Hans Çağlar tried to withhold a grimace as he rose and left the room.
“He don’t like our pet fuckdick none,” Sams remarked as the hatch closed.
“Would you?” Hecs asked, throwing a pen across the table, hitting Sams in the chest. “He’s always felt it was his job to protect the general, and now we’ve got an FCDC officer in charge of that? I don’t blame him.”
Ryck simply shook his head at their bickering, which had lately risen in intensity. Jorge caught Ryck’s glance and rolled his eyes. The two of them had spoken about the two senior SNCO’s. Hecs and Sams had known each other for a long time, but a small schism had begun to develop between them. Jorge thought that it could be because neither had a real job. Sams was on a temporary recall to active duty, assigned at-large to the office to the commandant. Hecs had been slated for assignment in Brussels at the Government Center, which was still technically his billet, but as going to Earth was more than a little problematic at the moment, he’d been pitching his tent in Ryck’s office as well. Jorge also thought that with Ryck’s ascension to the position of commandant, Hecs felt he should have been made the Sergeant Major of the Marines Corps.
If that were the case, then Hecs would have a long wait, Ryck had decided. He and Hecs went back to when Ryck was in recruit training, and Hecs was firmly in Ryck’s posse, but that didn’t mean that Ryck was going to boot out Sergeant Major Ito just to stroke Hecs’ ego. Plus, Nils Ito was doing a bang-up job as the point man in building up the newly expanded recruit training program at Camp Charles as well as preparing for the introduction of female recruits—which was part of the promise Ryck had made to Michiko MacCailín.
With Ito an hour away, Ryck had hoped that Hecs and Sams could provide a sane enlisted point of view to the daily issues that cropped up, but if they were going to be having kitten fights, one—or both—of them would have to go. Ryck had a government to run, and he didn’t have time to play daddy to the two older men.
Çağlar came back into the office with Colonel Nils Edison in tow. Edison was a career FCDC officer and had been in command of the barracks on Tarawa. Given the Marine Corps presence on the planet, the barracks had been small at fewer than 300 troopers. But when it came time to choose sides, Edison had brought over all but 16 of his men to join the provisional government. This was the highest percentage of any FCDC unit, where less than six percent Federation-wide had joined the cause.
Anxious to show that all were welcome in the evolutionary movement, Edison was given a key position in Ryck’s headquarters. Given the nature of the FCDC, the troopers were put in charge of security. At Bert’s insistence, Marines were also part of the detachment, but Colonel Edison was the public face of security detachment.
“Colonel, please take a seat,” Ryck said. “And thank you for coming.
“I want to give you a head’s up. In three weeks, more or less, I will be attending a conference off-planet, along with Admiral Chandanasiri, the CAC, and various heads of states. There will also be neutral observers.”
“You are going off-planet, sir?” Edison asked.
I just said that, Ryck thought, but he said, “Yes. I’ll give you the location later, but I need you to start planning the movement. The Third Fleet will be officially hosting, so overall security is their responsibility, but I will be going with approximately a dozen or so Marines, and Governor Franzetti will hitch a ride with us. Our transport will arrive six hours before we embark so you won’t have much liaison time.”
“Sir, is this a good idea?”
“We can’t cower on our bases, Colonel. We’re asking the civilians heads of state to stick their necks inside the noose, so to speak, and we have to make a show of confidence and power. So yes, it is a good idea.”
“I understand, sir, but I have to go on the record as opposing this. It’s hard enough to guarantee your safety here, but going to some planet? And I don’t even know where? I’m afraid the risk is too high,” the colonel said, worry evident in his voice.
“I can appreciate that, but that’s how it’s going down.”
“Can I, at least, ask where and when?”
“I’m afraid not, Colonel,” Ryck said, then quickly adding when he saw a cloud take over the colonel’s face, “I don’t know the details myself, and I won’t know until our ride appears. This is highly classified, as you can imagine, and I don’t yet have the need to know.”
That seemed to mollify the colonel.
