Rescue on Gimhae: Stories of the Orphan Corps, #1

By Earl T. Roske

Could Sgt Seavers's mission kill him?

 

Yes. Yes, it could.

 

Sgt Seavers of the Orphan Corps is having a run of bad luck. First, he gets in a fight with three marines while on a space station. Second, he wins that fight. And now, after learning he was being considered for officer candidate training, he is informed of his penance.

 

Can Seavers handle a resentful platoon of Marines? Can he do it while delivering medical aid to a suspicious colony of terraformers?

 

To get back his chance at officer candidate training, he'll do his best. Or die trying.

 

If you love a good military adventure crossed with sci-fi worthy of Andre Norton and Asimov, then Rescue on Gimhae is the story you're looking for.

 

Strap in, hang on. The journey begins now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Earl Roske
• Release date: Feb 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224599110

Earl T. Roske

Earl T. Roske is a San Francisco Bay area writer. He lives with his wife, daughter, a silly poodle, and two neurotic cats.

Book preview

Rescue on Gimhae

by

Earl T. Roske

Stories of the Orphan Corps: Book 1

A stand-alone story in the Orphan Corps Universe

© 2018 Earl T. Roske

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact:

[e-mail]

Cover by BetiBup.

Also by Earl T. Roske

Dewey Tyler, Orphan Corps

Secrets on Wenshen

Abandoned on Juracan

Fortanach Outfitting Stories

The Stowaway Corpse: A Fortanach Spaceship Mystery

Orphan Corps Shepherds, Lost Sheep

Diversion in Raziel

Reckoning in Samael

Seasons of War on Abira

Midwinter at Bhisho

Wintertide at Knynsa

Spring at Nongoma

Summer at Xawela

Stories of the Orphan Corps

Rescue on Gimhae

Deceit on Panchala

Standoff on Oulu

Counter Offensive on Arda

Defiance on Vargo

The Last Wave Series

Last Wave

Last Dance

Standalone

Reluctant Symbiosis

Novjaro

Tale of the Music-Thief

Watch for more at Earl T. Roske’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Earl T. Roske

Rescue on Gimhae (Stories of the Orphan Corps, #1)

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Deceit on Panchala | by | Earl T. Roske | 01

Also By Earl T. Roske

Thank You:

Nicole, Andrew, Tim, & Wendy

For my wife and daughter.

01

Sergeant Seavers’s nose was still crusted with blood as he waited outside the Malta Company commander’s office. He knew he was in for it. Fighting on the Varde-Skaj space station was frowned upon. Fighting with the 2nd Radial Marines was also a bad idea. Beating three of them might make him a hero to the rest of Secundus Platoon, but it wasn’t going to put him in a favorable light with Major Hunt.

He hadn’t wanted to fight. He hadn’t intended to fight. But that dig – How’s your mom? – when everyone in the star-tossed galaxy knew Hospitallers were orphans from the lowest private to the supreme commander. Some Hospitallers never knew who their parents were. Maybe that was Sgt Seavers’s problem. If he hadn’t known his family, he might not have reacted so violently.

Ten years might seem a long enough time to get over the loss, but Seavers doubted he ever would. Having a bunch of surly Marines throw that comment in his face didn’t help.

Sgt Seavers?

Seavers looked up at the company commander’s door.

Guerrero, said Seavers on seeing Private First Class Guerrero standing in the gap between door and frame.

Major Hunt’s ready to see you, Sergeant.

Sgt Seavers stood and tried to smooth his uniform. The light gray duty uniform only served to highlight the blood splattered across the front. The sonic cleaner would get it out just fine, but he was going to spend a half hour finding and sewing on two new buttons and his sergeant rank cord.

As there was nothing he could do about the buttons and cord for the moment, he nodded to Pfc Guerrero. Guerrero stepped out of the way as Seavers marched through the outer office and past the hatch into Major Hunt’s inner office.

Major Hunt wasn’t looking at papers on her desk or otherwise looking too busy to notice Sgt Seavers's entrance. Instead, she was standing behind her desk, fists pressed into the synth-wood surface, her eyes locked on Seavers as he marched in. He stopped on the well-worn spot in the rug that gave some warmth to the windowless office in the heart of the carrier ship.

Sgt Seavers made sure to snap his right-face turn as clean and neat as he could. Sgt Seavers reporting, Maj Hunt.

What is going on inside your head, Sergeant?

Major Hunt had been a drill sergeant long before she went to officer candidate training. When she wanted to, she could pull that drill sergeant voice out, like an angry viper dumped out of a burlap sack. Seavers had heard stories of boot privates peeing themselves in fear. He wasn’t going to piss himself. Seavers had good bladder control. But he could feel his nose starting to bleed.

I’m sorry, ma’am. I got carried away.

Carried away? Maj Hunt grabbed a tablet off her desk and waved it at Seavers. A broken nose on Marine Sgt Washington. Twelve stitches on Marine Sgt Terry. Four stitches and a dislocated finger for Marine Cpl Venegas. I’d say you got more than carried away, Sgt Seavers.

The major dropped the tablet. It clattered and skidded in Seavers's direction. It came dangerously close to sliding over the edge of the desk. The tablet distracted him for a brief moment, as he wondered if he should dive to save it if it started tilting over the edge.

How long have you been a Hospitaller, Sgt Seavers?

He’d signed the contract at sixteen. Four years, ma’am.

How long has our organization been around?

Sgt Seavers opened his mouth to answer and was cut off.

Two hundred, twenty-two years, Sgt Seavers. And what is the motto of the Hospitallers?

Again, before he could reply that it was, Auxilium. Auris. Defendere, aid, comfort, defend, he was cut off.

It certainly isn’t to go around beating up Marines. She sat, leaning back, her hands tapping non-rhythmic beats on the arms of the chair. There are many in the galaxy, Sergeant, in case you fell asleep in history class, who are uncomfortable with our existence. They don’t like large organizations capable of war on a trans-system level that aren’t under their control.

Sgt Seavers hadn’t fallen asleep in history. He hadn’t fallen asleep in any class. In the beginning, when they’d brought him from the stricken terraform colony to the Hospitaller orphanage, Marohu, Seavers hadn’t been able to focus. As he accepted and was accepted into his orphanage platoon, he learned to focus, to absorb the information coming at him.

So he knew the foundations of the Hospitallers two and a quarter centuries ago. He knew they were a private organization outside the control of the United Planets and Allied Planet governments. He knew they were a relief organization first and a military organization second. What he did not know was why he was getting a refresher course.

And the United Planets doesn’t like it when their boys of glory get beaten up by someone they can’t punish, the major said. She leaned forward. So I have to do the punishing.

Seavers kept still despite the trickle of blood beginning to slide off the side of his upper lip. He wanted to swear, to complain, to point out that the Marines started it. He wanted to do all the things he might have done as a boy in his old colony before every adult he knew was killed by the still unidentified disease. He wanted to, but he wouldn’t. That was what ten years of training in the orphanage and boot camp was worth.

And I don’t want to, Seavers, the major said. This time Seavers couldn’t suppress his reaction. His eyebrows scrunched with uncertainty, raising a smile on Maj Hunt’s face. You didn’t see that coming, did you? No. At ease, Sergeant.

He snapped into position, his hands overlapping on the small of his back. Yes, Major.

"How am I going to justify sending you to officer candidate training if you’re going to go around blacking the eye of the 2nd Radial Marines? Don’t answer. You’ve got great scores and great marks. The soldiers serving under you think highly of you. Your peers feel the same way. As do the officers in the unit. You’ve proven yourself a capable soldier and leader in the field, whether it was bringing