I want to dedicate this to the fans of the Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison. Without you, none of this would be possible, you're always there when I need some inspiration. I hope you enjoy The Scarab Moons as we continue to build the Reaper universe.
The Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison
Mission 1: The Scarab Moons
A Novella of the Early Years
Written by Thomas A. Wright
Edited By Rosa Saba
Copyright © 2016 Thomas A. Wright
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Thirty out of 53 sat in the terminal waiting. Some of the graduating recruits wore the class A dress uniform, while others wore black combat utilities. I was one of the lucky ones in black.
Orders came down right after graduation, and I was glad I didn’t get assigned to a starship. Guarding doors or cells in the brig would have driven me crazy. I drew combat special weapons and recon, as did three of my classmates.
I looked down at my new uniform. I had purchased it right before graduation; it was tailored to fit my upper body. It was form-fitting but not too tight. I wouldn’t wear anything too baggy; I didn’t want to give an enemy something to grab and hold onto.
The name tag on my chest said Benjamin Jamison. The single stripe on my sleeve indicated Private First Class. The blood on my knuckles: a little too much partying after graduation and five members of the navy, who hopefully wouldn’t be filing charges against me.
Private First Class Teresa Antoinette Antolini, aka Terri the Terrible: she was the reason my knuckles were bloody. My Italian classmate was a looker, even with her hair high and tight. She also had a temper. She was the reason I made it through training, teaching me I couldn’t always be nice to the opposite sex.
Jonathan Andrew Walker, aka Johnny Walker, I was going to rename Johnny Watcher because that’s what he did instead of helping his fellow marines. He was a Private First Class for now. The places we were going, you didn’t get to sit around and watch everyone else do all the fighting.
Private First Class Michael Showmaker, aka #53: that’s what he was, the last in the class, our rock, barely making the cut. He was short and wide and tended to gain weight just by looking at food. But he tried hard and never gave up, and that’s what meant something to me. Terri and I both had helped him get through, and somehow he ended up with us again.
We all sat quietly and watched as the new recruits marched past, getting yelled at. Officers and enlisted men and women hustled here and there to catch shuttles that were constantly coming and going. I saw him walking towards us at the same time the others did: Sergeant Olaf Hendricks, our instructor and nemesis for the past 18 weeks.
The feeling in the pit of my stomach was sentient and kept saying "stupid, stupid, stupid." I picked up my bag and unzipped it, pretending to rummage through it so he might not see my hands. Terri slid her hands under her thighs, pretending her hands were cold.
I pretended to look in my bag like I was searching for something; looking down, I noticed the highly polished boots approaching me, but didn’t look up.
"Private Jamison, have you already lost something of importance? Maybe the skin off your knuckles?" Hendricks asked. Before I could answer, he continued, turning to Terri. "Antolini, what about you; hands cold? You still belong to me! We didn’t train you for 18 weeks to beat the hell out of the Navy!"
"Sir, no sir!" we said in unison.
"How are your hands? Do you need to see a doctor?"
"Sir, no sir!" Terri and I were in sync. The other two just sat stone-faced, staring straight ahead. I hoped one of them would smile and "Olie" would tear into them, giving us a moment to think, but their training kept them in check.
I pulled my hand out of the bag and zipped it up, sitting it at my feet. Terri rested her hands in her lap. We sat at attention, backs straight as a board and staring ahead.
"If you weren’t heading straight for a hotbed of craziness, I would have you both scrubbing the head all day every day for a week!"
"Sir …" Terri started to say something but was immediately interrupted.
"Private Antolini, please do not start making excuses. I talked to our commander and ‘we’ talked to their commander and the matter has been settled."
I said, "Thank you, sir!" Terri kept quiet.
"Officially the matter is settled, but I want the truth. Were there really eight of them?"
Both of us looked up at him at that; he was smiling like a proud papa. He motioned with his hand for us to start telling the story.
"You tell it Terri, it's your baby," I said. She looked at me like I was throwing her under the bus, but it was the truth. She took a deep breath and let it out.
Olie yelled at her. "C'mon, private, I'm getting old standing here. It’s just a fight not like you and Jamison banging away in a stall in the head." I felt myself blush a deep red.
"You know about that?" I said without thinking.
"Son, your whole squad knows about that." We looked at Walker and 53 and they both smiled and nodded.
Terri couldn’t find her voice after that, so I began telling the story.
"Walker, jump in if I get anything wrong,” I said, looking over at him. “You had a much better view of everything watching from your bar stool." His smile faded away and he looked down at his feet.
"Me, Terri and Walker were at the bar off base on the other side of town. We wanted to get away from the base, but it’s hard to go too far with only a two hour liberty." I looked at Olie as I talked. He put his hands on his hips but decided not to say anything.
