Esther's Story: Recon Marine (The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins Book 2)

by Jonathan Brazee

  “Shit . . . Merl,” Bug said.

  Esther turned, and being helped by a soldier, Merl staggered around the corner of Maple and started up the crown. His left arm was gone a few centimeters below the shoulder.

  “Bug, get him on the ship!” Esther shouted.

  Bug took off to help as Master Sergeant Kang selected the lucky few to join the wounded. Evacuating them would cut Esther’s remaining firepower, but better that some survive.

  Bug was short, but he was immensely strong. He’d grabbed a barely coherent Merl, slung him over his shoulders, and sprinted to the Manta. Esther had been counting, but as Bug reached the ship, the 20th soldier was loaded aboard.

  “Stop, bug, there’s too many. The ship can’t fly.”

  “Two more!” Petty Officer Krüger said, contradicting her.

  Did I miscount?

  The petty officer was looking at the bottom of the ship, which was still aloft, half a meter off the deck.

  Oh, she’s going by weight, she realized. If the ship bottoms out, she’s overloaded.

  Bug looked back at Esther, so she motioned him to load Merl.

  There was a thunk in the distance. The Hands had at least one more mortar round they’d been saving.

  “That’s it. We’ve got incoming!” Esther shouted, running down to the Manta. “Get back onboard,” she told Krüger.

  The petty officer said something into her headset, then slapped the side of the ship. She stepped back as the Manta slowly-lifted off and edged backwards, barely clearing the Esther’s perch. It spun around, then plunged over the cliff to the west. Esther rushed forward, but a moment later, the Manta flew into view, low along the treeline.

  The Manta could carry tons in space, but she was not the most airworthy plane in an atmosphere. Her lift surfaces were minimal, and her ion-drive, even with the ram assist, relied on power rather than aerodynamics to fly. Minimal didn’t mean no lift surfaces, though. Weighted down, Senior Chief Carpenter had used the cliff to gather just enough lift from those surfaces to get the ship flying once it had had lost the ground effect.

  Esther watched the ship reach the shoreline and start to climb over the water.

  “Everyone down!” Tim shouted out. “And get ready for another assault.”

  Esther had almost forgotten about the incoming, and she hit the deck less than five seconds before the round hit, right on the edge of the perimeter in the north AO.

  They’ll be coming now, she thought, resigned to her fate.

  She felt a moment of joy when the Manta appeared, thinking she’d get out of this mess. But when she found out the ship could only take 20 people, there really had been no choice. It had to be the Hellenic soldiers.

  Except for Merl, she amended. Do us proud.

  Now it was time to take as many of the bastards with them as possible. They weren’t defeated yet, and it was theoretically possible that they could still prevail, but their numbers were now down to 35 effectives.

  Her eyes lingered on the KIA. She could have sent them out. But there was no guarantee that those in the ziplocks could be resurrected, and while the Marine Corps told the universe that they never left anyone behind, given the choice between a dead soldier and a soldier who could survive, she’d chosen the living.

  “Where do you want us, Ma’am?”

  Esther turned around and asked, “Petty Officer Krüger, what the hell are you doing? Why didn’t you board?”

  “Me and Randy, we thought you might need some help, Captain. I’m not a bad shot with this,” she said.

  She was about to respond when Constantine stepped up beside her.

  “I told you to get on the Manta,” Esther said, shocked.

  “You seem to forget that you are not my commanding officer. In fact, I outrank you on Elysium. I gave you operational command, nothing more. So I guess you’re stuck with me.”

  Part of her was angry that he’d disobeyed her. Part of her was sad with the knowledge that he’d soon be dead. Inexplicably, though, she was glad that he was still there.

  “So where do you want us?” Krüger repeated.

  “We’ve got a lot of holes in our perimeter. One of you go to First Platoon; that’s right over there,” she said pointing. “The other can go to Second.”

  As they started to get into position, Esther said, “And thanks.”

