With two waves of Storks gone, there was more room to maneuver. The deck hands moved the first wave of shuttles. Five would carry Marines, five would carry tanks.
“Bravo-2, move to the embark point,” Lieutenant Vincent passed on the frequency assigned the stick. The lieutenant, Sandy’s adjutant, was the stick leader, and even a task force commander was under his direction with regards to embarking.
“Carl, that’s us. Follow Sergeant Çağlar, please.”
“Hans, wave your hand. They don’t know who you are in your PICS,” he ordered Çağlar on the P2P.
In single file, the Marines, liaisons, and capys made their way within the lit green lines that designated their path to their embark point. The deck officer could program the lines at will, but to the grunts, it was just stay between the lines. Other sticks had other colors, so that made it even easier. It may have been pandering to the lowest common denominator, but it worked. And with 60-ton tanks moving forward just a few meters away, it was probably a good idea.
The hangar bay was chaos, but a controlled chaos. Within a minute, the first Marine in Ryck’s stick was being directed onboard the shuttle. Within another minute, all 62 men—well, 59 and three capys—were onboard. Thirty seconds later, the shuttle lifted off the deck, and as it pierced the gate, left the ship’s artificial gravity field.
The Federation Marines and sailors were locked into their stations, standing but backs in the cradle frames. The shuttle recognized LtCol Demornay’s Rigaudeau-3 combat suit and Major Pohlmeyer’s CAS-20, but the rest of the liaisons had to hold on to remain in place. The capys, no surprise to Ryck, easily stood in place, not moving. After the time spent in Zero G on the capy ship, he’d rather expected that.
Ryck turned his attention away from those in the cargo hold of the shuttle as he pulled up Jorge and his force. They were on track as well. For a task force with a huge potential to become a complete cluster-fuck, things were running smoothly. Too smoothly. Ryck wasn’t superstitious, but he knew the sayings concerning when things were going too well.
Twenty minutes after leaving the ship, the shuttles reached the LOD.[13] The third wave was already debarking the ship, but until the LZ[14] was secured by humans, they would just sit there. No one knew the Klethos’ capabilities, and they could easily have the weapons to knock shuttles out of the sky.
Ryck switched over to Sandy’s PICS, feeling only slightly guilty that he was listening in. The first line of Storks had dropped their Marines, and the second wave was inbound. There were over 300 capys around the LZ, but no sign of Klethos. Sandy, or rather Hog McAult, pushed his Marines out, expanding the security. The second wave of Storks dropped its Marines, still to no resistance.
Ryck slaved to Lieutenant Pallenbatter, Hog’s Second Platoon commander. Pallenbatter was out on the edges of the security. In his sight, capys were on the move, none paying attention to the Marines. Warriors were moving to the lieutenant’s right, and a few of the huge worker-types were moving in the opposite direction. They were as naked as they had been in the warm air of HAC-440, but they didn’t seem fazed by the cold temperatures and wind-blown snow.
A steady stream of data flicked through Ryck’s display. He asked his AI to pull up Klethos intel, and none of the surveillance showed any change in the Klethos march across the planet.
“Sandy, are you secure?” Ryck asked.
“I was about to report to you, but yes. We’ve got no sign of belligerents,” Sandy said.
He could have said “Klethos,” Ryck knew, but not everyone on the human side completely trusted the Trinoculars, and the humans had to be ready for any sign that this was a well-choreographed trap by their erstwhile allies.
“OK, then, I’m declaring the LZ secure,” Ryck said.
“Landing Control Officer, commence Phase Two,” he told the Navy ship-to-surface controller.
The Navy controlled the airspace in the TAOR[15], and that included the area between the ships and the planet. But that was only for coordination. Once the first Marine landed on Tri-30, command was Ryck’s. It was his call on when to proceed.
Within seconds, the first wave of shuttles passed the LOD and ten minutes later, entered the planet’s atmosphere. The intense heat of re-entry ionized the air with bright flashes of yellow, pink, and white light. Ryck’s comms faltered as the AI tried to filter the snippets of transmission. Within moments, though, the shuttle was in smoother air and commencing its gentle descent. Where the Storks had screamed down to the surface, the shuttles took a more economical route down. Ryck was busy with his comms and data inflow for the next 25 minutes as the shuttles looped around, staying away from the known Klethos positions as they navigated to the LZ. Ryck was on the P2P with Jorge when the shuttle slowed down and came to a gentle landing on the ground.
Ryck was on his second capy world. And this time, he might have to lead a combined force in battle.
Chapter 17
“Roger, understood, sir,” Squadron Leader Hollyer, the New Budapest company commander said. “We’ll be on it.”
Ryck watched the commander pull his scarf closer as he turned to trudge off in the snow. The task force had been on the Trinocular planet for two days already, and while Ryck was warm in his PICS, the New Budapest Rangers were braving the elements. Ryck was getting a little touch of PICS-fever, but that was better than shivering in the cold.
