Sniper (Women of the United Federation Marines Book 2)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  An electric current flowed through the battalion, snapping Gracie’s reverie. She looked up to see an oversized Marine Corps van pull up.

  “It’s showtime,” Zach said as the lounging Marines stood and started moving towards the van.

  Gracie was only about 20 meters away when Chief Warrant Officer Tamara Veal got out of the van and stretched out to her full eight.

  Damn, she’s big! Gracie thought.

  At the parade earlier, she’d seen the gladiator when they’d done their eyes right during the pass in review, but that has been at a distance and looking through the formation. Here, in the battalion square, the gladiator not only towered over the Marines, but radiated mass—a deadly, dangerous mass. Without meaning to, Gracie took a step back.

  All of the battalion were in PT gear for the picnic, and Veal was in her alphas, so Lance Corporal Dolsch, one of her old squad-mates, held an oversized set of shorts and a shirt.

  Gracie couldn’t hear what Dolsch said to her, but she barely caught the “I’ll ‘ma’am’ you, Fanny, but yeah, let me get changed,” that the gladiator said in return.

  Marines had their PAs out, snapping holos as Veal looked up and pointed to the crowd.

  “About time you showed up, ma’am! We’re starving here!” someone shouted as Marines broke out in laughter.

  The gladiator, Dolsch, and Doc Neves, who’d been recommended for a Navy Cross (Gracie figured that saving lives was politically more palatable than killing Federation citizens, not that she resented the Doc’s award), started back to the CP, with Warrant Officer Veal slapping what to her were low fives with Marines along the way.

  “Hell, look at the size of her,” Zach said in awe as the gladiator passed them.

  “Now don’t you go thinking your usual crap, Zach,” Staff Sergeant Riopel said. “She’d tear you in half.”

  Gracie had to laugh. Zach Pure Presence had a reputation for being somewhat of a horn-dog, and the image of him trying to chat up the gladiator struck her as pretty funny.

  “Well, I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind trying to climb that peak,” Zach said, his eyes locked on the gladiator’s retreating back.

  “I heard they can’t get it on,” Brick said.

  “Hell they can’t!” Zach insisted. “You saw Queen Killer. They had all those guys hanging around, buying them stuff and shit. And didn’t Jessica have that thing with, what was his name? The guy David le Peele played?”

  “In your dreams, Zach,” Gracie said. “That’s all Hollybolly, not real. And did Natyly Jutlin look anything like the Warrant Officer?”

  Natyly Jutlin was the very curvaceous and attractive star who had played Jessica in the flick, and the Chief Warrant Officer Veal had been transformed into a fighting machine with very few of her former female characteristics left intact.

  Gracie didn’t actually know if a gladiator could still have sex or not. She hadn’t been back in Lodge Grass when her cousin had come back to be honored by the tribe, and even if she had been there, she couldn’t imagine asking her cousin anything like that.

  “No, but just saying I wouldn’t mind getting a little taste,” he said wistfully.

  “Yeah, like she would ever pick you,” Brick said.

  The conversation shifted to other aspects of the flick and what really went on in the gladiators’ training. Indigo Glastonary had some surprising in-depth knowledge of swords and swordfighting. He was demonstrating several moves when the chief warrant officer came back out, in shorts and the shirt with the 2/3 emblem emblazoned on the chest but barefoot. Gracie guessed no one had access to size a hundred or whatever shoes.

  The gladiator was escorted to where the sergeant major and CO were standing. She looked nervous to Gracie, of all things.

  “Fuzos, we are here to honor one of our own, Chief Warrant Officer Tamara Veal, Gladiator for Humanity!” the sergeant major spoke into his mic.

  There was a rush of ooh-rahs from the gathered Marines.

  “We watched her fight on Halcon 4, where she showed the Klethos what a Marine can do, but we already knew that. We were there when the battalion was on Wyxy, when one of the SevRevs thought he could take out our command. We were there when then Lance Corporal Veal identified the SevRev and tackled his ass, keeping him from detonating his suicide bomb. And that was before she became what she is today. She was just like all of you, a Marine doing her job, and believe me, no one does that better than Marines.”

