FS15, she reminded herself with a little surge of pride.
Being assigned as the Second Ministry Advisor to the task force came with an FS15 rank, on par with a Navy captain or Marine Corps colonel. She looked over the the military men and women as they huddled, listening to Admiral Xu.
How many of them are going to treat me as an equal? she wondered.
Sky had enough problems within her own department. Her credentials were impeccable. She’d graduated magna cum lade from EEU at the age of 19, then earned her Ph.D. from the Earth campus of Oxford three years later. Her dissertation, Implications of Klethos-lee Aggression Sublimation, had won the Propov Award and was considered the new gold standard for Klethos psychology. Turning down lucrative academic and business positions, she’d joined the Second Ministry, anxious to make her mark in the world, but she’d discovered that not everyone appreciated bright young stars disturbing the status quo. It had taken her two years of publishing impeccable work and more than a little ass-kissing to be accepted. And now, at 25 years old, she was the de facto Federation xeno-expert to the UAM mission.
And the reason for the mission stood quietly to the side of the room, observing the humans, but seemingly ignored. Not to Sky, though. Her dissertation might be the gold standard, but no one really knew the Klethos, not even after 120-plus years. Their introduction of the d’solle, a new class of Klethos, and evidently ay a type of leadership class, had taken humanity by surprise, for example.
“Sally Mae’s” voluntary defeat in the ring, and the subsequent revelation that the Klethos faced an inter-galactic enemy, one that could threaten the entire galaxy, had been more of a shock. The Klethos wanted allies, pure and simple, and over a century of styled warfare with humans had convinced them that they would fit the bill.
As a xenobiologist, Skylar was familiar with the sad story of the Trinoculars, which was why she gravitated towards the study of the still-enigmatic Klethos. Now, to find out there was still another intelligent species out there, one more powerful and advanced, Sky was excited and yearned to learn more. Not everyone shared her excitement.
A growing percentage of humanity wanted nothing to do with the request for assistance. The Klethos were a powerful race, able to sweep aside humanity if it weren’t for the single-warrior challenges. If there were a more powerful race out there, a more aggressive race, then they wanted nothing to do with them. Over the last four months, debate within the UAM in furtive, international discussions, raged.
Sky wasn’t militarily-minded, but to her, the answer was a no-brainer. If there was a threat out in the black, then humanity had better learn all they could about it. They couldn’t do that putting their collective heads in the sand and hoping to scoot by unnoticed.
In the end, the UAM task force was authorized, not to join the fight, but to try and get a grasp of the situation. The overall mission commander was the UAM’s Second Secretary, Archbishop Lowery from the Brotherhood. The task force’s military commander was the Federation’s Admiral Xu.
The Brotherhood and the Federation made up the bulk of the task force, with the Confederation of Free States, Greater France, and some independents such as New Budapest and Outback filling the remaining roster spots.
Sky felt eyes on her and broke her gaze from the Klethos. She scanned the room to spot Dr. Peyton Janus staring at her. He nodded, then broke contact with her. Dr. Janus was the UAM xenobiologist, not actually Sky’s boss but higher on the food chain than her. He was a citizen of the Alliance of Free States, which was not participating in the task force, so he was there as an officer of the UAM. Sky had never met the man before the start of the conference the day before, but she had read his work. She hadn’t been too impressed.
Doesn’t matter. I report to Executive Counsellor Baker and Admiral Xu, not him.
She wasn’t going to avoid him, and maybe they could work together, but nothing was going to get in her way of learning everything she could about the Klethos.
FSS BENJAMIN GRABOWSKI
Chapter 2
Hondo
“Did you see that lady scientist?” Sam asked.
“Which one?” BK asked as she honed her combat knife.
“The good-looking one, with the dark hair.”
“You mean the xeno-lady? Yeah, I saw her. What about her?” she asked, raising the blade and squinting one-eyed to check the edge.
“Pretty hot, huh? I bet she’s a wild one out on the town, you know? I might have to look her up if we ever pull libbo on this mission.”
