Ryck knew that there were Confed troops he had just faced who had not retreated and who were still technically effective, but he hoped their will to fight was gone. He couldn’t wait for a 100% secure battlefield if he were going to help Donte and Bravo. He had to strike when he could and when momentum was on his side.
Because the ballista had had to be close in order to fire beyond the tailings, they were only five kilometers from the battleline in front of them. Gunny had grabbed 13 EVA Marines and put one in back of each PICS. These 13 Marines literally pushed the PICS Marines to the front of the charge as Charlie Company swept down on the Confed lines.
Those Confeds on their right flank saw the approaching Marines and opened fire. Marines started to fall, but the massed fire of four vertical ranks of Marines, over 120 in all, quickly destroyed the initial opposition.
Someone on the Bravo circuit saw that and rallied his Marines to take advantage of the confusion. Ryck didn’t recognize the voice, but whoever it was knew his stuff. When the XO, with only 11 Marines hit the back of the Confed line, the Confederation assault was broken. Confed soldiers, those who could, at least, started pulling back into the tailings.
“Donte, the attack is broken, do you read me?” Ryck asked.
“I haven’t been able to raise him,” Preston said. “But if you could, we could use a bit of support.”
“On our way,” Ryck told him.
“Bravo, this is Charlie Six. Consolidate in position while we pass through your lines,” he sent over the Bravo command net.
“Roger that, sir. And thanks for your help,” that same voice replied.
“Charlie, we’re not finished. Alpha needs us, and we’re answering the call. Sgt Ling, get your push crew ready and lead us to this position,” he said, locating it on the display. “First, fall in as the top rank. Everyone else, same formation.”
Ryck had the company in platoon strength across and one platoon stacked on top of the other. He’d played with this formation in training, and using it here successfully validated the concept. It would never work within gravity, of course, but in space, it allowed massing of fires. It limited maneuver, but Ryck had already thrown that out the window. He wanted to hit the enemy and hit them hard while they were wavering. The century or so that faced Alpha had to know that their brethren had quit the field or were lying dead, and they should be ready to break themselves.
Ryck had wanted to call the formation a phalanx, which was ironic as he was first using it against the Confederation, which loved all things Roman and used Roman terms within its military.
As the company formed back up to take the fight on, Ryck saw that the formation had shrunk. There were only nine PICS Marines in the center of the formation, and a quick query to his AI showed 97 Marines still effective. Ninety-seven Marines, though, was still a formidable fighting force, and there was work to be done.
Alpha had run into its opposition about ten kilometers from the ship. Ryck had a clear corridor, and he started firing his weapons at eight klicks away. He wanted the enemy to know they were coming to kick ass. Returning fire reached out to them, hitting several Marines, but the massed company flew on while Alpha renewed its efforts. Charlie never even reached the enemy before they broke and fled like the others into the tailings.
Charlie linked up with a decimated Alpha. Preston, flew up to meet him, one hand bloated and blue where he’d taken a round of some sort that had destroyed his vacsuit gauntlet. Luckily, his suit had been able to isolate the arm, but the hand was lost.
“I’d shake your hand, but seems like I can’t,” Preston said, holding up the blue flesh.
“You OK?” Ryck asked.
“Shit, never better. I’ve lost 120 Marines, so great fucking day,” Preston said bitterly.
Ryck knew the feeling. He’d lost Marines before, and it was horrible. But he also knew the battle was not over. Hundreds of Confeds, maybe more had fled into the tailings. They could be forming up for a counter attack as they spoke.
“Get your Marines ready to move out. I want everyone back at Blue Barrel,” he said, trying to sound authoritative.
Preston looked liked he wanted to say something, but he gave the vacsuit a shrug and simply said, “Roger that.”
With no CO, XO, or S3, Donte was technically in charge of the remainder of the battalion. He was three numbers higher on the lineal list than Ryck. But Ryck couldn’t raise him, so he took command, essentially forcing Preston to follow orders and not be consumed by what had happened. That could occur later, but not now.