  There were more ooh-rahs and shouts of “Fuzos!”

  “So, ma’am, I’m sure the Marines and sailors of the battalion would love to hear from you,” he said, unclipping his mic and handing it to her.

  The collar mic was small by design, but it completely disappeared into the gladiator’s hand. She looked at it for a few seconds, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

  “Thank you for your welcome,” she managed to get out. “I. . .I’m glad to see some friendly faces. And some not so friendly, Staff Sergeant Abdálle. Yeah, I see you there,” she said, pointing down at him.

  The battalion broke out in laughter and “ooh-rahs.” The staff sergeant had a reputation for being a real hard-ass, but he smiled and raised his hand in acknowledgment.

  “I’ve followed your deployment on Jericho, and I have to say, I’m proud of you, all of you. I just found out that my friend, Doc Neves, is up for a Navy Cross, and I’m, well, I’m bursting with pride at that. I just wish I’d been with you in person instead of just in spirit.”

  Again “ooh-rahs” interrupted her.

  “I’m detached from the Corps right now. But there are eight of us serving as gladiators, and we remember our roots. And my roots, where I feel at home, is with Second Battalion, Third Marines! Fuzos!”

  The battalion, Gracie included, erupted into chants of “Fuzos, Fuzos!” The battalion had a long and storied history, and now it had absorbed more glory by sending one of its own to be a gladiator.

  The chief warrant officer handed the mic back to the sergeant major. She waved to the still chanting crowd, then let herself be led to the serving tables.

  “About time,” Zach said. “My belly’s touching my backbone.”

  “Maybe you should hit the gym more then,” Gracie said. “Get some muscle built up.”

  Gracie was too short to see much through the Marines, so she just let herself flow along with the other sergeants to their position in the chow line.

  When she heard the gladiator shout, “Where are those privates,” she tried to see.

  “What’s she doing?” she asked.

  Indigo Glastonary, who was over two meters tall, had a much better view, and he said, “She’s doing the serving, her and the CO.”

  The CO was always the last to be served, and she’d often done the serving at functions like this, but Chief Warrant Officer Veal was the guest of honor, so Gracie was surprised that she was serving as well.

  With the entire battalion and some additional friends of the gladiator at the picnic, the line moved slowly. The gladiator was speaking to each Marine as well, which further slowed things down. Gracie wondered how long she would keep serving, but 25 minutes later, when the sergeants reached the front, she was still at it.

  Gracie was the fifth sergeant in the line, and when she held out her plate for a scoop of the macaroni salad, she was surprised that Chief Warrant Officer Veal recognized her.

  “Corporal Medicine Crow, it’s good to see you!”

  “It’s Sergeant Medicine Crow now, ma’am. I was promoted last year.”

  “Oh. Well, congratulations! I never bought you that drink, you know, the one for saving my ass on Wyxy. We waited half the night for you, and then after that, you know, I had to leave.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, I didn’t make it. But don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything. You took on that SevRev suicider. I wasn’t in any danger myself.”

  “Well, you still saved my ass, and I’m grateful for that.”

  “Sergeant Medicine Crow was one of our best snipers on Jeric
ho,” the CO said from beside the gladiator where she was handing out dinner rolls.

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” the gladiator said.

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” Gracie said once more before starting to step to her right to get her dinner roll, then hesitating.

  She looked back at the gladiator, who had stopped scooping out another spoonful of mac salad to see why she’d stopped.

  Gracie wasn’t sure why she’d bothered to stop, but she decided to plunge in with, “Uh, Ma’am, have you met Chief Warrant Officer Falcon Coups?”

  “Of course, I have. There are only eight Marines serving as gladiators, you know. Why, do you know her?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She’s my cousin,” the sergeant said before turning and holding her tray out to the CO.

  Why the hell did I have to say that? She doesn’t need me to suck up to her, she scolded herself.

