Lieutenant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 3) by Jonathan P. Brazee

parking lot.  He carefully kept to the speed limit on base.  The MP’s were extremely strict, and they seemed to like nothing more than to give officers, especially lieutenants, citations.  Once out the gate, he opened the Vulture up a little.  The hover leapt forward like a racehorse released from the bit.
    Ryck almost wished he lived further away.  He was in base housing, though, in Januzek Manor, only three klicks from the main gate.  He slowed back down, passed through the gate, and barely puttered down the street to his home.  With Hannah’s new job, they, as a couple, rated a single home with the senior officers.  But they’d decided to stay in the junior officer housing.  Hannah and Ryck had half of a duplex.  It wasn’t large, and Hannah had been used to better back on Prophesy, but for Ryck, it was fine, more than fine, actually.
    He carefully pulled the Vulture alongside Hannah’s Creighton B50, then set it down.  It looked like he was the last one there.  Joshua’s old Ford Flamingo was parked in front.  Joshua had been at the same ceremony, yet he’d obviously not stopped for a drink, first, before heading over.  Score one for the brother-in-law.
    “’Bout time you made it,” Joshua said from the couch as Ryck entered.
    Joshua was in his civvies, a cider in one hand, the other reaching into a bowl of chips.  Technically, there was nothing wrong with him being in officer country.  Ryck and Joshua were brothers-in-law, after all.  But still, he always came over in civvies if it was a social call.
    “Duty calls,” Ryck responded, reaching for his own handful of chips. 
    “I thought I heard you,” Hannah said, coming into the room followed by Hope, Joshua’s wife. 
    Hannah was a very competent, independent woman who had a pretty high-flying job.  But Ryck was sure that she appreciated having Hope around.  They were both Torritites from Prophesy, and that common background kept Hannah grounded.
    “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Ryck asked, putting his arm in back of her, pulling her close for a kiss.
    “Not be often enough,” she responded after coming up for air, playfully reverting to her Torritite speech pattern what with her brother and sister-in-law there.  “But you sayin’ that now won’t be getting’ you out of trouble.  I be smellin’ the beer on your breath.  Joshua and Hope be comin’ more than 30 minutes ago, and I be left with entertainin’ them.”
    “Well, it was worth a try,” Ryck said with a laugh.  “But you are beautiful.”
    “Why be you not more as Ryck,” Hope asked her husband, her Torritite patois much more pronounced than Hannah’s.  “He be havin’ the best sugar mouth around.”
    “Thanks a lot, Ryck,” Joshua said with an overacting tone before turning to Hope.
    “Thou be the fairest maiden in all the land, love of my life,” Joshua said, one hand sweeping towards the floor as he bowed his head.
    “OK, OK, it be getting’ deep in here,” Hannah said, trying not to laugh.  “If you two gentlemen can set the table, Hope here has prepared somethin’ special for us.”
    “You heard the ladies,” Ryck told Joshua.  “Let’s get at it.”
    “And what will you be doing?” Joshua asked when Ryck didn’t join him.
    “Let me get out of this uniform, and I’ll be right back down.”
    The two men quickly set the table after Ryck returned, and a few minutes later, the two women brought in the food.  Hannah was right about the meal.  She had bought a real prime rib, and Hope had spent the day at the house slow-roasting it. With fresh veggies, mashed potatoes, and a garden salad, the meal was prime alpha.  Ryck stuffed himself to bursting.  He stayed to clear the table as the other three went to the front room where Hannah had prepared a pitcher of sangria.
    Sangria was not really an after dinner drink, but Ryck was pleasantly surprised to find it was a nice, crisp balance to the heavy meal.  He had three glasses