Commandant (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 8)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  As the connection was cut, Ryck started his habit of second-guessing himself. Buck’s mission could end in total disaster, and for what? Was the risk worth it?

  If loyalist spies hadn’t determined by now that Hartford had been Ryck’s target, a few planted hints should have now confirmed it. A couple of seemingly drunken comments about “taking it to” the Hartford militia in bars out in town. An increase in web searches on “Hartford.” A few messages from Marines who had family on Hartford telling them to leave. Nothing overboard, but enough that the loyalist analysts should have picked them up.

  Add that to the embark of Marines from four different bases that would commence in two hours, led by a three-star commander, Ryck was reasonably confident that the loyalists would react. After the blow against the Third Fleet, they would have to consider this a chance to deal a fatal blow to the evolutionaries and end the rebellion.

  The thing was, it could end the rebellion. Ryck could be playing into their hands. But the plan was the only one he could envision that could result in victory.

  The wet-water Navy hero John Paul Jones said, “He who will not risk cannot win.” Well, Ryck had the risk part down, at least.

  Chapter 40

  Hannah straightened out Ryck’s skins and brushed off some imaginary lint. With her hand still on his shoulders, she looked at him, worry in her eyes.

  “I’ll expect to be seeing you before you know it,” she said, her voice only slightly catching.

  Esther and Noah stood silently, but when Ryck opened his arms, both came into them for a hug.

  “You take care of your mother,” he said, giving them both an extra squeeze.

  He gave Hannah a kiss, picked up his assault pack, and with his family in tow, left the inner office and entered the outer office where Jorge, Sams, Joab, Tomtom, Vivian, and Liam Hanata waited.

  He held up a hand to forestall any talking, turned around, and stuck a note on his inner office door.

  “Gone to Florida to fight the Indians. Will be back when the war is over,” Sams said as he read the note, obviously puzzled.

  “Read your history, Sams,” Jorge said. “Colonel Archibald Henderson, the fifth commandant of the US Marines.”

  “But where’s Florida?” Sams asked quietly as Ryck started shaking hands of those waiting.

  This was a small group to send someone off to fight, but it was fine with Ryck. He wished Hecs and Bert were there, though. And Ben, of course. He shook off the melancholy that threatened to overtake his thoughts and forced a smile on his face.

  All wished him well, and Sams turned his handshake into a hug.

  When he got to Liam, he said, “If something happens, well, you’ve got it. Do what you think is right for the Corps.”

  Lieutenant General Liam Hanata was the commanding general for the Inner Forces, and as Bert had not been replaced yet, he was the senior three-star Marine. If Ryck fell, he’d be next in line for the position of commandant.

  “I don’t expect to have to. You’ll be back once this is over,” Liam said, pointing at the note. “History demands it.”

  “Well, all of you, thanks for the send-off. Keep the fires burning and the lights on.”

  With one more kiss to Hannah’s cheek, the 92nd Commandant of the United Federation Marine Corps stepped out of the office to meet his fate.

  NB DANUBE DREAM

  Chapter 41

  Thirty minutes later, a heavily guarded Ryck was escorted into a waiting shuttle and lifted off Tarawa to one of three waiting Navy ships. A relieved-looking Gunnery Sergeant Hans Çağlar met him at the airlock and escorted him to the bridge where he shook hands with the ship’s captain and took a seat out of the way of the crew.

  If someone noted that close to a thousand Marines on three ships was a large number just to provide security, well that could be reasonable given recent events. Ryck was not only the commandant but now the sole chairman of the provisional government.

  “Welcome, Toad, sir,” a voice said from behind him as Ryck sat down.

  “Killer Angel, as I live and breathe,” Ryck said, standing up to shake Colonel Kyle Granger’s hand. “It’s good to see you.”

  Ryck and Kyle had served together in recon and had fought the capys on GenAg 13. Now, Kyle was the CO of the recon regiment and the commander of troops for the operation. While Ryck had seen Kyle on the cam conferences, this was the first time he’d seen his old recon-mate face-to-face for at least five years. With the regimental headquarters on Gobi, their paths hadn’t crossed often.

