Fleet Marines New Commission

by Swordwriter

Prequel to Fleet Marines. Second Lieutenant Rick Castle just graduated from the academy, joins the Commonwealth Fleet marines. He quickly becomes a seasoned veteran and combat commander. After being severely wounded in battle, his life is saved by the woman who will become the love of his life.

1. Prologue

Fleet Marines

NEW COMMISSION

Author's Note:

Another one of my science-fiction AU's. Set in the 25th century. A prequel to my story Fleet Marines. Castle is a newly commissioned Fleet Marine officer. Beckett is a new Fleet medical officer, a surgeon. Not Caskett in this story, but a pre-Caskett meeting, setting up Caskett. Rated M

Prologue

Nova Terra is a world nearly identical to the home world of the Commonwealth. Colonized in the middle of the 24th century, it was, until recently a largely pastoral world, devoted to farming and ranching with a small industrial base. It was of comparable size to Earth, but its two large landmasses covered nearly 50% of the planet, with two large oceans, several inland seas and a freshwater lake large enough to be considered a sea. Its' native vegetation, most of which was safely consumable by humans, was generally richer in nutrients than Earth's.

Most Earth crops introduced did well on Nova Terra. Which became a good source of trade, many star ships landing at the small space port bought fresh food for their crews. That all changed in 2430. A series of small earthquakes and volcanic activity culminated in a massive quake that sheared off the side of Dierden's mountain. The result was the revelation of a previously unknown deposit of Caladium ore, extremely rich and astonishingly pure.

The Commonwealth quickly built a processing plant and a major military base to protect this valuable discovery. Due to this, by 2440 Nova Terra had become one of the more valuable colony worlds, both for its' ore and for the safe shore leave it normally provided.

Commonwealth fleet Captain Eric Castle had recently stationed on Nova Terra. Fleet command had marked Captain Castle, a highly decorated officer and a brilliant tactician, as an officer destined for bigger and better things. At the moment, however, the position had to be staffed. Although a colony world, Nova Terra was not a frontier world, therefore not considered a hardship tour. Therefore, Captain Castle brought his family with him.

The Castles were "old money" and did not have to rely on a captain's pay. They rented a large, elegant home overlooking Greenridge Bay. A house that reminded Martha Castle of the family home near San Francisco Bay.

Captain castle was now entertaining in his home a Tolvarian Fleet captain, Sevar. Sevar was considered by his superiors, a strategic genius. It was widely known that he was deeply suspicious of Crovanians in general and Crovanian policy in particular, since their peace treaty after the Dominion war had lasted such a short time. He was a most attractive target to Crovanian covert operations and a most valuable Commonwealth asset, to be protected at all cost.

The combined tactical and strategic genius of the two men had caused the Crovanians no small measure of headaches.

Near the moon of Nova Terra, December, 2440

The Crovanian task force had a daring two-fold mission. Its' first objective, a raid on the ore processing facility to capture as much refined ore as they could. Strained relations with both the Commonwealth and the Gorrock Empire, made their supply of Caladium ore a chancy and expensive thing. Second to assassinate Sevar. If they could succeed in that, they could remove the threat he posed to their schemes and possibly put a strain on the relationship between the Commonwealth and Tolvar.

The Crovanian intelligence community had determined that these two objectives had to be carried out, no matter the cost. Yet, the Crovanians could not afford open war with the Commonwealth.

. Accordingly, they formulated a plan. It was announced that renegade officers and crews had hijacked several ships and turned pirate. The Crovanians put out a reward for the capture of the ships, declaring the crews, renegades. It was all an elaborate smokescreen, of course, a complete fabrication. The Crovanian high command took great pains to ensure that ships, "out of the loop" where nowhere that they might catch the "renegades". The plan called for surprise, speed and violence of action. If any element was lost, the plan was doomed. The plan called for the raiders to split into four flights from two larger ones. There would be one-minute separations between the flights.

