The Life and Times of Gunnery Sergeant Jackson Mason: The Quest For Freedom

By Mark Jordan and Lee Matthews

In a distant future, follow the journey of a young man from his early career in the Earth Alliance Fleet Marine Forces to his rise in rank and leadership within the galactic community.

Along the way, delve into his relationships, accomplishments, and actions in combat, as well as his bonds with close comrades and powerful allie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Jordan
• Release date: May 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798892281522

Mark Jordan

Retired Fire Fighter/EMT-P/Special Rescue Tech, Amateur Astronomer, and Astrophotographer. With a multitude of adventures, a long and storied work history, and diverse professional backgrounds, I have pursued various passions throughout my life. I was involved in free rock climbing, white water activities, spelunking, sailplanes, and more in the early 1970s before these pursuits gained popularity. Among my interests, I have several favorite sci-fi authors, including the memorable works of Andre Norton.

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The Quest For Freedom

Mark Jordan

Copyright © 2024 by Mark Jordan.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. In simple terms, this book is a work of science fiction. Any resemblance or similarities to all characters, persons, places, and references to past histories, and/or events are not real and are purely fictitious.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without a prior written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review, and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by the copyright law.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2024908063

ISBN:   979-8-89228-153-9   (Paperback)

ISBN:   979-8-89228-154-6   (Hardcover)

ISBN:   979-8-89228-152-2   (eBook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Content Advisory

Introduction

Back to Bloody Rock

The Reunion

Welcome Home

A Path to Peace

The Exiled and The Banished

Old Friends and An Ace in The Hole

Dynamite Comes In Small Packages!

A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Damn the Torpedoes Full Speed Ahead

Once More Into The Breach

The Weight of The Lance

I Stole ‘Em!

A New Beginning!

Content Advisory

Within the content of this book:

Fictional instances of the brutality associated with close-quarters melee combat, in life-or-death situations are portrayed.

Fictional references to the possible long-term effects of mental and emotional stress associated with lethal combat are portrayed.

Some instances of language which may be offensive to some are present.

(He’s a battle-tested, battle-scarred Marine Gunnery Sergeant, for crying out loud! There will be some swearing!)

The Life and Times

of

Gunnery Sergeant Jackson Mason

The Quest for Freedom

Introduction

This story follows the adult life of an individual who unknowingly became, by force of fate and circumstance, one of the most feared, respected, loved—as well as hated and despised—beings in the known and unknown galaxy. A simple ground-pounding Earth Alliance Fleet Force Marine whose goals were to live by his code of duty, service, and honor and never let down his comrades. He was a simple yet formidable leader of his troop, of humble birth, an orphan raised by an elderly aunt and uncle from a simple community of common folk. He was thrust by fate and destiny into an unforeseeable fate tasked upon him by the galaxy from the very first day of his life. A destiny that would cause him great loss and pain, as well as great contentment, love, and dedication. Both to those he grew to love and those he was destined to face off with in pursuing his code of raw honesty and dedication to duty. Duty to the tasks, both assigned and thrust upon him by fate. Throughout his life, through defeat, victories, love, and loss, he would remain true to his code of dedication to those he would call comrades and those he would protect. A path revealed only to the highest of the true believers in the prophecies of the Great One.

Set in a distant future, in a galaxy filled with scoundrels, scheming politicians, corporate greed, hardships, tragedies, rewards, and great personal and professional trials. A life guided by an unseen fate and with an ever-growing mind, heart, and soul... this is the story of his life and times!

Back to Bloody Rock

The pilots and crews of the Earth Alliance First Fleet battle group all sat in the large battle briefing arena on board the Earth Alliance E.A.F. super carrier Perseus. Ready to receive their assignments and orders for the coming battle. There was the hum of the crews and pilots passing challenges, playful insults, and general scuttlebutt mussing of the coming mission briefings. The officer of the deck stepped up to the podium and gave the loud command, Mission command on deck! The buzzing and low hums of the chatter instantly ceased, and all hands on deck were standing to immediate atten tion.

Good afternoon, Marines, sailors, and pilots! shouted the decorated Fleet Admiral Enrico Garcia, the Task Force Battle Fleet command officer.

Good afternoon, sir. May the coming battle bring a swift and decisive victory to the First Fleet battle boards! the gathered officers and flight leaders said in unison.

