Captain (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 4) (3 page)

Chapter 4

Thanks to modern medicine, Ryck felt surprisingly human the next morning as he went back down to the planet’s surface.  Shabah hadn’t made it back to the ship the night before, but the duty corpsman didn’t even ask when Ryck showed up at sickbay and simply gave him the injection.  Within minutes, his head shrank to half its size, and his brain actually started to work again.  His mouth still tasted like a sewer, but a quick shower and brush, and he was ready to go meet Hannah.

He was looking forward to the four days with her.  During workups and getting ready for deployment, they hadn’t had much time together.  Ryck’s schedule, Hannah’s schedule, and most of all, the demands of the twins had them parenting instead of being husband and wife.  Now, with Hannah’s cousin watching the twins, they could focus only on each other, and Ryck could use the loving.  It was going to be a long stretch of sleeping alone, and he planned on making good use of their time together.

There was a flower vendor at the commercial terminal, so he scooped up a dozen roses.  He buried his nose in them, inhaling.  These were some new strain, and their scent was heady.  It reminded him of Hannah—not so much that Hannah liked roses, but that Ryck did, and he continually bought her rose bubble bath and toilet spray.  The more he smelled them, the more excited he was to see her and the harder the wait.

There were no immigration formalities for Federation citizens on Colt 45, but still, it took quite a bit of time for a passenger liner to unload close to 6,000 passengers.  Ryck looked up anxiously each time a shuttle unloaded, but it wasn’t until the seventh load that he spotted his Hannah.

She looked a little bedraggled as she followed the throng through the glass entryway, pulling her small suitcase.  Hannah was a Torritite, and so she was never much into make-up.  She had gained a little weight over their years together, especially after having the twins.  But to Ryck, she was as beautiful as ever.  He still wondered how he had ever gotten her to fall in love with him, and he prayed she would never realize she was too good for him.

They’d had a rocky patch after Joshua, her brother, had been killed by the trinoculars, but since then, Ryck thought their relationship had become stronger than ever.  And now with the twins, his personal life was about as good as it had ever been.

She didn’t see him as she came through the exit.  He snuck up behind her and thrust the roses around and in front of her face.

She took a sniff, then without looking behind her, said, “Thanks for the roses, but you should know, I be married to a Marine, and he’d not be taking kindly to you hitting on me.”

“He can’t be that tough,” Ryck said, sliding an arm around her belly.

“Yes he is, but if we get out of here quick, he won’t be knowing where we’ve gone.”

Ryck turned her around and gave her a kiss.  “Missed you,” he said.

“I missed you, too, but I’m here now.  I want to see this resort hotel you’ve picked out.  Care to escort me there, Marine?”

“Your wish is my command, my lady,” he said, taking her suitcase.

Outside was something of a madhouse with people breaking the line to grab autocabs.  Each autocab was programmed to wait its turn despite the admonitions of those who’d jumped the line to get going on their way.  This was a tourist destination with heavy influxes of arrivals, so Ryck would’ve thought they’d have it more organized.  It took them a good twenty minutes before they got their own cab and were on their way.

Hannah snuggled up against Ryck on the ride, hands roaming a bit in a promise of what was to come.  If the windows on the cab could be darkened, Ryck thought they might not have waited until they got to the Spruce Look Resort.

It took almost an hour, but at last, the “We will be arriving at your destination in approximately two minutes.  Fergusson’s Autocab wishes you a pleasant stay, and we want to remind you to press Star 5558 for your future travel needs,” came over the autocab’s speakers. 

Hannah leaned forward to look out the window as the resort came into view.  Ryck had to admit that it was pretty impressive.  Huge conifers—which had to be genmodded, they were so big—surrounded a white two-story building with extensive brown wood molding and trim.  Behind the resort, a picture-postcard lake could be seen through the trees.  It looked quiet, inviting, and just like the type of place where the two could lose themselves in each other.

There was a human receptionist to check them in, which was a nice touch.  “Byron” was a young man, but his manner was impeccable.  He reminded Ryck of some of the characters in any of the recent flicks taking place in 19
th
Century Britain.  Ryck knew that the resort was a meticulously planned product from the Brilliant Travel Experiences Corporation.  In many ways, it was a facade of sorts.  The fanciful Hollywood version of English life at the time may not be accurate, but it fit the company’s vision of what its customers wanted.  Ryck tended to be a bit cynical about Corporate Federation, but when an actual bellhop came to take their bags, he couldn’t help but feel impressed.  It may have been a show, but it was working.

The room was beautiful, and Hannah actually made an audible intake of air as she saw it. 

Score one for Ryck!

Kreicher—the bellhop—went around the room, explaining the features.  Hannah was listening with rapt attention, but Ryck wanted Kreicher to wrap it up and get out.  When he finished, Ryck wasn’t sure how to tip the bellhop as he didn’t have a PA on his uniform.  Kreicher had out his own PA, and the bellhop had obviously been through this before.

“Captain Lysander, assisting you is our pleasure.  We do not need a gratuity, but if you insist, there is a recpad over here,” he said, pointing to a small screen by the door that Ryck had missed.  “So with that, I will leave you alone now.  We at the Spruce Lodge hope you have a very enjoyable stay.”