Two attackers would split off from the first group and attack the Castle home, attempting to catch the two officers in the house, preparing for a dining in at the sector headquarters, officer's club. They would make two passes, reducing the house to rubble.

The remaining eight of the first group would make attacks on sector headquarters, the port facilities and an industrial park in Greenridge bay. This would draw attention away from the ore processing facilities.

The second group of ten would also split into three flights. Two fighters would attack the barracks area and on base housing. Three fighters would attack the facility itself. A fighter and two cargo shuttles would land in the warehouse area and load the ore. The fighters would then rendezvous with the cargo shuttles, return to the heavy ships of the task force and head for home at maximum fold. It w3as a bold, audacious plan that should have worked.

That it did not, was due to several factors the Crovanian strategists had not foreseen and assumptions made in error.

The first was in timing of the raid. It was scheduled for the Christmas weekend. A time of celebration. The planners assumed that the military would be in holiday mood and at a reduced level of security. That trick had been played too often in the past. Security was on duty and fully alert.

Also, scheduling conflicts had caused the officer's association to move the dining in up by an hour. The officers had already left the house. The Crovanian spies had missed that information.

The second error was taking a unit designation at face value. Agents had reported that the security personnel were from the Office of Training and Efficiency, Headquarters, Fleet Marine Corps, on detached duty. The Crovanians expected to encounter only staff personnel, untrained for combat. In fact, the Office of Training and Efficiency was a deliberate and imaginative misnomer for two battalions of the Special Operations Brigade Fleet Marine Force, and an elite fighter squadron from the Space Defense Command. The battalions and the squadron were in place and ready for anything.

The third and worst error was in their own security. They believed it to be airtight. It was not. A number of hints of some kind of attack on Nova Terra had reached the ears of Marine Intelligence. They relayed the information to Fleet Intelligence, who, although they took note of it, were unable to confirm it through their own sources to a level to suit them. They failed to issue strong enough warnings. The Marines shrugged and tightened their own security, putting the battalions on ready alert and the squadron on two -minute response.

Captain had received what information Fleet had made available, but shrugged it off. Attack a sector headquarters? Ridiculous! They wouldn't dare be stupid enough to risk a war with the Commonwealth. The civilian authorities also ignored the mild warnings. There was too much business to be lost.

Thus, the stage was set for what would become known as the Christmas massacre of 2440. One of the pivotal events of both Commonwealth and Crovanian history.

Near the Nova Terra star system, December 23. 2440.

The Crovanian task force, consisting of a light cruiser, two destroyers, a light attack carrier an attack transport, and a standard transport, came out of fold, dangerously close to a star system. They got as close as they dared to the one inhabited planet. At that point, they launched the raiders. The raiders proceeded on course until they reached the edge of the atmosphere. There they split into their preassigned attack groups.

Nova Terra defense control, sector headquarters 18:30 hours. 23 December 2440.

The senior sensor operator turned to the duty officer and said;

"Sir my sensors show unidentified star ships entering the defense zone."

The duty officer, a Marine captain turned, sharply and said;

"Estimate strength and type if you can, Sergeant, and give me a vector."

The sergeant's hands flew over the virtual keyboard. He paused, then said;

"Drive plumes and emissions analysis indicate four warships and two transports. One of them, possibly an attack transport, sir. Sector 23-B, vector 245 true, sir."

Computer estimates ninety-two per cent probability Crovanian, sir the appear to be heading for the moon, speed appears to be 15,000 knots."

The captain tensed and rubbed his chin for a moment before he spoke.

"They're probably trying to use the moon as cover to launch smaller craft. It's a good thing that we got that snooper in orbit yesterday, or we'd be royally screwed. Switch to stealth sensor plat form three, Sergeant"

"Aye, Aye sir."

Switching to another set of screens, the sergeant commanded the computer to analyze the data. It responded, after a moment, in a pleasant contralto. "Sensors indicate multiple small craft launch. Eighteen attack craft and two cargo shuttles. Atmosphere penetration vector indicates target probability this sector, ninety-six percent." The captain frowned and said;

We're the most likely target in this sector. Open hailing frequencies, I'll challenge the intruders."

