Free Starfist FR - 03 - Recoil by Dan Cragg Page A

longer, Colonel Raggel realized, he’d doze off. He yawned and looked around the room. It was absolutely bare of the usual memorabilia with which flag officers decorated their office suites. A stand directly behind the general’s desk held three flags: Confederation of Human Worlds, Confederation Marine Corps, and one with two gold novas—the insignia of the Marine Corps Commandant, which Aguinaldo had been before being given command of this task force. As the rank of commandant was also the position—the Marine Corps only had one person of that rank at a time—he wondered what insignia Aguinaldo was wearing as a full general—a rank the Confederation Marines hadn’t had before Aguinaldo received this assignment. It was a Spartan office. Raggel smiled. This General Aguinaldo and Raggel’s erstwhile commander, General Davis Lyons, had in common a disdain for military pomp. He liked that.
    “Keep your seat!” Aguinaldo said as he burst suddenly through the door. “Johnny!” he called to his enlisted aide, “another cup of joe in here! Refill, Colonel?” He extended his hand to Raggel and shook it hard, then plopped into the chair next to him at the small coffee table. He stretched his legs out and sighed. “Damn staff conferences, endless conferences, Colonel, you know what I’m talking about.”

    Colonel Raggel regarded Aguinaldo carefully. He was dressed in a combat field uniform, as was everyone he’d seen at the headquarters. He was short, sinewy, his dark complexion bespeaking more of his Filipino father than his Dutch mother. He was not an awesome person—he did not try to overpower people with a “commanding” presence—but he was a man who radiated confidence and energy. And Raggel’s insignia question was answered; Aguinaldo wore four silver novas on each collar, one more than any other Confederation Marine Corps general officer.
    The corporal served Aguinaldo’s coffee and poured some more into Raggel’s cup. “May I call you Rene, Colonel? Thanks, Johnny,” he told the corporal, “please shut the door and tell Dottie we’re not to be disturbed, will you?” Dottie was the Marine commander who ran Aguinaldo’s personal staff and his office, which included keeping his daily agenda. Aguinaldo regarded Colonel Raggel over the rim of his coffee cup. “Think we’ll have rain, Colonel?”
    “Intermittent showers, sir. Quite normal for this time of the year,” Raggel replied, and they laughed. Even though he had no idea why he had been called there, by name, from Ravenette, the Marine’s personality was having its effect. Raggel was beginning to relax in Aguinaldo’s presence.
    “Rene,” Aguinaldo began, “I know you just got down here, haven’t had a chance to check in, get quarters even, but we’ve a lot to do and I want you to start right now. To make a long story short, Rene, when I went out looking for reliable officers to work with me getting my task force combat-ready, your name came up. You worked with General Cazombi, didn’t you?”
    “Yes, sir. I worked with him on the surrender terms and POW repatriation process after General Lyons surrendered our army.”
    “I know. I know we were on opposite sides in that war. But that was then, this is now. The president has ordered that we forget all that. The Coalition worlds are back in the Confederation and we are facing a mutual danger far, far more potent than the late, short-lived secessionist ambitions. I need good men to face that threat, and you, Rene, have been recommended to me as someone I can rely on.”
    Raggel wiped a drop of perspiration running down the side of his cheek.
    “Wondering why it’s not climate-controlled in here, Colonel?” Aguinaldo asked with a grin.
    “Um, it is rather warm in here, sir.”
    “We believe the Skink home world is very much like it is here right now: hot and wet. We’re training to invade that place when we find out where it is. So I am acclimating the task force for those