Commandant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 8) by Jonathan P. Brazee

slightest doubt, Ryck knew they would use his family to get to him.  He fought to keep his mind from listing all the possibilities.  His one hope was that the Federation would realize that hurting his wife or kids would bring them extremely bad press.  Not that they cared about bad press, but unless it served an end, it still wasn’t something to seek out.
    “You OK, sir?” Prince asked, his face full of concern as the chaplain left.
    “No, I’m not,” Ryck answered with enough vitriol to make the colonel blanch and sit back.
    Fuck, sorry about that, Prince , he thought as he struggled for composure.  Not your fault.
    He took several deep breaths, purging his body of carbon dioxide, wishing he could purge his mind as well.
    “No, I’m not,” he repeated to his old friend in a much calmer voice.  “But there isn’t much I can do at the moment.”
    Prince Jellico had never been a star in the Corps.  He and Ryck had been commissioned together, but their paths had diverged almost immediately.  Prince was probably pretty lucky he’d made it to colonel, and he’d never get a star, but he had a good heart, and at the moment, Ryck needed the support.  He reached out and patted Prince’s shoulder.
    “Don’t worry about me.  I’m functioning.  If they hurt her, though. . .” he said, leaving unspoken what he’d do if the worst happened.
    Prince was saved from responding when they heard the conference room door open.  Both Marines looked out the open office door, and in a moment, Lieutenant General Fred Nottingham strode past, followed by someone else Ryck didn’t recognize.
    What does that mean? Ryck asked himself.
    More than a few moments later, Major General Tomtom Copperwait stuck his head through the open hatch and said, “Ryck, if you can come in, we’re ready for you.
    “Uh, Colonel Jellico, if you could wait here,” he added apologetically.
    Ryck stood up, gave Prince a pat on the shoulder, and said, “Lead on, Tomtom.”
    The conference door was only a few steps away across the passage, but it seemed to take forever to get there.  A lieutenant colonel was holding a door, a mere peon amongst the number of stars in the room.  All eyes were locked on Ryck as he struggled to center himself and remain calm.  Whatever they had decided, he was going to face it as a Marine should.
    “General,” the commandant said, indicating a position at the foot of the huge laminated wood table.
    “This is a very hard thing for me to say,” General Ukiah said, clearing his throat.  “All of us here, each and every one, have made an oath to the Federation, to serve it to the best of our abilities.”
    This doesn’t sound too promising.
    “But the question is just how do we serve the Federation?  Is the Federation the Council?  Is it the people?  This is a horrible spot you’ve put us in, having to make that decision.  And I am being blunt here when I tell you that not all of us are in agreement.  What we are doing is splitting the Corps, our Corps, something that hasn’t happened in the 367 years of our existence.
    “But the majority of us have decided that our oath is to the people we serve, not the Council, and certainly not a council that can summarily execute a Navy frigate without due process, a council that can order the extermination of an entire world over minor protests.  Some of us did not agree, and they will be leaving, unmolested, for Alexander.”
    Fred Nottingham , Ryck realized, letting out a breath he’d been holding.
    He felt relief, but he also felt a huge weight settling on his shoulders.
    “And as I told you on the ship, you need to agree to take over the leadership.  Either way, as of 0001 Tarawa time, not GMT, I am resigning, not just the billet, but my commission, too.  I have no ill will for you, but I am one of those who cannot break my oath, for good or bad.”
    That took Ryck by surprise.  General Ukiah had flown out to rescue him, and he’d been the one who’d