"Hailing frequencies open sir."

"Unknown craft, this Nova Terra Defense command. Identify yourselves immediately!" He waited ten seconds then repeated the hail. The sergeant turned to the captain, an alarmed look on his face when there was no response. The captain looked at each member of his staff as he barked out his commands.

"Alert the ready fighters for an immediate launch. Sergeant, connect me with Admiral Vance. "Launch the Alert fighters! Two minutes later, Admiral Vance came on line.

"Sir, this is Captain Wilkes, duty officer. Sensors have detected intruders in the defense zone. I've ordered the alert squadron to launch." He listened for a moment. Aye, Aye, sir.

Launch all fighters. Sound to arms for the defense battalions!"

The twelve Hornet eighteens of FMS 204 were warmed up and idling in their revetments, the crews enjoying the fresh air and relative freedom of a planet side deployment. The squadron was known as the Wolverines. The shriek of a klaxon split the air.

"Pilots man planes. This is not a drill I repeat, this is not a drill!" The crews stared in amazement for a couple of seconds, then scrambled to obey their orders. They had barely closed their canopies when the action order blared out.

"Launch fighters, launch fighters. Seconds later, twelve small dots were all the ground crews could see.

Abord Wolverine 2, Captain Michael Darby glanced at his sensor array. Still blank. He swo0re and tapped his communicator.

"Whisky base, this is Whisky One-six over."

"Whisky base. Go Whisky One-six."

"Roger base, I've got a dark screen. I need a vector to intercept."

'Roger One-six. Twenty, I say again, twenty bogeys at seven hundred kilometers and angels eighty. Steer one sixty-five true. Intruders do not answer challenges. Assumed to be hostile. You are cleared, weapons free. Friendly status, the rest of two zero four airborne. Meet Whisky Six at point Charley."

"Whisky base, this is Whisky Six. We have sensor and enhanced visual contact with the hostiles. They are Crovanian heavy attack craft. Whisky squadron will engage. Tally Ho!

Aboard the Crovanian lead ship.

With a hint of panic in his voice the sensor operator said;

"Commander, sensors indicate enemy interceptors approaching rapidly!"

The commander turned his head.

"What? Interceptors? That's impossible. Task force leader said that the humans were not alert, or even warriors. Transfer to my screen! Wufurs balls! Will they intercept before we complete our mission?"

"Sensors indicate twelve interceptors, Commander. It will be close. We may still be out of our main weapon's range when we meet."

"The commander thought for a moment, then said;

"No matter. They are outnumbered and outgunned. We will swat them aside, like Velsian mud flies. Split into two elements and proceed with the mission. First element with me. Second element will follow Under-Commander Kul."

As they started the attack the commander thought: I had not expected resistance They almost warrant respect. Almost. But no staff troops deserve respect. They are nothing to worry about. Besides, they are just humans.

He didn't know how wrong he was. But he found out, the hard way.

The sleek Hornet eighteen aerospace interceptors carried energy cannons for use in space, eight "brilliant missiles and a rotary cannon in the nose, that fired hyper velocity twenty- millimeter rounds. Their targeting systems used radar, lidar and the good old mark one eyeball.

They might be outnumbered, but they weren't outgunned. The entire Crovanian attack force was inbound, Twenty ships in all. Eighteen attack craft and two shuttles. The Crovanians were partly right. The majority of the planetary defense force were not ready. The Marines were. Only one flight (four aircraft) Of Star Sabers joined the Wolverines. One of them had to abort when his targeting system failed.

Since the humans were slightly outnumbered and they didn't know if a second wave was possible. Priorities had to be set. The sector headquarters and processing facility were the prime targets, no one expected an attack on civilian targets. No one noticed the two ships breaking away, until too late. The assassination attempt would go unopposed, but not unavenged. As the eight attackers streaked for the headquarters, n the complex series of maneuvers, no one saw the assassination ships break away.