“Oh, shit, Sam. You know you aren’t man enough for her. Let me have a chance, though, and I’ll take her to wonderland. She’ll never want to come back.”
“You think so? Like that bartender on Once More, right? Yeah, she was sure into you, right?” He turned away from her and asked, “Hey, Hondo isn’t that right?”
Lance Corporal Hondo McKeever, United Federation Marine Corps, looked up from his novel and asked, “What is right?”
“That bartender on Once More, the one that BK was hitting on. She shot BK down in flames, right?”
Hondo rolled his eyes and went back to his book without answering. Lance Corporal BK Dodds and Private First Class Sam Gelhorn were his two closest friends in the squad—which was a good thing as they made up three-fourths of Second Fire Team. BK and Sam were usually going at it like, well, like brother and sister. That was kind of appropriate, he guessed. The three of them, four, if you counted Corporal Yetter, were a family of sorts. They bickered and quarreled, but they loved each other with a bond that couldn’t be broken.
BK and Sam, in particular, gave each other a ration of shit. They each had a competitive streak a klick long, and if it wasn’t range scores or bench presses, it was trying to bed the most attractive woman wherever they were at.
Hondo smiled at the memory of Once More. Both BK and Sam were hitting on a bartender who was obviously not the slightest bit into either one of them, but under the influence of Mr. Jack, both chose to see interest where none existed. He, on the other hand, had made the acquaintance of an older woman who seemed to like men in uniform, and while those two preened like courting birds, Hondo had slipped out of the bar for a very mutually enjoyable few hours. He’d never told his two mates what he’d been doing, and as he escorted their drunk asses back to the liberty shuttle, they both berated him for being so boring.
Well, “boring” wasn’t going to be a problem on this mission. Third Battalion, Sixth Marines, had been pulled as part of the Sixth Marine Expeditionary Brigade, the main element of the UAM’s Klethos Exploratory Relief Force. It still seemed almost inconceivable to him. He’d watched the Gladiator duels on the holos, of course, so he’d seen Klethos queens. But now, to be on the same side? Hell, there were four Klethos onboard the Big Ski right now. Hondo hadn’t seen any of them yet, but he was hoping to get a glimpse of one, at least.
BK and Sam were now going on about her combat knife. This was an old argument, on whether a PICS Marine needed to carry a metal blade. Sam thought it was ridiculous while BK felt it was better to be prepared in case she had to molt in the middle of a battle.
Hondo shook his head and went back to his book. He had a feeling that down-time like this was going to be a precious commodity in the coming months.
UNNAMED PLANET
Chapter 3
Hondo
“Do you think we’re going to see action?” BK asked on the fire team net.
“You were there at the ops brief,” Corporal Yetter responded. “Your guess is as good as mine, so let’s just focus on our mission.”
“Just wondering,” BK said.
Hondo was “just wondering,” too. Along with everyone else, he’d been excited when they’d been diverted. Instead of Purgamentium, the ex-Confed planet that had long been in Klethos control where they were going to try and develop basic Human-Klethos tactics, they were going to an actual active planet, deep into Klethos space.
The rumor circulating among the Marines was that
Admiral Xu argued against the mission, stating they were not ready to operate alongside the Klethos, but she’d been overruled by the UAM brass. Too many governments were suspicious of the Klethos’ motives, and the UAM wanted proof as to the threat.
“And if proof means getting the brigade wiped out, that’s a small price to pay,” Corporal Yetter had muttered when Lieutenant Silas had given them the orders.
The fact that neither the lieutenant nor Staff Sergeant Aster had chastised Yetter was telling to Hondo. They must have been thinking the same thing. Marines believed that sweat in training saved lives in war, and while the brigade represented the finest the Corps had to offer, they had not even cross-trained yet with the Brotherhood Host, the Confederation Legion, or any of the smaller units in the task force, much less with the Klethos.