Ryck gave the order to Charlie, and within five minutes, the combined two companies were moving back to the ship.
Another five minutes, and the entire battalion—what was left of it—was consolidating into one defensive position.
SSgt Pierpont, Bravo’s First Platoon sergeant, was the Marine leading the company assault. He told Ryck that Donte had been killed by the second salvo of the ballista along with most of the company staff. Lieutenant Rainer had taken over, getting Marines out of the ship only to be killed a few minutes into the attack. Within five minutes, SSgt Peirpont was the company’s senior man.
The news that Donte had been killed was a blow to his stomach. He couldn’t believe it. Not Donte. He pushed the knowledge to the back of his mind and encapsulated it so it would not incapacitate him. He knew he would cry later, but he was the commander now, and he had to keep the battalion operational.
When the report came in of an envoy, Ryck, still numb, went to their defensive frontage. He’d placed most of his Marines to cover a half-sphere, facing the tailings. Approaching this sphere were two Confederation soldiers, their vacsuits flashing white. Ryck, with Çağlar in tow, who Ryck knew would ignore any orders to stay back, went forward to meet them. The two Marines stopped 10 meters from the Confed soldiers, slowly rotating themselves so the four men were oriented together.
“I am Captain Hennesey,” one of the Confeds said. “My commander, LtCol Brisbane, offers a truce.”
While the Confederation Army was organized along Roman traditions, they used the same ranks as other militaries used.
“A truce?” Ryck asked. “Seems to me a surrender would be more like it.”
“That will not happen, I assure you,” the captain said. “But a truce would be mutually beneficial. Let’s have no more loss of life and let the politicians play their games.”
So they feel the same about their leaders? Ryck thought.
“I have an effective battalion here which just kicked your collective asses. And you don’t think a surrender is warranted?”
“I, uh . . . We have suffered losses, surprising losses. But we still have over 400 soldiers ready to fight if given the order.”
“More like 150 there, Captain. Don’t bullshit me.”
The man floated in silence for a moment before responding, “Whatever the number, we can still fight and cause you casualties. And please,” he said, lowering his voice, “be absolutely convinced that if you demand a surrender, LtCol Brisbane will order an attack. There is no question in my mind about that. You might be able to prevail, but at what cost? How many more Federation Marines will die? Please, take this back to your commander, and I pray he agrees.”
“I am Captain Ryck Lysander, and I am in command. It is my call. What are the terms of your truce?” Ryck asked.
“Simply this. You keep this area around the ship, and we will retreat to T-624,” he said, indicating one of the larger planetoids, this one some 50 klicks into the belt. “We conduct no operations against each other and leave each other alone. That is all.”
Ryck considered it. He wanted the Confeds’ surrender. They’d killed Donte, they’d killed his Marines. He hadn’t even gone through the list yet, but he’d seen Gershon and SSgt Grimes on the KIA list already. The grubbing bastards needed to pay.
But was that his pride speaking? Would that bring back Donte? They were pawns in a bigger game, and would any more deaths serve the Federation?
&n
bsp; Then there was the O2 situation. The surviving Alpha, Bravo, and Weapons Company Marines had been recently charged, but with the sorting ship destroyed, there was no way to manufacture any more new oxygen. In seven hours or so, Charlie Company Marines would start to suffocate. Even if they figured out a way to transfer air from the dead, that would only postpone the inevitable.
If the two sides had a truce, though, that could work to Ryck’s advantage. He might be able to arrange for O2 from the Confeds, and not have to surrender to get it. That was the deciding factor.
“Tell your commander that I agree to his proposal. What does he want from me?”
“He has it. He’s been following our conversation.”
“Captain Lysander, this is LtCol Brisbane. Captain Hennesey is relaying this transmission. I accept your agreement in the name of the Confederation of Free States government. We will start pulling back.”
Cowardly prick, Ryck thought. Sends a captain instead of coming himself.
That didn’t matter, Ryck knew. He’d done what he had to do.