The Klethos were getting closer, now less than 20 klicks away, and the group heading their way didn’t look to have refused their right flank. Ryck had decided to shift the position of the Rangers to take advantage of that. Originally slated to be the task force reserve due to their lack of armor, Ryck realized that it would perhaps be better to give them a mission more to their training and tactics. If they could hit the Klethos from the flanks and take them under enfilade fire with their Kígyó missiles, they might be able to inflict some serious damage, and if the Klethos shifted to engage them, the Marine tanks could rake their forces.
Squadron Leader Hollyer, who had been chaffing at his company’s previous orders, had been positively brimming with enthusiasm as Ryck and Purgatory Staff Captain Obedience, Ryck’s operations officer, gave him the orders.
Despite Ryck’s initial reluctance to accept a non-Marine in such an important billet, especially as he’d just started to get used to Story Hanh-de Friese, the Staff Captain Obedience had more than exceeded expectations. Ryck had known who he was, of course, as the young man was already well-published in military publications, and for once, the reality lived up to the hype.
“What do you think, Obediah?” Ryck asked as Hollyer disappeared from view.
Yes, Obediah Obedience.
His parents must have hated him, Ryck thought for the hundredth time
“I think we’re about as well-positioned as possible,” Obedience said. “Now we must wait and observe what the reaction of the Klethos will be.”
“I think we can guess that,” Sams said from behind them.
“Possibly you are correct, Master Gunnery Sergeant. But until such events actually transpire, we do not have enough data to foretell one way or the other.”
Sams harrumphed loudly over the command circuit, then said “They’re kicking ass while tearing through our furry friends, sir. Right, Colonel?”
“Tearing through” was an understatement, if anything. The Klethos forces were moving almost at will. In the last two days, over 4,000 capys had fallen as compared to only 18 Klethos fighters, the best the human surveillance could determine. Moving westward, six groups of Klethos, each of about 50 fighters, advanced along natural avenues, stomping on any capy resistance. Unbelievable as it might seem, about 300 Klethos seemed to be on the verge of defeating some 20,000 capys and taking the planet.
In human history, the numbers of combatants closing in battle had been constantly shrinking, from 3,000,000 Soviets and Germans facing each other in the single Battle of Kursk during World War II down to the 11,000 Fordyce Militia successfully invading and seizing the pl
anet Quenslaw during the Interrupted War. This was taking it to new levels, however, with only 300 Klethos on their way to capture the planet. Ryck’s job was to keep that from happening.
To support the 10,000 remaining capys, Ryck had 3,867 men and women on the ground, ten Davis tanks, twenty Armadillos, twenty-three fighter aircraft (Marine Osprey, Confed Aquilae and Navy Experions), five 180mm howitzers, and the might of several Navies. Pretty much every so-called expert seemed to think it was enough, but Ryck hadn’t lived through so many battles by under-estimating the enemy.
If the Klethos would even be the enemy, that was.
But Ryck agreed with Sams. It looked like a clash was inevitable. And Ryck thought Obedience agreed, even if he expressed uncertainty in his formalized, somewhat stilted manner of speech.
Ryck looked around at his staff, such as it was. With only one Marine battalion in the task force, he’d been officially assigned just 32 Marines and sailors with some of the battalion staff being dual-hatted to perform brigade functions as well as battalion. Twelve of the staff had gone up north with Jorge, leaving him with 18 Marines and two sailors. However, he had four liaison officers and six action officers lent from the other militaries. Except for Obedience, however, he’d really much rather strictly have Marines. The others were just there to mark time in the snow and make sure their military could claim participation gold stars.
His hodgepodge command group was not very robust, but he had a squad from Fox, including Sergeant Jason Baker and his trusty Stinger, the same one he’d carried on Fremantle, and a Davis tank, with Sergeant Bergstrøm as the commander, for security.
Ryck checked his M77 by rote, validating the data readout. If the Klethos decided to engage, he knew that being in the command group wouldn’t mean squat, and everyone would need to be able to fight.
“Lieutenant Gangun, still up with CIC?” Ryck asked over the P2P.
“Yes, sir,” his naval gunfire support officer said with only a hint of condescension in his voice. “Still up.”
Ryck had asked the Navy officer three times over the last 40 minutes. He knew Gangun would inform him of any changes, but nervous energy was flowing through him. He had a feeling that it could come down to the big guns in orbit, and he wanted to make sure nothing interfered with that. The capys could block all comms, so it was certainly possible that the Klethos could, too.
Ryck settled in to wait, monitoring the ragged line of Klethos as recorded by orbital cams.
“Big birds in sight,” LCpl Queensbury passed on the tactical circuit some two hours later.
Everyone around him, other than Carl and the other two capys, spun around to look towards the front as if they could see anything. Ryck listened as Captain McAult recalled the OP team back to the lines, then watched on his display as the two Marines sprinted up the hill 1,500 meters to the company. There was no reaction from the Klethos. Either they had missed the two or were simply not concerned. Or possibly, they would not initiate hostilities with a new, unknown force.