  “Really?” Zach asked as soon as they passed through the line, plates laden with grub. “Falcon Coups is your cousin?”

  “Yeah,” she said as she looked for a place to sit down and eat.

  “How come you never bothered to mention that little tidbit to any of us?”

  “I didn’t think it’s important. I don’t think it is. So how about keeping quiet about it, OK?”

  “OK, if that’s how you want it. But other people heard, so I bet it goes around.”

  Most of the gladiators were well known to the public, especially those who’d been braided by winning in the ring, and with the Marines love of all things pertaining to unit loyalty, brotherhood, and the culture of semper fi, everyone in the Corps knew each and every gladiator.

  It wasn’t as if there was a surplus of the Apsaalooké in the Corps, not that anyone would recognize their name for themselves. There were 21 current members of the tribe serving on active duty in the Marines (along with 12 in the Navy and 32 in the FCDC), a small number, but a high percentage considering the overall population of the nation. Every Marine would know that her cousin was from Earth, an American, and a Crow. Gracie was from Earth, and American, and a Crow. Heck even her last name had “Crow” in it. If no one could connect the dots, then that wasn’t her problem, and she rather liked it that way.

  Sergeant Gracie Medicine Crow wanted to be known as the best sniper in Marine Corps history, not as the cousin to a gladiator.

  Chapter 30

  32

  With a sigh, Gracie got out of the beat up easy chair someone had scrounged and put in the platoon briefing room.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Zach asked.

  Gracie glared at him, but he didn’t seem to have a joke or insult on his lips. He seemed genuinely interested. Glastonary and Manny Chun turned to look as well. All four of them had hidden out in the briefing room. Gracie, because she had her meeting with the major, and the other three simply because they could, and slacking off was something that soldiers had done ever since there were soldiers to do it.

  “No, not yet.”

  “You’re going to be seeing Major Cranston in ten minutes, and you haven’t decided?”

  “No, I said I don’t know yet,” she snapped.

  Zach seemed to take it in stride, not taking umbrage, and he said, “I can walk over there with you, if you want. It’s your call, but sometimes it helps to talk it out.”

  Gracie waited for the punchline, but the sergeant seemed earnest.

  That’s a miracle. He’s actually being nice.

  “No, it’s OK. I’ll handle it.”

  She turned to leave the briefing room, and Manny shouted out “Good luck, Gracie!”

  She had she’d been suspicious of everyone when she’d first joined the platoon. A couple of experiences while with Echo 3/12 that had gone over the line; one in particular with her platoon sergeant who’d taken a more intimate interest in her than protocol (or Marine regulations) allowed, and that had resulted in her erecting the wall she kept between other Marines and her, a wall that allowed for professional interaction, but very openly kept out social interaction. With this platoon, though, that wall had slowly begun to crumble. She was still reserved, but starting with Eli, and even with jerks like Zach, she realized that not every man in the world was trying to get into her panties, and her platoon mates seemed to care about her not only as a fellow scout-sniper, but as a brother-in-arms. She was sure that any one of them would have her back no matter what turned up. And no matter what she told the major, no matter her decision, they would support her.

  She walked past the company headquarters, still deep in thought. She usually made decisions quickly with very little equivocation, but this time, she had gone back and forth as she considered her options.

  Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed the brand new second lieutenant who had just exited the company CP.

  “Oh, sorry, sir,” she said, snapping a belated salute.

  The lieutenant could have been an ass about it, but he saluted back with a calm, “No problem, Sergeant, but keep alert.”

  The lieutenant took a left on the sidewalk while Gracie continued in the opposite direction. After about ten steps, she stopped and looked at the retreating back of the lieutenant. Some butter bars might have gotten upset with her, some would have reacted like this one had. Officers ran the gamut from assholes to nice guys with everything in between—just like enlisted Marines. And neither end of the spectrum had an advantage in being a good leader. That was something that couldn’t be pigeon-holed. Gracie thought Lieutenant Wadden was a great leader, and she would follow him anywhere. But her Echo Company commander in 3/12, Captain Jerez, could be extremely demanding and swore like a drunken sailor, but he was also a superb leader. When Gracie had hesitantly reported her platoon sergeant to the lieutenant, Captain Jerez had taken swift and severe action, not the least was firing the staff sergeant from his position. Wadden and Jerez were almost polar opposites, but they were alike in that their Marines would do anything for them.