  “Ain’t no thing, ma’am. We was getting bored jus’ hanging about.”

  Esther took a moment to look around. It was eerily quiet for the moment. Two minutes ago, the Manta was on the summit; three minutes ago, the brigade and the Hands were locked into combat. Now, while the stench of war filled the air, the sound of battle was missing.

  Or that could just be my ears ringing after the Manta took off, she acknowledged with a smile.

  “Bob, do you still have targets?”

  “There’re a few left, but they’re keeping low.”

  “I need your firepower back here.”

  “That’s a negative, Ess. We’re sort of cut off.”

  Esther pulled up his avatar, and he’d moved a good 50 meters from his last firing position.

  “What the hell, Bob?”

  “It’s a better firing position,” he said matter-of-factly as if he wasn’t now cut off from everyone else.

  “Shit, Bob. You should have asked.”

  “And you’d have said no. And I hate to disobey officers, so I don’t ask.”

  “You . . . we’re going to talk about this later, you and me,” Esther said.

  “I sure hope so.”

  “OK, support as you can, but after it’s over, you and your team, you get off this frigging mountain and hide out. Do not engage, just make yourself invisible until someone can come get you.”

  “Understood, Ess. Go with God.”

  Fire erupted again in Third Platoon’s AO, and a blast of a grenade hit the crown 15 meters to Esther’s right. The lull was over.

  “Well, Constantine, you ready for this?” she asked, cutting the comms with Bob.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, Ess. And I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “Sorry for this,” he said, sweeping his right arm to take in the battle position. “All of this. None of this is your fight. We’re not even in the Federation, but you’re here anyway. And you could have taken your ship out of here. No one would’ve complained, you know.”

  One of the soldiers in First was up at the brow, firing down the slope. Esther watched him blow through a magazine before he hopped back.

  “Chris, watch the ammo discipline. We don’t have enough to waste,” she passed before looking back at the Hellenic commander.

  “That’s not the way the Marines do things, Constantine.”

  Firing intensified to the south, and Esther asked Lyle, “What’s your status?” cutting off anything else Constantine was going to say.

  “We’ve got a shitload of Hands pushing at us. We’re holding our own, but I don’t know for how much longer.”

  “Get ready to pull back to Maple,” she passed. “We can’t fire the FPF with you still out there.”

  “Roger that.”

  Esther wasn’t too confident that the FPF would be that effective. Normally, the Final Protective Fire was an intense, sustained, fire of all available weapons systems, from rifles to crew-serves to mines to artillery to air to naval gunfire. It was unleashing the full might of the defending force and was intended to break the back of the assault. But Esther didn’t have all those assets, and the enemy was still spread out too far. She hadn’t told anyone, even if some of her Marines had most likely figured it out, but her intent now was to bring in all the Hands she could before bringing the fire right on top of their own heads. If they were going to leave the mortal plain, then they might as well drag as many of the RHG scum with them as they could.

  A roar sounded from below them, rising up the slope and enveloping the battle position. It was the same roar that had been sounded from millions of throats over t
he eons as man clashed with man, intent on dealing death.

  “Here it comes, Constantine.”

  The time for planning, the time for observing was over. Esther unlatched the top of her holster and checked her Ruger, making sure she could draw it quickly. She flipped over her M114 to see the readout; she had 18 rounds left in this magazine and two more full mags in their pouch.

  Time to die, she told the unseen Hands—or maybe she was telling herself that.

  It didn’t matter.

  The first Hand appeared 20 meters in front of her, rifle held high as he screamed out in wordless rage. Esther raised her rifle, but someone else beat her to it, and the man fell back and disappeared from sight. And then there were more targets for her—many more.

  The summit turned into a free-for-all. Esther fired, then fired again. Hand’s fell—but so did soldiers. She emptied one mag, dropped it, and slapped in a new one. A haze of propellant settled over the summit like a fog, the setting sun lighting the haze in reds and oranges.

