Commandant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 8)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  Ryck wasn’t sure how a naval force of equal capabilities could ambush another in open space, but now wasn’t the time to ask. Mendez was not in any shape to answer.

  The newsies would be all over this, Ryck knew, and that could be devastating. There were still planets and nations that had not declared, and others could be swayed from one side to the other as the tides of war turned. This was more than a naval victory for the loyalists; it was a political one.

  Ryck knew he had to act before the damage became entrenched.

  “Vivian, get me my staff, and ask General Yarrow to come over with his Three. Tell them it’s going to be a long one.

  Twelve hours later, he looked out over the cluttered conference table to where his and the division staff and looked back expectantly at him.

  “So are you men up to it, Javontee?” he asked First Division Commanding General.

  “Yes, sir. Just give us the mission,” Major General Yarrow said eagerly.

  They all want to hit back, he realized. But are we acting or reacting?

  Ryck walked back to his comms station.

  “Get me Admiral Chandanasiri,” he said.

  “But sir, it’s 3:20 in the morning on Prometheus Station,” the voice on the other side said uncertainly.

  “I didn’t ask you the time. I simply gave you an order.”

  “Uh, yes, sir. Right away sir.”

  Less than 20 seconds later, a sleepy-sounding voice picked up the other side, the visuals off, “Yes?”

  “Admiral, we’re hitting First Step. We’re going to pay those bastards back.”

  Cheers erupted in the conference room, perhaps none louder than that of Vice Admiral Jeremy Mendez’.

  Chapter 22

  “You keep telling me that your government is supporting us,” Ryck told Major Pohlmeyer. “But I don’t see much in the way of that.”

  “We have ships in your sector,” the major said, sitting in the chair across from Ryck in the inner office. “And we moved your grain for you, sir.”

  “One of your companies did, and at rather exorbitant rates, I might add.”

  “That’s the risk factor of doing business in a war zone,” the major replied easily. “And don’t forget we backed the Brotherhood in getting the ship-to-shore decree through the Universal Assembly. That was to your advantage. The Council is much better armed in that regard. Your advantage is in the Corps, and the decree protects you more than it protects their ground forces.”

  “They have five times our number in FCDC troops,” Ryck said.

  “Really, General? You are comparing Marines with glorified policemen.”

  “Those ‘policemen’ were dedicated enough for a suicide mission to take out our leadership.”

  “I’m not denigrating their bravery, General. But they have neither the training nor equipment, despite what General Filmont is attempting, to conduct advanced military ops,” the major said.

  Which is true, Ryck acknowledged to himself.

  Not that he was going to give into the major.

  “FCDC or not, there are Marines facing us for the op. And our Navy will be outgunned,” Ryck said.

  “And just where is the target?” the major asked for the third or fourth time since the meeting began.

  “Commit some ships, and I’ll tell you.”

  “And as I told you, while we do support you, we think it would be a strategic mistake to reveal our hand too soon, especially as you are requesting naval support only as an augmentation. I hardly think Admiral Chandanasiri would approve any mission if his ships will be significantly out-gunned.”

  “The admiral is supporting me on this. This is our mission, not the Navy’s.” Ryck said with more than a bit of an edge in his voice.

  “Of course, sir. I understand. I’ll pass back your request again to New Mumbai. That’s all I can do.”

  “And your recommendation will be?” Ryck asked, knowing full well that the major’s opinion carried significant weight.

  Ryck still didn’t know exactly what position Titus held, but it was not a simple major in the Confed security branch.

  “I will see what I can say about it,” the major said.

  Which means you will not support it, Ryck thought as he was beginning to understand diplomatic-speak.

  “Please do,” Ryck said. “And thank you for coming by.”

  “I’m at your beck and call,” Major Pohlmeyer said, standing up. “I will revert back to you with the response.”

  With friends like these. . . Ryck thought as the major turned to make his exit.

  “Well?’ Tomtom Copperwait asked as he, Jorge, and General Yarrow came into the office after the major left.