  Gracie was feeling comfortable with her platoon mates, and she was sure they respected her as a sniper, but did she have it in her to develop the same sort of loyalty and dedication. Did she even want that?

  She turned into the battalion CP, her mind still warring with itself. She knew what she wanted, but was that a mistake? Was she shirking from a challenge?

  She checked her PA; she had two more minutes.

  “Sergeant Medicine Crow, how’re you doing?” Staff Sergeant Holleran asked as she exited the S4 office and spotted Gracie. “I’ve got a new Model W in yesterday, all sitting pretty in its case. Maybe you should come down and pop her cherry. Of course, I’d have to go with you, you know, to make sure you don’t break her.”

  Gracie had to laugh. She’d gotten close to the staff sergeant after returning from Jericho, and she even called her Megan when they were alone. The Model W was the latest and greatest Barrett, and it would be pretty fun to see what the weapon could do. That was one of the benefits of having a friend who ran the armory: she now had a pretty free reign in the place.

  She hadn’t told Megan about her present predicament, though. Megan was an onwards-and-upwards kind of woman, and Gracie knew what she would want her to do.

  “Sounds good, staff sergeant. Give me shout tonight and I’ll let you know when I can break off tomorrow.”

  Megan gave her arm a pat as she walked past and said, “Will do. We’ve got Fox coming in around 1600, so if they can get their shit in line, I can probably break free at 1900. I’ll give you a call.”

  “Is that you, Sergeant Medicine Crow?” Major Cranston shouted from inside his office. He poked his head out a moment later and said, “I thought I heard you. Come on in.”

  Gracie followed him in, getting ready to center herself on his desk, but he moved to the side instead, taking a seat on his couch and motioning for her to sit on the couch kitty-corner to his.

  Oh, it’s going to be the casual touch, she thought. I think I’d rather keep this formal.

  “So, Sergeant, I hope you
thought long and hard about this,” the major said, skipping any small talk.

  “Yes, sir, I have.”

  “Good, good. So what’s it going to be?”

  “Sir,” she started, then stopped to take in a deep breath of air. “I really appreciate this, and I can’t tell you how much. You’ve given so much support tothe platoon, and now this? I’m really, really grateful.”

  “I’m not liking where I think this is going, Sergeant,” the major said, a frown beginning to turn down the corners of his mouth.

  Oh, crap! He’s going to be pissed.

  “I. . .it’s not that I don’t think. . .I mean to say, sir, I really appreciate it, but I think I have to turn it down.”

  There, it’s out, she thought as she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders.

  The major suddenly started studying his fingers while Gracie waited for the explosion.

  “Is it the academics, Sergeant? I know the Academy is demanding, but I’ve seen your transcripts. You went to a tough school, and your grades were good. I know you can make it there.”

  “Oh, no sir, that’s not it.”

  “Then what is it? You do know that only 20 Marines get into the full program each year. And you are cleared to take one of those spots.”

  “I know, sir. And I’m honored that you think I deserve one of those seats. But the fact of the matter is. . .”

  Just spit it out, Crow!

  “. . .the fact of the matter is that I don’t want to be an officer.”

  The look on the major’s face was almost comical, like a little boy who’d just been told there was no Santa Claus. Gracie would have smiled had she not been in such a tense situation.

  “I. . . I don’t understand, Sergeant Medicine Crow. Why not?”

  “No disrespect, sir. I don’t hate officers. But I don’t want to do what officers have to do. I’ve watched Lieutenant Wadden, sir. I’ve seen the look on his face when he sends us out on missions. He wants to go. It’s in his blood. But he can’t because he’s the platoon commander, and it’s our job to fight.”