  “I’m pulling back to Maple,” Lyle passed a few minutes into the assault. “I’ve got six effectives.”

  Esther fired again, dropping a fighter who’d just shot one of Second’s Platoon’s soldiers. Another Hand poked his head over the brow, searching for a target. She didn’t give him a chance but put a round through his jaw and out the back of his neck.

  The dead Hands were becoming more and more of an obstacle to those still climbing. The living clawed at the dead for purchase, but that broke the bodies free, sending both back down the slope.

  “I’m out of ammo,” Constantine said.

  “Grab yourself another weapon,” Esther said as she dropped her empty mag.

  Two Hands chose that moment to rush her, one firing twice and hitting her low in the belly. Esther pulled her Ruger as the man closed in on her, firing up and under his chin. His momentum kept him falling forward and crashing into her, knocking her to the ground and off her perch. Her hand was trapped, holding it up just long enough for the second Hand to loom over her, the butt of his rifle ready to smash into her face. She twisted her head and took the blow to the helmet. It rang her bell, and the helmet flew off.

  With a look of triumph, the man reared back for another blow, one that was going to smash her face. She tried to roll out of the way when there was a flash of silver, and the man doubled over to fall at her feet.

  Esther twisted to see Constantine bent over, arms to the side—and holding his sword. She didn’t know who looked more surprised: him, her, or for a spit second before he died, the Hand Constantine had just killed.

  With a freaking sword!

  “Holy shit, man!”

  “Yeah, I know!”

  She pushed the dead Hand off her and stood up. She seated her mag and handed him her Ruger.

  “That was awesome, but maybe you’d better take this.”

  Another five Hands reached the battle position. Esther snapped off a quick shot at one just as he stumbled over a body, and she missed. With the thickening haze, she lost sight of him, but she put another round where she thought he’d be.

  Bug’s avatar switched to gray, and she spun around to where he should be, but she couldn’t see him. She jumped off the rock and ran to his position, taking down one more Hand as he appeared in the haze in front of her.

  “Bug!” she shouted.

  “He’s gone,” Doc said as she ran up. “No hope.”

  Esther wanted to see him, she needed to see him, but she still had a job to do. She was going to kill as many of the Hands as possible. They had to be given the object lesson that taking on Marines was never a good idea. That was now her final mission.

  Firing reached a crescendo, and Esther spun around, but the firing was below them. She was confused. The RHG still on the slopes couldn’t engage them unless they reached the brow of the crown.

  Something tickled her ears for a moment, then the high-pitched whine of an aircraft reached her through the firing. The haze parted as the Manta came in for another landing.

  Esther dove for her helmet and slammed in on.

  “ . . . ASAP. We’ve taken some hits.”

  “Roger that,” Tim answered. “Glad to see you.”

  “I’m back,” Esther passed.

  “Couldn’t leave you all alone, but if you can hurry, we’d really like to haul ass out of here,” Senior Chief Carpenter said.

  “Lyle, fall back now,” she passed.

  “I’ve got bad guys ten meters away. You load, and when you’re done, give us a shout, then cover ourt asses.”

  “Roger that.”

  With the haze blown off the summit by the Manta, most of the battle position was visible. Bodies littered the crown, and those still alive were fighting. There had to be a dozen Hands locked in combat, with more arriving. Some were using bodies as shields, firing away at someone else five meters away. Several soldiers were already bolting for the Manta.

  Esther had to break contact and get everyone on board the ship with Hands still within the battle position. She raised her bullpup and shot two Hands as they reached the top of the slope. That only highlighted the problem. No matter what, more of them were pushing forward.

  Something exploded behind her, probably a grenade, and she felt her armor harden as she was hit by shrapnel. Constantine didn’t have armor, though, and he went down to one knee. He grabbed his side, and put a hand out to keep from falling, dropping her Ruger.

  “You,” she shouted, grabbing one of the soldiers by the arm. “Get the captain on that ship!”