He wrinkled his brow, and then said, “Roger, sir. I’ll put something together that we can implement at short notice. I still think the risk is too great, but I’ll soldier on and get it done.”
“Thank you, Colonel. I have full confidence in you.”
“Well, Colonel, I imagine you’ll want to get cracking,” Jorge said, standing up and indicating the meeting, short as it was, was over. “Let me escort you out. And if you need anything, I’ll be your point of contact for this.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Hans,” Sams said as Jorge and the colonel left. “You’re still the chief bottle-washer and personal bodyguard for the general here. That there, with the fuckdicks, that’s just politics.”
“Not just politics, Top,” Ryck said to Sams. “The FCDC troops have shown us nothing but loyalty, and we are doing this for all citizens, not just those who’re lucky enough to be on planets following our lead.”
Sams seemed to want to say something, and a few years back, he probably would have. But as a consequence of Ryck becoming commandant, even Sams had tempered his irreverent nature. He just nodded and said nothing more.
“But he’s right, Gunny. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have at my side,” Ryck told Çağlar.
And that wasn’t a line of BS. The big Marine, who rarely spoke more than a few words at a time, had a presence about him that calmed Ryck. And with Hannah and the twins still incommunicado and prisoners on Earth, with the stress of trying to run a government and a war, Ryck needed all the calming he could get.
Chapter 15
“No KIAs?” Ryck asked. “And she’s fully operational?”
“Yes, sir,” Vice Admiral Jeremy Mendez, the Navy liaison to the Marines, said. “Our techs think that given the shielding, which affects the general detection capabilities out of the ship as well, the crew didn’t know the SEALs were there before they breached the hull.”
Given the explosive nature of a hull breach on a ship that size, unless the crew had been suited up, there would have been no survivors. Ryck didn’t know if the little spy ship had a crew of two or twenty, but as there were no reported POWs, he knew the loyalist sailors had all died.
It had been a miracle that the spy ship had been spotted in the first place. Only 25 meters long and crammed with every anti-surveillance piece of gear known to the Federation, it should have remained invisible as it kept a watch on the Doughnut, undoubtedly monitoring the comings and goings of all the ships from the station. But the ship’s skipper had made a small, but ultimately fatal, mistake. While keeping within a celestial blind spot of the homeport itself, he had let his ship occlude the light from a far-off star that an observant petty officer aboard a picket ship had caught. Running it through the picket’s AI, it was quickly apparent that something was out there. They didn’t know what, but given the situation, Admiral Chandanasiri rightly concluded that it had to be a loyalist ship and had authorized the quick reaction force into battle.
Using stealth techniques about which even Ryck and the Marines were kept in the dark, the SEALs had approached the ship unnoticed, placed a breaching device on her, and detonated it. With the crew dead, the ship was in the provisional government’s hands, a prize of war.
“And we think we can hack the system. The loyalists wouldn’t be expecting comms back unless necessary, so we believe we can feed them bad intel.”
The admiral looked quite pleased with himself. And Ryck had to admit that this was a welcomed piece of news, even if he felt somewhat embarrassed that the Navy ha
d been the tip of the spear so far. With three operations—one loss and now two successes—it was the Navy crossing swords with the loyalists. The Marines had yet to fire a shot in anger. If he could get the Marines through this with no loss of life, he’d be quite happy with that. But that sense of hubris that still lurked inside his heart created a desire that it would be the Marines carrying the day, not the Navy. It was stupid and childish, he knew, but that didn’t make the desire any less real.
He wished he could be the one bloodying the Council’s nose.
They’ve got my wife, for grubbing’s sake, he thought, his blood pressure rising as he gripped the edge of the conference table.
If he’d been alone, he knew he’d slam his fist on it as he’d done more than a few times each day when he thought of his family.
He tried to force an image into his mind of a calm tropical ocean wave, picturing it enveloping him, relaxing him. He’d read about the technique in a self-help book. But when he tried to force calmness, it usually had the opposite effect.
