Coda: A United Federation Marine Corps Short Story

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Coda: A United Federation Marine Corps Short Story Page 3

by Jonathan Brazee


  He looked at the old man, but nothing was registering. It had been 44 years since his parents’ murder, and even given that time span, the man didn’t look anything like the father he’d remembered. Could it be? But if that was his mother there, still holding the sobbing Esther, then could the old man be his father?

  A wave of nausea swept over him as emotions began to roil inside him.

  “Are you my father?” he asked, barely getting the words out.

  “Yes, Noah, I am,” the man said, holding his arms outstretched and taking a step towards him.

  Noah recoiled. He didn’t want to believe it, but General Simone and Hans Çağlar were nodding. His parents had not been murdered so many years ago, but had somehow escaped their fate.

  And they’d never let Esther or him know. They’d lived out their lives, forgetting about their two surviving children.

  The man—his father—took another step forward, and Noah stepped away from him, pulling Bryce behind him as if protecting the boy.

  “Where were you all this time!” he shouted out. “Why did you let us think you were dead!”

  A look of disappointment fell across his father’s face, and he stopped, letting his hands drop to his sides.

  “We had to, for the good of the Federation, Noah. We had to disappear, or all we’d done, all I’d done, would tear the Federation apart.”

  “You . . . you planned it? And you didn’t tell us?”

  “Noah! What’s wrong with you? Mom and Dad are alive, and we’re together again!” Esther said, finally breaking her hold on their mother and looking back at him.

  “They lied to us. They abandoned us, Ess, like unwanted puppies!”

  Tears formed in their father’s eyes, and he sat down heavily on a chair, his head sinking down into his upraised hands.

  “I told you this was a bad idea, Jorge. We should have stayed dead.”

  “You should never have died in the first place,” Noah screamed. He turned and bolted from the house, running from his past.

  He had no idea where he was going as he ran through the peanuts, peanuts his father had evidently planted. He stomped on some as he ran, taking out his anger. It wasn’t until the harvester came down a row at him that he stopped his tantrum and stepped to the side, trying to calm his breathing.

  He knew he should be happy, but all he could feel was smoldering anger. His father had missed so much of his childhood, always with “doing his duty” as an excuse. When he and their mother had been “killed” Noah had felt a tremendous loss and extreme regret that he’d never be able to finally earn his father’s respect. That had driven him first to enlist in the Corps, then given him the drive to succeed. And he had exceeded beyond all expectation. Only the man he wanted to please wasn’t there; not murdered by Federation hold-outs, but by his choice. He and their mother had abandoned them.

  And now his father was making him a failure again. Esther, his pride and joy, was in there right now, welcoming the reunion, and he, the family disappointment, was out in a field, pouting and stomping on plants.

  “You know, Noah, this was the hardest thing your parents ever did,” General Simone said, walking up from behind him.

  “Oh, I bet it was,” Noah said, knowing he sounded like a petulant child.

  “They did it for one reason, and one reason only. To save the Federation from tearing itself apart.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, and you know it. He was a hero. How could he tear it apart?”

  “Because of what he did leading the Evolution. It was at his order that 30,000 people on Prometheus Station alone died. People would remember that, and as long as he was around, he would be a symbol of the extremes that occurred.”

  “But he already resigned from the chairmanship.”

  “He was still around, though. Look, he was going to commit suicide, he was so dedicated to the cause, but your mother said she would follow him if he did, so he came up with the plan to fake their deaths.”

  “And you agreed to this? You never thought we should know?”

  “I didn’t agree to it at all. I only found out a few months ago.”

  That took Noah aback. If anyone would have known, it should have been General Simone.

  “Who did know, then?”

  “Sergeant Major Çağlar. He put the parts together. Maybe someone from the Confederation, but Hans won’t admit to that.”

  “He kept you in the dark?”

  “Yes, he did. The fewer people knew the better, for obvious reasons.”

  “And you weren’t angry when you found out?”

  “No, not at all. I was happy to find my best friend again before time made that impossible.”

  Noah took a deep breath and tried to get his thoughts straight. He knew he should be overjoyed, but at the moment there was only resentment.

  “Look, Noah, the reason you had to come now is that your mother is dying. She’ll last another couple of days at best. I know you’re upset, but so’s Hannah. She’s in there crying now, blaming herself for this.”

  A pang of sorrow hit him, turning into overwhelming guilt. He wasn’t angry at her, not like he was at his father. And she was dying? When he just found out she was still alive? It wasn’t fair.

  “I know you’re upset, but for your mother’s sake, can you just come back to the house? You and your father can sort things out later, but right now Hannah needs you.”

  “I . . . of course, General. I’m so sorry. Let’s go back.”

  He followed the general back to the house and only hesitated a moment before stepping through the door. His father looked up hopefully as he entered, but he went straight to his mother. Esther stood up, making room for him, but he knelt on the floor, putting his head on the couch while reaching up with his good hand to put it on her chest.

  A hand, light as a ghost’s, reached over and stroked his hair.

  “My boy, my Noah, thank you for coming. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, Mother,” he said as his tears fell.