  Çağlar looked mortified at the colonel’s familiarity, but the nicknames prevalent in recon were sometimes a hard habit to break, even if one of the Marines was the commandant. The “sir” Kylton had added after “Toad” was the one concession to Ryck’s vaulted position.

  “Is everything on track?” Ryck asked.

  “Yes, sir. As you know, it was somewhat round-about to gather the teams, but we’re here, 982 hard-charging Marines and corpsmen at your beck and call.”

  “Do you think we’re ready?” Ryck asked.

  “I think so, sir. Yes, I wish we’d been able to do a real rehearsal. But they’re good Marines, and they’re ready.”

  There had been no time, given the three week window in which the operation had to be planned, and with opsec an issue, the coming mission had never been fully rehearsed. The Marine involved had gone through linked RCT

  [17] run-throughs, but with the Marines in no less than six locations, and given the limited size of each RCT, the rehearsal value had been less than optimal.

  “As soon as we enter bubble space, I want to meet with all the team leaders aboard this ship. I want Major Danneys to go over some minor modification to the initial insert.”

  “We’ll be there,” Kylton said.

  Ryck could have started the meeting immediately. It wasn’t as if he’d have any input to the ship, but he wanted to make sure they entered bubble space OK, and he just felt better watching that from the bridge.

  He needn’t have worried. The ship entered bubble space cleanly, on a track that buttressed the impression that the three ships were going to join up with Liam Hanata’s task force. In reality, though, the entry was slightly different, and the three ships emerged from bubble space several parsecs away where they linked with a New Budapest freighter, the NB Danube Dream. In a very closely coordinated procedure, all the Marines and their gear were transferred to the Danube Dream, and the three Navy ships reentered bubble space on their way to join up with the task force.

  As the Marines were being settled into their cramped quarters, Ryck, Kylton, and Sergeant Major Howard Brasie, the recon regimental sergeant major, and followed by Çağlar, immediately went to the cargo hold where 500 duck eggs, the entire number available to the Marines, were still in the process of being cradled.

  “Captain Plummer,” Ryck called out to the man in commercial overalls who seemed to be in charge of putting the launchers together.

  The man turned and smiled, walking over to greet them.

  “Sorry, I didn’t meet you. We’re way behind on these things. Nothing is standardized,” the captain said.

  “You look good in red,” Ryck said, nodding at the smudged and well-worn overalls.

  The Navy captain wiped a hand on his legs before offering his hand. “Well, you know how it is. Deniability for our friends on New Budapest. They’ve got the paperwork to show this tub was leased by Propitious Interstellar. It does feel pretty weird, though, not being in uniform.”

  “I’m glad you’re taking us, though. Kylton, this is Brian Plummer. We were on the Kravitch together when all this started. Brian, Kyle is the commander of troops for this. And Howard here’s the sergeant major,” Ryck said, introducing the group. “And this hulking Marine is Gunnery Sergeant Hans Çağlar. We go back a long ways.

  “Can you give me a quick brief on where we’re at now?”

  The “quick brief” took over 50 minutes. The duck eggs themselves had arrived in seven
loads, and the transfer had been relatively painless. A crew was op-checking them all now. The issue was with the launchers. They needed eight launchers in order to get the full complement of eggs launched within the window, and Federation launchers did not seem to mesh well with the New Budapest ship’s cargo hold. In today’s day and age, Ryck would have thought that things like this would be standardized, but he’d have been wrong in that.

  Captain Plummer promised that his crew would get the launchers up in time, and Ryck had to trust the man on that. There was no Plan B if they couldn’t launch.

  EARTH

  Chapter 42

  Ryck stood outwardly at ease waiting to load their duck egg. Inside, though, his nerves were afire. He’d had more than his fair share of combat before, but with the possible exception of his fight with the Klethos queen, this upcoming battle might have the most ramifications. He couldn’t screw up.