Kreicher left, and Ryck tapped in 20 credits on his PA.

“Oh, more than that,” Hannah said as she watched.  “He was so helpful.”

Ryck had thought that 20 was more than generous, but he dutifully increased it to 25, then tapped the recpad.  Done and done, and now for more important things.

He grabbed Hannah and pulled her in for a kiss.  She returned the kiss, but only briefly before pulling away.

“Not like this, Ryck.  I’m a mess.  Let me get prettied up, OK?”

Ryck wouldn’t have minded if Hannah had just come out of the gym, but as dense as he could be, he’d learned a few things about being married.  He gave her a kiss on the forehead and let her go.  She took her suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.  When he heard the shower turn on, he contemplated joining her but decided she would rather he wait.  It was OK—they had four days together.

He took a seat on the foot of the bed, thought about turning on the holo, and once again, with his married self the voice of caution, figured that wouldn’t be the most romantic thing to do.  He cupped his hand over his mouth and took a whiff.  His breath seemed OK, but he threw down a breath bud anyway, feeling the explosion of mint as the little nanos cleaned his tongue and throat.

He was wondering what was taking her so long when his tether sounded.  The “tether” was the nickname given the Personnel Communications Receiver given to each Marine and sailor while deployed.  It looked like a small, old-fashioned watch, but its purpose was to enable anyone to be reached within a planetary system.  With a sinking feeling, he flipped open the cover.

His heart sank.  It was a Class 1 recall.  Something was up, something big.

He stood up, went to the closed bathroom door, and opened it.

“Hey!” Hannah protested, a toothbrush in her mouth, her hair in clips sticking in all sorts of directions.  “Keep your pants on . . .” she started until something in Ryck’s expression registered with her.

“Recall?” she asked with a resigned tone, but one in which she was hoping she was wrong.

Ryck just nodded.

“What class?”

“Class 1.”

Her expression fell, as she put the toothbrush down.  Toothpaste foam still bubbled around her lips as the nanos went about their mission, oblivious to the drama.

“Do you think it be a drill?”she asked without too much hope.

“The sergeant major promised us no drills.  No, I think it’s real,” Ryck said, not knowing if he was more disappointed for himself or for seeing his wife’s expression.

Being married to a Marine was tough.  The separations and demands put on a Marine had destroyed more than a fair share of Marine marriages.  Hannah actually worked for the military in her civilian capacity, so she might have a better feel for the Corps than some other wives, but that didn’t make it any easier.  They’d been married now for almost ten years, and they had spent exactly two anniversaries together.  Ryck had missed countless birthdays and other holidays.  He had missed the twins’ birth. 

“Well, that be life, I guess,” she said.  I’ll wait here until we know for sure.  If I don’t hear from you by evening, I’ll be getting on the next ship out.”

Ryck slowly walked over and leaned in to kiss her.  The toothpaste foam filled his mouth.  She returned his fierce hug.

Ryck loved the Corps, but sometimes, he resented its demands on him.

He tugged at the towel Hannah had wrapped around her, dropping it to the floor.  He pulled Hannah in tight, forcing the air from her lungs.  She eagerly sought his mouth with hers before breaking off.

“Ryck, I want you, but the recall. . .”

“Screw the recall.  I’ve got two hours to report back to the shuttle, and I’m going to use every single minute allotted to me so I can spend time with my wife.  I assume that’s OK with you?” he asked facetiously.

She didn’t verbally respond, but her physical response was more than enough.

This wasn’t as he had imagined it.  Her hair was a mess.  She had foam all over her mouth.  She didn’t have on the sexy negligee he could see hanging on a hook by the sink.  But she was his wife, and he loved her.

He took her by the hand and almost dragged her out into the bedroom.  He’d have to be quick, but he figured he was more than up to the task.

Chapter 5

“At 22:15 MST, the
FS Julianna’s Dream
, a registered Federation yacht was seized by the Confederation System Guard while in neutral space.  It was taken under traction and towed to the CF-32 system where we have learned through the Brotherhood embassy on Neuvo Bogata that a Confederation Navy cargo vessel, probably the CS
Prince of Celeste
, will bring it back to the Firenze Station,” LT Brisco Telemark, the ship’s intel officer, briefed the gathered staff. 

“We have lodged a complaint with the Confederation of Free States and demanded the ship’s immediate release, but the Confederation has accused the
Julianna’s Dream
of being on a spy mission in their space.  Since that response, the President of the Confederation has recalled his ambassador and pulled our ambassador’s credentials.

“Here is the CF-32 system,” he said, pointing to an image over the portable holo base that had been put on the wardroom table.

The
Inchon
was extremely advanced in most ways, but for a troop transport, there was no central briefing room.  Each stateroom was connected for conference briefs, but the sailors and Marines quickly abandoned the system except for entertainment.  A briefing needed to be face-to-face for the best conveyance of information, so the wardroom was quickly chosen as a defacto briefing room.  It was crowded with all the required staff, but it was better than the alternative.