  Esther

  Two Days Later

  Esther sat on the foot of the bed, watching the EOL tech monitor the readouts. Bryce sat quietly beside her, intuitively knowing that this was not a time for complaining or fussing. Even Jimmy lay quiet, deep brown eyes open as he thought his baby thoughts.

  “It won’t be long,” the tech said, before turning to her mother. “Ma’am, would you like to say goodbye now?”

  Their mother had to focus for a moment, but then she gave the slightest of nods. The tech reached up, pushed a button, and a moment later, a surge of drugs coursed through her body. She gave a start, and then as if her soul had been awakened, the person she’d been seemed to flow back into her eyes.

  “How much time will this give me?” she asked the End of Life tech.

  “Four or five minutes,” he said, voice held low.

  “Then there be no use wasting that time, right? Noah, come here.”

  Noah sat beside his mother, his hand reaching out for hers. Esther was worried about her twin. He hadn’t taken well to the fact that their parents had faked their death and then kept that information from them. He felt betrayed. He had seemed to declare a truce with their father, but a temporary one that could shatter the moment their mother passed. Esther had to make sure that didn’t happen. They were about to lose their mother for the second time in their lives, and Esther wasn’t about to lose their father again so soon after being reunited with him.

  “Noah, my Noah,” their mother said. “I be missing you so much, my boy.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Mother,” he responded. “Too much.”

  “You be so much like Joshua,” she said. “I can see him in you. I’ve always seen him in you.”

  Esther had always thought that their mother had a special place in her heart for Noah, but this was the first time she’d mentioned her own brother, Joshua. In retrospect, it made sense. She’d always known that she was the apple of their father’s eye, pa
rticularly after Ben was killed, and that might be a reason for that. She didn’t resent the fact, and it seemed right that their mother and Noah had a special connection.

  Noah started crying, tears coursing down his face, and their mother said,

  “Don’t cry for me, my boy. I’ve lived a good life. Give me a kiss so I can say my goodbyes to your sister.”

  Noah leaned in and hugged her, then shifted his position to stay on the bed, but out of the way. Their mother reached out a hand, and Esther flowed into her embrace.

  “Bring my grandchildren too, Esther.”

  General Simone stepped up and lifted Bryce, setting him back down next to Esther, then repeated that with Jimmy.

  “Esther, Esther, my grandchildren are beautiful. I be so happy that I’ve been able to meet them for real. And you, too. So strong. When your father and I . . . well, I knew you would be fine. You would manage.”

  Her mother gave her a kiss on her head, and she felt like a little girl again, coming to her mother with a skinned knee, waiting for the kiss to make the pain go away.

  “I know why you did what you did, Mom, and I understand. I’m just glad we know the truth and that we could meet before . . .”

  “Before the next stage of my journey, Esther. Before the next stage.”

  “Ma’am . . .” the EOL tech said.

  “Not much time, eh? I know. I can feel it,” she said, lifting a frail hand to stop the tech from stating the inevitable.

  “But first, Jorge, Hans, thank you for this,” she said, turning to General Simone and the sergeant major. “I know we said not to tell anyone, but I be so grateful that you ignored us and brought our children back to us.

  “Ryck,” she said.

  Esther stood up, moving out of the way as her father slowly came forward.

  “You be the light of my life, dearest Ryck. You made me happy.”

  “And you me, Hannah. Without you, I’m . . .” He choked up.

  “You have our family again. You’ll be fine until you meet me again on the other side. Come, sit by me.”

  Their father sat down, taking her hand in his lap.

  “I want to tell you, Hannah, I’m so grateful that you came here with—” he started before the cognizance seemed to fade from their mother’s eyes.

  “Charley, what’s happening?” he asked the tech.

  “That’s it, sir.”

  “Can you give her another shot? I want to tell her more.”

  “No, sir. The BBN is a one-time boost. It won’t work anymore.”

  “So, this is it?” he asked, the anguish so evident in his voice that Esther let go of Bryce’s hand to stand by her father, one arm encircling his neck.

  “She knows, Dad.”

  She stood like that, arm around him, but her eyes were focused on her mother’s chest, expecting each tiny bird-breath to be her last. Five minutes later, Hannah Lysander, grandmother to Bryce and Jimmy, mother to Esther and Noah, and wife to Ryck, was gone.

  Noah

  Noah stood on the side porch, looking at the lone grave under a huge sycamore-elm that shaded the house from the afternoon sun. The tombstone said Rachel Giuseppe, the name she’d had since she and their father had staged their death. It didn’t seem right, and it created a gulf between him and his mother’s memory. That wasn’t Hannah Lysander buried there but a stranger, one who’d built a life of 44 years on the planet, a life that hadn’t included Esther or him.

  It should have included us.

  On the other side of the tree, Sergeant Major Çağlar stood over Bryce, pushing him on a swing while deep in conversation with him at the same time. The man rarely strung together more than two sentences at a time, but he seemed to have no problem in talking with the small boy. Suddenly Noah wanted to be back home, to be with his family, with his grandchildren. Hannah had her own baby girl, and on Cerebus Station, Chance was already the father of three.