  His position in the assault had been a huge bone of contention. To a man, his staff had told him not to go on the assault, and they’d enlisted the CAG to join in the discussion, even if they hadn’t revealed the objective to the civilian leaders. Jorge had almost insisted that he lead the mission, but Jorge had never conducted an egg drop before. Not many senior officers had, and there were not only psych evals to be done first, but there was training necessary in order to make the drop. It wasn’t as if someone just hopped in a duck egg and emerged on the ground some time later.

  More than the practical issues, though, Ryck knew he had to be on the mission itself. He couldn’t follow it down later. Only he had the position within the provisional government to act immediately to cement the situation were they successful. A delay in his arriving could throw away any chance for a strategic victory.

  As they emerged from bubble space, several far orbital relays brought them up to speed. It looked as if the loyalists had taken the bait. Most of the loyalist First Fleet had left the quadrant, as had what had to be almost all of the loyalist Marines. The evolutionary task force had been engaged as it emerged from bubble space outside Hartford, and it had been engaged in a running battle ever since, with 14 ships lost—two of them being two of the three ships that had supposedly brought Ryck to observe the battle. With the Danube Dream emerging outside the Sol System, the evolutionary task force was now breaking contact and scattering.

  Ryck deeply mourned the loss of those 14 ships in what was just a show of force, a feint, and he hoped no more would be lost as they made their escape.

  He also hoped their sacrifice would not be in vain. In another 30 minutes, the duck eggs would launch, and it would be too late for those loyalist ships out near Hartford to get back in time to have any effect on the outcome of the coming battle.

  “Sir, you’re up,” the Navy petty officer said.

  Ryck and Çağlar had 69’ed before, and the big Marine was hardly an ideal partner for an insert. The Marine just took up too much space. But they were used to one another, and Ryck knew Çağlar simply wouldn’t allow anyone else to be his egg-mate.

  “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, sir,” Shart, Master Sergeant Clarence Gutierrez called out as he waited to load his own egg.

  The jibe was probably as old as duck eggs were, and it was a tradition that someone had to say it. Shart had served with Ryck twice, and he was almost as irreverent as Sams was, so it fell to him to send the commandant on his way with the traditional admonition.

  Ryck raised a middle finger in retort as he climbed into position. A moment later, Çağlar was sliding in.

  “Closing,” the sailor said. “God’s speed.”

  As always, this was the worst part of the process. The ship needed to keep artificial gravity in order to expedite the loading, but with Ryck now upside down, the blood poured into his head. If it weren’t for the drugs now coursing through his system, he doubted that he could take it for long.

  Ryck felt the duck egg jolt around as it joined up with three others. Together, the four would hurtle through space towards the insert point, when the outer layer would ablate away, sending each individual egg on its own route down.

  Even though Ryck and Çağlar were among the last of the Marines loaded, it still was some time before the sudden acceleration surge let Ryck know they’d launched.

  Operation Take Back was under way.

  And then they waited. The Danube Dream had to be far enough out of the crowded inner space lanes to be able to launch the duck eggs and in the right position to align their entry. That made the trip in-system to earth orbit a long one: 23 hours. The drugs kept him calm, and he drifted with fleeting dreams that he could almost grasp. It took him a moment to notice the slight shaking that indicated the eggs were entering the atmosphere, and new drugs were injected to bring him to full alert.

  The shaking became violent, and Ryck had to brace himself to keep from being slammed about. This was planned as the outer layer had to ablate away to release the four eggs.

  Ryck could feel the difference when his duck egg broke free. The extreme violence abated a few degrees while a lower-frequency vibration increased.

  This was when they were the most vulnerable. The eggs were highly shielded, but still, entering an atmosphere like this left visual signs as the superheated air flared around him. They were landing in daylight, but still, they could be picked up.

  Which was why there had been a launch window. The operation was kicking off on August 18 at the height of the annual Perseid meteor shower. The hope was that as the duck eggs were picked up despite all the cloaking, they would initially be taken for meteors. By the time the loyalists figured it out, hopefully, it would be too late.