  It had been 40 seconds since the Manta landed, and Tim and Master Sergeant Kang had already managed to load ten or twelve wounded aboard. That left another 15 or so to load, and the ship couldn’t lift with that weight.

  “Chris, Doc, start collapsing the perimeter, but keep firing! Lyle, get ready to pull back,” she said, picking up her handgun form the ground.

  She hesitated a moment, then selected the second FPF option, telling her AI to put it on a dead man’s broadcast. If she were killed, the order would go out with a 30-second delay.

  With surprising discipline, the remaining soldiers began to move back, closing in on the ship. To her utter amazement, instead of breaking and running to the ship, one soldier was actually saying, “Bang, bang!” as he backed up alongside Doc, jerking his rifle as if firing, refusing to leave his comrades.

  Despite the situation, or maybe because of it, Esther laughed out loud.

  Oh, to be one with such marvelous men, such brave, brave men! she thought, pulling the quote out of who knows where.

  And suddenly she was at peace with herself. She was proud of being a Marine, but these Hellenic soldiers, without the training, without proper weapons and armor, were fighting just as hard with just as much discipline as any Marine.

  She rushed forward between Doc and the soldier, firing from her last magazine.

  “Get to the ship,” she told him, and when he hesitated, added, “That’s an order.”

  She dropped two more, as she backed up before stumbling over something. She caught her balance and looked down. Randy, the Space Guardsman, was at her feet, his body torn apart.

  Can he be resurrected? she wondered for a moment, hesitating.

  But as she glanced back, she knew she could not tell one of the living to give up his place for him.

  The Manta had to be close to full, the bottom sinking closer to the mountain’s surface. Krüger was shoving one of the soldiers up into the side hatch, taking an inadvertent boot to the face as the man scrambled to get inside.

  “Lyle, now!”

  Only a few meters now from the ship, she swung around her right to spend her last rounds covering what was left of Third Platoon. Within a few seconds, two soldiers appeared running hell bent for leather, their faces grimacing with effort. One’s leg was stained red, but he ran without a limp, probably overcome by adrenaline. Another soldier appeared in view, turned to look back, then fell as if poleaxed.

  Come on
, Lyle! Don’t be a hero!

  And there he was, his standard-issue M99 firing bursts down the trail. Only he didn’t keep coming. He stood there, sending dart after dart into the advancing Hands.

  “Lyle!” she shouted.

  He looked up at his name, caught Esther’s eye, and smiled before turning back. Something hit him in the chest, and he staggered. Then more rounds impacted, and Esther could see the fabric of his skins part. The STF bones inside the skins were proof against most small arms, but single shots. They could be defeated by multiple rounds impacting, setting the fluid into an oscillating state. Esther was moving forward when his armor was defeated, and he fell onto his back, motionless as the Hands kept riddling his body.

  Esther looked over her shoulder. Most of the soldiers had been loaded, but it would probably be another 30 seconds before it could take off, and the first Hand appeared coming around Maple. This wasn’t the steep slope that slowed down the Hands to the north and east. They would be able to pour out into the battle position and take the Manta under direct fire. The ship had already been hit multiple times, but Esther didn’t think it could survive an onslaught.

  I’ve got to stop them, she knew as she turned back and started firing.

  The red light flashed on her receiver group—she was out of ammo. She dropped her M114 and drew her Ruger, and just as she started forward again, she was hit from behind and knocked to the ground.

  She bounced hard and looked up as Tim and Master Sergeant Kang ran to the chokepoint, weapons blazing.

  “Finish the loading, Ess,” Tim passed on the P2P.

  She hesitated. Her mind had been ready to charge, and Tim and Kang had stolen that from her. But looking back to the ship, there were still a few more to load. Scrambling back to her feet, she ran back, firing her Ruger at a Hand andmissing, but making him duck back.

  “How many do you have on?” she asked Krüger.

  “Maybe enough for you three, that’s all. We’ll see when you get aboard what the weight is.”

  “What about you?”