The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins: The Complete Series: Books 1-5

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “Congratulations, Noah. It looks good.”

  “Thanks, Ess,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. “Do you think dad would be proud?” he whispered in her ear.

  Esther ignored the “Ess” as she gave in and barely returned the hug. She contemplated his question. Would their father have been proud? Probably, at least to an extent. But their father had been a Marine through-and-through, and Esther had the sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t have placed that much weight on a non-military award. Still, she knew what Noah wanted to hear.

  “Of course he would. This is something you’ll have after you get out, to prove you did something good. You save that little girl’s life.”

  “Thanks, Ess. I hope he would be proud of me.”

  Another Marine smacked him hard on the back, hitting Esther’s arm in the process. She let go and stepped back.

  “Turtle, you know my sister, right?”

  “I know of her, Noah. Everyone does,” the Marine said before turning to her. “Corporal Lysander, I’m Lance Corporal Gregori de Matta.”

  “I’ve told you about him, Ess.”

  Esther vaguely remembered him mentioning a “Turtle,” something along the lines of him being married. That was a rough feat for a non-rate in a high-cost location like the station.

  “Ess picked up meritorious corporal. That’s PFC and corporal meritoriously,” Noah said, pride evident in his voice.

  “Shit, what’s your problem then, Noah? I’m surprised that you’re even slated for lance coolie!”

  Esther looked up sharply at this Turtle. What he’d said bordered on what she felt at times, that Noah wasn’t cut out to be a Marine, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to hear it from others. He still carried the Lysander name.

  But Turtle was laughing, and Noah put an arm around his shoulders saying that even a blind squirrel could find a nut every now and then. She relaxed. This was only the usual give and take among Marines.

  Don’t be so uptight!

  Esther was so focused on success that she sometimes didn’t recognize the smack talk, the joking around, and she had to make a conscious effort to fit in with others outside her inner circle, which was very limited. She had many, many acquaintances, and she seemed popular, but there were only a few with whom she really felt a connection.

  I used to be close to you, too, she thought wistfully as she watched her brother and his friend insult each other.

  She still wondered exactly what had happened. Noah was still Noah, and he would always have her back. But something had come up between them, something evidently only she could see. She knew she’d rather they be stationed separately. She suspected that she worried that Noah would sully the family name, which could reflect on her, but it would also reflect on their father, something Esther would fight to keep from happening. If Noah had remained a civilian, it wouldn’t have mattered much. Their father’s legacy started with Ben’s death, and now she was determined add to the legacy—and she didn’t need to be worrying about Noah when she was trying to accomplish that. A year-and-a-half, and he’d be out of the Corps, and she wouldn’t have to worry about him.

  She watched Turtle reach out to touch Noah’s medal, and then when Noah looked down, flicked his forefinger up to smack Noah’s nose—the oldest trick in the book, and she had to smile. She was only nine minutes older than her twin, but he was far, far younger than she was, at least in personality.

  But not in all ways, she reminded herself as memories flooded her thoughts. Her mind jumped back four years ago to Luna Station, when she’d absolutely lost it seeing her father appear, ready to sacrifice himself for them. It had been Noah—flippant, loner, sometimes sullen Noah—who had taken over, who had gathered her up and took her to the ship.

  She was still ashamed about breaking down like that. She was the strong one, she was the hard-charger. But that had simply been too much for her, and she’d broke, as simple as that. That her father had been later rescued by the Confed team didn’t negate her moment of weakness, something she vowed never to repeat.

  Noah had never mentioned the incident again, and she was eternally grateful for that.

  Esther felt a stirring of affection for him, something she hadn’t felt since camp Charles, maybe before. She still resented his presence, and she feared him screwing up big time and tarnishing the family name, but when he was finally out, she hoped they could rekindle the relationship. With their parents and Ben gone, they were all they had left.

  “Hey, Noah. I’ve got to get back to the company. Congratulations on the medal. I mean it.”

  “It was no big deal, Ess, but thanks. And thanks for coming to the ceremony.”