At ease, get out your mission briefings and take your seats, warriors! returned Fleet Admiral Enrico Garcia. "In the next twenty-four hours, Galactic, we destroy the Second and Third Fleet battle groups of the Tarkanian Navy and take back ‘Bloody Rock’! You will find in your mission directives, objectives, and orders for each flight group and individual wings. Some of you here have been on Bloody Rock before, at the beginning of this vicious and bloody intergalactic war. Now, it’s your time of due payback in our long push to drive the Tarkanians back to the shores of their home-world! There put an end to this long, bloody, and costly war!

We are in their backyard now, headed for their doorsteps! A loud and thundering Oorah! was returned to Admiral Enrico Garcia, who, upon this motivational bluster, returned with a raised fist and his own Oorah!

Okay, troops, space, and air wings, let’s review your briefings and orders. The briefing continued for about another hour, with each battalion commander and flight commander repeating their objectives and orders as they were covered in the briefing. Once all commanders had repeated and reported on their assignments and orders, Admiral Garcia dismissed the group with the statement. Flight leaders, battalion, company, and platoon leaders, be sure to brief your people on the mission goals and orders they are directly responsible for before your launch sequences. That is all … dismissed, report to your duty stations!

Captain Mason gathered the five pilots making up their Grey Falcon strike fighter wing and himself as the wing commander. Lt. Stanton, Mason motioned his wing Alohi Stanton over to him and moved them a little farther from earshot of the rest of the wing. Alohi, as the Lt. preferred in her more private conversations with her wingmates and close friends.

Alohi, we’ve got two very green pilots in our wing on this mission. This will be their first full-on live combat! I’ll assign one to Raynor and the other to Miller unless you’d prefer to babysit one of them?

Lt. Stanton cocked her head slightly, looking up at Captain Mason. Ummm … not in the momma bear mode much on this one, Jack!

Yes, that’s what I figured! Mason said with a grin. Besides, this leaves you and I to keep everyone on assignments and duties while keeping each other properly covered. What are your thoughts?

Stanton and Mason had been together as wingmates since she first took up a space superiority strike fighter seat two years ago when the war turned and the pushbacks started. Like him, she was a highly accomplished ace and an extremely skilled fighter pilot. Mason also thought she deserved a command of a wing now. He was determined to see her get a command of her own if they made it through this battle together.

He would miss having Alohi ever on his wing, but a good flight leader always tried to push his best people forward. The two of them had become highly prized trophies to be attempted by any Tarkanian pilots foolish enough to make the try. It was one reason the two of them still flew together as wingmates. Each owed the other too many times over to count!

I agree, Alohi said. Miller and Raynor have both been with the Grey Falcon wing for a bit, seen the heavier combats, lost wingmates, and are now good at keeping their wingmates in check.

Yup, Alohi! Now, whom shall we saddle with Jitterbug? Mason said, referring to one of the newbie greenhorns who seemed to be jittery, even in training flights.

Well … call Raynor and Miller over here. Got an idea! said Stanton with a slight wink.

Miller, Raynor! Drag your butts over here a second! Mason hollered.

Yeah, boss, what is it … who’s getting saddled with Jitterbug? said Raynor.

Heads, you got Jitterbug. Tails, he’s Miller’s problem! said Stanton as she pulled out an old slug of a coin passed down through her family line for luck. She flipped it, caught it mid-air, and slapped it on her wrist.

Miller quickly shouted. It’s heads, with a mischievous laugh and a smile. Stanton pulled back her hand to reveal tails.

Ha! laughed Raynor, who had been outdrawn on calling the coin. Yeah, I heard complaints. You’ve always been too premature in pulling the trigger, Miller!

Get over here, you two! Captain Mason called to the two greenhorns. Jason, you’re with Miller, Yackov, with Raynor. I expect you two to bring Miller and Raynor back, tagging along with you intact, when this battle is wrapped up!

"Now that I have all of you here, let’s review our orders and assignments again. We will be in the first flights to drop in on our Tarkanian friends. They know we’re coming, just not for sure when and where, but definitely in the Bloody Rock system. About as close as the Assaurian deep scouts can advise us on in the way of their patrols and main battle group positions without risking a collision on dropping out. Raptor flight group’s initial assignments are to engage any enemy superiority fighters and try to draw them into a fight. If they do not commit, then it is our job to maneuver to attack and reduce the defensive fire capabilities of the Tarkanian pickets. Grey Falcons, us, and the Red Tails wing will have that duty. The rest of the flight group will have our asses when we strike the defensive picket lines.

