Noah's Story: Marine Tanker (The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins Book 3) by Jonathan P. Brazee

Author:Jonathan P. Brazee [Brazee, Jonathan P.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Semper Fi Press
Published: 2017-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

“And how long will that take?” Noah asked Mr. Purile.

“Back at Archuleta? Two days, tops. Here? I’m guessing a week. We’ve got to do a lot of jury-rigging.”

Noah had been afraid that the Anvil was down for the count, so the fact that the armor tech could get her back up and running here on Novyy Ural was amazing. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still antsy to get her back into service.

Not that I can ride anyway for another couple of days, he admitted to himself.

Noah had taken a dart right through the meaty part of his left thigh. It hadn’t hit anything vital, and he hadn’t had to be CASEVAC’d off planet. Doc had simply cleaned out the wound and given him a nano booster. The independent duty corpsman had given him a light duty chit for six days and braced his leg to keep it immobile, but Noah wasn’t going to stew on his cot with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. With Corporal Lewis assisting, he’d hobbled over to the ramp to check on his tank.

Frankly, he was surprised that she’d looked as good as she did. She’d only been recovered the evening before, but with the left-side tracks and the MGS removed, she didn’t look too damaged.

The mine had detonated directly under the front of the track with most of the slow-acting force pushing like a huge catapult, flipping the tank on its edge before it fell over. The body of the Anvil had suffered only a minor breach—minor in tank talk, not minor as far as Ski was concerned. The blast had turned parts of the Anvil’s armored skin into shrapnel, riddling the young Marine and almost tearing off his left arm. He’d been put into stasis and was already on his way back to the regional naval hospital on Shiva where it was expected that with eight to nine months in regen, he’d be as good as new.

Purile—“Pure Dick,” as he was known to the Marines due to the civilian’s often condescending attitude he displayed to the enlisted Marines—and his two-man team would simply weld a patch and then replace four of the road wheels and the track. “Easy-peasy,” he’d told Noah.

Surprisingly, at least to Noah, was that fact that it was the damage to the gun weapons turret that had taken the most damage. The Anvil was a tough old girl, but she wasn’t designed to be upside-down. The MGS had been driven into the docking ring when she fell over. The MGS was a lost cause and would be sent back to division at Camp Tainio to see what could be salvaged. But the docking ring had been warped, and a new MGS couldn’t be installed as is. With the tight tolerances and connections, this would not be an easy fix, and Pure Dick was going to have to pull a miracle out of his ass to make the Anvil combat ready here on the planet.

“So, unless you

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