The Price of Honor (The United Federation Marine Corps' Grub Wars Book 2)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  “Yeah, can you stop a war?”

  “Pardon me, Vice-Minister?”

  “Nothing. And no, I’ll be leaving now.”

  I don’t know what happened on Lore, but it’s clear I’ve blown this part of the mission. Now I’ve got to convince the Klethos not to remediate their honor.

  LORE

  Chapter 25

  Hondo

  “That’s the last of them, sir. We’re next,” Hondo said.

  The lieutenant nodded, then went back to his PA. He’d been quiet since the truce, somewhat withdrawn. Hondo wanted to say something to him, to tell him that he respected the man. That all his Marines did.

  “Leave him be, Hondo,” Staff Sergeant Rutledge said.

  “But he saved our asses.”

  “True that. But he blames himself for those we lost, and not just here on the planet.”

  Hondo could understand that. All day, his thoughts had drifted to his losses. To Marasco, Antman, Ling. To Diva, Killdeer, Haus, Nok. Some of them would be resurrected, but others were lost for good.

  The lieutenant had lost all of those, but also most of Third Squad and half of Second. That had to be a heavy burden.

  He nodded, then strode over to where Hanaburgh and Tony B were manning the approach. It was all well and good to have a truce with the host, but until each and every one of them had boarded the Swenson liner and left the system, the skipper was not going to let down her guard.

  “Anything?” he asked, more to fill up the silence than because he wanted to know.

  “Quieter than a mute mouse in a tempest,” Tony B said.

  “Well, the next shuttle’s ours. Be ready to fall back.”

  “We’ll be ready, Sergeant. I don’t want to spend any longer on this fucking dirtball than we have to.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Hanaburgh said. “Look at it. All this room. A man could stretch out here.”

  Hondo looked at Hanaburgh in surprise. He agreed with Tony B; he just wanted to leave. He shifted his gaze for a moment to take in the view. Lore really was a pretty planet, when you got down to it. As a Class 1 terraformed world, it was lush and green. There was plenty of room for humanity to expand on this continent. Not that Hondo ever planned on coming back, but as a child of the Emerson slums, he could understand why Hanaburgh might be intrigued.

  “Sergeant McKeever, the shuttle’s inbound. Get your people to the LZ,” Gunny Gustav passed.

  “Roger that, Gunny,” he passed, then “That’s it, then. The shuttle’s on its way.”

  The three Marines took one last look towards the north, then turned and started back to the cleared area that had acted as the LZ. Two of the Buddie Navy cargo handlers were standing by the last of the cargo, while Wolf, Pickerul, and RP were donning their PICS.

  The familiar scream of the shuttle’s ion engines reached them as the shuttle swooped in from the south, hugging the terrain before it flared to a perfect landing. This was a civilian shuttle, with the passenger hatch on the side. Pickerul and RP moved up to help the sailors, using their PICS’ strength to hand up the cargo.

  “OK, go ahead and board,” the gunny said.

  Hondo motioned for his Marines to board, and they clambered up the ladder, barely fitting their bulk inside the hatch.

  “I’m getting the lieutenant, Gunny,” Hondo said, walking back to where he’d left him.

  Lieutenant Abrams had already donned his PICS, but he wasn’t moving.

  “Sir? It’s time to go.”

  “I’m coming, Sergeant McKeever,” he said after a long wait.

  Without another word, he stepped off, heading to the shuttle where Staff Sergeant Rutledge, the gunny, and the skipper waited. Hondo reached them, then as the staff sergeant climbed the ladder, he turned, searching for any sign of movement, any sign that the Brotherhood was breaking the truce. The countryside was deserted.

  “Get aboard, Sergeant,” the skipper said.

  Hondo nodded, then climbed up into the shuttle. Inside, the seats had been retracted, but he still had to crouch to avoid hitting his helmet on the overhead. He did a headcount, then told the gunny that all of his Marines were onboard. Behind him, Captain Ariç climbed up, paused in the hatch, and took a moment to look back.

  “That’s it, then. Let’s blow this place.”