  “No go. They don’t think it’s a ‘strategic’ move at this time. Sorry about that, Javontee, but you’re going to have to count on only those ships that Third Fleet is cutting loose for this.

  “Well, you said this would happen, sir. So now we just do more with less,” the division commanding general said.

  “Which is what we do, gentlemen. We are Marines, after all.

  “So let’s get cracking. Operation Winter Snatch will be a success, and I will accept nothing less.”

  Chapter 23

  Ryck reached into the closet and slowly took out the chartreuse angora sweater hanging there. He pulled it into his nose, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

  Hannah!

  He could still smell her on the sweater. He’d never liked it, but it was real animal fiber, and Hannah had loved it. Now if he could only have her back, he’d buy her a dozen of them.

  “General, your son is here,” Lieutenant Chou said, poking his head in the door.

  Ryck guiltily thrust the sweater back into the closet before turning around to face the FCDC officer. He wasn’t sure what he felt about keeping the FCDC around. It had been Colonel Edison and his fellow fuckdicks who’d been planted agents and who’d killed Hecs. But the lieutenant and his team had been assigned the outer corridor by Edison because they were loyal to the evolutionary cause, and some pretty pointed interrogation had confirmed that. The lieutenant had volunteered to undergo a Propoxinal interrogation to clear his men—which of course would have ruined the young officer for any use as the drug fried his brain and that which made him who he was.

  Jorge pointed out that men anxious to prove their loyalty were the most trusted of men, and Ryck had relented. Marines guarded the outer perimeter, but the ten FCDC troopers made up half of Ryck’s inner security force.

  And Ryck’s insistence on going home had made things tougher on them. Ryck had moved into the Commandant’s quarters, more for ease of security and proximity to the headquarters building than simply because it was the home that came with the billet. But for tonight, he wanted to be in his home at Star City in the Bonnyman Annex, where he’d lived with his family since picking up his first star. It was hard being there without Hannah and the twins, but he felt it was right.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll be right down.”

  He took a quick look in the mirror. He was in a tattered T-shirt and an old pair of chef’s pants. This was not a Marine Corps function but a family one, and he wanted to make that clear. His uniform might have been OK when Ben was a civilian, but now with him a Marine, Ryck just felt better being in old civvies.

  Led by Chou, Ryck walked down the stairs to where Ben was standing by the sofa. Ben was in a nice pair of khaki slacks and a button-down oxford shirt (the seemingly civilian “uniform de rigueur” of all Marines throughout the ages), and as Ryck came into view, his son came to a position of attention.

  “Relax, son. You’re not a boot camp anymore. This is your home.”

  Ben gave a rueful smile and tried to relax his posture with only a modicum of success.

  Ryck gave Ben a hug, and only while looking over his son’s shoulder noticed Top Ekema standing in the doorway with one of the FCDC guards who was going through what looked to be carry-out containers.

  “What’s this? I was
going to cook,” Ryck asked.

  Top rolled his eyes to look up at the ceiling, but Ben was not so circumspect.

  “Look, Dad, I know you and mom had this thing going where you cooked us meals from scratch, and you both thought you were pretty good at it, but really, and I say this with love, you both kinda suck at it. And if I’m shipping out in a few hours, I sorta wanted something good.”

  “What? But our food is good!” Ryck protested.

  “Not really, Dad. Now if Noah were cooking, that would be different, but he’s not he. . .” he started before stopping as he realized what he was saying.

  “I, uh, sorry, Dad,” he stammered out.

  “No reason to be sorry. I miss him, too. And Esther. And your mom.

  “Hey, Top, why don’t you plop that down on the table so we can see what you’ve prepared,” Ryck said too loudly, anxious to change the subject.

  “Sure thing, sir,” Top Ekema said, taking his bag from the guard who’d evidently decided that the top was not trying to poison Ryck.

  I’m surprised he didn’t taste it first, Ryck thought.

  Both Lysanders followed the top to the dining room table. Top took out the first container and handed it to Ryck.