Ah, fuck it, he thought, abandoning the wave he’d imagined. He’d just act calm, even if his insides were roiling.
“Well, Jeremy, that’s great news. Please relay my congratulations to the admiral and the SEAL team itself,” he said, putting a smile he didn’t feel on his face.
“Why don’t you hang around for lunch. Major Pohlmeyer’s coming over for an informal, and Top Ekema’s ginned up his famous Hawaiian medallions. I’d like you to hear what the good major has for us today.”
A smile broke out over the admiral’s face—not for the meeting, Ryck knew, but because Marten Ekema’s skill in the kitchen was half legend already. One of the perks of being the commandant was a full-time kitchen staff, and Ryck had brought the master gunnery sergeant along. Top Ekema knew Ryck’s tastes, so Ryck hadn’t had to break in anyone new. And just the thought of those glazed medallions was beginning to calm him down where his imagined gentle tropical waves had failed.
Hah! Ryck thought as he realized the unintended connection. Tropical meal, one; tropical waves, zero!
Chapter 16
“Vivian, where’s Montero? He’s late, and we’re running out of time!”
“He’s still five minutes out,” Ryck’s secretary informed him.
“Make a note of it. If I’ve got to clear things with him, he needs to be here in the headquarters. He can sleep here if need be.”
Ryck had agreed to follow Admiral Chandanasiri’s request that any unilateral action concerning the political situation be vetted first by his PA office, and that meant Zeke Montero for Ryck. With only an hour before embark, Ryck was running out of time. He was sick and tired of Hannah and the twins being used as pawns, but pawns about which the public was unaware. Ryck wanted to issue a press release, but that fell under his promise to the admiral to run it by his PA advisor. Actually, Ryck had a brigadier general, Rapiko “Rapper” Weisener, as the Marine Corps spokesman. Rapper was the face of the Corps for the press, but this went beyond the typical Marine Corps fodder. As a provisional government issue, even if a personal one for Ryck, the Office of Information—and on Tarawa, that was Zeke Montero—had to weigh in.
“What about Colonel Edison?” Ryck asked.
“He’s here,” Vivian’s voice filled the office.
“OK, send him in.”
Within a few heartbeats, the FCDC colonel rushed in, coming to one of the disjointed positions of attention peculiar to the FCDC.
“At ease, Colonel. Are you and your men ready?”
“Yes, sir. We still don’t know to where we’re going, though, right?”
“Not until we get on the ship, which will be in. . .Vivian, how long before we leave?”
“Your driver will pick you up in 52 minutes,” she immediately responded in her calm voice.
“Well, sir, we’ve got five contingencies that we’ve rehearsed, from an open field planetside to a ship to a station. I’ll trust you to ensure that all hands obey my commands upon arrival, sir. I mean, as a colonel, and as, well—”
“As an FCDC colonel among generals and admirals, you mean.”
“Well, yes, sir. You know how it can be sometimes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure everyone toes the line.”
“And one thing, sir. As soon as possible, and before we arrive, I need face-to-face comms with whoever is leading the overall security. I need to make sure our side isn’t at odds with whatever they’ve set up.”
That seemed reasonable, so Ryck said, “OK, you’ve got it. As soon as we’ve got comms, you’ll have priority.”
“General Lysander, Mr. Montero is here,” Vivian announced over the intercom.
“Well, Colonel. I’m sure you are busy, and I sure am, so you take care of your business.
“Vivian, send him in.”
It took Montero more than a few heartbeats to walk into the office, and Ryck was getting impatient. Time was short, and he’d gotten used to the deference people gave to him as the commandant. Maybe that’s why he didn’t like Montero, he knew. Montero didn’t even come close to acting as someone under Ryck’s authority.
“I’m ready to release the statement to the press,” Ryck said without preamble.
“About your wife?” Montero asked.
No, you grubbing idiot! I meant how big of a shit I took this morning. That should interest them!
“That’s the only press release, to my knowledge, that I have sent to you over the last 24 hours, so yes, that one.”
“Well, sir, after careful consideration, I can’t really endorse that.”