“The system has no habitable planets, but it has two research stations, one which is experimenting with methods to mine the atmosphere of its gas giant, CF-32-5.”

The holo centered on a ringed planet.

Ryck wasn’t up-to-date on all mining research, but he was basically aware of the drive to develop an economically viable method to pull substances such as hydrogen deuteride, which  increased efficiencies in modern fabrication, out of gas giants.  Most of the gas giants’ atmospheres were simple hydrogen, but with such huge volumes of gasses, even trace amounts of hydrogen deuteride resulted in tremendous amounts of the gas.

If the
Julianna’s Dream
strayed too close to the system, then Ryck wasn’t surprised that the ship was detained.  Why the Confederation wouldn’t release the ship now was another story, though.

“The
Prince of Celeste
is a
Tonder
class heavy hauler, and we don’t think it can arrive on station before 05:15 on June 8, MST.  It could be preceded by a warship, of course, but we’ve had no indication of sudden unplanned departures of capital ships in the region.

“That leaves the System Guard ship.  We do not have a firm identification of the ship yet, but it is probably a
Wrym
class packet, which would put it at 50,000 tons, armed with a second generation 50 KJ plasma cannon, four torpedo tubes, and a 50mm railgun.”

Ryck could almost see the slight easing of the tension among the Navy staff.  While that ship might be more than enough to be a deterrent of pirates and tax runners, it was hardly a match for the
Inchon
.

“The
Julianna’s Dream
is a Cessna 900,” he went on perking up the ears of all the ship groupies.  Ryck was not up on all the newest and greatest in the yacht fleets, but even he knew the Cessna was top-of-the-line.

“The owner-pilot is Mr. Terrance Gilbreath, a businessman.  Onboard are his wife, three children, and four personal staff.

“That’s all for my initial assessment.  I will feed more out as I receive it.  Let me turn it over to Commander Marsov.”

“So are we going to show the flag, you think?” Donte asked Ryck as they sat in the second row of seats.

“You’ve got me,” Ryck said as he looked at the other staff crowded around.

Over half of the men were in civvies.  At least everyone had gotten back on the ship before it left orbit, which was a minor miracle.  Ryck had made it back to the shuttle port with minutes to spare, but both the battalion and the ship’s CO, along with several key staff had been out on some alpine lake, and the LCDR Wyzusky, the senior watch officer, had sent one of the ship’s Storks to pick them up.  That was sure to result in an official complaint from the planter officials, but they couldn’t very well leave without the senior officers on board.

Luckily for those who had been enjoying themselves a bit too much, Doc Shabah had met them at the hatch to the wardroom with Soberups.  They would pay the price later, but the pills were considered mission essential for a good portion of them.

Ryck hadn’t really met the commander yet.  Along with most of the junior officers, Ryck was on the wardroom’s second seating.  The ship’s XO presided over the seating, but all the other senior officers were on the first seating.  According to the other navy officers in his seating, the commander was competent, but a flaming asshole.  Ryck looked on interestedly as the Ops Officer took the small portable podium.

“Captain, colonel, gentlemen,” he began.  Technically, he was the same rank as LtCol uKhiwa, but as the colonel was the commander of troops, military etiquette stipulated that the Ops O address him separately.

“We left orbit 25 minutes ago, and we will enter bubble space in 12 minutes.”

That brought a low murmur from the wardroom.  That was no time at all, and the ship would still be in close proximity of Colt 45.  To enter bubble space that close would have required clearance at the highest authority.

“According to our calculations, we will emerge from bubble space within the CF-32 system at least five hours before the Confederation heavy hauler.  Our mission upon arrival is to rescue the ship’s company, retrieve the ship, if possible, destroy it if it is not.”

The murmur rose again, and the commander raised a hand to quiet them down.

“If the Confederation releases the ship before our arrival, we will attempt to re-enter bubble space undetected.  We’ll be the first ship to use the new cloaking systems in an actual operation, so even then, our mission is vital.”

Since the human cloaking systems had proven to be inferior to those of the trinoculars, there had been a mad rush to improve the human systems.  Both the
Falklands
and the
Han
Class destroyers were the first two classes of ships to get the upgrades.

“By the Grace of God, we are one of the closest ships to CF-32, and we are the most capable of performing the mission.  Our Marines will make the crossing and take down the ship.  If we need it, the
Inchon
herself will try out her new meson canon that Lieutenant Commander Jewel has been so anxious to break in.  And if anyone tries to stop us, we are authorized to use maximum force to complete the mission.

“But time is short.  I’d like everyone except for my staff and Major
Snæbjörnsson
’s staff to clear out.  We need some elbow room to hash this plan out.  The rest of you, you’ve got lots to do, so I suggest you get at it.  Captain?”

“I’ve got nothing for all of you now.  But you heard the Ops O.  Better get going.”

He stood up, immediately followed by the rest of the wardroom.

“Holy shit!” Donte whispered beside Ryck as everyone started filing out the hatch.

Going into Confederation space?  “Maximum force” is authorized?  Holy shit indeed!