  “Oh, geez, Dad. That garbage again?” Ben said as he saw what was in the box.

  “Top, with all due respect, you promised me a good meal. If I’d known you were going to bring bacon with raspberry sauce, I’d have gone to The New Shanghai and gotten carry-out.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, son,” Ryck said, grabbing one piece slathered in sauce and popping it in his mouth.

  “And with all due respect to you, too, Sir Commandant, I do know what I’m missing. I’ve lived 17 years in this family, and we all know your weakness.”

  “It’s sort of a tradition, Ben. . .uh, PFC,” Top said, suddenly wondering how to address the young man. Top Ekema had been a friend of the family and had spent quite a bit of time mentoring Noah, which of course had brought him into contact with Ben ever since he was about ten. “Your dad likes it, and it’s sort of a treat. But I think you’ll be pleased with what else I’ve brought.”

  The top opened the vac seal of the second container, and the rich smell of boeuf bourguignon wafted out to fill the room. Ryck put down his bacon and leaned forward, his mouth watering.

  “Wow, Top! My favorite!” Ben shouted excitedly.

  “As if I don’t know,” the top said. “You’re the one going into combat, not your dad. So you get your favorite.”

  The top took out some buttered noodles and then what looked to be organic green beans. Fabricated green beans had a variety of shapes and sizes programmed into the extrusion process, but these varied too much. Knowing Top, he’d ordered them on his own, and Ryck reminded himself to pay the Marine for them.

  “Well, sir—and you too, boot—I think I’ll get out of your hair so you can enjoy some family time,” Top said, taking the empty containers as he left.

  “Uh, Lieutenant, can you give us some privacy?” he asked Chou when the trooper made no move to leave.

  Chou looked concerned, but he nodded and left, carefully closing the door. Ryck knew he wouldn’t stray more than a few centimeters from it until Ryck was back on base.

  “So what time do you have to report back?” Ryck asked as he spooned some of the beef onto Ben’s plate.

  “We’ve got muster at 0100, so I’m thinking midnight. I’m almost ready to go.”

  “So we have some time. Let’s just sit back and enjoy the meal,” Ryck told him.

  And that’s what they did for the next hour, talking about sports, the latest season of No, You Won’t, and other inconsequential things. Ryck enjoyed being divorced from the Marine Corps for an hour in the company of Ben. Not general and PFC, but father and son. But the upcoming mission was always looming in the background, its presence ignored but felt.

  After they were done, Ryck cleared the table, picking up a small box he’d previously staged in the kitchen. As he came back out with two coffees, he placed the box down alongside Ben’s cup.

  “What’s this?” Ben asked.

  “Well, I’d imagine you could figure that out if you opened the grubbing thing.”

  Ben rolled his eyes, and then picked up the box, turning it around and examining the outside.

  “Geez, just open it already,” Ryck told him.

  Ben flipped up the lid and stared at the combat knife inside.

  “Is this. . .?” he asked hesitantly as he turned the knife over in his hand to catch the light.

  “Yes. It’s my Hwa Win.”

  “Dad, I can’t take it,” Ben protested.

  “I know you like that big Kyocera pigsticker of yours, but humor me,” Ryck said.

  “That’s not it. I mean, this has been with you for years!”

  “And I’m going into combat again when?” Ryck asked. “I want you to have it. Think of it as a good luck charm. It’s brought me back safe and sound each time—well, not always sound, I grant you—and I want you back here when the mission is over.”

  “I. . .I’d be honored to, Dad. Honored.”

  Ben put the knife back in the box and lunged at Ryck, hugging him tight with a strength that surprised him. In many ways, Ben was still the little boy in his mini-utilities, hanging around base, loving all things Marine. But now he was a man, ready to face combat for the first time.

  His face still buried in Ryck’s shoulder, he asked, “But what if I fuck up? What if I don’t do my job and someone else gets hurt? What if I’m scared?”

