“A stallion? I thought they were called mustangs,” Dr. Brandt said. Admiral Baines blushed, and Westerly chuckled at her embarrassment.
Mason ordered two bottles of French champagne for their table to celebrate. “How did you know, General Costa?” Admiral Baines asked.
“Mason is a Prime Marine. Your marriage license came across my desk a few days after your ceremony. It was too late to stop his mission assignment. But I did endorse his promotion. He performed exceptionally well, as I expected.” She looked directly at Mason. “As I knew he would.” She paused. “Besides, my dear Rachel; I could not let you re-take your vows to a Lieutenant, after all. A Captain sounds much better, no?” She laughed.
They all chatted and enjoyed a wonderful luncheon. When General Costa heard about Admiral Baines’ samba lessons, she said, “I am from Brazil, the birthplace of samba. I will bring my dancers from the Club do Rio to perform at your reception, with your permission, of course. The samba is the dance of love,” she added, looking straight at Mason.
“Of course. We would be honored,” Admiral Baines said. She smiled at her, and then looked at Mason, fully aware of their brief affair Mason had confessed to her. Maria do Costa had befriended Admiral Baines when she first arrived in Houston, and shown her the ropes there. They were good friends.
Mason felt like a sacrificial lamb. His body and soul lay bare between Pantera and Admiral Baines. Fortunately for him, a large group of Prime Marine officers entered their section, en route to one of the private dining rooms.
“Do you know any of those officers, Captain Mason?” Admiral Baines asked.
“No, not really, Admiral, except for…” Mason jumped up. “Excuse me, ladies,” He ran over to one of the two women in the group; a tall, blonde officer stopped.
“John Mason! You’re an officer! Why aren’t you with us?” She asked, smiling and amazed. Mason brought her over to his table and introduced everyone to her.
“Admiral Baines, Admiral Brandt, General Costa, Captain Westerly and Sergeant DuMonde; this is Colonel Swenson, my martial arts instructor in Prime Marine training.”
The women exchanged greetings with the tall blonde Prime Marine. “I’m sorry I missed your tournament last year, General Costa. I was outside the Kuiper belt and couldn’t get to Titan One,” Swenson explained.
“We missed you, Colonel Swenson. I had only one real competitor. Be sure to make my next tournament, as I am not permitted to compete any longer. The price of this star, I’m afraid,” she said, smiling.
“I assume Lt. Colonel Motumbo won, as always?” Colonel Swenson asked. She looked at Captain Westerly, who was smiling at her.
“No, he was finally defeated by a stallion. A Master Gunnery Sergeant, in fact, who is now our newest Prime Marine Captain,” she said, nodding at Mason.
“Really? You defeated Motumbo, Mason? So you were paying attention in class, after all,” she quipped.
“That was about 21 black belts ago, Colonel Swenson,” Mason offered. “But you did teach me what I needed to know to stay alive, mainly by kicking my butt all over the base,” he said, laughing. “Come by for a run and a workout this weekend, if you’re available,” he invited.
“I’d love it, Mason. And be sure to attend the dinner tonight. Mess dress,” she said.
“This is all news to me,” he admitted.
“The real party’s Saturday night. Better be there, Mason. You’re the only one of the bunch who can dance.” She excused herself, and hurried on to her luncheon.
“Where’s the party?” Admiral Baines asked.
“Madam Admiral, there is only one place for the Prime Marines in Houston. ‘Hell’s Bells’, Admiral,” the Sergeant offered.
“I may have to stop in for a look, myself,” General Costa said. She looked at Admiral Baines. “Better escort your husband, my friend. The Hell’s Bells is legendary!” She sat back, laughing. “The Houston debutantes will all be there when they find out the Prime Marines are in town. It will make for a very interesting evening, I assure you.” She laughed as she sipped her champagne. “Very interesting, indeed.”
“I don’t have officer’s mess dress,” Mason said softly to Admiral Baines.
Sergeant DuMonde overheard him. “You will have it before the end of the day, Mon Capitan. I will see to it personally!” Mason’s aide excused herself and trotted out of the O-Club.
“I think I like having an aide,” Mason said to the Senior Command Women. They all enjoyed laughing with him. Mason looked at his beautiful wife, watching the Admiral put on her new name badge: “Mason.” She proudly smiled at him.
