Major (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 5)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  The heat was intense, and Ryck scrambled back to get away. His eyebrows felt singed, but other than that and his ankle—and his shoulder from the day before—he felt surprisingly, well, alive. He sat up and watched intense beams of light pour from the holes being eaten through the Nizzie’s armor. His mouth curved into a nasty smile as he took in his handiwork.

  Marines started climbing and dropping out of the trees around the charging station.

  Sandy reached him first, shouting, “Are you OK? Are you OK?”

  “Check on Portis,” Ryck said, waving him off.

  Still on his ass, he surveyed the scene. Three downed Nizzies were smoldering and smoking. Two fires in the undergrowth had started, and several Marines were trying to stomp them out.

  Ryck looked back at Sandy, who was standing over where Portis was lying. His shake of his head told Ryck all he needed to know. Portis was gone.

  He tried to get up but almost collapsed. His ankle was already swelling up. Broken or sprained, he needed a nano-boost.

  “Six, this is, uh, hell, this is Captain Wright.”

  “Captain, we’ve taken out the Nizzies.”

  “You did? Uh, great, sir, but listen, we’ve got company. It’s the Acquisition police, and they’ve got a couple of personnel carriers. There’s about 100 of them.”

  “What do they want?” Ryck asked.

  “They want the ‘Marine Commander,’ that’s how they put it. And that’s you. What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, if they want to talk to me, ask them to come pick me up. We can use the lift.”

  Chapter 40

  “Where is LtCol Nidischii’?” the police captain asked as Ryck hobbled out of the back of the personnel carrier.

  The captain held up his PA, looking at it, then at Ryck. “Uh, Major Lysander,” he continued, “I wanted to speak to your commanding officer.”

  What is it with these Alliance worlds? So they get a grubbing ship’s manifest? He wondered as he observed the seemingly casual gathering of men.

  It might seem casual, but Ryck could feel the tension in the air. His Marines had their weapons pointed at the ground, but it would be pretty obvious to the gathered police that they were ready to fight in an instant, if need be.

  “I am in charge here,” Ryck said. “So you are talking to him.”

  While waiting for the police vehicle, Ryck had contacted his Federation command interface. He reported the battle and the arrival of the planetary police and had been told to cooperate with them.

  Heavy emphasis was put on the fact that this was not a surrender. The mission was over, and now Ryck’s men would leave, but on their terms. Cooperate, but don’t capitulate, he was told.

  Ryck asked if they were Marines again, and after a short pause, his voice-in-the-sky came back with no, they were still all civilians, Federation citizens acting as bounty hunters to enforce joint warrants. As the Liberty Alliance had signed the warrants as well, Ryck and his men were within their rights to land on the planet.

  “And where is LtCol Nidischii’?”

  “Mister Nidischii’ is back there in the SOG complex, buried when the pirates suicided by bringing it down on everyone.”

  “Ah, I see. Um . . . well, I guess I should be talking to you, then,” the flustered captain stammered out. “Um . . . I, well, you are now on Acquisition, that is, Haven territory, and you carried out an act of war, so—”

  “An authorized arrest mission,” Ryck interrupted.

  “Please, Major. We are adults here. Yes, your government has forwarded your so-called company’s bounty hunter licenses to us, but are you really trying to tell me that you are not Major Ryck Lysander of the United Federation Marines?”

  “Yes,” was all that Ryck said.

  “You are Major Lysander?”

  “No.”

  “What? You are or you are not?” the confused captain asked.

  “Yes, I am telling you that I am not Major Ryck Lysander of the United Federation Marine Corps. I am Mister Ryck Lysander, Federation citizen, a manager of Pegasus Fugitive Recovery, Inc.”

  “Yes, we received a copy of the charter. The company was formed eight days ago?”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Ryck said. “So our documents and licenses are in order, right? We are free to go?”

  “But this is all pig shit! We know what you’ve been doing. We’ve been monitoring you. You are Marines, pure and simple, no matter what your papers say.”