  Ryck pushed Ben back so he could look into his son’s face. “Of course you’re going to be scared. Any sane man would be. But what matters is how you react to it. And I know you, Ben. You are not going to run away and hide. There is a will about you that your mom and I have seen since you were a toddler.

  “Don’t worry, son. You’re going to do fine.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Soldiers throughout history have had to face their first battle, and every one of them has wondered the same thing. I had to. Soldiers, straight from training, hitting the beach in Normandy had to. Roman legionnaires facing the Visigoths—and Visigoths facing the legionnaires—had to. And most of them found the strength to do what was necessary.

  “You are a fine man, Ben, and I am so proud of you. I know you will do your duty, and do it well.”

  Ben didn’t seem convinced, but he gave a rueful smile and said, “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m just, it’s just that I don’t want to let anyone down. We’re not even in the main assault, you know, so I might not see any action.”

  “Just be prepared for anything, follow your NCOs and let your training guide you. You’ll do fine.”

  But now Ryck was feeling a little apprehension. Operation Winter Snatch had been in planning for the last two weeks. It was a relatively small operation, but due to the importance, Ryck and his staff had been heavily involved. To Ryck, it had been all big arrows and big units. But as with all battles, the fight was made at the individual rifleman level. It was the Marine or soldier who carried the field of battle or lost it, not the generals back at headquarters.

  Ryck had to divorce himself from that individual Marine if he was to be effective. Sometimes individuals had to be sacrificed for the greater good, as he’d discovered, to his dismay, with his brother-in-law Joshua.

  But in this case, one of those riflemen was his son. To the general in him, Ben was an asset, a cog in the greater battle, and Ryck had to ignore the potential risk to individuals. This was inhuman of him, but it had to be that way. But Ben was his son, and as a father, he was nervous. As Ben had said, his battalion was in a support position, but the enemy was not known to play along with plans often, and this time, the Marines would be facing not only FCDC troops but Marines who had chosen the loyalist side.

  Ryck didn’t want to let Ben see his apprehension, so he slapped his son on the shoulder and said, “You up for a game of lightening before you leave?
I’d dearly love to crush you once more.”

  “Crush me?” Ben protested, Ryck’s attempt to shift the mood a success. “You’ve beat me, what, twice in your entire life? Bring it on, old man. Let’s me teach you a lesson in humility.”

  For the next two hours, the two Marines played, Ryck winning two hands, but mostly getting stomped by his son. He didn’t care. He was happy.

  He wasn’t as happy when he asked Lieutenant Chou to get the driver to take Ben to his battalion. He waved as the hover left the lot, a smile on his face, though, trying to exude confidence.

  “Can I take you back now, sir?” Chou asked anxiously as Ben’s hover pulled out of sight.

  He obviously wanted to get Ryck back to the safer confines of the base proper.

  “Sure, Lieutenant. Let’s get on back.”

  Chou locked the quarters, the click a trigger reminding Ryck that there was work to do. Ryck forced himself out of dad mode and back to commandant mode. He had a battle to fight. Or rather he had a battle to monitor and give whatever support he could.

  Chapter 24

  Ryck sat in the MCCC, ready to watch the battle unfold. He chewed on his fingernails nervously.

  Throughout his career, Ryck had been personally involved with each of his fights, there on the ground and in harm’s way. This was the first time, however, he’d sent a significant number of Marines into a major battle and had to watch from afar.

  He hated it.

  The battle was out of his hands. He’d done all he could to create the scenario where his Marines would accomplish the mission, but now the operation was up to others. Colonel Richard Gruber was the brigade expeditionary force commander, and it was his battle to fight.

  The first salvos of the battle had already been fired. Three Navy monitors and a destroyer had been in-system when the task force arrived. The destroyer had been a known quantity, but the monitors had been stood down and shielded and were a surprise. If it hadn’t taken them a few minutes to power up, things could have been hot for the task force’s ships. Because of the delay, though, the monitors had been knocked out and the destroyer driven off, and with only minor damage to two task force ships.