Skiathos || 2018 Wattys Shortlist - Sample Chapters

Chapter Three: The Marines

Sergeants Matthews, Lyn, Fernandez, and Bisbee were at the appointed time and place, a large and airy room near the aft section of the platform. She'd learned in her brief walk that the enormous platform, designed for long-term use by a cadre of two-hundred, had scarcely one-hundred personnel. The room used by the marines as a command post was broad and airy and likely was intended for loftier purposes.

"Okay, who's senior?" asked Nadja once all were seated. The non-commissioned officers all held the same rank and swiftly engaged in the time-honored practice of comparing dates of rank. Lyn won out. Rather than rankle, the news seemed to please Matthews.

Nadja continued, looking at Lyn but pointing to Matthews. "Listen to everything Sergeant Matthews has to say until you get your feet wet ... and stick around after we break up here. I have some things I want to discuss. Matthews," she said, turning to the NCO, "have you been running any sort of staff meetings since Wray departed?"

"No, ma'am. I've just been going to each of the research and support sections and getting their input for my SITREPS."

"Notify all section heads: staff meeting at 0700 tomorrow. There'll be an all-hands later this week so folks can register their gripes, bitches, and complaints." Personnel on stations such as this did not do well without structure and discipline, especially out on the frontier. She felt her anger rising that things had been allowed to go to hell. The urge to skin Gunter Wray suddenly leapt up.

Nadja looked again to Matthews. "What have you done to find Dr. Wray?"

The young sergeant again cleared his throat. "He ... um ... he told us not to come looking for him, ma'am ... said he was 'going dark.'"

"What the fuck does that mean?" barked Nadja, no longer trying to hide her annoyance.

"It's anybody's guess, ma'am," volunteered Sergeant Fernandez. "The professor was a bit theatric."

"He's chipped, isn't he?" All members of the survey team had transponders imbedded more easily to find them if separated.

"He turned it off, ma'am," said Matthews. "Anyway, there's a lot of EM interference on the planet, and it is one big planet."

"Ma'am," said Fernandez, "if we could put some satellites up ...."

"Nah, sorry folks. For political reasons you may or may not be aware of, dropping satellites is a no-go ... at least for the time being. Sergeant Lyn, sit down with your fellow NCOs and come up with a plan to find Professor Wray. Don't execute until you run it past me, though."

She looked again to Matthews. "What's the ETA on getting a new platoon leader and platoon sergeant here from Clem's World?"

The naval station at Clem's World was the nearest military facility to their location. It was three and a half weeks for a message to reach there via Pinpoint comms, the same time it would take a vessel from the station to arrive.

"That'd be you, ma'am," the young marine repeated.

It took Nadja a few moments to soak in that information. Fucked right in the ass, she nearly said aloud. Well, it made sense. If the Marine Corps was going to send a new command team, it would have come with Sergeant Lyn and her squad on the same transport as Nadja and her team. She sighed inwardly.

"Okay ...," she sighed aloud. "I suppose you should know a little about me. I'm not one of the contract academics you've worked with in the past. Dassault University does keep me on the faculty books, and I teach the occasional class, but most of my time is spent with State. Before that, I was a naval officer, had command of The Dread, an Entebbe Class destroyer for two years before leaving service."

She looked again around the table.

"I'm usually not a stickler. But if we're going to do this thing, we're going to do it right. Sergeant Lyn, I want to see a duty roster by 0800 tomorrow and a training schedule thirty, sixty, and ninety days out by the end of the week. I expect marines to act like marines: so, discipline, grooming, physical training, and professional development for young marines ... and for NCOs. What have you folks been doing for arms training?"

"We have a range in the southern desert, ma'am," Matthews replied. "It's hot but uninhabited."

"Okay. We're starting planet-side ops again in thirty days. Lyn, make sure weapons are on the training schedule. We can resume flight training then, too. How many vehicles are up and running?"

Again, Matthews spoke. "All the skiffs are online, and Chief has our two remaining troop transports refitted for the desert. First squad's replacement vehicle and fourth squad's vehicle came as cargo on your drop-ship."

"Great. Is there an operations cell?"

"No, ma'am," said Matthews.

"Lyn, that's you. Get with Chief and pick an assistant from one of the naval personnel."

"Is there an intel cell here?"

"State has a couple of analysts in the SCIF on the middeck," said Bisbee. "The captain had me working as unofficial S-2."

"Keep doing that. Sergeant Lyn, you're also platoon sergeant. The four of you figure out the best corporal to take over fourth squad. Let me know your decision. Look, team ... we're short command staff, and I have other things to do. You're all going to be pulling extra duty for the duration. Any questions?"

"No, ma'am," they said as a group.

"Dismissed. Except for you Lyn; stick around a few."

Thanks Very Much for Reading.

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