Hondo checked his display as he kept up the pace, his PICS working smoothly. Kilo, which had been the battalion’s PICS company, was leading the way through the alien landscape. The other companies followed in a rough diamond, surrounding the UAM civilians. All Marines were trained in PICS, of course, but half of the battalion had been in straight-leg platoons, only being issued their PICS aboard the Big Ski. PICS were all supposed to be the same, but Marines knew that each combat suit had its own personality, so for many of the battalion’s Marines, their first test drive of their PICS was into a hot zone.
“What do you think? We gonna get some action?” BK asked him on the P2P.
The orders had been to keep comms to a minimum. No one knew the Grubs’ capabilities in intercepting then, but enough had been passed so far that Hondo didn’t think anything more would make much of a difference.
“I don’t know. We’re just supposed to escort the civs close enough so they can gather data, and all of that’s going to be at a distance. So, maybe not.”
“Too bad. I want to squeeze one of them until it pops.”
That was so BK. She talked a big talk, but with her, she also walked the walk. If anyone were going to do it, it would be her. Hondo was just glad she was in his fire team.
He really wasn’t sure why the civilian team needed to be on the ground. There were five ships in orbit, including a Brotherhood Caleb-class surveillance ship, whose scanners were second to none. The task force had thousands of drones. If the Grubs had the Klethos worried enough to seek an alliance with humanity, then Hondo thought they should gather all the information they could before they got within reach of the things.
But who cares what a lance corporal thinks? he mused, probably as foot soldiers had been doing since Babylonian times.
Sam thought it was more for show, to let both the Klethos and the rest of humanity see that they were in it for keeps. Hondo didn’t know about that, and he didn’t dwell on things above his paygrade—which would only be a sure ticket for an ulcer.
He looked to the right and behind where the group of six civilians marched uncertainly in the middle of the battalion, clad in Confederation sheath MRF armor. There’d been talk about getting them in a PICS or Rigaudeau-6, but that had been a pipe dream. It took a Marine three weeks to simply learn how to move in their combat suit and a French Legionnaire almost two months for a Rigaudeau-6. Leading the civilians was a Klethos quad and their liaison, a Marine major. Hondo had finally seen a Klethos in the flesh, and he had to admit they were far more intimidating in person than when on a holo next to a Gladiator.
First Platoon, which was acting as point for the battalion, started up a rise. On the other side was a broad plain, more than seven klicks across. Across the plain at the base of the low hills, the Klethos were engaged. Hondo didn’t have access to the more detailed feeds that the commanders had, but his low-res feed showed signs of battle. Flashes of light and explosions could be clearly seen, and he thought he could make out the bulky white shapes of the Grubs.
“Look at the Klethos,” Sam passed. “They’re getting antsy.”
And they were. Hondo wasn’t a scholar of Klethos psychology, but they looked like they were ready to fight. It wasn’t just their neck crests, which were splayed out to the fullest, but their almost trembling posture reminded him of dogs eager to be released on the hunt.
“Second, we’re proceeding to the military crest on the far side and taking a position alongside First Platoon,” the lieutenant passed on the platoon net while inputting the position on each Marine’s display. “We are not here to engage, so unless we’re attacked, all weapons systems are to be kept in the safe mode. Got it? I want acknowledgments, people.”
Hondo blinked his acknowledgment, and a moment later, the entire platoon had.
“I guess we aren’t getting any action,” BK said on the team circuit.
“Quiet. Listen to the lieutenant,” Corporal Yetter admonished her.
“If anything does go down, our orders remain the same. We’re to get our protectees out of danger,” the lieutenant passed.
“Protectees,” Hondo thought to himself. Nice term for us being babysitters.
A Marine in a PICS could run at close to 50 KPH, far faster than any of their civilian charges in their Confed body armor, which was light and durable but gave no assist to movement. If things went to shit, the Second Platoon Marines were to physically pick up the civilians and carry them to the waiting shuttles six klicks back and around a low hill, or, if the situation allowed for it, to let them climb onto the PICS’ hip flanges, holding onto the handles on the back. The plan seemed rather chaotic to Hondo, and the “rehearsal” consisted of practicing picking up the civilians a few times in the Big Ski’s shuttle bay, to everyone’s laughter and amusement.