Captain Darby watched carefully as his targeting computer flashed a solution he spoke, calmly, into the squadron net.

"I have sensor lock, Fox two, missiles away". He rolled sharply right as the Crovanian fired at him and missed. The lead ship went into a dive, but he was too late. The raid commander died with his crew. He wasn't alone. Four other raiders jettisoned their ordnance and turned to fight, and an old-fashioned furball was on. For a few minutes, the air was filled with twisting, darting warbirds, missiles, energy beams and old-fashioned cannon fire.

The dogfight didn't last long. The Hornets were, smaller, faster more agile craft, with better trained crews. Not one attacker got through to the headquarters, there were no Marine losses, although to Hornets were damaged and out of the fight.

"Wolverines Reform." Captain Darby shouted, forgetting how much amplification was set on his com. The squadron commander's Hornet was one of the two damaged. Captain Darby was in command.

"Take it easy, Cap, we hear you. Came the voice of Lieutenant Sandra DeLong. I'll bet the ground forces heard you. Calmer now, Darby grinned, but didn't make a rebuttal.

"This Whisky Base to Whisky one-six. This sector is clear but two raiders are attacking civilian targets in quadrant Gamma sixteen. Unknown number attacking civilian targets in Greenridge Bay."

Captain Darby thought: Damn them. That's off post senior officer's housing. There are wives and children there.

"Whisky base, we will intercept."

"Whisky three, take Charley and Delta flights and the Star sabers and go after the Greenridge Bay group. Whisky five, with me. We're going after the bandits in gamma sixteen."

Whiskey lead streaked for Gamma sixteen. Hoping that he and his wingman weren't too late.

In the hills overlooking Green ridge Bay, 18:45 hours.

Richard Castle was climbing in the hills overlooking his temporary home. He was well used to the moves his family made. He was a tall, powerful youth, nearly 1.8 meters tall and only twelve years old. He found climbing challenging and fun. His companion, a grizzled, retired Master Chief Petty Officer, found it to be too much hard work, but he had promised the boy's father that he would look out for him. They stopped near the crest of the hill and Rick said;

"It's beautiful out here Chief, I could climb for weeks, it's so much fun."

The chief looked at the boy in exasperated amusement.

"That's all well and good for you, young sir, but it's awfully hard on these old bones. If you don't mind me saying so, I'd much prefer a hover scooter."

"With a cooler full of cold ale, I suppose." Rick said, with laughter in his voice. The smile dropped off his face as he turned and looked out over the bay. Suddenly alert, he pointed out over the bay.

"Hey Chief, what's that over there" He pointed to a large group of black shapes, whirling and twisting in a deadly aerial ball

"It looks like an air battle, but that's impossible. We're not at war with anybody." The chief exclaimed.

"Hey, I know. Rick said. I bet they're recording a scene for that holovid about the pre-Commonwealth wars. Right over our bay!

The chief pulled binoculars out of his pouch and focused. His face paled when he realized what it was, he saw.

"That's no studio stunt, that's a real battle. Those are Crovanian strike craft." His face took on an alarmed cast as he said;

"Let's get out of here!"

Even as they turned to run, they felt a terrific pressure on their backs and a screeching roar assaulted their ears.

"Down, get down and stay there." The chief yelled as he pulled Rick to the ground and sought cover behind two large boulders. They both hugged the ground as two raiders flashed by, not twenty meters over their heads. Rick's eyes widened then he put his head down and covered his ears to block out a thunderclap of sound and closed his eyes to block out a searing light, much too close. When he raised his head he stared, in horror. Where his house had once stood, there was only smoking rubble.

"Mother" screamed Rick in agony, then stumbled to his feet and ran for the house.

Julia Castle, Rick's sister had been on the other side of the house, comfortably seated in a small. grassy hollow on the side of the hill, a new canvas on her easel. She was about to start a painting of the bay at seventeen, she was already an accomplished artist both in oil and holo sculpture.