  He pulled her in for a hug, and this time, she hugged him back.

  Chapter 27

  Noah

  Noah paused, trying to gather up his courage. He waved the hatch open and entered the exchange.

  “Hi, Miriam,” he said as he walked back to the geedunk shelves.

  “Hey, Noah,” she answered, not looking up from her PA.

  For the last six months, Noah had been coming to the exchange when he could, supposedly shopping, but really just to spend time chatting with Miriam. He’d tried to time his arrivals when the traffic was slow, so that he wouldn’t interfere—and others wouldn’t be around to listen, and he’d tried not to be too obvious as to his intent, so he tried to space out his visits somewhat.

  There wasn’t that much he needed from the exchange to justify so many visits, so he’d taken to buying geedunk. He didn’t really like snack food, what with the heavy sugar and salt loads, complete with artificial flavors, but they were a consumable, and he faked having a sweet tooth. In reality, he passed his purchases to his squadmates. He couldn’t tell if that endeared him any more to them, but it was better than throwing them in the trash.

  And over the six months, he’d gotten to know her, all in bits and drabs. He’d learned about her leaving her family on Nova Esperança. He wasn’t still quite sure what had happened to her to make her leave, but he could tell it wasn’t good, and that she’d suffered from it. She’d bounced around the Federation for three years, sometimes relying on other Torritites for survival, other times scratching out sustenance however she could. Finally, she ended up at Wayfarer Station, and at the end of her rope, had asked help from Citizen’s Assistance. Cleaned up and with new clothes, they got her the job at the exchange, and she’d been slowly getting her life together over the last year.

  Three days ago, flush with excitement over getting his medal, and knowing he’d be a lance corporal soon, he’d screwed up his courage to ask Miriam out on a date—a real date, as in out in the ville for dinner. She had immediately refused, saying she didn’t date Marines. Noah had been crushed, but years of hiding his emotions allowed him to laugh it off as if he hadn’t been serious. He’d gone back to his quarters and into bed, wanting to avoid any human contact—which was pretty much impossible with three roommates. He almost went to see Esther, and in the old days, he would have. Now, he didn’t want her to see his failures. He knew she wanted him to excel, and he hadn’t given that to her yet.

  Noah wanted nothing more than to never go into the exchange again, but he knew that by simply disappearing, he’d be proving he had not only been serious in asking Miriam out, but he’d been crushed by her refusal. It was true, but that was just one more person in a long line of them who’d know he was a failure. So he knew he had to go back at least one more time and make small talk as he’d been doing for six months. He didn’t want to, but his pride demanded it.

  He picked up a Sizzle Stick, a horrendous concoction of blue sugars. If he was going to act like he had a sweet tooth, at least he could be liking something a little higher on the snack scale, but Turtle loved the things. He sauntered over to check-out and placed the Sizzle Stick on the counter.

  “You doing OK? Your roommate situation working out?” he asked as casually as he could.

  “I’m fine, but Zoey’s still a pig. I took
her dirty panties off the dining chair last night and threw them under the sink.”

  “You did?” Noah said, intrigued despite himself. “She just left them out like that?”

  “I think she was ‘entertaining,’” she said, leaving no doubt in Noah’s mind what “entertaining” meant.

  Zoey was also a Citizen’s Assistance case, so Miriam didn’t have much choice in changing roommates until she saved enough to get her own place. Zoey, from how Miriam described her, was less than enthusiastic about the re-training procedure and routinely ignored the restrictions place on her by CA.

  “I doubt she even remembers where she took them off, so. . .” she said, shrugging.

  “She’ll probably think she put them under the sink herself,” Noah said.

  He’d never met Zoey, of course, but the woman fascinated him. Not is a good way, though. He just couldn’t fathom someone so bluntly ignoring rules, especially when the CA was only trying to help her.

  “Maybe. Is that all you have?” she asked, pointing at the Sizzle Stick.

  “Yeah.”

  “I still don’t get what you see in them, you being a foodie and all. I can’t stand the things.”