“What do you think, Captain Mason?” She asked him. He smiled, and raised his glass.
“To Admiral Mason!” The ladies all toasted her, and happy well-wishes were given to her by all her friends. They finished their luncheon, and returned to work.
Sergeant DuMonde had Mason’s new mess dress delivered for him by 4p.m. in his office. She even picked up a new Captain’s class A hat for him, as well. Mason laughed at his new hat. “Victor will be happy my new hat has some braids on it,” he said.
“Congratulations on your marriage, Mon Capitan. Your Admiral is beautiful and charming,” she said. “And her French is perfect!”
The formal dinner was very special. Admiral Mason had attended many dozens of formal military dinners, but all with the Space Forces, never the Space Marines. This was the semi-annual Prime Marine dinner, and no expense was spared. The few speeches were short, and the awards were many. Captain Mason was introduced to his fellow officers as the URE Medal of Honor recipient, 2-time Bronze Star recipient, and newest Captain. Admiral Mason was holding back her tears for him, as he went to the podium for his medal, the Silver Star, for the Battle of Titan One.
“I can honestly tell you there would be no Titan One Space Station today without the exceptional performance of this man. He single-handedly captured more than 110 traitors, and saved the space station, effectively aborting the station’s self-destruct sequence a short ten seconds before explosion, and without command authorization codes, mind you. We could have lost not only Titan One, but the hundreds of lives of the Space Forces and Space Marines who just docked there in the battle group. A major disaster was averted by your efforts, Captain Mason. The thanks of the Space Marines and a grateful URE are yours tonight,” Commandant Richardson lauded, as they all stood and applauded their champion.
Mason was humble and embarrassed, and graciously accepted his medal. The Commandant placed the ribboned medal around his neck and adjusted it just below his URE Medal of Honor. The guests were all called to attention to salute Mason. Admiral Mason said, “I’ve never been more proud of you, John,” tears in her eyes. Admiral Mason couldn’t help noticing most of the Prime Marines came to the dinner alone. How sad so many are single, she thought. Theirs is such a lonely, solitary service. They remained long enough for Mason to receive everyone’s well wishes, and then they left.
They sat on the couch, cuddling and sipping more cognac. “Ten seconds to self-destruct, John? How terrifying! What was really going through your mind?” She asked him.
“I was praying, Rachel. Praying that God would take care of you and Victor. Praying for Him to give me some sign if there was anything I could possibly do to stop the self-destruct. I attempted everything I knew, to no avail. Earth Command couldn’t over-ride the self-destruct sequence. Then, this little light flashed, the last chance to abort. It asked for the command code,” he told her quietly, sipping his cognac.
“How did you know the command code, John? Only the Captain and XO know those codes, I understand,” she said, with a very serious tone in her voice.
“I just knew it: ‘Yellow Man.’ Then it aborted, and we were all safe. It was a miracle. A true miracle.” He shook his head in wonder.
“I almost lost you, John,” she said, tears starting to run down her cheeks. He held her tight and kissed her. They made love that evening with the full knowledge they were given a fresh ch
ance to enjoy each other’s love, closeness, and tenderness. Mason’s close brush with Death inspired them to greater love, and they were both filled with gratitude.
Six thirty a.m., and Mason quickly shut off his wrist comm link. “Colonel Swenson’s coming over to meet me for a run and a workout. Go back to sleep, Rachel.” He got up, showered in a hurry and dressed in his sweats.
She pulled up on a speedster at 7a.m. sharp. Her long, thick blonde hair was in a low ponytail over her red Space Marine sweats. Rachel watched them jog off, then went to bed for another hour of sleep.
Rachel rose, showered, and put on her one-piece lounger. She came out to the kitchen, just in time to watch both of them hurdle the high fence in her back yard and run up to the patio. They were both breathing hard, and Mason pulled off his sweatshirt and said, “It’s hot already.” Colonel Swenson agreed, and removed her sweatshirt covering her sports bra. The Colonel sported a totally flat belly. The duo did identical kung fu routines.
“Victor, come look. John’s martial arts teacher is working out with him this morning,” Rachel said. They sat on the patio, watching.