"One of the ‘Space Babies’ was a local, as luck would have it, and brought his buddies along." (Space babies were the navy graduates, in times past they used to be called squids when we sailed on the waters of Earth). "We heard them come in; the bar was quiet and peaceful up until then. The bartender rolled her eyes.”
Terri took over. "We were minding our own business, talking about our assignment, when one of them pushed between me and Jamison and the other stood on my other side. The bartender told them to step down to the other end of the bar and she would take their order. They told her they liked it right where they were at. We tried to ignore them, Sergeant, but the one between me and Jamison put his arm around me, started rubbing my back, and asked if I would come over to their tables."
Terri stopped to think about what she was going to say next, but instead I took over again.
"Private Antolini ignored the one who was talking to her and told the other one he was kinda sexy. The one between turned with his back to me to listen. The guy she was talking to was ugly as hell, but liked hearing her talk. She put her hand on his and leaned forward like she was going to kiss him. He was mesmerized but woke up when she slammed the back of her head into his buddy’s face.”
Terri started laughing and rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "Private Jamison g
rabbed the guy and pushed him away and he ended up in the floor. I told the other one to get the hell away from me and he beat feet over to his buddy holding his face laying on the floor."
"I sat and watched them in the mirror behind the bar,” I added. “The other six got up and walked over."
Olie interrupted my storytelling. "My great-grandfather had old vids of earth. They called them movies,” he said. “He liked the ones made about the western United States. That’s exactly how that goes in every bar fight." He motioned for one of us to continue, and I did, feeling more comfortable now that he had spoken.
"I told Antolini she really was a bad person, and she shrugged it off. We turned to face the music. The bartender didn’t look happy. She wanted to know if she should call the police or the base or both. Antolini told her to be ready to call an ambulance."
Olie looked at me and I stopped talking. "Jamison, you were number one in the class. They all listen to you, did you try to talk some sense into Antolini?"
"Sorry Sergeant Hendricks, I wasn’t the one the guy put his arm around and made stupid comments to. I did try to talk to the space babies, but they wouldn’t listen so I asked them to push the tables and chairs back out of the way. I didn’t want the place busted up."
"So what happened next?" Olie asked.
"Antolini walked up to the original two like she wanted to talk and popped them both. Two others jumped on her and four stood watching me and Walker. I thought if I just sat still they wouldn’t do anything but watch. That’s what they should've done, but they didn’t," I told Olie.
"So Antolini instigated the whole thing," Olie said.
"I’m the one to blame," I told Olie. "I should have taken her and walked. They said some stupid things to her that as a marine didn’t hurt one bit. But as a woman she had a right to be mad, Sergeant."
"You’re damn straight it’s your fault, I taught you better than that marine!" His voice elevated by a couple of octaves. "You know you’re not in trouble, so gimme the short version. How many each?"
"Antolini three, Jamison five and Walker goose egg," Terri said, a little proud. "We pulled our punches, Sergeant Hendricks, but the flip side was we had to hit them more."
Olie looked at Walker. "Private Walker, you need to listen to me. Some would say it showed good sense to stay out of it and others would never let you live it down. If I hear of you sitting on your hands when your team needs you, I will take leave and track you down. Then I will beat you senseless. Do you understand me, Private?"
"Sir, yes sir.”
"Private Showmaker, where the hell were you, and why were you not with them?"
"Sir, I used the liberty to get some rack time. Sir!"
Olie grunted. It sounded like approval, but who the hell knew. I looked at Terri, both of us clearly thinking we dodged a bullet. Olie tapped the com in his ear and listened for a second before tapping it again.
“Your shuttle is two minutes out,” he barked.
I stood and shook Sergeant Olaf Hendricks hand. It wasn't required, of course, but nevertheless the others stood quickly and followed my lead. He was brick shithouse tough and took his job very seriously. He had washed out two thirds of our class, but at the same time saved their lives. He worked us to our limit and then set new limits. None of us had ever worked so hard or knew we even could.
He smiled and shook our hands. "Remember everything I have taught you. You may need to use every bit of that knowledge before your mission is over.”
A corporal approached from one of the landing zones. He looked at Olie and at our poker faces.
"Sergeant Hendricks, is there a problem?" he asked.
"Corporal Meadows, there’s no problem. Just saying goodbye to some of my marines, you got a problem with that?" Olie broke out his training instructor voice. Then he punched Corporal Meadows in the arm and got in his face.
“You got a problem with that, Corporal? Don’t make me ask a third time!"
"Sir, no sir!"
Olie turned to us. "There’s a good example of remembering what you were taught."
Chapter 2
Corporal Meadows walked us to the shuttle, occasionally rubbing his bicep. To passersby, it might not have looked like much, but Olie could get a ton of power into a punch like that. I had been on the receiving end of a few from him, but I also knew the same method and had been trained in martial arts for ten years prior to enlisting. I thought Olie would be mad the first time I nailed him, but he just nodded his approval and continued with his instruction.
