Minerva: Atlantic Sea Destroyer, 2044

Belle focused on the pink and blue sky, which had just begun to glow with the rising sun. The fall breeze gently played with her blonde hair as she narrowed her dark ocean-blue eyes on a cloud that resembled a large cat. She had been back at sea aboard the USS Minerva II for five months now, serving as one of the onboard corpsmen (a navy medic). Just moments earlier, she had finished praying that her husband would stay safe and contact her soon.

Her husband, the chaplain for their battalion, had been summoned to Quantico, VA, for an executive mandate that all chaplains were required to attend. The notice had come with little warning, but Belle was accustomed to the last-minute nature of military life.

“Corpsman!” someone suddenly yelled behind her, breaking her thoughts. She turned to see a frantic Lance Corporal running toward her. “Corpsman!” he shouted again.

He arrived, sweating and out of breath. “What’s the emergency, Lcpl?” she asked. He held his hands up apologetically.

“You’re needed in the barracks. There’s been a fight, and Sgt. Foreman has a broken nose—there’s blood everywhere! He’s passed out cold!”

“That’s the third fight this week!” she replied in frustration. The Marine nodded, sheepishly.

“I know, ma’am. But could you please follow me?”

Clenching her teeth, Belle followed him across the deck. “This is the last time I treat one of you drunken idiots, I swear it!” They ran toward the port, heading below deck. Belle had become one of the Marines’ favorite corpsmen, known for her discretion.

Unlike other medics, who would file reports and complaints, Belle believed some issues could be handled quietly, without costing servicemen their rank or home. As they moved quickly down the ship’s narrow corridors, she worried about how to cover up this mess. Hopefully, it was just a minor scuffle in one of the living quarters. She cared deeply for everyone aboard, just as much as she did for her own daughters.

Belle cringed at the sight of a shattered whiskey bottle on the floor of the Marine living halls.

“It smells like shit down here, Lcpl. If the captain sees this, we’re all in deep trouble.”

“We’re almost there!” he replied, motioning for her to follow as they turned a corner toward the captain’s dining area. “Oh no,” Belle thought. “How bad is this?” Sweat formed on her brow.

They had passed the enlisted and officer quarters, moving deeper into the ship, and Belle’s unease grew. Something terrible awaited around that corner; it had to be, considering they were nearing the captain’s domain. But when she turned the final corner, the Lance Corporal disappeared into a crowd standing in front of her.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Happy birthday, Belle!” the smiling group shouted. Sgt. Foreman, perfectly fine, handed her a bouquet of yellow roses as everyone burst into laughter. Tears streamed down her face as she smiled. “You assholes,” she whispered, grinning.

Her hand covered her mouth as people crowded around, offering congratulations. In truth, she had forgotten it was her birthday, consumed as she had been by stress over recent events and her husband’s sudden absence. She had just returned from deployment with this unit, and they were closer to her than most family, aside from her two daughters and husband.

Captain Buchanan clinked a glass with a spoon, drawing the room’s attention. Standing on a white dinner chair, he looked utterly ridiculous. “Would Chief Petty Officer Kayer please step up here!” He motioned to the chair next to him. Belle was rushed forward by several people, and Captain Buchanan extended a hand, helping her up onto the chair. Blushing, she wiped away her tears as the captain began to speak.

“Chief Petty Officer Kayer—though most of us call you Belle.” He paused, and the room grew quiet. “Normally, it’s highly unprofessional to address each other by first names, but today we celebrate not as seamen and Marines, but as brothers and sisters.” A few cheers and whistles echoed through the hall. “Belle has been one of our beloved corpsmen for many deployments, and she’s personally saved my life and the lives of many others.”

More cheers erupted, and Belle wiped away another tear, sniffling. “Let me wrap this up quickly by saying it’s been a pleasure serving beside you. You’d better be drunk by 1600, and yes, that’s an order!” The captain stepped down from his chair, offering his hand to help Belle down. She hugged him and whispered, “Thank you, Cap.”

He smiled. “Call me Roy. We’re family, remember?” Belle hugged him tighter. “Thank you, Roy,” she said, before turning to hug and shake hands with others in the crowd.

She noticed a makeshift bar set up at a table in the corner. Alcohol wasn’t allowed on ships, and drinking onboard was strictly forbidden unless the ship was docked for the weekend. The fact that they had snuck alcohol onboard and thrown this party spoke volumes about how much they cared for her. A large spread of food and desserts covered the long, black stainless-steel table, reminding Belle of the lunch tables from her middle school days.

She made her way over to the bar, eager for a drink to calm her nerves, when she saw Petty Officer Almonetta, a fellow corpsman, waving at her. Almonetta could have been Belle’s twin if Belle had one; they were the same build and height, with only their hair color and Almonetta’s slightly higher cheekbones to tell them apart. Most people on the ship mistook them for twins, and their shared nickname reflected that. They even walked the same, though most service members moved similarly after boot camp.

Belle smiled as she embraced Almonetta. “Happy birthday, sis,” Almonetta said with a grin.

Belle’s smile widened. “How long have you all been planning this?”

“A while now. It took some time to sneak all this booze onboard. If the admiral finds out, we’ll all be demoted back to seaman.”

Belle laughed. “I’ve never had a surprise party before. I spent two birthdays in the field, eating MREs in Russia.”

Almonetta placed a hand on Belle’s shoulder. “You deserve a good celebration, sweetie. Everyone knows how hard you work around here.”

Belle blushed. “You work just as hard, sis. Make sure you enjoy yourself too.”

Almonetta raised her glass. “You bet! Now get yourself something to drink. You look like you need it!” she cheered.

Belle nodded. “I do. I’ve been so str—”

Her words were cut off by a loud shout. “SHOTS!” a group called. “Get the twins!”

Before Belle knew it, she was as carefree as a bear eating honey in the woods on a bright midsummer’s day. She drank, laughed, and played cards until the world grew fuzzy and the haze of the night consumed her. Then, everything went black.