“Uh, Captain Hennesey, there’s one more thing,” he said as the captain started to turn away.
“What is that? But may I add that you have already agreed to a truce.”
“Well, I thought you might want to know that you’ve got about 20 of your men back on T-486. They were POWs, but I left them there when they gave me their parole. They won’t be trying to contact anyone for another ten hours, but your might want to go retrieve them.”
“I, uh, thank you, Captain. I appreciate that, and yes, we will go get them. So if you have any Marines between here and there, please let them know we will be passing through.”
Ryck watched the two soldiers turn and fly back into the tailings.
He turned to Çağlar and asked, “What do you think, Hans? Was that the right decision?”
“Not for me to say, sir. But we lost a lot of good men today, friends of mine. If there was a way to make sure we didn’t lose any more without having to surrender, well, I think that’s a good thing. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do think so,” Ryck said.
And he realized that was the truth. He knew he’d made the right decision. Although if they ever managed to get back before they ran out of O2, he hoped the command would think so, too. If he was branded a coward, not even his Nova would help him.
Chapter 36
With a little over three hours to go and about fifteen minutes before he was going to approach the Confeds with a request, based on international treaties, for O2, the Ark Royal and three other ships appeared in the system.
Ryck relayed their situation, and the ship had sent shuttles to provide air and to get the Marines on board. Ryck had sent Charlie first, but he and Çağlar, after getting recharged, had waited for the last shuttle despite Captain Kurae, the Ark Royal’s CO, requesting his immediate presence. Ryck was happy to see his old ride appear, but he was not leaving until each Marine, sailor, and the HECLA staff, were safe on board. That meant the living and the dead.
And the butcher’s bill was heavy. Alpha had lost 105 Marines and sailors. Bravo had lost 133, to include all the officers and all but one SNCO. Weapons had lost 66. Ryck felt those losses. Once again, he’d been thrust into command, and while he wasn’t making decisions for most of the battle, he still felt the weight of them.
But for Charlie, he felt each and every loss. Forty-eight Marines and two corpsmen had been killed. Another 18 had been wounded, with ten of them requiring regen. A land battle might have resulted in a different ratio between the wounded and dead, but in space, wounded usually meant dead.
Second Lieutenant Gershon Chomsky, Staff Sergeant Buc Grimes, Sergeant Horatio Contradari, and Doc Kitoma were among the dead. And there were so many more. Ryck hadn’t had a chance to sit down and write the letters to the families.
That wasn’t true. He’d had the time since reporting aboard. He was just delaying the inevitable.
Ryck had made an oath to himself that he would complete his tour as company commander without losing a Marine. He’d seen it as his job, his solemn duty. But he’d taken his men into battle when he didn’t have to. Donte had even said making the long trip in a vacsuit was a non-player, and Donte had been in command at the time. Ryck could have backed off, just following orders.
He could have kept in place, and no one would have blamed him. But he would have blamed himself. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if he hadn’t launched into the attack, all of the Marines in the other companies would be dead or prisoners. He had given the order to sacrifice some of his men so that others could live. It was the right decision, he knew. His earlier vow had been misplaced, and it could have proven dangerous. The CO had been correct when he criticized Ryck on the Julianna’s Dream mission. A Marine commander cannot dither. He has to make decisions and act on them.
That realization had led to his just completed talk with Jeff. It has been a difficult thing to do. Ryck had a real affection for the young man, but he’d still had to act.
Jeff had come into Ryck’s stateroom, cleaned up and fed, but obviously nervous. He’d taken the seat Ryck offered, but refused to meet his eyes.
“We need to talk, Jeff,” Ryck had started.
“Sir, I don’t know what happened there. I just had a moment’s hesitation, sure, but I was going to be OK. I just wanted to make sure the men were safe. Then Sandy, he just took over, sir, really!”
“That’s not what happened, Jeff, and you know it. You froze on T-486 after the ALC was destroyed, and you froze during the assault on the ballista. You should thank your lucky stars that Sandy was with you. He saved your ass, and probably kept you from facing a court martial.”