  That explains why they contacted us immediately after the last pirates fell, Ryck thought.

  “So you, with your 100 police officers, have been sitting on your asses just out of range while we fought a known terrorist group? Your government signed the warrants, Captain. You were required, by treaty, to assist us in their apprehension.”

  “But, we, that is, they were in combat suits, and—”

  “And you decided to save your precious asses and let us fight the fight, Captain,” Ryck said, scorn in his voice. “Or, maybe you had a prior little agreement with them, right?”

  The captain dropped his gaze to stare at the dirt as if trying to marshal his thoughts.

  “Don’t sweat it, Captain,” Ryck said, changing tack. “Look, you want us off your planet. We want off your planet. Let’s just get it done.”

  The captain looked up, a hopeful expression on his face as he realized Ryck was not going to offer any resistance with regards to leaving.

  “Um, yes, yes, um, that’s great. I’ve got some transports waiting for you, so if you can get your Marines, um, I mean, your men together, we can expedite this.”

  “Not so fast there, Captain.”

  “What? But I thought you said—“

  “I said we want to get off your sorry ass planet. All of us. Including those in the cave complex. We’re going to need some heavy equipment to open the caverns up,” Ryck told him.

  When the captain seemed to be considering it, Ryck went on, “We will not leave without our men, so the sooner you get on the hook and get that authorized, the sooner we are gone and you can get back to your home and family.”

  The captain looked around at the Marines surrounding them, none overtly aggressive, but simply beaming with the warrior aura. He nodded and then stepped away to a group of three other police. They had a conversation, then one spoke into his throat mic, probably back to their command.

  Ryck stood in the noon sun, sweat beginning to form on his forehead. His ankle throbbed, but he was damned if he was going to sit.

  In the shade of a large tree, Çağlar, lay on his back, his eyes focused on Ryck. His shadow had taken a bigger near-hit by the Nizzie pulse gun than he had let on, and Ryck had to order him to stay put during their tree ambush of the last of the pirates. He had struggled to sit up when Ryck came back, and Ryck had to motion for him to lie back down. Ryck knew, however, that he was still ready to jump up and fight if it came to that.

  Ryck winked at the corporal and was rewarded with a smile and a slight relaxing of the big Marine.

  “Um, uh Major? I mean Mister Lysander? We’ve got the OK for you to get your men, but to help, we’ve got two dissonators and a couple of dozers and buckets to help. They’ll ETA in about four hours. Is that OK?”

  “That should be fine. Oh, and there are a bunch of kids and maybe some adults you’re going to need to get.”

  “At the school?”

  Bingo, you bastard, Ryck thought. You’ve known all the time they were here.

  The captain immediately realized his mistake, and his face went white. Ryck chose to ignore the comment other than by smiling.

  “Yeah, at the school. Be careful, though. They’ve been taught well, and suicide bombing was evidently in their curriculum.”

  He turned, and with intensive concentration to keep from limping, strode to where Sams, Sandy, and Capt Wright were waiting. He ignored them, though, and went straight for Doc Lyons. If he didn’t immediately get a nano-boost, he was going to collapse right then and there.


  Chapter 41

  The huge yellow Caterpillar dissonator collapsed ton after ton of rock, compressing the molecules and shrinking each chunk. The beam reached in only a meter, but that was enough to eat into the rock at a fairly good pace. Some rocks fell before being compressed as other rocks gave way, but the big beast, operated remotely, kept going, only stopping to let the buckets clear the way of rubble.

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ryck was impressed. The dissonator used such huge amounts of power that it had its own fusion plant. The crew foreman had proudly told him that they could power 20,000 homes with it.

  “Halve the beam!” another worker shouted. “We’ve got an opening!”

  That caught Ryck’s attention. They had only pushed forward about 40 meters so far, and an opening could mean that the entry chamber had not been completely caved in.

  “We’re through! I’m backing her up,” the dissonator operator said.