Why the hell doesn’t that surprise me? Ryck wondered.
“And why not? They’ve got my wife and children as hostages, and no one knows about it. And that directly contravenes the Universal Charter, right?”
“Well, yes, it does. And that’s the problem,” Montero said as if lecturing a child.
Why isn’t anything clear with this guy? It’s “good news” when the Council slams me as a war criminal, and now that he admits the Council is breaking the charter, he says we can’t act?
“And why might that be?”
“Well, General, right now, your wife and children are, well, sort of ‘guests’ of the Council. There are no charges against them. But if we force the issue, do you really think they are going to relinquish this advantage over you?”
This “advantage” is my wife and kids you’re talking about!
“I think not. So what are their options? Well, limited. The most logical one is to charge your wife and children with treason so that their arrests are legal.”
That hit Ryck with a gut shot. He hadn’t considered that, nor had his SJA.
“And what is the penalty for treason?” Montero asked.
“Death,” Ryck said hollowly. “But they wouldn’t do that, would they? Think of the bad press they would get.”
“Really? They were ready to interdict a planet of 12 billion people. Do you really think they’d hesitate to kill three more?”
Ryck knew the answer to that, even if he didn’t want to admit it. The Council would murder hundreds, thousands, hell, millions to get what they wanted.
“With that in mind, I can’t sign off on this. I can’t be parcel to the executions of your family.”
Ryck stared at his advisor. Part of him wanted to scream that it wasn’t up to him to decide what would happen and what wouldn’t. Ryck was the commander, the co-head of government. Montero was just some jumped-up bureaucrat.
But he was right, Ryck knew. When Ryck, Jorge, and Major General Devarja, his SJA, had come up with the plan, they really hadn’t considered the ramifications. As military men, they tended to think in simple terms of right and wrong, of maneuver and outcome. Montero, however, was one of those slimy men who couldn’t be trusted farther than they could be thrown—which is why he was able to understand how the Council would react. Slimy or not, he’d probably just saved Hannah and the twins from Ryck’s rash actions.
; “Look, I’m running out of time. I’m leaving for the conference shortly, but we’ll discuss this when I get back.”
Which he wouldn’t, he knew. The man was right, but Ryck didn’t want to admit defeat to a man he didn’t respect. Ryck did shake his hand, however, and escorted him to the hatch.
“Sir, Major Pohlmeyer left this package,” Vivian said, spotting Ryck in the doorway. “And you have one more visitor.”
“No time for anyone else,” Ryck told her, accepting the small package.
“Sir, it’s Corporal Hailstone,” she said.
Ryck stopped, taking a moment to recall just who Corporal Hailstone was and why a corporal would be calling on the Commandant of the Marine Corps.
Shit! Of course. The Wall.
Corporal Peyton Hailstone was the first Marine assigned to the UAM, the Universal Assembly of Man, as a Klethos Gladiator, as they were commonly called. He’d undergone extensive genmodding and training, and only two months ago, under his nickname of “The Wall” and as the human representative, had defeated a Klethos queen on Isseret. The previous two fights had resulted in human defeats, so his win had been highly heralded.
Ryck checked his watch. He had a few moments. Çağlar would have his kit and get him in time.
Ryck walked into the outer office. Corporal Hailstone was impossible to miss. Standing almost four meters tall, or hunching in this case, he was simply huge. Ryck had watched some of the training sessions of the recruits, but from bleachers. This was the first time he’d been so close to one of them.
“Welcome, Corporal,” Ryck said, walking up, hand outstretched.
Corporal Hailstone tried to come to attention the best he could in Ryck’s three—and-a-half meter office. He reached out, and Ryck’s hand completely disappeared in the big man’s horny and huge paw of a hand.
“Thank you for seeing me,” the Marine stuttered out, his voice surprisingly normal given his bulk.
“I’m about ready to leave, but I’ve always got a few moments for one of humanity’s guardians. Um, shall we go into my office?”
Commandant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 8) Page 9