It surprised her, in the day of holograms and computer art, how many still collected oils .Sheltered in her hollow, she was safe from the effects of the blast, Artist she might be but she was the daughter of a Fleet captain, When the blast passed over her, she dropped her palette, unheeded, and sprinted for the house.

When she reached the house, she found Rick kneeling in the dirt, cradling their mother in his arms. Martha Castle had been outside the house but not far enough away. She was gravely wounded, but still alive. Forcing her cries down her throat, Julia brushed the hair out of her mother's eyes.

"Hold on, Mother, Chief Sanchez is calling for help. Martha opened her eyes and coughed, softly.

She said; It's too late honey, give me your hand. Richard, yours too. She took their hands in hers, Julia struggling to hold back her tears. Struggling for breath, Martha said;

"Take care of each other, love each other. Promise me."

Shh, mother, Julia soothed, "Save your strength. She spoke with tears in her voice.

Martha gripped harder. "Promise me." The two children looked at each other. Julia searched her brother's eyes, seeing the same pain and denial in them that she was sure were in her own.

"We promise, Mother. They whispered, brokenly.

"Good." Martha coughed, looked at her children and said;

"My sweet babies I love you both so much."

'We love you too, mother." She smiled then whispered "Good bye." She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against Rick's chest. A few seconds later her breathing stopped. Rick cried out; "NO!" And the tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Julia bowed her head and sobbed, her tears falling on her mother's hand, which she still held, washing it free of blood.

When the emergency response team arrived, they found Rick still holding his mother's body, Julia still holding her hand. Julia was still sobbing, but Rick's tears had long since dried. The icy blue eyes in Rick's face were no longer those of a twelve-year-old boy.

The two Raiders made a desperate try to rejoin their group. They never made it. Darby and DeLong, furious at the cowardly murderers, were hot on their tail. Darby launched a hyper-velocity missile. It impacted right behind the cockpit. The second raider took DeLong's missile right up the tailpipe. Those four Crovanians, at least, were of some use. The scavengers of the bay found them quite tasty.

The raiders that had attacked the base made a try for space. They didn't make it, either. Six furious Marine pilots were on their tails. Two of them fell to missiles. The third, found out, the hard way, why Marine fighters still carried cannons, in the day of missiles and energy weapons.

The Crovanians did not carry shield generators on their aerospace fighters. Too bulky and too much of a weight penalty and threat warning receivers only worked against missiles. One of the Marines was couldn't use his missiles. There was a fault in his electrical system. When he hit the the firing switch, nothing happened. He switched to guns, closed to within two hundred meters and opened fire. A white line of fire tore into the Crovanian craft. The depleted uranium projections ripped through the fuselage as if it were paper. The Crovanians never even knew they were hit, before the craft exploded.

Another raider, trying to evade, snap- rolled right into the path of an oncoming Hornet. The starboard wing of the Hornet sliced through the raider's fuel pod. Sparks caused by friction, ignited the fuel, engulfing the ship in flames. The pilot of the stricken Hornet ejected safely and floated down to be rescued.

One raider actually made it into space and activated his transponder. It did him no good. Captain Darby caught up with him and fired his last two missiles and turned away. The fireball reflected in his rear-view sensor assured him of success.

The second had somewhat, but not a great deal more success. The attack on the barracks and housing area had just started when the Commonwealth fighters arrived. One of the attackers was hit, just as he launched missiles. One blew up on the launch rack. The other launched, but its' guidance computer was damaged. When it stabilized, it arched over the barracks, and plowed into a civilian housing tract just outside the base perimeter. The explosion resulted in forty civilian deaths, fifteen of them, children. One of the Star Sabers shot down the other raider, racking up the only kill for the Air Force.

The group that attacked the processing facility got a hot reception. Marine armored ground forces were stationed there. They were equipped with the latest anti-air weapons and were skilled in their use. The arriving fighters took care of the leftovers. Only minor damage was done to the facility and no raider managed to land.