"Our two wings are equipped with the Phoenix anti-battery missiles. We are packing the new quantum ion Star-Burst missiles, too. The Star-Burst missiles are supposed to interfere with and even take out enemy targeting and sensory tech. We get into dogfights with enemy fighters. You will be reliant on solid core EMPP (electromagnetic pulse projectile) cannons and ERGP (energy plasma) cannons. Both are highly devastating and effective, with an accurate fire on enemy hulls.

"Ten galactic minutes after we first pop in on the Tarks, the first waves of the assault torpedo boats are coming in. Their assignment is to strike the enemy’s heavier defensive ships and Tark capital ships of the line. They will have their own Strike Fighter escorts. Our mission is to continue to perform offensive operations against any Tark fighters or pickets still in the area. Our relief will arrive with the heavy cruisers and battle frigates; our support carriers will be behind them. We will report back to the rear area of the battle to resupply with those carriers. They will deploy several fighter flights upon their arrival as our relief. Until those fighters relieve us, our mission shifts to assisting and covering the cruisers. Our duties will be to intercept enemy anti-ship missiles and torpedo fire.

"When engaging enemy fighters and intercept craft—this is especially stated for your ears, greenhorns—stay with your wingmates. Cover each other and do not get baited into ‘individual’ combats with Tark wannabe aces. Tarks fly in wings of five; one or two may try to bait or pull you off of your wing as the battle progresses. If you go for it, the other Tark fighter pilots from their wing will start running at you, attempting to ‘get the kill.’ Don’t be stupid and allow yourself to get isolated. If you lose your wingmate, form up as a third leg with another set of wingmates. Last, all best-laid battle plans tend to work perfectly until they meet the enemy and go completely FUBAR. Be flexible, keep your head in the battle, and stay together … loosely!

All pilots of the first and second Raptor flights, mount your birds and prepare for launch. All first and second Raptor flights … mount up! called the CIC launch master.

With that, Mason and his wing climbed in and locked into their fighters, preparing to taxi up to the launch bays. As she mounted up, Alohi Stanton went to slip her lucky coin into her flight suit. It softly slipped against the zipper pocket on her side and missed the pocket! Alohi neither heard nor knew it had hit the toe of her flight boot and ricocheted, hitting the flight deck.

As Captain Mason took his seat, strapped in, and flicked on the fighter’s primary system’s power, the familiar voice of his onboard AI MIA (military intelligence artificial) greeted him.

Good evening, Captain. I have all the mission objectives and briefings logged. I see we are equipped with the new Star-Burst anti-systems missiles. This will be our first actual combat usage of them. What is your level of confidence in them? I am eager to see them in action under actual combat conditions. I have good faith in their ability to perform as per mission design!

I’m Glad to hear at least one of us has such high confidence. You know my opinions of the best-laid battle plans and ‘new experimental weapons’! Jack replied.

Of course, I do as often as I have had the dubious privilege of hearing your opinions on such matters! As your faithful AI, I can recite your summations on such things without diving into my memory cores. Never underestimate the ability of new tech to completely fuck up your day and battle plans while leaving your ass hanging out to dry! MIA said.

Dear, have I ever told you that you can be a real smart ass? Love ya, Mya! Mason replied somewhat sarcastically.

Shortly after, they came together in Jack’s flight training. Jack had referred to her as Mya since she was an integral part of his flight crew. She was more than just a set of hardware, firmware, software, and engrams … she was his trusted copilot and comrade. He valued her as much as he did any of his other close comrades, and MIA had responded with growing complete self-awareness and even the same feelings of bond with Jack.

Grey Falcon one, you’re on deck, set, go ready for launch and in 10, 9…. came the prompt from the CIC launch master.

Captain Mason’s fighter, The Falcon Mk III-D, had the look of a meticulously crafted smooth flint, albeit with a bit more depth, arrowhead. The varied ordnance packages the fighter could deliver were neatly mounted on six-gun style concealed weapons pods. The weapons were deployed under the fighter’s chassis into an attack position. Its singular EMPP cannon rode similarly but topside to his port. The ERGP cannon rode similarly to the topside starboard. When not in attack mode, all weapons were stowed internally to the hull to maintain the fighter’s lower profile and stealth protocols.