  The hatch whispered closed, and the shuttle smoothly took off, leaving Lore behind them.

  EARTH

  Chapter 26

  Skylar

  “That’s that, then. The last of the Marines and the Zrínyi’s crew are off of the planet,” Keyshon said.

  “No glitches? No last-minute changes of their demands?”

  “No ma’am. It looks like the planet’s back in the hands of Horsinger, Inc.”

  Thank God for small favors.

  The last two days had been tense, to say the least. A truce had been called and relayed to the two sides on the ground. But twice, it looked like war was going to break out again, all while Sky and her team tried to keep the Klethos along the sidelines and the more seasoned diplomats dealt with the Brotherhood to try to avert an escalation. Neither side had wanted to allow the other side’s warships that lurked outside the system to affect a rescue, and all the while, the planetary government—read, Horsinger, Inc—was screaming bloody murder about their sovereignty being violated.

  Finally, cooler heads prevailed, and two civilian liners were hired to take the UAM and Brotherhood forces off the planet and transport them to military vessels outside the system.

  Nothing was over. There were lawsuits and official protests in the works, but for the moment, it looked like a shooting war had at least been postponed.

  And that left her with the Quad. She couldn’t put it off any longer. They’d been requesting a meeting, which the Secretary-General himself had quashed, but now it was time.

  “You ready?” she asked Foue and Dr. Pavoni.

  They both nodded. Sky was glad that both were there. Dealing with the bishop alone had been stressful, but with the Klethos, the powers that be felt that it was better to show a united front to the Klethos, to remind them that most of humanity had kept honor in their relationships. Sky agreed with that line of thinking, but she was also simply grateful that she wouldn’t be alone.

  The three led their teams into the meeting room, then stood waiting for the Quad to arrive. Two minutes later, the four Klethos strode in. Sky tried to catch the eye of Gary, the male, but he wouldn’t do it.

  “Was your confrontation lassor?” Glinda asked, without civil niceties.

  Sky was ready for the question. Lassor meant an attempt to remediate honor, something between a punishment and a salve, as far as the best human linguists could determine. It would have been foolish to assume that the Klethos were unaware of what had happened on Lore, and it was logical, given their last meetings, that the Klethos would assume that the UAM was attempting punish the Brotherhood for their lack of honor.

  “When some are without honor, it is up to d’lato to remediate,” she answered.

  Which was not an answer, she knew.

  Glinda stared at her, and it took an effort of will for Sky to stare back into the piercing eyes.

  “Was this lassor?” Glinda asked again.

  Sky was ready for that, if Glinda didn’t accept the swivel.

  “This was the first step of lassor. We wanted to remind the Brotherhood of what honor means.”

  “D’lessu will never understand,” Gloria interjected, her neck frill rising to its full glory before settling back down.

  “They were d’lato for many years. We believe that honor can be restored. This was a reminder for them.”

  “Yet you left them alive,” Glinda said.

  “We destroyed their ship. We killed their soldiers. We were not merciful.”

  That was a pretty severe slant to what happened, but not technically a lie.

  “And we have a reminder for you. If you cannot remediate honor, then you are not d’lato, and lassor is in
your future as well.”

  Without another word, the four rose and stalked out of the room.

  The meeting had lasted just over a minute, but the message was clear: the UAM had better do something to restore honor, or the Klethos were not only going after the Brotherhood alliance, but the UAM as well.

  FS FIRTH OF CLYDE

  Chapter 27

  Hondo

  “There was damage to your cuirass. What do you remember of that?” the civilian asked.

  Hondo tried to think back. He’d take a pretty hard blow to his chest, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it when it happened. His armor had held, and he’d been rather preoccupied at the time.

  “I can’t really say, sir. I think it was when we were in the thick of it.”

  “By ‘in the thick of it,’ I am assuming this was when your squad was engaged after you overran the initial ambush. We’ve got you at between two and four hundred meters from the Brotherhood forces at the time. Does that sound right?”

  “Yes, sir, I guess so.”