If the Crovanians hadn't had bad luck, they would have had no luck at all. The Commonwealth battle cruiser C.S.S Indomitable, the heavy cruiser C.S.S. Adamant, a frigate and a destroyer were arriving at the star base for rest and refit as the attack began. Hearing the distress calls and reports of the strike the four warships moved out of their approach vector and went hunting, as there was little, they could do on the ground. They were returning from a long, frustrating neutrality patrol. The crews were spoiling for a fight.

While the Crovanians had some stealth capability, it was useless against the battlecruiser's powerful search sensors. Since a fight was underway, the Indomitable did not issue a challenge or warning, she simply opened fire. The cruiser Star Hunter received the fury of the battlecruiser's main battery at point blank range. Lightly built, more for scouting and raiding, than open battle the cruisers shields failed in seconds and she became a fireball

The attack carrier received the attention of the Adamant's main battery and fared no better than the cruiser. The secondary battery took out one of the destroyers. The Frigate destroyed both of the transports.

One of the destroyers went into fold-drive, right where she lay. It was an extremely risky thing to do, but it worked and she managed to escape. They made it home to report their failure.

In due time, the Crovanians would come to deeply regret the raid. They officially condemned the raid as an act of piracy and executed the surviving crew.

The Crovanian high command privately considered the raid an abject failure that accomplished nothing of worth for them. That was true. It did, however accomplish something.

It created the single most deadly and implacable foe in Crovanian history, in the person of Richard Castle. But at the moment, he was just a young man whose old world had ended, with an uncertain future looming ahead.

Interlude

In the hills overlooking San Francisco, Marin County, May 2446.

Julia castle Caldwell climbed the hill behind her father's house. The sun had not yet burned off the morning fog, so common to the area. The diffused sunlight created halos around the bushes and trees. She reached the top and stopped to catch her breath, while looking for her brother.

Damn him! She thought to herself. Why did Rick have the unique ability to disappear every time she really needed to talk to him. She finally spotted him, standing near the edge of a cliff, staring out to sea. Lord Lochinvar, his collie sat beside him, looking up at his master. Rick's hand was in the dog's ruff, casually stroking the animal's neck, obviously lost in thought.

Rick did not hear her approach. Julia paused, her artist's eye evaluating the scene. She took out the small holo camera, she always carried and took the holo. Lochinvar was more alert than his master. He turned his head, then rose to his feet to greet her. Feeling the dog move, Rick turned also.

"What are you doing here? I thought that Jason was taking you to the festival this morning."

"He is, but it is still early and I need to talk to you, something you don't make easy."

Rick smiled with a rather sardonic look on his face.

"With good reason, sister dear. I know what you want to talk about and I don't want to discuss it. I've told you that three times. Subject closed end of discussion."

Julia put her hands on her hips, narrowed her eyes and glared at her brother.

"You make yourself perfectly clear, little brother, but the discussion is not over! You are going to stand there and listen to me, until this is settled."

"It's already settled, Julie, you just won't accept it."

"I won't accept it, because you're wrong. Wrong and mean."

Rick raised one eyebrow.

"How do you propose to make me obey, Runt, kick me in the kneecap?"

Julia barely restrained herself from smacking her brother. Although slender and fine boned, Julia was not what anyone would call a runt. Anyone but her impossible brother, that is. She was one point eight meters tall, in her bare feet. At a full two meters tall and powerfully built, Rick's sheer size intimidated most people. Those not intimidated by his size, usually fell victim to his sarcastic wit. Neither one worked on Julia.

"If that's what it takes to get you to listen, prepare for a heavily bruised kneecap."

With an exasperated sigh, Rick sat on a rock.'

"If you want to waste your breath, go ahead, I can't stop you."

At this point, Julia was probably the only person in the world who could get Rick to change his mind about anything, especially if it was something he didn't want to do.

She sat down beside him and took his hand.

"The first thing I want to talk about is, I'll grant you rather minor, but it's important to someone. Won't you please take Cassie to the senior prom? You know how much she wants to go."

