shock, surprised by his outburst.

“I . . . I’m sorry I threw this at you, especially now. Maybe I should have waited. Or maybe it was never going to be. Just don’t say no just yet. Think about it. If you do love me, like you said, we can work out anything. If not, then I will always wish you well. And if you change your mind, if you want to marry me, then I will be waiting for your yes.”

He stood up then, looking at her for a moment before bending over and kissing her forehead. He left her there, sitting in the library. M
rs. Hope-of-Life was waiting in the kitchen. Her eyes lit up when Ryck appeared, but that faded when she saw his expression. She didn’t say a word as Ryck opened the door and walked outside.

Joshua was just coming
in, one arm around Hope, the other hand holding Ester’s little hand. He looked at Ryck, eyes questioning.

Ryck shook his head and gave
a thumbs down. He didn’t bother to say anything.

He felt the taxi
driver’s card in his pocket. He hadn’t expected to need it so soon. He pulled it out and called the man who happily said he’d be right back.

This had been one shitty year. He’d lost friends, close friends. He’d fought against men with whom he had no beef, and in doing so, had revealed
a savage side to him that he hadn’t know he’d had. A side of him that shamed him. And now, just when he’d hoped for an anchor for all his troubles, he’d been cast adrift.

Maybe that was the problem. A marriage should be because of love. A marriage shouldn’t be because a man, or woman, needed something, be that financial support or emotional support. That was a contract, not a marriage.

The taxi driver appeared down the road, his fans kicking up dust as he turned and made his way down the drive. Ryck would call Lysa as soon as he got in to tell her the news. She’d be disappointed, of course, but she’d hide it and try to make him feel better. Lysa might not have a degree, might not ever set the world on fire, but she was strong in her own way, too.

The taxi pulled to a stop and sank down. Just as Ryck was opening the door, he heard his name called in back of him. Turning he saw Hannah,
hair streaming in back of her while running pell-mell after him. She was shouting one word.

“Yes!”