“A court-martial, sir?”
“Yes, of course. What do you think we do with officers who show cowardice in battle?”
“I wasn’t a coward, sir!” Jeff protested. “I was just being cautious!”
“If you really believe that, then you are more dangerous than I thought, dangerous to your Marines.”
“I can get better, sir! I promise—”
“Just stop,” Ryck said, holding up one hand, palm out. “You are not fit to be an infantry officer. Period.”
Jeff seemed to deflate in front of him, a balloon losing its air. “What now, sir? A court-martial? That would kill my father.”
Jeff’s father was a retired sergeant major. Ryck had never met the man, but he was sure Jeff was telling the truth. Ryck took out a piece plastisheet, a performance evaluation. He’d already filled it out. It wasn’t good at all, with “cowardice in the face of the enemy” and “unsuitable for further service” boldly written in the text. He handed it to the young lieutenant.
If it were possible, Jeff would have deflated even further as he read it.
He took a deep breath, then handed it back, saying, “OK, sir. You’re right. I have shamed you, I’ve shamed the Corps, and I’ve shamed myself. I guess I had this coming.
“Jeff, you have talen. There is no doubt about it,” Ryck said as he took back the eval. “The Corps can make use of you, just not as a combat Marine.”
“All Marines are combat Marines, sir.”
“And we all serve in non-combat billets. I think you could do well, I think you could serve the Corps, just not in a command. I’ve got a friend or two that I could call, and I think I can get you a position as an adjutant to someone.”
Jeff looked up, catching Ryck’s eyes for the first time. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes which quickly faded.”
“Thanks, sir, but not with that eval. Not even you could pull enough strings with that.”
“I’m not going to submit this one. I’ll give you another. It won’t be great, but it won’t be a death knell. If you work hard and prove your worth, you’ll be able to overcome it.”
“Really, sir? Why?”
“Because I told you, I think you can serve the Corps. And if you’re keeping another combat Marine from having to fill a non-combat bi
llet, that is a plus. Not all combat Marines can fill those billets, and their careers can be shit-canned because they screwed up some piddly-ass report.”
Ryck thought about his own upcoming billet, and he hoped he was not being prophetic about it with his words.
“I, I thank you, sir, from the bottom of my heart. I’ll do what it takes, I’ll make you proud of me.”
“I don’t know if I will ever be proud of you, Jeff. Just don’t make me regret it. And one more thing.”
“Yes, sir?”
“If you ever accept a combat billet or command of a unit, I will come down on you like you can’t imagine. This report here,” he said, pointing at the eval on his desk, “will be the least of your worries.”
“Roger that, sir. I understand. And thank you, sir.”
“Just remember my words. I am deadly serious. Dismissed.”
Ryck pretended to look at some documents until Jeff got up and left the stateroom. He’d had to take action, but he hadn’t liked it. He thought it was worse to give than to receive in a case like this. And he’d been on the receiving end only 45 minutes before, from the Ark Royal’s CO, no less.
When he’d finally reported to CAPT Kurae, the man was already in a foul mood that a mere Marine captain had had the temerity to keep him waiting. But he’d swallowed that and congratulated the famous young man for once again, winning despite the odds. When Ryck told him about the Confederation forces still there, he had started putting in motion the steps to capture them.
Ryck had stepped up to remind the CO that he’d agreed to a truce, and as senior man in the system at the time, that truce was binding. The CO had disagreed, and it took the ship’s SJA to convince him that Ryck was right, and breaking that truce would get him relieved. Frustrated by his own staff, he berated Ryck right there on the bridge, telling him he’s screwed up big time, and if he thought his Federation Nova would protect him from a court-martial, he was sadly mistaken.
Now, 45 minutes later, he essentially threatened Jeff with the same. He’d blown of the CO’s bluster, but it had hurt more to bring that up to Jeff.
Captain (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 4) Page 21