  If they left now, he could catch Shiloh before she left to report in, and maybe he could repair the damage of leaving her on Kukson.

  She’ll forgive me, at least, he thought as he shifted his gaze to their father, on his knees, planting a line of iris around the gravesite, which he said were their mother’s favorites. Do I have it in me to do the same?

  He wasn’t sure he did have it in him. The simple fact that he hadn’t known his mother’s favorite flower was an iris just highlighted what his father had taken from him. He’d had parents for only 17 years. He’d been without them for 44 more.

  With a sigh, he turned back and entered the house, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. The medical equipment had already been carted away, and it was as if his mother had never been there.

  That’s not true. I can see so much of her in this room. Every little thing has her touch.

  There was a vase of flowers, just beginning to wilt, on the divider between the kitchen and the main living room. More to be doing something rather than just standing around, Noah picked them up and put them in the composter. Once started, he kept going, cleaning and straightening the house. It kept him occupied, physically, if not mentally.

  He avoided his parents’ bedroom, but he hit the guest room, one of the baths, and the utility room. That left one room, his parent’s office. He hadn’t been in there yet, and he hesitated a moment, feeling like a trespasser.

  It’s just another room, he told himself and pushed open the door.

  There was a desk in the middle of the office with a bank of monitors behind it that displayed data and visuals of the entire farm. Along the side walls were . . .

  Noah stood stock-still, his mouth gaping open. The side and front walls were completely covered with images and news releases. Esther’s and his predominated by a long shot, but there were also holos of his kids and Esther’s kids, of Noah’s grandchildren.

  What the . . . ?

  Right by the door was a copy of the citation of Shiloh’s Silver Star. Next to that was a holo of him standing next to the Chairman and General Ling as the three toured the flood damage on New Providence. To the left of that was a copy of the famous holo of Esther on Vanity, taken during the NEO of the Federation embassy there.

  Slowly, Noah made his way along the walls, taking in every image, every holo, every certificate. Many, if not most military men and women had an “I Love Me” wall which celebrated the achievements of his or her career, but not one item on the office walls mentioned Ryck Lysander. The room was a cathedral dedicated to the Lysander family, but only from Esther’s and his generation on. He slowly realized that his father might have left them physically, but he’d never abandoned them in his heart.

  He suddenly felt a presence in the room and spun around, feeling guilty that he had invaded what was a very personal space. His father stood in the doorway, saying nothing.

  “I . . . I . . .” Noah started, his brain refusing to engage.

  “It’s OK, Noah,” his father said, raising a hand to forestall him. “I forgot to lock it, what with everything. This was the only room that your mother and I allowed ourselves that reached to our family.”

  “I never knew.”

  “How could you? We never let you know we were even here.”

  “How did you collect all of this? I mean, I’m the subject of some of these, and I don’t remember many of them.”

  “You’re Lysanders. At first, it was because of your connection to me, but before long, the media and the undernet noticed you for your own accomplishments. It wasn’t difficult, and keeping up with your careers and families gave your mother and me something to do here. In case you haven’t noticed, there isn’t much around this farm,” he said with a forced laugh.

  “Which was by design,” Noah said.

  “True. We planned it that way. Out of sight, out of mind.”

  A moment of silence stretched between them before Noah asked, “General Simone said he only found out about you a few months ago, at your NOTC class’ last survivor ceremony. So, you were on Tarawa. Why di
dn’t you let us know then?”

  “I wanted to, Noah, believe me I wanted to. But your mother, she kept us strong. She always had to keep me strong. At first, I was going to . . . well, my death wasn’t going to be faked. But your mother, she was the one that came up with the plan. I had to disappear for the good of the Federation.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that. But it was 44 . . . no, 43 years later. So why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because I was afraid you’d reject me, you and Ess. I kept your mother away from you. I orphaned you. I could have left your mother when I boarded that yacht. She would have been madder than a gnarly goat, but she would have soldiered on. But I was weak because . . .”

  “Because what?”

  “Because I didn’t want to be alone without her,” he said in a rush. “And now I am,” he added quietly.

  “I don’t understand, though. Why would Ess and I reject you?”

  “You’re not too happy with me now, are you, Noah?”

  Touche, Father.

  “I’m glad you’re alive.”

  “That’s not the same as being happy with me.”

  “And have you ever been happy with me? Or proud? Like you were with Ben? Like with Esther?”

  “Of course I have, Noah.”

  “So, you’re telling me you’ve always thought of me the same as with Ben and Esther?”

  “I’ve never always understood you, Noah, that’s the truth. Ben, well, he was so like me. And Esther, she was, too. You, you were always a bit different, and in a way I couldn’t always grasp.”

  Noah’s heart fell when he heard the words. At least he isn’t trying to bullshit me.

  “But was I proud of you? Look around you, Noah. Whose holos are on the walls?”

  Noah looked around him. It was true. He had more on the walls than Esther, more than the kids.

  “Look, I said I didn’t always understand you. Except for our love of history, we aren’t much alike. Esther, she’s like me, even to my faults. But you, you’re like your mother. You’re a good man. And I couldn’t be more proud of you.

 

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