Gladiator (Women of the United Federation Marines Book 1)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “You just stick with it, Tenzing. You’ll do fine,” she said, putting a hand on his good shoulder.

  “Uh, begging the ma’am’s pardon, but do you think I could get a holo? I want to send it to my girlfriend. She’s a huge fan of yours, and she’s so jealous that I’m meeting you.”

  That took Tamara by surprise. Not that the Marine wanted a holo. That was why Colonel Convington had brought along a holoman, after all. But the pride in Lance Corporal Friar’s voice that he was the lucky one to meet her, and that someone was jealous of him. He had only half of his body, but he felt lucky, just for meeting her.

  “Oh, of course! Here, let me come around for you,” she said, motioning for the holoman. “And if you want, you give me her address, and I will personally zap her the holo.”

  “Oh, really? Fucking yeah I will—oh, excuse my language, ma’am. Of course, I’ll give you it. She’ll about die!” the happy Marine said, the good half of his mouth curving up in a grin.

  Tamara posed for the holo, got Friar’s girlfriend’s address, and gave him a hug before moving on to the next, eagerly waiting Marine. Colonel Covington had blocked out an hour for the visit, to be followed by 2/3’s picnic. Tamara took almost two-and-a-half hours. Other than the lone holoman, there was no press, no fanfare. This was just Tamara and the Marines and sailors undergoing treatment, not a puplic holo-op, even if every one of them, got a holo with her. Not all of the patients were combat casualties. One of the Navy corpsmen had been in a horrendous hover accident and had burns over 2/3s of her body. Tamara tried to spend time with each of them, giving them encouragement.

  When she finally left, she felt uplifted. What she was doing as a gladiator was important, but it was the Marines and sailors who were keeping the Federation strong and serving the citizens. No one was giving them a luau on Hiapo. They didn’t have newsies following them around. They didn’t get the accolades, but what they were doing was every bit as important as what she was doing.

  “Do you think I can visit the other Wounded Warrior battalions?” she asked the colonel after the visit as she rode to the 2/3 battalion area.

  There were six of the battalions, and she felt a need to see the other five.

  “Of course, as far as the Corps is concerned, we would love that and would bend over backwards to make it happen. But the UAM might not be as sanguine for you to spend much more time away from them.”

  He was beating around the bush that with each gladiator’s clock ticking down to the inevitable, their time had to be maximized. This trip could be her last ever off Malibu or whatever world she’d be sent to next.

  That put a little bit of a dent in Tamara’s high, and she just sat back in her seat until the van pulled into the 2/3 area. As the door pulled back, a cheer erupted from the gathered Marines as they greeted her.

  The entire battalion was in PT gear, and in her alphas, Tamara felt overdressed. She was about to turn to the colonel when Fanny Dolsch stepped forward, a huge set of PT gear in her hands.

  “We’re guessing you might want to get more comfortable, ma’am?” she said.

  “I’ll ‘ma’am’ you, Fanny, but yeah, let me get changed,” she said, happy to see a face she recognized.

  She scanned the crowd, easily picking out Jessup Wythe. She pointed a long arm at him.”

  “About time you showed up, ma’am! We’re starving here!” he said to the laugh of the crowd.

  Lieutenant Colonel Rhonendren was standing near her, in her PT gear like everyone else. But she didn’t rush up to greet her. It was as if she realized that Tamara wanted to see her friends first. This was about Tamara, not her, and Tamara appreciated that.

  She followed Fanny and Doc Neves through the crowd, high-fiving—well low-fiving for her, high-fiving for the other Marines—making her way to the battalion CP. Fanny led her to the sergeant major’s office. She had to hunch over, but she managed to get her alphas off, which she gave to Doc to hang up, and slipped into the PT gear, the 2/3 emblem emblazoned on the front of the shirt. They didn’t have shoes for her, and she thought she looked silly with her florsheims on, so she simply kicked her shoes off and went barefoot.

  “I heard Jericho was pretty rough,” she said to Fanny.

  “Yeah, it kind of sucked,” Fanny admitted. “The ROE[15] was messed up, you know.”

  “You heard about Wheng, right?” Doc asked.

  “No, what about him?”

  “They brought a wall down on him, him and Korf. Korf was messed up, but he pulled through and was casevac’d, but Wheng didn’t make it.”

  Tamara felt gut-shot. Corporal Wheng? She’d always liked him.

  “Don’t let Doc downplay it. When the wall went down, we got hit bad, and she went all badger there, digging like crazy while rounds were bouncing everywhere. She pulled Korf out and saved his ass. She’s getting a Navy Cross for it.”

  “Really?” Tamara asked, pretty impressed.

  “It was no thing,” Doc said, but Tamara could tell she was proud of what she’d done.

  As she should be.

