Noah's Story: Marine Tanker (The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins Book 3)

by Jonathan Brazee

  The data was holding true so far, and Noah was pretty sure that when the trial was over in another month, the switch-out with the rest of the Corps’ Davises would commence.

  Llanzo rolled up with the power-washer, handed Noah a nozzle, and the two of them began spraying the Anvil II clean. With both of them on the two spray nozzles, WB grabbed the hand vac and jumped back in the crew compartment.

  Twenty-five minutes later, in almost record time, with the Anvil II clean and the analytics completed, they were done.

  “Early chow’s about to start. You going?” Llanzo asked.

  “No, you two go ahead. I’ve got to go up to company. We’ve got class at 1330, don’t forget.”

  “Hell, wills and powers of attorney, how can I forget that fun-filled afternoon,” Llanzo said as he started up the ramp to return the power-washer.

  Noah left the ramp, walking toward the company offices. He took his time, going over everything yet one more time. Even now, he was wavering back and forth, and he wished he had longer. But with his EAS at exactly 90 days, he had to make his decision before COB or have it made for him.

  This morning hadn’t been fun. Miriam was at seven months, and as with Hannah, she was pretty cranky—and from what he’d been told, she’d been even worse with Chance with Noah gone. Noah’s job search had not been going well. He’d had offers, but to both his and Miriam’s surprise, when benefits were added to his Marine Corps salary, none of the jobs except for one paid as much as what he was now pulling in. Of course, some of those jobs had nice upsides, but with a baby on her way, expenses were going to increase, and a raise in two years after probation was not going to do them much good.

  The one job that paid better—much better, in fact—was on Prophesy, working for his Uncle Barrett. Noah knew nothing about water management, but his Uncle assured him that he could learn. Uncle Caleb had offered a job to his father as well, probably the same one, which financially would have paid him more than when he was a general, but he’d told Noah more than a few times that he knew nothing about a working in a civilian business, and, more than that, he would never have been able to live on his brother-in-law’s largess. Noah thought that his father was being a little harsh on himself; if he could become the Chairman of the Federation, he could learn water management. As for Noah, when it came to his family, what mattered is that he provided for them, not if a job was “fun” or not.

  Miriam went back-and-forth on the job offer. She professed to love his extended family, and she thought it would be good for the kids, but then she chaffed sometimes at the idea, telling Noah she didn’t want to be controlled.

  Finally, as he left early this morning, she’d told him to do what he thought he should do. Noah tried to read into that, to know what she wanted, but he was lost. It really was up to him. He had a gut feeling that no matter what, Miriam would find reason to complain, but he also resented the fact that she was laying everything on him. They were a family, and some decisions should be made by the family, not just one person.

  He hesitated outside the company offices, checking the time. It was 2237 GMT, so technically, he had almost an hour-and-a-half. He almost turned around to go to the chow hall, hoping that with a full belly, things might be clearer, but he knew that was just an excuse to delay. He took a deep breath and opened the front hatch.

  An unknown corporal had the duty, but during normal working hours, she was there more as a runner than to check who was entering the building. Noah walked past her and down the passage to the Charlie Company office. He didn’t hesitate, pushing the door and stepping inside. There wasn’t anyone at the desk, but the first sergeant’s door was open, and she looked up as he entered.

  “Sergeant Lysander, cutting it close, aren’t we?”

  “Still time, First Sergeant.”

  Noah’s relationship with First Sergeant St. Cloud was strange, to say the least. Miriam and Fierdor had become quite close, and Chance’s best friend was Hans, the first sergeant’s youngest, so the two families socialized quite often. Miriam called the first sergeant Eve, and Noah called Fierdor by his first name, but between them, it was always “Sergeant” and “First Sergeant.”

  “Well, are you ready?” she asked.

  “Yes, I think I am.”

  “You think? You’d better know. Once you leave, there’s the reserves, but coming back into the active forces will be pretty tough.”

  “I know, First Sergeant.”

  He’d had more than a few talks with her, the last only two days prior at his house. She’d been pushing for him to reenlist, he knew, even if she’d tried to simply be a sounding board. He was also pretty sure that Miriam had told Fierdor everything, and he would have told his wife, so she undoubtedly knew to the credit what he’d get paid working for his uncle.

  “Let me see if the skipper’s free,” she said, sending him a message.

  Her PA bonged, and she told him, “Two minutes.”

  “Your CPM1 has gotten through the board, and it’s just waiting for the commandant’s signature.”

  His command thought Noah’s action on St. Gallen deserved an award, but evidently, there had been much debate as to just what to give the Anvil’s crew. A Silver Star, or possibly a Navy Cross, had been discussed, at least that was the scuttlebutt, but some of the Old Corps types thought that as the Anvil wasn’t facing an enemy, exactly, a combat award wasn’t appropriate. In the end, the three of them had been put in for the Civilian Protection Medal First Class, which was given for saving lives at the risk of their own. The award was pretty rare, and now Noah would have both the First Class and Second Class CPM’s, possibly the only such Marine so honored.

  Noah would be happy with that, and he was pretty sure Llanzo and WB would be, too, and he asked, “That’s official? I’d like to tell the other two.”

  “Sergeant Major Çağlar himself called me with the news.”

  “The Sergeant Major? How is he?”

  “How is he? I sure don’t know, but I imagine he’d take your call to find out,” the first sergeant said, one of the very few times she’d referred to Noah’s place as a Lysander.