  Ryck waited for the dull sound to grow as more of the duck egg was ablated away. This would be his warning. He felt Çağlar tense up, and he followed suit, bringing in his arms as tightly as he could and squeezing his legs together.

  Ten seconds later, Ryck’s side of the egg split open followed by Çağlar’s a fraction of a second later. This tiny difference kept them from slamming into each other. The shock of hitting the atmosphere was huge, despite the ablative slowing of the capsule. Ryck had been ready, but his compacted body position was almost flung apart. Ryck managed to keep tight, though, and within a few moments, he had stabilized. Slowly, he extended into the age-old freefall position and started his descent.

  The deployment of the foil was done mechanically. There was an emergency ripcord, but if he had to resort to that, he would be hopelessly off course and beyond any hope of reaching the objective. He’d be too far off course to make it there on time. He kept waiting for the opening shock as the ground below him came into greater focus.

  Ryck would rather have hit the objective just before dawn, but their target’s schedule controlled when they had to hit it. It was now early morning, and below, a large metropolis began to take shape. Brussels’ rush hour looked to be almost over as Ryck’s foil deployed. He had the Center on his display, but he didn’t need it. The large capitol building was very evident. All around him, he could see Marines as they began to converge on the Center.

  For a few minutes, Ryck hoped they’d land undetected. The Marines had the best cloaking systems known to man, and the undersides of the foils had chameleon-cells to mimic the sky above them. But this was the center of the Federation government, and that was probably too much to hope for. Even with loyalist forces rushing to reach Hartford, they would not leave the Center undefended. At 2,000 feet, firing reached up from several points in the complex, and Ryck’s display lit up as Marines were hit. Eleven Marines were killed before the first landed on the ground.

  Ryck’s foil was hit twice, which disrupted the circuit for his chameleon cells, turning the underside of his foil to a flat black. He felt extremely vulnerable as he descended the last 300 meters, sure he was about to take a round from below. But he made it down, ditched his harness, and took out his M99. The Marines had a variety of high-speed weapons, but Ryck felt comfortable with the ’99, and so that is what he chose to carry.
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  Ryck couldn’t help but feel a slight rush of guilt as he unslung that ’99, though. For close to 300 years, Marines, or any military, for that matter, were prohibited from carrying arms on Earth, and that had been driven into his head since recruit training. Then he had to laugh at that. He was leading a full-out assault, and he was worrying about carrying a weapon?

  Çağlar ran up to him with a questioning look as he heard Ryck laugh, which cause Ryck to laugh yet again. The gunny simply shook his head as the two Marines gathered themselves to move out.

  Ryck might have inserted himself into the mission, but he was not going to be in the assault element itself. Çağlar grabbed him by the arm, and led him at a run to their first rally point: the alcove at the front of the Liberty Fountain.

  With the Marines landing all around and firing at the security forces, civilians were in full panic mode. An elderly couple was shot down just on the edge of the fountain—whether from loyalist or Marine fire, Ryck couldn’t tell. He forced himself to ignore the couple as he monitored the fight.

  It took less than two minutes to breach the side entrance. The jimmylegs, most of them legacy guards whose fathers and grandfathers had served, were more ceremonial than anything else and augmented by FCDC professionals. The jimmylegs were brave, but they were no match for the Marines. They acquitted themselves well, though, taking down four Marines KIA and two WIA before the Marines were able to blow the door.

  The immense, 14-meter tall, 10-meter wide bronze front doors were ignored. They were too massive, and the side doors on the left side were a much better choice. Ryck could almost imagine the FCDC officers shouting as they realized the front doors were being bypassed and trying to rally the guards to stop the Marines who were already in the building.

  “Let’s go, sir,” Çağlar said as he led Ryck, along with six bodyguards, to the breach. As city-wide security began to react to the assault, it wouldn’t be too smart to be caught outside. Although the Marines had managed a breach, the building itself was fairly secure and would be more easily defended than the front plaza.