  Neither can I, and I won’t be buying any more of them, he thought, tempted to say that aloud.

  “We all have our vices,” he said instead.

  Three lieutenants from Alpha came in, laughing about something. Noah looked up, at them in despair. He wasn’t going to stand there chatting with three O’s there.

  It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to see her again anyway.

  He didn’t want to cut it short, though. He wanted a few more minutes, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Well, I’ve got to get back. I might not be around for a while, so take care.”

  “You’re going off-station? I haven’t heard about any deployments,” she asked, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s just our op tempo is rising, and I’m going to be real busy.”

  At “op tempo,” one of the lieutenants looked up and him and frowned.

  Grubbing hell. Just what I need now.

  Miriam worked in the battalion area, and she knew more about unit deployments and training than most Marines, but that didn’t mean Noah was free to discuss them with her. The lieutenant looked like he wanted to say something to him.

  “I’ve got to go!” Noah said quickly, snatching his Sizzle Sticks.

  He spun around to quickly leave when Miriam said, “Noah, your receipt!”

  Noah didn’t want the receipt, he didn’t need the receipt. What he needed was to get out of there before the lieutenant got it into his head that some PFC needed immediate correction.

  But he couldn’t be rude, even to someone who’d turned him down. It wasn’t as he was raised. He turned around and reached out, almost snatching the receipt out of her hand.

  Why can’t we join the modern world? I mean, who else uses physical receipts?

  Noah knew it had something to do with the black market which was a problem at the station where outside the base, prices were quite high. He waved open the hatch, and raised his hand to toss the crumbled receipt into the shitcan in the passage. He missed.

  Of course, I missed. What else is new? he asked himself as he bent down to pick it up off the deck.

  A flash of blue on the receipt caught his eye.

  Blue? Receipts use black.

  He unfolded the receipt to see a string of numbers. Under the numbers was a short note:

  Call me, OK? Miriam.

  Chapter 28

  Esther

  “I had a talk with the lieutenant this morning,” Sergeant Orinda told Esther.

  The two Marines were on their way back from their annual gender neutrality brief, something Esther thought was a humongous waste of time. Women in the Corps were no longer a new event. Her father had opened the Corps (and Navy) to women almost six years before, and some of the first joins were now sergeants, a handful of staff sergeants, and even some lieutenants. There had been very little overt resistance from the men, and the few cases of gender-based discrimination or sexual aggression had been quickly, and quite publicly, adjudicated. Esther, at least, had never been subjected to anything she felt to be prejudicial based on her gender.

  There were rumors, of course, of more than a few cases of harassment and even sexual predation, but only a handful of cases had been reported over the last year. The worst one was probably the young male Marine who’d been hog-tied and had his balls shaved and painted bright pink before being left on the Third Marine Division parade deck. Rumor was that he’d been more than a little pushy towards one of his female fellow Marines, and that several of her fellow female Marines had extracted their own brand of justice. That case may have been the most egregious, but it was roundly applauded throughout the rank-and-file of the Corps.

  “What about?” Esther asked.

  “Second Squad. Sergeant Jreki’s about to rotate out, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Esther said, her interest rising.

  “We don’t have anyone inbound in the near future, and so one of the corporals needs to step up in the interim.”

  Esther started feeling her face flush. She had hoped to make squad leader on this tour, but to have it actually within her grasp was really more than she could have hoped for.

  “And. . .?”

  “I recommended you, of course.”

  Yes!

  “The thing is, you are the second junior corporal in the platoon.”

  Shouldn’t matter. The position should go the corporal best able to do the job.

  “But the most qualified,” Esther said, not caring how that might sound.

  “Ha! You don’t hold back, do you? But the thing is, Staff Sergeant Ski doesn’t think you’re ready. He thinks you need more time as a team leader.

  Esther felt as if she’d been kicked in the gut.

  The staff sergeant doesn’t think I’m ready? Who does he think is more ready than me?