  In a way, Tamara thought what these Marines, or in Doc’s case, sailors, were doing took more courage that what she was doing. She’d had this conversation with Jonna, Elei, and Beth. Elei didn’t agree, and the other two were non-committal, but when they all had undergone genmodding, the die was cast. They had limited time left, so going into the ring wasn’t that big of a deal. No one wants to die before their time, but a gladiator’s time was limited, and their life outside of Chicsis was non-existent. These Marines, however, or soldiers or militia from other forces, had the potential for a full life. Corporal Wheng had only been 22 years old. He had a good seventy or eighty years ahead of him, years that had been cut short on Jericho.

  The three left the CP and emerged again to the cheers of the battalion. The Sergeant Major took a throat mic and welcomed Tamara “back home.” He made a few comments about her service, focusing on her actions on Wyxy, and barely mentioning her fight on Halcon 4. To the battalion, her service as a gladiator was almost secondary. What mattered was that she was a Marine.

  When he gave Tamara the mic, she was stumped. She’d figured she’d have to talk, but looking over the eager faces of her fellow Marines, she suddenly felt shy.

  “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” while her former platoon sergeant had the grace to smile and nod, raising 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.”

  More “ooh-rahs” reached up from the crowd.

  “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!”

  Tamara hadn’t thought she was finished, but the battalion did. They simply erupted into chants of “Fuzos, Fuzos!” The battalion, whose patron unit was the Portuguese Corps de Fuzileiros, had a long and storied history. Ryck Lysander, the most storied Marine in Federation history, had even commanded it. And now, Tamara was just one more link in the chain, one more Marine to bring the battalion glory.

  The chants continued with no sign of letting up, so Tamara gave the mic back to the sergeant major. She waved to the crowd before allowing herself to be led to the food tables. As the guest of honor, she was being offered first dibs at the food, which looked to be gladiator-safe. That was a far cry from the meals on Orinoco, where regular food was served at which Tamara had to pick and choose food which was allowed her.

  Guest of honor or not, Tamara was not going to be fed first
. Marine tradition was that the junior Marines go first, senior after that. As a chief warrant officer, Tamara now out-ranked a good portion of the battalion. So instead of taking a plate, she grabbed a serving spoon instead, shouting “Where are those privates?”

  The CO, the sergeant major, and another Marine who Tamara didn’t recognize (but later found out was the battalion XO) joined her, and the line started. Tamara positioned herself by the macaroni salad, dishing out a spoonful to each Marine as he or she passed by. She had a greeting for each, asking the names of those she didn’t recognize, happily greeting those she did.

  She gave Jessup Wythe two scoops of salad, telling him that was for making him wait. When Victor Williams came through the line, she hesitated for just a moment while he stood in front of her. She’d felt a strong attraction to the handsome Marine before, but that feeling was gone, and that made her sad. He looked nervous as he held out his plate.

  “Here you go, Victor. You’re looking good,” she said as she gave him a scoop.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, still looking nervous, but a smile creasing the corners of his mouth.

  Several of her recruit training classmates had come to the party, and Tamara was pleased and happy to see them. Baker Suarez had even made sergeant already, which was well ahead of the rest of the class.

  When a stunningly beautiful Marine stepped up in front of her, Tamara hesitated for a moment before recognition kicked in.

  “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 Jericho,” the CO said, the first time she’d interjected anything into Tamara’s interactions with the Marines.

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” Tamara said.

  “Thank you, Ma’am,” the sergeant said once more before starting to step to her right to get the dinner roll served by the CO, then hesitating.

  Tamara looked up at her expectantly.

  She seemed to war within herself on whether to speak, but then asked, “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 for the dinner roll.

  The sergeant was certainly withdrawn, Tamara thought, surprised that nothing else was forthcoming.

  And that is probably why she earned the nickname “Ice Queen.” But she did her job in saving Tamara on Wyxy, and from what the CO had just said, she’d done it on Jericho as well.

  The rest of the enlisted came through the line. She gave Staff Sergeant Abdálle another hard time, feinting giving him his salad, then pulling it back. He laughed, thank goodness, and she ended up giving him two scoops. The man was a certified hard-ass, but he was a good leader, and that was what mattered.

  When Chief Warrant Officer 4 Morrey came up and told her to join the line, she refused. Yes, he was senior to her, but she was enjoying herself, and this was a good way to meet everyone. He relented and let her serve him. The rest of the officers filed through. As with the enlisted, it was not just 2/3 officers, though. She was surprised, and pleased, to see Lieutenant Colonel Versace there. She respected the man, even if he thought she might not make it as a gladiator.

  After Colonel Covington was fed, the four servers made a show of filling each other’s plates. Tamara glanced down at the meal, which looked surprisingly good, just as her stomach rumbled. She realized she was starving.

  She gave her respects to the other three, then made her way to where her old squad was waiting for her. To her surprise, no one had eaten yet. They had been waiting for her. Tamara squatted on the ground so she would be at eye level with them and dug in the food. She asked to be brought up to speed on everything that had happened since she’d accepted the nomination.