On the upper topside of the nose was a work of nose art, a peregrine falcon poised for attack with a set of crossed war-hawks in its talons. To the Tarkanians, it was the mark of the Grey One. One of the Earth Alliance’s most lethal interceptor pilots. A coveted prize, should any Tarkanian pilot best him! His dedicated wingmate, Lieutenant Alohi Stanton, was always on his shoulder, hiding in his shadow, ready to pounce on any enemy foolish enough to attack them! Grey Falcon Two, the Grey One’s shadow, was always ready to pop out and play whack-a-mole. Both were on the Tarkanians’ most-wanted list. In a heavy combat melee, the two seemed to dance an unbreakable lethal ballet, covering each other, and watching over their other wingmates. The Grey One and Shadow!

Once away, Raptor flight formed into separate wings and set for the jump. Mya’s voice cracked in his ears, Main hyper core reactor online, jump in 3 … 2 … 1…!

While time itself was irrelevant or distorted. It always seemed to pass quickly after one’s mind slipped into a dazed state of stasis after the first few minutes. Providing a buffer field for the ride was a waste of time and energy in a small craft like a Strike Fighter. As it usually did, Jack’s mind slipped into a state of drift until he was completely unconscious and under the spell of the very mild stasis field. His mind drifted back to the beginning of this some seven galactic years ago.

The initial contact with the Tarkanian race was where they were headed back. Earth had come across the prehistoric Earth-like planet during its careless and conceited days of an expansionist ideology. Send in the probes, check for any signs of inhabitants or nearby inhabited systems, and send escorted survey parties. Then try to establish if there are any other races or species with a claim or grievance from your poking about. If not, attempt to enact an eminent domain type of claim at the beginning of any further plans or operations.

Earth Alliance had initially sent the Terra-forming teams to the planet’s largest moon to set up a base of operations and begin managing any plans. The moon, slightly larger than Earth’s own, had several promising attributes for some colonization itself. With a relatively stable surface, it had abundant water ice and a still-active magnetic core of low output. It was one of three moons that held a sustainable orbit around the mother planet. It was the largest, as the other two moons more closely resembled large but well-formed asteroids.

In short, it was a very rare jewel in a galaxy full of planets, unsuitable for even terraforming attempts. A gas giant here or there once in a while might have a decent-sized moon to modify or be able to exploit. Overall, there were very few worlds such as this, and most already had a populace of higher intelligence occupying it.

The Tarkanians showed up in force with a small battle group shortly after the two main mass-shift reactors that would power all the operations came to life. An extensive area surrounding the compound already had a contained reactor-sustainable atmosphere. The Tarkanians demanded that all trespassers on their sacred Prophet’s Moon immediately cease all activities and leave the system.

Arguing for just proof, the resident pompous, jackass bureaucrat and his small team of negotiators contested the first contact’s assertion of authority to make such unreasonable demands. The bureaucrat went with an obvious stick up his ass! With an escort of a wing of old A-719 B fighter escorts surrounding his transport shuttle, he met with the Tarkanian’s commanders.

It didn’t go well. The official brief of the surviving Earth Alliance Federation vessels claimed that the Tarkanian flagship opened fire after a brief series of messages exchanged with threats from both sides. According to the official brief, this elicited a response from the Terra-formation fleet’s battle-capable ships with the Terra-formation teams.

Mason had always questioned the accuracy of who had fired first. He was there and had witnessed the first exchanges of fire. From his post on the moon’s surface, it had appeared to him that the first shots fired appeared to be E.A.F. heavy Gauss cannons! Fired across the front of the Tarkanians battle group lead. His point of observation was not reliable enough, though, to fully determine who fired first. Besides, at his rank level, it mattered little.

Mason’s duty was to ready the platoon for possible hostile actions. The first surface strike troops of the Tarkanians poured down on the moon’s surface. Dropping into the pressurized area of the compound under heavy resistance fire from the limited ground defensive installations. They took heavy casualties, but it only enraged, emboldened, and drove them on. Gunnery Sergeant Mason set up a perimeter defense to provide a holding cover to evacuate as many personnel as possible. It was clear they were outgunned, outmanned, and more were coming.

When he first set eyes on the charging Tarks, it was an inspiring sight indeed! They were large, strong, well-armed, and armored. Physically, they had a very slight resemblance to an Orc, had no fear of death, and were out for blood. Gunny Mason was told to hold the line until the last civilians were off, so he and his troop did so at a significant cost. They held, as ordered until told to hot load on the evacuation dropships. He had engaged in hand-to-hand at the very end; the Tarks were strong and tough but lacked the reflex speed in close-quarter combat to block crippling strikes, which left them unable to pursue their intended quarry. In short, they were vicious and savage warrior beasts.

Gunny Mason’s boots were the last of the surviving Marines and personnel to leave the moon’s surface alive.