“Mommy! She moves like John Mason!” Rachel got two clean towels and cold bottled water for them, and waited for their routine to wind down.
“Can you fly like John Mason?” Victor asked the Colonel.
“I taught him to fly,” she answered. She and Mason stepped away from one another and let go with their flying kicks, crossing one another, and Victor jumped up and down in joy.
“Go put on your gi, Victor,” Mason said to him. He took the water and towels from Rachel, and handed one of each to Colonel Swenson. They both drank half the water down, and poured some of the rest over their sweating shoulders and chests.
Victor ran outside in his gi. “Let’s do our tai kwon do for Colonel Swenson, Victor.” Rachel’s boys did their routine, and her young son emulated Mason’s movements.
Colonel Swenson watched them, smiling and pleased. She and Rachel chatted as they watched them. When they both stood on their heads, she threw her head back laughing, and clapped. “Now that’s what I call a personalized routine!” She and Mason stayed on the patio for a while catching up on old times.
“Where’re you off to now, Colonel?” Mason asked her.
“I wanted to stay on Mars for another year. Can’t tell you what’s there, Mason; classified. But I’ve been there the last six months, and all of a sudden things are happening! And a new CO is taking over next month, too, someone I really want to work with, if you know what I mean.”
“Uh-oh. Colonel Sweetie’s got the hots for someone,” Mason teased her. Rachel was in the kitchen, casually pretending to be busy, but listening.
“Mason, nobody’s called me that since Prime Marine School. If I hear you say it in front of anyone…”
“It’s our secret, Colonel,” Mason said, grinning. “So who’s the new CO?”
“Captain Hanson. Esther Hanson. I was the Prime Marine on the battle cruiser Rothschild when she was the XO. Good God, she’s gorgeous!” The Colonel shook her head. “Damned woman drove me crazy! Best legs in the Space Forces, Mason.”
“I know Captain Hanson. I was her Prime Marine on the Esmeralda,” he offered quietly.
Swenson was startled. “The Esmeralda? That was you, Mason? My God, I didn’t know.”
“Yes. Not a good memory, Colonel Swenson,” he said.
“That’s why she didn’t get another ship. The big brass smothered the report, Mason. Captain Hanson’s now in charge of Mars X, as it’s called. She’ll have them whipped into shape. Bunch of lazy-assed jerks there running the show. You know how she is, Mason, a real disciplinarian. It’s a damned shame. Oh well, she’ll excel at whatever she does.” The Colonel shook her head. “She drove me crazy for three years.”
“So, she never succumbed, then?” Mason asked, smiling at her.
“No, and I never approached her. But I was hoping to be around if she ever got curious, you know.” She jabbed Mason’s ribs, and laughed.
“No one waiting at home for you, Colonel?”
“Not anymore. I’m free and single now. It’s hard getting used to, being single again, after all this time. But I’m getting better at it. I even accepted a brunch date for this Sunday, and you’d better keep that a secret, too, Mason,” she threatened.
“Anyone I know, Colonel?” He asked, grinning.
“Yes, you son-of a-bitch. I think you purposefully set us up. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
“Trip over your tongue, Colonel Swenson?” He asked, and got punched in the arm.
“I can still kick your ass, Mason,” she threatened again.
“Did you invite her to the Hell’s Bells tonight?” He asked.
Swenson smiled. “Yes, I did, and I’m not sure if it was a mistake or not. You know I like to have a good time, Mason. Let my hair down and let loose. I’m not sure she’ll like that. Does she drink? I mean, something besides champagne?”
Rachel brought coffee for them. “Anyone for coffee? Café au lait?” She asked in her perfect hostess voice, smiling.
“Sure. Black coffee for me, thanks Admiral,” the Colonel answered.
“We were just talking about the party tonight at the Hell’s Bells, Rachel,” Mason said.
“Please, call me Rachel. I think it’ll be fun, don’t you, John?” Rachel asked, with a sexy smile. Mason started to laugh. “What’s so funny, John?” She put her hands on her hips.
He replied, “Wait until the Prime Marines find out who can drink them under the table: the beautiful Admiral!” They all had a good laugh.
“Really? This will be a good night, then. Thanks for the coffee, Rachel, and for the workout, Mason. See you both tonight!” The Colonel waved as she got on her speedster and left.