  “And what was your aspect to the Brotherhood soldiers?”

  “Sir?”

  “Were you facing them? Did you have a side aspect?”

  “Uh, sir. I was in combat at the time. I can’t tell you where I was facing at any given moment.”

  “Sergeant, it’s vital information. I wouldn’t be spending my time here if it wasn’t,” the man said, sounding a little peeved.

  Hondo was about to snap off a retort when the lieutenant colonel said, “Sergeant McKeever, we all know you were worrying about keeping your Marines alive and dealing with the enemy, and no one is besmirching what you did. Far from it. You made the Corps proud. But Dr. Silverton’s questions are important, too. This was the first time in history that PICS went up against Sauls, and we need to analyze what happened, so we can prepare for a future engagement. You understand, don’t you, son?”

  The civilian might be some high muckety-muck, but Hondo was about fed up with him. The lieutenant colonel, though, he was a different story. Hell, that was the same rank as the battalion CO, and he might as well be a god as far as Hondo was concerned. If he were telling Hondo to try and dredge his memory, then he would.

  He looked up at the overhead, trying to replay the fight in his mind. The problem was that it was like a kaleidoscope, whirling fragments that fit together to make the whole. He thought that he’d been advancing when he was hit, but was that before or after he’d fired to the left? Could that have turned him around?

  “I’m sorry, sir. I just can’t remember. Can’t we look at my combat footage? Wouldn’t that tell you?”

  “We have looked at it, son. That’s why we’re asking you. It wasn’t clear.”

  “The R16?” the civilian asked the lieutenant colonel.

  The lieutenant colonel took a deep breath, then said, “Sergeant McKeever, Dr. Silverton would like to put you under for a memory mine.”

  Hondo blanched and jerked backwards. He’d heard about memory mining. How could he not have? They were a staple of flicks and holos, and those going under usually had either crippling mental issues, became vegetables, or had personal information revealed.

  “Sir?”

  “It’s OK. Sergeant. Think of it as an assisted hypnosis. Completely harmless.”

  “I . . . I don’t want my brain fried.”

  “Oh, good God,” the civilian said, rolling his eyes.

  “It’s nothing like that, son. No one can see inside your head, and you’ll be completely awake. R16 simply helps you remember better.”

  “Do I have to, sir?” Hondo asked.

  “No, you don’t,” the lieutenant colonel admitted. “No one can force you. But I can tell you this. What you and your fellow Marines tell us can save lives in the future. That’s important, right?”

  “Uh . . . is anyone else doing this? Lieutenant Abrams?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Abrams has agreed. So has Staff Sergeant Rutledge.”

  Hondo felt his heart pound and sweat was forming on his brow. This was worse than facing the Brotherhood. His brain was him, who he was, and they wanted to mess with it. Maybe it was for the good, but still . . .

  Ah, hell. If the lieutenant’s doing it, I’ve got to.

  There was really only one decision he could make if it could keep Marines alive.

  “Sir, OK. I’ll do it.”

  The civilian muttered something under his breath that sounded like “about time,” and Hondo was tempted to tell the man he’d changed his mind. But this was about making the PICS better, and that could save lives, so he really had no choice.

  “Are you going to do it now?” he asked, steeling himself.

  “Oh, no. We don’t have the ability here. We’ll do it once we arrive at J-Point.”

  Hondo let out a sigh of relief. He still had time.

  “Do you have anything else for the sergeant, sir?” the officer asked the civilian.

  That rubbed Hondo the wrong way. The civilian was maybe a few years older than Hondo, but the lieutenant colonel was calling him sir? It didn’t seem right.

  “No, you can dismiss him. Who’s next?”

  “That would be Corporal Curtis Johnson,” he said, then added, “Sergeant McKeever, please sent him in.”

  Hondo got up, happy to be leaving. Outside, the office, Wolf and Pickerul were waiting.

  “How was it?” Wolf asked.

  “They want to mine our brains,” Hondo said.

  “Fuck that shit,” Pickerul said, her eyes wide.

  “They say it’s safe,” Hondo said.