  “So why are you telling me this, then?” she asked, hoping that maybe Sergeant Orinda was going to tell her that the lieutenant had overruled the platoon sergeant, and that she would still get the position.

  Not likely. Staff Sergeant Ski’s got the lieutenant wrapped around his finger.

  “Two reasons. First, I probably shouldn’t have told you any of this, but it’ll undoubtedly slip out, and I wanted you to know he thinks you’re a kick-ass Marine, but he wants you to develop more.”

  “And second?”

  “Second is that I’m going to take over Second.”

  Esther thought about that for a moment, and her Marine Corps mind kicked in. It made sense. First Squad was the strongest squad in the platoon. Esther liked to think it was because she was one of the team leaders, but in reality, Sergeant Orinda was a hell of a Marine and a hell of an NCO. The success strength of the squad was due to the squad leader.

  But where did that leave First?

  “And. . .?”

  “Kinder’s taking over,” the sergeant said.

  “Huh,” Esther puffed out, a wordless expression of nothingness.

  Corporal Kinder was the platoon’s senior corporal, just a few points shy on his last cutting score for sergeant. He wasn’t a bad team leader, but he wasn’t great, and Esther knew she was far better than him. He’d never treated her poorly when she was in his team, but since she’d been elevated herself to team leader, she was positive that she’d far surpassed him.

  They’d reached the berthing area, and the two Marines paused outside Esther’s quarters.

  “And you want to know if I’m OK with that,” Esther said, keeping her voice low.

  “Yeah, in a nutshell, you could put it that way.”

  Esther wanted to say no, she wanted to request a transfer, but that was ridiculous. There was only one answer.

  “Of course I am. He’s senior to me, and I have no problem as my squad leader.”
>
  Sergeant Orinda looked deep into Esther’s eyes as if trying to read into her soul. Esther stared back, not defiantly, but without backing down, either.

  “OK, good, then,” the sergeant said, backing down. “I’ll see you after chow for the loggy[9] brief.”

  “Are you still squad leader for now, then?” Esther asked.

  “Yeah, until Tuesday. So you’re still stuck with me until then.”

  She turned to leave, hesitated, then turned back and said, “Just hang in there, Lysander. Kinder’s got his own strengths. Learn what works for him and what doesn’t. You’ll get your turn in the breach, and no one doubts that you’ll eventually bypass us all.”

  Esther watched her squad leader cross to her own quarters, trying to absorb what she’d said. She was disappointed, to be sure, but it had been a little much to hope that not even two years into her assignment, she’d be a squad leader. She’d bide her time, polish her skills, and be ready to seize the opportunity when it did arise.

  DX-4

  Chapter 29

  Noah

  “You coming, Noah?” Turtle asked.

  “Nah, you go ahead. I want to get this isolated.”

  “OK, but I’m not going to be able to hold a seat. You know how crowded it is in the messhall.”

  Noah nodded, turned back, and ran the little scanner over his PICS’ fan-plate. The numbers were good, but his knee movement had seemed a little quirky during the last exercise. He looked over to where Mr. Coulter was deep inside another PICS, mumbling to himself.

  Mr. Coulter was the lead armorer. He’d evidently been around Wayfarer Station forever, and rumors swirled as to why. The techs tended to go to larger units as they became more senior and experience, and the battalion only had enough PICS Marines to normally justify a less-experienced tech.

  There were three levels of armor maintenance. The first level was the individual Marine. Each Marine and sailor was responsible for basic analysis and maintenance. A Marine ran the scans on his or her PICS, and they could swap out components for Class C repairs. The next level consisted of Marine armorers. These were usually second or third enlistment NCOs who received additional training at the Corridor-Epsilon facilities on Anson. Every Marine was a rifleman, but one way to stay in the Corps as Marines became more senior was to move into support-type billets. Marine armorers took care of supply for things such as cold-packs, and they could perform Level B repairs. Any major work that didn’t have to be returned to the factory was done by the civilian armorers. The battalion had only two civvies: Mr. Coulter and Mr. Tarryhand, the younger armorer who’d first fitted Noah for his PICS.