Hondo kept marching forward in the weird landscape. He’d never been on a non-terraformed world, so normally his curiosity would have him soaking it all in, but with his pulse rising, his focus was on the crest in front of him, or rather what was on the far side of the plain. When he finally crested the top, he went to full mag to the battle ahead . . .
. . . and he saw a Grub laying waste to the Klethos around it, a blue-white light flashing and and reaching out from it.
Hondo had seen the few recordings made available to humanity what a Grub looked like, but this was different. He was seeing one of them in action.
No one knew exactly what the Grubs used as their weapons, but theories abounded. All Hondo could see was light, but not the light of a laser. It seemed to reach out slow enough for the eye to discern the movement, and not on a laser-like straight line-of-sight. The fingers of light zapped out to hit Klethos or the ground, but without explosions.
That wasn’t to say he didn’t see explosions at all. A huge blast erupted from the side of the Grub, but that didn’t seem to faze it. Either the thing had some amazing shielding, or it was inherently tough as nails.
At seven klicks from the fight, Hondo was too far away to pick up much detail, even at full magnification. He had no idea as to the size of the battle, nor could he make out many of the Klethos.
“Look at the size of that thing,” Sam passed, voicing what Hondo and probably every other Marine were thinking.
“Stop here,” Corporal Yetter passed. “But be ready to shift if we get the order.
A PICS can go prone, but that entailed switching off the gyros and was a royal pain to do, and at seven klicks from the fight, the Marines felt comfortable standing. Hondo checked his power-level, glanced to where the civilians were massing and pulling out different types of what had to be sophisticated scanners, then turned back to the far side of the plain. The Grub was no longer in sight, but there were flashes of light that flickered among what served as trees on this planet.
“Do not fire, I repeat, do not fire,” someone shouted over the command net.
“Hold your fire,” Sergeant Mbangwa, Hondo’s squad leader repeated. “Keep your freaking systems on safe.”
Hondo did a quick combat scan, hand hovering over his arming switch, wondering what was going on when he saw the Klethos quad bolting forward, a Marine in PICS that had to be their liaison, in full pursui
t.
“They’re joining the battle,” Hondo passed on the fire team circuit in amazement.
A Marine in a PICS was fast, but the Klethos were just as quick, their relatively thin legs bounding them forward like ungodly ostriches. The major was never quite able to close the distance as they crossed the relatively flat terrain.
“The brass is probably shitting bricks right now,” BK said. “Do you think that major just took off on his own like that?”
“I bet he did,” Sam said. “We’re not supposed to engage.”
“Fucking awesome if he did. I’ve got to give him mad props for an O.”
Hondo wasn’t sure a major would simply take it on his own to enter the battle zone, but stranger things have happened before.
“Kilo Company, nothing has changed. We’re still on an observational mission,” Captain Montgomery, the company commander passed.
Hondo knew he should be scanning for any threat, but he couldn’t help but watch the quad and the major run. It took them over eight minutes to cross the open area, and just as they reached the other side, four fingers of light reached out to envelope each of the Klethos. It was difficult to make out what exactly was happening, but to Hondo, it looked like two of the Klethos went down. There wasn’t any doubt, though, when the major fired. A string of 20mm grenade fire, tracers clearly visible, reached up to a Grub as it came into view. The fire hit true, to the cheers of some of the Marines, but instead of blowing apart, the Grub shifted into a previously unknown gear and darted forward, too quickly for something of its bulk.
Lights reached out as if from a Tesla ball as it charged the major and the remaining two Klethos. Like an aura, light surrounded the major, and after a moment, the 20mm fire ceased.
The first human casualty of the war had just fallen, and Hondo swallowed hard to push down the lump that had just formed in his throat.
The Grub raised itself higher, and Hondo could swear it turned its attention on the battalion arrayed across the ridge. A finger of light zig-zagged toward them, only to peter-out, if light could do that, a klick short of the lead Marines.
Alliance (The United Federation Marine Corps' Grub Wars Book 1) Page 2