  “Yeah, like they said we were just getting transported to J-Point, and we saw how that worked out.”

  Pickerul’s logic was flawed, but he could appreciate what she’d just said.

  “Look, just try and remember everything you can. They’ve got our combat footage and our analytics, but they want more. So, go, they’re waiting.”

  Wolf shrugged, then opened the hatch.

  “Were they tough?” Pickerul asked, for once, the bluster gone, giving hints of the little girl she had to have been once.

  “Hell, nothing scares you, and neither should this. They just want to know what happened.”

  “Are we in some sort of trouble?”

  The question took Hondo by surprise. He looked up, and Pickerul had scrunched up her eyebrows, her face worried.

  “No, what gave you that idea?”

  She just pointed to the closed hatch.

  “No, don’t worry. You know this was the first time we’ve fought Sauls, and they want to analyze things down to a T. They want to make the PICS better, so we can kick ass when we meet again. Not everyone’s as good as First Squad, so we’ve got to give those other sorry-ass saps all the help we can.”

  “We did good, right, Sergeant?”

  “Damned right we did, Tammy.”

  He reached over to give her a clap on the shoulder, and somehow, she melted into him for a hug.

  “I miss them,” she whispered.

  Me, too, Tammy. Me, too.

  He held her tight for a few moments before she shoved him back, the tough-as-nails Marine again.

  “Sorry about that, Sergeant. It won’t happen again.”

  “No problem. Well, I’d better get back. Staff Sergeant Rutledge probably has got a to-do list a klick long for me to do.”

  “Thanks, Sergeant,” Pickerul said as he walked away. “For everything.”

  His step perked up, and he made his way to the senior enlisted berthing and rapped on Staff Sergeant Rutledge’s space. There was no answer, so he poked his head inside.

  Wonder where he is?

  He wandered down to the troops’ compartment where Hanaburgh, Tony P, and RP were lounging.

  “Are we up?” Hanaburgh asked.

  “Yeah, head on down. Wolf’s in there now,” he said. “Has anyone seen the staff sergeant?”

  “He came looking for you. Said he’s going to see the lieutenant and for you to come,” Hana
burgh said, as he handed Hondo his PA.

  He’d been instructed to leave it before his interview, and Hanaburgh had been entrusted with its security. He glanced at it, and the meeting icon was flashing. Making his way to officer’s country, he knocked on the hedge of the lieutenant’s open hatch.

  “Enter,” Lieutenant Abrams said.

  Normally, the lieutenant would be sharing the stateroom with three other lieutenants, but as the Clyde had been dispatched specifically to rescue them, there was plenty of room.

  “Plenty of room” was all relative. The small stateroom was still crowded with Cara and Staff Sergeant Rutledge in there.

  “Tale a seat, Sergeant,” the lieutenant said, pointing at the lower rack across from him.

  Hondo sat by Cara, who seemed amped.

  “What’s up, sir?”

  “These two already know. We’re not going to J-Point.”

  “Really, sir?” Hondo asked surprised.

  He felt . . . disappointed? It wasn’t surprising that they might not be sent back to J-Point. They’d suffered some heavy casualties, but still, their mission was the Grubs. Surely there were enough Marines at J-Point to flesh them out again.

  “We’re going to Destiny,” the lieutenant told him.

  It took him a moment to process that.

  “Destiny, sir? Isn’t that a Brotherhood world?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “So, why are we . . . shit, sir, we’re invading the Brotherhood?”

  “Not exactly,” the lieutenant said, looking at the other two Marines before continuing. “We’re going to meet up with the rest of the battalion en route, then we’re going there to defend it.”

  “Sir?”

  “The Grubs have invaded Destiny, and we’re going to kick them back off the planet.”

  EARTH

  Chapter 28

  Skylar

  “The threat affects all of humanity. We cannot ignore it.”

  “They are not d’lato,” Glinda said, with the slight hiss that indicated Klethos scorn. “You would sully yourselves?”

  This isn’t going well.

  Sky glanced up at the small cam that was broadcasting the meeting to probably thousands.