"So, I'm not stopping her, Cassie I pretty enough, she can easily get a date. It's just a dance, after all." He looked and sounded defensive, his jaw thrust out, pugnaciously.

This time Julia did want to slap her brother.

"Don't be dense, it doesn't become you. You know that Cassie wants you to take her. She's said it often enough, and it's not just a dance It's your senior prom. The ONLY one you'll ever have. Even if you don't want to go, don't spoil it for her. After all, you've known each other your whole lives."

Rick paused to think about the situation. He'd known Cassandra Walsh since they were babies. They were next door neighbors in fact. She was a pretty, blue-eyed blonde with a cheery personality and in the school's top ten per cent academically. He didn't realize that he was a great frustration to her. She'd had a crush on him since seventh grade, but he'd never seen her as anything but a friend. Now, with the world opening up ahead of her, she wanted the comfortable comradery of her oldest male friend at the dance. It was, after all, the senior prom.

"We'll see, Julie. I'll think about it for a couple of days."

"Try not to expend too many of your precious few gray cells. The prom is only two weeks away. Just go! You'll have fun. Besides, Cassie's your friend. It's not like you're going to marry her."

"If I don't?"

"I'll bug you until you agree, you know that I know how. I can push every button you've got."

Rick shrugged. "Okay I'll take her, but you get to pay for it."

Julia reached up, grabbed a loc of Rick's hair and pulled, hard.

"Why you rotten cheapskate, you're worse than Sam and he's a banker. I will not pay for it. What I will do is scalp you if you try to back out of it!"

Laughing, Rick pulled his head free.

All right, you win. I don't think I'll look that good, bald. What else do you want?"

Dropping the bantering ton, Julia said;

"You know what I want. Please spend the summer vacation with us."

Ric stood up and began to pace.

"We've been over this ground before. I haven't changed my mind or my reasoning. The. trip to the shuttle plant in Germany is a fantastic opportunity. They make the most advanced civilian shuttles in the world. I'll get to work in the design bureau in the morning and hands on experience with" shuttles in the afternoon Look at how much I'll learn, and I can use all the flight hours I can get. (Rick got his pilot's license at fourteen)

Gently, Julia touched Rick's arm, to stop him pacing.

"That program is only for June and July, isn't it?"

"That's true, but I wanted August to see Scotland and Ireland."

She moved in front of him and looked up.

"How about this? You spend two months in Germany and August with us, Scotland and Ireland will still be there when you graduate from the academy."

"Why is this so important to you, Julie?"

"Jason has been assigned to the headquarters on Proycon Four. We leave in September. It's a three -year tour. I won't see you, for three whole years!"

Rick stood, for a moment, looking down at his beautiful sister. Except for hair color, Julia could pass for a younger version of their mother. In the terrible years after Martha Castle's death, Julia had been both mother and sister to Rick, providing the love and comfort their father couldn't.

"Does it really mean that much to you?" He asked.

"Yes, it does." She replied, her eyes saying volumes as she stared into his.

Very softly, he said;

"All right, I'll do it." And kissed her on the forehead. Then in one of those lightening mood changes that astonished those who didn't know him, Rick became the spirited youth.

He spun on his heel and took off..

"Last one to the house buys dinner."

Note" Whisky six and Whisky One-six are not plane numbers. They are code. Six is the squadron commander. One-six is the executive officer

Please review.

Swordwriter

Fleet Marines

NEW COMMISSION

CHAPTER ONE

Commonwealth Fleet Academy, San Francisco American sector, Earth, 10:00 hours 1June 2450

Graduation day had dawned clear and warm but a cool breeze now played refreshingly across the parade ground. The four regiments of the corps of cadets stood at ease awaiting the graduation ceremony and swearing in. Three of the regiments wore cadet gray and crimson. The graduating class wore brand new fleet dress uniforms. Only a few wore the proud dress blues of the Fleet Marine CVorps