  Sergeant Major Çağlar had been his father’s friend, Man Friday, and confidant. He was the last person to see Noah’s father and mother before they’d taken off on their final flight. He’d just been assigned as the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps a few months prior. Noah could call him up, he knew, but ever since he’d enlisted, he’d tried to avoid his father’s posse.

  “Sergeant Lysander, come on in,” the skipper called out.

  Noah stood up, followed by the first sergeant, and as the Second Platoon commander left the skipper’s office, he entered.

  “So, Sergeant Lysander. It’s decision time. I know we spoke last week about your options, and First Sergeant St. Cloud has briefed me that she’s spoken to you at length. I know you’ve got your tracks greased for a pretty sweet job, but all I can say is that a salary isn’t the most important thing in life. Duty, I’d say, is more important, right First Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I think you can have a great future in the Corps, Sergeant. You’re a shoe-in for Staff Sergeant next year, and who knows after that?”

  Noah wasn’t sure if the captain was asking him a question or not, so he said nothing.

  “Well, uh, of course, you know that. I’m sure you’ve considered everything, and so let me just say, I only wish you the best in your future. I’ve been honored, Sergeant, honored,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Thank you, sir,” Noah answered. “And I’ve been honored as well, and I’m so grateful that you made me the TC for the Anvil II.”

  “You earned it, Sergeant.

  “Well, if that’s all over, let’s get this done,” the skipper continued, picking up the Unit Diary. “Lysander, Noah,” he muttered, swiping the face. “OK, here we are. This is your Form 308. I need to inform you that this is a legal document,” he began, reading from a script. “Once your intent ha
s been entered and you’ve been scanned, it is binding, subject to the provisions of the UCMJ. The subject Marine has 24 hours to rescind his or her decision . . . well, you don’t, Sergeant, given how late you’ve delayed . . . after which time this form will become part of the official United Federation Marine Corps records.

  “So, any questions?” he asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “OK, then let’s get it done,” he said, handing the diary to Noah.

  Noah looked at the form. It was pretty straight-forward. His service information was listed at the top, and there was some military legalese at the bottom, but the bulk of the form simply had two boxes. The first was to be checked if he wished to reenlist, and it was annotated that his reenlistment had already been approved by HQMC. The second box indicated that he wished to decline his reenlistment and wished to be released from active duty on his EAS.

  Noah had seen holo service contracts that were more complicated. It seemed odd to him that a Form 308 was such a simplistic document, but one with such heavy implications.

  He stared at it for a moment, then thought, I hope I’m making the right decision. He reached forward and affixed his thumb, indicating his choice.

  A yellow light in the image of an eye flashed, and Noah held the unit up and looked right at it. There was a chime, and the eye turned to green. It was done.

  “Well, thank you for your service,” the skipper said, taking the diary.

  “Don’t forget the reserves, Sergeant,” the first sergeant added. “You’ve still got 90 days to decide on that.”

  Noah didn’t say a word. A feeling of calm had swept over him, taking away the stress of the last month. He’d made his decision, and for good or bad, it was done.

  “So, if there is anything . . . wait. It says here you reenlisted, Sergeant,” the skipper said, sounding confused.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But, I was led to believe that you were going to get out to take that cush job with your uncle,” he said, looking at the first sergeant.

  “I’d considered that, sir, and it was tempting. But what you said about duty was right, and when it comes down to it, I can’t imagine leading a life as anything other than a United Federation Marine.”

  Thank you for reading Noah’s Story. I hope you enjoyed it, and I welcome a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or any other outlet. The series will continue with Esther’s missions in her new APOC billet.

  If you would like updates on new books releases, news, or special offers, please consider signing up for my mailing list. Your email will not be sold, rented, or in any other way disseminated. If you are interested, please sign up at the link below:

  http://eepurl.com/bnFSHH

  Other Books by Jonathan Brazee

  The United Federation Marine Corps

  Recruit

  Sergeant

  Lieutenant

  Captain

  Major

  Lieutenant Colonel

  Colonel

  Commandant

  Rebel

  (Set in the UFMC universe)

  Behind Enemy Lines

  (A UFMC Prequel)

  The United Federation Marine Corps’ Lysander Twins

  Legacy Marines

  Esther’s Story: Recon Marine

  Noah’s Story: Marine Tanker

  Women of the United Federation Marine Corps

  Gladiator

  Sniper

  Corpsman

  High Value Target (A Gracie Medicine Crow Short Story)

  BOLO Mission (A Gracie Medicine Crow Short Story)

  The Return of the Marines Trilogy

  The Few

  The Proud

  The Marines

  The Al Anbar Chronicles: First Marine Expeditionary Force--Iraq

  Prisoner of Fallujah

  Combat Corpsman

  Sniper

  Werewolf of Marines

  Werewolf of Marines: Semper Lycanus

  Werewolf of Marines: Patria Lycanus

  Werewolf of Marines: Pax Lycanus

  To The Shores of Tripoli

  Wererat

  Darwin’s Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor

  Venus: A Paleolithic Short Story

  Secession

  Duty

  Non-Fiction

  Exercise for a Longer Life

  Author Website

  http://www.jonathanbrazee.com

  * * *

  [1] MOUT: Military Operations in Urban Terrain

  [2] HUD: Heads Up Display

  [3] ECR: Effective Casualty Radius

  [4] 96: A four-day pass, not charged as leave.

  [5] T/E: Table of Equipment

  [6] PDA” Public Display of Affection.

  [7] MCMA: Marine Corps Martial Arts

  [8] Permanent Change of Station

  [9] EAS: End of Active Service

  [10] Four: Short for S-4, the logistics officer of a battalion or regiment.