We stowed our gear in the locking compartments and sat down. The pilot and copilot were in their seats already, but I got the feeling we were waiting on some others to arrive.
Corporal Meadows spoke up. "As soon as the lieutenant arrives, we will depart. She had a short meeting to attend."
I leaned my head back against the inner hull and closed my eyes.
A kick in the shin woke me up.
"What the hell, Terri? You don’t have to kick me." My mouth was moving before my eyes focused. There was a body invading my personal space, and out of the corner of my eye I could see everyone at attention.
It was a very fit body with a nametag that read O'Malley. I think I was staring just a little too long at the area just below the name tag.
"Private Jamison, tilt your head back another twenty degrees." She was leaning forward just enough that I couldn’t stand up and come to attention without having to touch her.
"Yes ma'am," I responded
"Private, did they teach you how to ogle your commanding officer in your training over the last eighteen weeks?"
"No ma'am."
"So you just come by it naturally, is that correct?"
I looked at her auburn hair, pulled back into a small bun. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief. She had freckles all over her face. All in all she looked like a very fit sixteen-year-old.
"Ma'am, there is no correct answer to your question. At this point I would rather remain silent and receive disciplinary action than risk making you angrier." I knew my answer was a power trip. She was about five foot five and I was ten inches taller, easy to tell even when I was sitting. Looking like a teenager, being short and a combat marine, I knew I was going to catch hell for everything.
"Stand up, Private." She stepped back, looked up, and then stepped back again. I started to salute her, hoping to salvage something positive, then remembered I shouldn’t and dropped my hand. I thought I was in the clear until she noticed my hands.
"At ease, Private, and hold out your hands." I did as I was instructed. She looked them over. "Private, am I going to have trouble with you? It would be best if I just leave you here, if you’re going to be a pain in my ass."
"No ma'am, you are my commander and a marine. These came courtesy of the Colonial Navy, ma'am."
She thought about it for a second. "Your face doesn’t seem to be damaged. Do you have any injuries I can’t see?"
"No ma'am," I answered.
She touched her com and listened. "Let’s all sit and buckle in. Jamison, I’m sitting next to you so you can tell me all about it. Private Antolini, move down."
For the second time in the last forty-five minutes I told the story, during which she noticed Terri's hands. She didn’t say much, except for her eyebrows moving up and down, a hidden smile or frown; she was trying hard not to let on anything she was thinking.
"So Private Jamison,” she said. “You see yourself as a knight in shining armor, charging ahead into the face of danger to save us all." I felt my temper begin to rise and took a deep breath. Terri knew what the breath meant.
She spoke up before I could. "Lieutenant O'Malley, Private Jamison had my back when it was eight against one and it is my fault he had to do it, but he did and I am thankful for it. There’s a reason he is the number one graduate in our class, and it isn’t because he won everything. He helped a lot of us get through when we thought it would be best just to give up. If all hell broke loose right now, I would fol
low him anywhere before I would follow you. No disrespect intended, ma'am."
Lieutenant Adeen O'Malley looked Terri in the eyes then turned to me. She looked back and forth between us a couple of times, came to some unspoken conclusion and asked for our orders.
She asked Corporal Meadows for the data pad and loaded all of our orders into it. There was a beep indicating it was done, and she welcomed us to her unit. I felt the shuttle come to a stop, but we sat until we had a green light to disembark. The lieutenant was the first off and immediately began barking at us to hurry up. We grabbed our gear and fell in next to her.
The light cruiser was a lot larger than the old tub we had trained on. There was a very different feeling on board; it seemed alive and full of purpose.
O'Malley spoke up.
"We have a meeting right now, then Corporal Meadows will take you to supply and get you to your quarters. There are six to a room, and it makes sardines look like they’re living in a condo, but we only have to put up with it for three days."
I looked right, left, up and down as we made our way to the meeting. Some of the crew actually smiled at us as we passed their stations. Who knows what they were smiling about, but it seemed friendly. I couldn’t help but pause each time my eyes caught the lieutenant’s backside in front of me.
A finger poking to the back brought me back to reality. Busted!
"Gawk much Jamison?" Terri said.
Instead of answering, I suddenly stopped walking, and Terri walked into me, almost falling down. A quick step and I was back in place, just as the lieutenant turned around to see what the slight commotion was about.
She looked us over. It was easy to see Terri was flustered.
"Antolini, you having problems keeping up?" she asked.
"No ma'am,” Terri answered quickly. “It’s my first time on a real warship, so I was a bit distracted."
"If it’s that distracting, grab a hold of the back of Jamison's pants and he can pull you along." Terri looked down at the deck and didn’t see the slight smile on the lieutenant’s face as she turned around. I saw it because she was looking up at me.
The Chronicles of Benjamin Jamison Mission 1: The Scarab Moons Page 1