It didn’t go much better for the forces in orbit. Many evacuation lifts were shot out of the sky as they tried to get clear by the resident and still-arriving Tarkanian warships. It was a bloody and savage slaughter of most of the people on the surface via bombardment from orbit. Many of the transports attempting to evacuate the area were being hit. It was a rout and a slaughter of a never-before-realized scenario in any previously fought battles by the Earth Alliance forces.

But it was only the beginning. To the Tarkanians, the Earth Alliance had committed an invasion and war when the Tarkanian leaders realized how well they had the Earth Alliance’s technology and capabilities outmatched. They began a total conquest war, pushing Earth Alliance back, colony by colony.

The system-to-system fight began pushing the Earth Alliance forces back, but at the cost of many Tarkanians. Upon first contact with the Earth Alliance, their warriors thought they might be an easy kill, easy prey … then they had their first rounds with the Fleet Force Marines. Courageous and vicious little bastards they called the Marines, a fitting and honorable combat foe for even the greatest of Tarkanian warriors.

From the early standpoint of the Tarkanian Empire’s military, this would be a glorious and legendary war for their historians to sing of for decades. Their technology, capabilities, and orbital combat operations were superior at the current levels.

One particular Tark warrior would remember his encounter with one particular Terran warrior as that Terran warrior boarded the last transport away that fated day…. The last of his company to lift off from the Prophet’s Moon, he could have quickly jumped on that transport and taken cover. He did not. As the Terran turned in the hatchway, he pulled an ax-like weapon from his back. He launched it skillfully at the warrior next to him, striking his fellow warrior square between the eyes and killing him instantly. With the hatchway still open and the transport rising, the Terran warrior glared straight into his eyes, raised the middle finger of his throwing hand, and spat upon the ground! It was then that the Tark warrior knew the coming ground battles would likely be fierce and vicious! A territory for only the most courageous and outrageous warriors of both sides to dare stand upon. It was going to be glorious!

Captain Mason’s journey through the hyper sea of mental smoke and memories continued. Yes, it was a long and hard-fought three-year retreat to Earth itself. So many comrades lost uncountable numbers of the enemy killed as well, which only seemed to drive them forward even harder. He had lost his young wife, his sons, and his daughter to the war, and their civilian evacuation transport shot to pieces as it attempted to make the jump out of a system. This war was more than personal, and always on his heels.

Payback? He had collected that from the uncountable numbers of Tarks whose skulls he had split with his gunnery and war hawks. Earth Alliance, what was left of it, was en route with scores of wounded military personnel and injured civilians. Their destination was Assauria, a pristine planet in a star system with one habitable world—Assauria—a couple of other rocky planets, ice planets, and one large near brown dwarf gas giant. The plan was to drop the wounded and injured on Assauria into their exceptional and kind care, then to continue to their final stand in the Sol System, Earth’s home system.

Yes, this war had gone that badly. The Assaurians were a highly advanced race of people of an avian-reptilian humanoid type of evolution. A people who, by their own beliefs, laws, and codes, did not support or believe in war or the taking of another being’s life in anger. Earth’s governance toward the past year of war had pleaded for some aid in developing better technology. Technology to contend with the superior space-borne tech of the Tarkanian Fleets and strike craft. They were better armed and better armored, and their superior fighter had a slight edge in maneuverability and armament. On the ground, forces were relatively equally matched. The constant orbital superiority of the Tarks, however, could overwhelm their positions with orbital and aerial bombardment. The Assaurians stood firm on their neutrality, albeit with some remorse at the significant losses suffered by a trusted and valued commerce trade partner.

But the Tarkanian battle fleets showed up in a closer pursuit than was realized! The Assaurians sent out an envoy to meet with the Tarkanian Fleet. Demanding they be allowed to deal with their Earth Alliance enemies, the Tark commander insisted on making planet touch-down. The Tarkanian commander stated that if the Assaurians would not allow the capture of the enemies of the Tarkanian Empire, they would be considered as conspiring with enemies of the Tarkanian Empire! Any statements of neutrality would not be recognized. The Assaurian envoys refused this action and stated that The Tarkanian fleet should leave their space, as the remaining Earth Alliance Fleets were doing.

Last request, Assaurians. Allow us to make planet side to deal with these enemies of the Empire, or we shall do so by force!

You must leave our system and take your hostilities with you!

With that, the Tarkanian fleet commander made the biggest miscalculation of the war. He ordered the