  Ryck was only there as an observer, but he had to see. He darted forward, Sams and Sandy on his ass.

  “Major! Wait! You aren’t authorized! There could be a rock fall!” a voice shouted from behind him, a voice Ryck ignored.

  His ankle still hurt, but it held up as he scooted around the Cat and scrabbled up the rubble to where three-meter opening looked into the darkness. Ryck peered in, but the light from outside didn’t illuminate much. He reached up and switched on the powerful boron spotlight on top of the construction helmet he’d been given.

  His heart fell. He’d expected, he’d hoped, for a wide-open chamber. Instead, it was strewn with boulders and debris. He climbed through the opening to get a better look. In some places, the boulders looked to be meters deep. No one could have survived one of them falling on him.

  He slowly swept the beam from right to left, disappointment taking over him. As he got to the left side of the chamber, the rocks seemed to start to move. He started to shout out “Rockfall!” to give Sandy and Sams a chance to get out when the rocks materialized into dust-covered, blinking men. Marines!

  Ryck flew down the rubble and ran to them, shouting out his joy. One of the dusty men stood up, supported by a piece of twisted metal and one hand up to shield his eyes from the bright glare of the spotlight.

  “That you Ryck?” Bert Nidischii’ asked.

  “Grubbing hell right it is!” Ryck shouted, reaching his friend and pounding on his back.

  “I take it we won?” Bert asked dryly.

  “Yeah, but oh, man, the cost, Bert. It was bad. But I thought we’d lost you, too. And Alpha, and Bravo. This place just went up.”

  “Yeah, we were here when it did. I’ve got 38 here with me. Nine are in ziplocks. The rest . . .” he stopped and used his pursed lips to point in the direction of the heaviest rubble.

  He shook his head. “What do you have for me?”

  “They had armor. Nizzies. We weren’t set up for this. This was a dog of a mission, and they slaughtered us, Bert.”

  “But you completed the mission?”

  “Well, yeah. There are some dogs and cats running around, but their main forces are gone.”

  “So you succeeded,” the CO said, a statement, not a question.

  “I took over the battalion, uh, I mean with you out of the picture. Two companies. Almost 200 Marines. I’ve got 70 left. Just like on Weyerhaeuser.”

  “Where you took over from me, just like now, and led your men to victory. This is becoming a habit of yours, but I’d really like you to wait your turn at command instead of hijacking mine,” he said with a laugh.

  “How can you laugh?” Ryck asked. “We lost so many!”

  “Because it hurts too much not to, Ryck. You should know that.”

  “Major Lysander? You OK in there?” one of the work crew shouted in the opening.

  “We’ve got two more companies in here somewhere. What say we get the headquarters out of here? Seeing some sunlight would be welcome, and maybe some hot chow? Then we let those guys, whoever they are, see what they can find. Capice?”

  “Capice, sir,” Ryck said as his exhaustion suddenly flowed over him.

  “We’re going to need some help. Most of us are pretty banged up, yours truly included.”

  For the first time, Ryck looked down at Bert’s leg. In the light of his spot, the right trouser leg was black with blood. The foot was a mangled stump. Yet the man had just been standing there as if nothing was wrong.

  “Shit, Bert! Let’s get you out of here!”

  “Get the others, first. Then let’s find Charlie and Delta. We’re taking them with us.”

  “Sams, Sandy!” Ryck told the two Marines, who had been standing a few meters back while the two men talked. “Get our able-bodied in here. We’ve got Marines to get out so the crews can keep digging.”

  Marines were already coming through the opening, probably summoned by the work crew. Even a few of the Acquisition police joined in. Within fifteen minutes, all the men had been taken out.

  “That’s the last one. You ready?” Ryck asked Bert. “Let me help you,” he said, putting an arm under his CO’s.

  “You done good, Ryck,” Bert said as the two men carefully made their way up the pile of rubble and out of the chamber. “Real good.”