  It was almost 0200 when she finally left, missing her meal with her family and anything else they’d had planned. She’d make it up later in the day to them. But the Marines of 2/3 were also her family, and spending time with them, probably for the last time, had been something she’d had to do.

  TARAWA

  Chapter 28

  “Nemesis-One, this is Nemesis-Two,” Beth passed over the child’s Walky-Talky-Panda. “What’s your pos, over?”

  “Quiet!” Tamara sent back in a forceful whisper. “There’s no mute on this thing!”

  “Nemesis-One, that is not correct communications procedure. Please say again, over.”

  Tamara ran back out of the room and collapsed in the common room, her back against the wall. She tried to suppress her laughter.

  “Uh, Nemesis-Two, this is Nemesis-One. I am at the target’s location. Be advised, this thing does not have a mute, and you almost alerted the target.”

  When there was no response, she remembered to say, “Over.”

  “Roger that. Be advised that the secondary target is not at the objective. I say again, the target is not at the objective, over.”

  Heck! What do we do now? Tamara wondered.

  She came to a decision and passed, “Understood, Nemesis-Two. Come to my location and assist me, over.”

  “Roger that. I’m on my way, out.”

  Tamara looked leaned back and put the pink plastic child’s radio on the deck. She’d been amazed to see them in the commissary, and she just had to pick them up. Beth had been delighted with them, especially the panda imbedded in the plastic, its open mouth the microphone pick-up.

  Tamara sat alone in the darkened room, waiting. She heard the front door slowly creep open and waited.

  “Nemesis-One, this is Nemesis-Two. I am at your position, over,” Beth said, both into her Walky-Talky-Panda and while standing over Tamara.

  “Jeez, Beth. Why don’t you wake up the whole village,” she responded, lurching for her radio to turn it off.

  “Roger dodger, 10 by 10, wilco, over and out,” Beth said into her radio.

  The original idea was Tamara’s, but Beth had pretty much taken over the operation, fleshing out the op order. All the details were Beth’s, even the call signs. Nemesis was the ancient Greek goddess of revenge, and that fit the bill. At least she’d let Tamara be Nemesis-One.

  “So, Objective One is still a go?” Beth asked.

  “Right there,” Tamara said, nodding at the closed door.

  “OK, then let’s do it.”

  The two gladiators silently got up and carefully crept to the closed door. Tamara put her ear to it, but there was no sound from inside. She looked to Beth, needlessly put her forefinger to her lips, and slowly pushed the door open.

  Inside the dark room, a large lump was motionless on the bed under some heavy blankets. Tamara crept up, fearful that the lump would spring up, ready for action. She needn’t have bothered.

  Gladiators slept soundly. There was no reason for them to be on the alert around the clock, and deep sleep was thought to delay the onset of the Brick, so deep sleeping was programmed into them during genmod. A gladiator could be woken, of course, but it normally took some effort, and Tamara and Beth were determined not to wake their target.

  Carefully, oh so carefully, they took their rolls of Orangutape, and passing it over and under the bed to each other, they slowly created a cocoon around their sleeping beauty. Tamara was afraid of making it too tight, waking her up, but she slept on, the slightest of snores filling the room.

  They used all 50 meters of Tamar’s roll,
then another half of Beth’s before they quit. That would be enough to hold even a gladiator secure.

  Next came the tricky part. Sleeping deeply was one thing when applying the tape, but now they had to move her for phase two of the plan. Together, the gladiator and bed weighed close to 500 kilos, and the bed would barely fit through the door leading out. The burden was not too much for the two of them, though. With Tamara at the head of the bed and Beth at the foot, they carefully lifted the bed and gladiator up. Slowly shuffling out, they managed to maneuver their burden out of the bedroom, down the entryway, and out the big double doors.

  “Is that her?” Elei whispered, coming out of the dark.

  “Sshh!” Tamara hissed.

  They carried the bed out the gate and carefully deposited it in the middle of the street. Jonna never stirred under her blanket and Orangutape cocoon.

  “I thought you said Elei wasn’t there!” she whispered to Beth as the backed away.

  “Well, she wasn’t. She was here,” Beth said.

  “What happened?”

  “Your partner in crime was testing her comms while I was there, and she couldn’t keep a secret when I asked her what was up,” Elei said. “Don’t blame her.”

  “Of course, I’m blaming her. What about OpSec?”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist. You got back at your roomie, and that’s what’s important, even if it took you two girls long enough. Great plan, though. I wish I’d come up with it,” Elei said.

  It had been a good plan. Jonna slept on, trapped in her bed in the middle of Deerwood Street. And no one seeing her would wake her. It was an accepted rule that no one interfered with a good prank.

  Tamara put the small holocorder she’d gotten at the commissary on the front gate post. She wanted to have everything recorded when Jonna woke up.

  Yes, it had been a good plan, and revenge was always sweet.

  Chapter 29