After taking Rachel and Victor shopping and to dinner, Mason dropped off Victor at his grandparent’s. He and Rachel dressed in uniforms for the party, took a taxi shuttle to the Hell’s Bells, and arrived just after 8p.m.
“Let’s sit together at the bar. I don’t want to miss anything,” the Admiral said with a big smile. The club was a top to bottom tribute to the Space Marines, with photos, campaign badges, and various Marine paraphernalia all over the walls. There was a stage with a full-length red curtain, featuring the black and gold Prime Marine insignia prominently on one side, and the Space Marine insignia on the other. Wooden tables and chairs were filling up quickly; a dance floor; and leather couches all along the wall opposite them.
“What would you like to drink, Admiral?” The husky bartender asked, smiling at her. His name tag said “Rollo.”
“Do you have Woodford Reserve? On the rocks, please,” she answered.
“The same for me. And one for you, Rollo,” Mason said, smiling.
“Thank you, sir.” The bartender returned with their drinks in over-sized glasses, and offered Admiral Mason a bowl of mixed nuts. She liked him instantly.
“There they are,” Mason said. He motioned for Colonel Swenson and her date to join them. “What are you drinking Colonel Swenson? Captain Westerly?” He asked nicely. “This round’s on me.” They decided on Woodford Reserve, and sat down with them at the bar.
Admiral Mason smiled at her friend for many years, Westerly. So far, they were the only Space Forces officers in the place, and stood out in their black uniforms. The band started setting up as the crowd grew. This was the people-watching opportunity of the year, she thought. Well, next to the waterfall.
Soon, Brig. General Costa and Lt. Colonel Motumbo joined them, and took seats at the bar Admiral Mason saved for them next to her. The sea of crimson uniforms was swelling, and there was not an empty seat in the house.
Mason nudged his Admiral to look at the door, as dozens of very pretty young girls began streaming inside, eyeing the uniformed men. The girls wasted no time getting acquainted with the officers in red. The band finally played some good music to dance to, and Mason took his Admiral by the hand. “Let’s dance.” There were h
alf a dozen couples dancing, but Mason and his Admiral were hands-down the best dancers. They danced happily with anyone who wanted a dance with them, and had a blast. They found each other again when the band took a break, both of them laughing and having a great time. She led him to their bar stools, and they enjoyed talking and having fun with their friends.
Captain Westerly came behind Mason and Admiral Mason. “Seven years together on the Hesperia, and I never once saw you dance, Mason. I never saw you dance like that, either, Rachel. You are both great!” She was grinning ear to ear.
Mason smiled at her, and Admiral Mason laughed. “That was life before bourbon,” she explained, taking Mason’s hand. “A different time, altogether.” She chanced a little kiss to him, both of their eyes twinkling. She leaned closer to Mason, and whispered in his ear. “Take me home, John.” He gladly obliged, and they said good night to their friends, and left the bar.
Rachel rose early the next morning, thinking about Westerly’s observation, how John never danced in the seven years he spent on the Hesperia. How things had changed, indeed. She remembered a comment her late husband Victor once made: “Mason is a man of destiny.” Both their lives were so different since those days on the Hesperia. They both chose separate spouses: Sherrie was killed 4½ years ago on the Hesperia, and Victor was killed last year. Their tragic deaths opened the door for her to reach out to John once again. Rachel knew Victor was correct; John Mason was a man of destiny. Her life was forever changed.
XV
The Mandarin was one of the newest hotels in outer Houston, close to the main transport station and the Earth Command Central base landing site. It featured gleaming architecture of plex-glass and steel, and its higher-level suites all featured balconies and terraces open to the fresh air. It was a beautiful building; one of the new breed of architecturally stunning groups of buildings designed around Earth Command Central.
Mason checked into their honeymoon suite at 4p.m. Friday before the rehearsal dinner. The re-enactment ceremony was to be held Saturday at 3p.m. in the wedding chapel adjacent to the grand banquet hall so everyone could view their vows. Rachel’s heart was set on a formal military wedding, officiated by a Catholic priest, followed by the crossed swords walk-through at the end. Mason gave her what she wanted, as he usually did.
Vengeance of Sukesh: John Mason (Legend of John Mason) Page 19