  TARAWA

  Epilogue

  Major Ryck Lysander, United Federation Marine Corps, Commanding, took the sergeant major’s salute and saluted back. He took a crisp step back, did an about face, and marched off, leaving the battalion to the SNCOs.

  Not that he expected the sergeant major to take very long. He’d give a safety brief, remind the Marines to get back on time, and then release them for their 96.[19]

  After a dozen steps, Ryck stopped and turned. The size of the battalion still sobered him. Eighty-four Marines from Charlie, including a hurt but living Cleo Davidson, had been pulled out of the SOG deathtrap, but Delta had been wiped out to the last man. Of the 505 Marines and sailors who had landed on Acquisition, 193 had made it off the planet alive.

  The death toll among the SOG kept climbing as recovery crews kept digging through the rubble. Over 1,000 children had already been found, but only a hundred or so pirates so far.

  “Raiders!” sounded from the combined throats of the Marines as the sergeant major released them. That brought a lump to Ryck’s throat. All through the last two weeks of intensive debriefs, he’d railed at the mission given them, but he couldn’t fault the individual Marine’s performance. They’d been nothing short of amazing.

  But then again, for Marines, “amazing” is par for the course, he thought.

  They’d stayed on Acquisition for only another day. A New Budapest freighter had entered orbit, debarking a Federation mining crew from Element. The crew foreman, a taciturn, broad-shouldered man typical of a heavy-worlder, had handed Bert a sealed drive. Bert had downloaded it into his PA. It was orders to leave on the same freighter. Ryck had argued that they should stay until all Marines were recovered, but the orders left no leeway. The foreman assured them that his team would keep at it until every man was rescued or recovered.

  He’d been as good as his word, too. As far as Ryck knew, his team was still digging, still trying to find the 11 Marines whose bodies had not yet been recovered.

  A welcome sight had been Colonel Lipper-Mendoza, waiting for them on the freighter. The first thing he did was assemble the men in the now-empty cargo hold, even the zipsicles, and swear them back into the Corps. The cheer that arose from the men, from the Marines, was deafening, and a missing part of Ryck was restored. He was whole again.

  Upon their arrival on Tarawa, they were back into quarantine, but at least this time, they had been given permission to finally contact their families. A family services rep had told the families that their Marines were inbound, so the calls weren’t out of the blue, but it broke Ryck’s heart to see a very haggard Hannah on the cam, struggling mightily to hold back the tears in front of the kids.

  The next two weeks had been debrief after debrief
after debrief. Even the commandant himself attended a group debrief of the entire battalion, and he’d borne the brunt of some very pointed questions. Ryck had to admit he had handled them well, but that didn’t dissipate the anger that he felt about politics interfering with sound military strategy. Ryck remained adamant that this should have been an infantry battalion mission, and he let everyone who would listen know that.

  During his off-time, Ryck secluded himself in his room, performing the worst mission of any commander’s career. He wrote the letters to the families of the fallen, trying to put as much in each one as possible. He knew that the families needed the closure, but he also realized that he did, too.

  On the fifth day, Ryck turned in his awards recommendations. He had 34 of them, to include the XO and his team for Navy Crosses, and Staff Sergeant Albert “X-Ray” Portis for a Federation Nova. The next day, Bert called him into his office. Bert needed regen, but there were things to do first. His entire leg was in a stasis cast, propped on a stool, and he motioned Ryck to sit.

  “What’s up?” Ryck asked.

  Bert tossed him the awards packet.

  “What, did I screw up?”

  “Ryck, these aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with them?”

  “Ryck, Staff Sergeant Albert Porter did not do what you wrote,” Bert said sadly.

  “What do you mean? I was there. I saw it!” Ryck protested.

  “No, you never saw Staff Sergeant Portis. You saw Mister Albert Portis, a civilian.”

  “What? That’s bullshit! We were civilians for legal reasons, so we were not combat troops landing on another government’s territory. Portis was still a Marine.”

  “No, he wasn’t. Not legally. And a civilian can’t be nominated for a Nova. Portis was not eligible.”