To the north, the Klethos had shifted the direction of their advance, and Jorge was repositioning his forces to interdict them. Whether he would get there in time was still uncertain. Four other Klethos groups were nowhere near any of the task force positions. So if there was to be a confrontation, it was going to happen right there, in a snow-covered valley on an unnamed world outside the boundaries of human space. Ryck wondered if the second inter-species war for humanity was about to break out. The first war had proven to have been a needless mistake.
Is this a mistake, too? Ryck wondered.
Ryck had edged forward over the last two hours, much to Çağlar’s consternation. But he didn’t want to observe the first contact via a slaved cam. He wanted to see it himself, to be ready to react if even a split second quicker if need be. The Fox lines were less than 50 meters in front of him, and from the small finger on which he had positioned himself, he had a clear field of vision over the featureless snow as the two OP’s came over the first rise ahead and several hundred meters to Ryck’s left.
Ryck and Staff Captain Obedience had carefully picked the terrain they would hold to give them the most advantage. The task force was generally in defilade, even if only slightly so. In front of them, the slope gently fell for close to 500 meters to a slight seam, then fell again for another 700 meters to a broad valley floor. The wind was steady in their faces, so the snow was deeper in front of them, and on the reverse slope, some rocks had been swept clear. To the far left flank, the high ground fell sharper, and this was where Ryck had sent the New Budapest company. They could stay out of the line of sight of anyone coming up the slope to face the Marines, then pop up to take the Klethos under fire.
The Klethos would be climbing in deep snow to meet the task force, and that should put them at a disadvantage. How much, Ryck didn’t have a clue. After watching hours of surveillance recordings, their long legs didn’t seem to have much problem no matter the conditions. But a professional soldier took any and every advantage he could, no matter how small, and by choosing the field of a potential battle, Ryck had done just that.
“Men and women of Task Force Hannah,” Ryck said over the open circuit, sticking with his original name choice instead of some convoluted diminutive of Valiant Shield. “We are about to make contact with the second intelligent race of non-humans. You’ve been lectured about this from each of our respective governments and Admiral Parks, so I’m not going to go into the historical aspects of this. I just want to point out that as of this moment, the Klethos and humans are not at war, and we will not be the ones to instigate one. If the Klethos fight is with the Trinoculars and not us, then we will not engage. However, and this is a big however, if they start a fight, then we will end it with the most extreme prejudice. If they are a threat, then we will crush that threat.”
Ryck had debated whether he should say anything at all, but in the end, history demanded it. He wasn’t going to try for something notable, However, as the commander, he needed to stress that they would not start the fight, but if it came to one, they would end it. His speech might have sounded corny to him, but he wasn’t some accomplished public speaker. He was just a Marine, and his job was fighting, not giving speeches.
“Well, here it goes,” he said to Sergeant Major Phantawisangtong on the P2P. “Let’s see what fate has in store for us.”
“You and I know this is a cluster, but we’ve done what we could to get ready,” Hecs said. “We’ve got the Fuzos holding the center, and I think the Budapestians and the Aussies will do fine.”
“How’s Sandy holding up?” Ryck asked.
“A little nervous, which is a surprise. He’s been in the shit before,” Hecs said.
But not as a battalion commander with so many men depending on him, Ryck thought, something he didn’t say to Hecs.
Hecs was vital to the battalion as the sergeant major, and without one of his own (something he intended to rectify once they got back), as the acting task force sergeant major. But what he didn’t have was the unique weight of command on his shoulders. Ryck understood that weight, and he knew what Sandy was feeling. However, he trusted that Sandy would bring it together once—if—a fight broke out.
“Here they come,” Sams broke in.
Ryck shifted to his right so he had a better view down the slope. Two, then three beaked heads appeared below the crest, their bodies slowly coming into view as they marched up. Each was about 20 meters apart, which seemed to be their standard formation. Others started appearing along either side of the first three.
The snow didn’t seem to hinder them as their naked feet plowed through it, nor did they lean into the slope as a human might have done. Even in a PICS, the internal stabilizers leaned the combat suits forward when climbing a slope.
From 200 meters away, the Klethos looked huge. Towering almost four meters high, their massive main arms were as thick as a PICS’ thighs. Their visible skin was a dull, greenish-grey, and the creatures wore what appeared to be gr
eave-like armor of almost the same color. The most prominent features of the naked head were what looked like a dull-gold toothed beak and bright red eyes.
“Steady,” Major Abd Elmonim passed on the Marine battalion circuit as the first of the Klethos came to a stop.
Within a minute or so, the entire line was visible as they all stopped in the snow. It was no drill field row, nice and neat, but more of a rough, haphazard line.
Ryck had the feed from the CS Petra running across his display. The Confed ship was running through electronic, optic, sound, and all the other spectrums of which he wasn’t even aware, ready to pick up any form of communication from the Klethos, but there was nothing. Evidently, they had nothing yet to say to the humans facing them.
“What now?” Sams asked. Are they just going to stand there with their thumbs up their feathered asses?”
As if in response, a single Klethos strode forward some 30 meters. It stopped and swiveled its head up and down the line of the task force. Suddenly, it tilted its head back and let out a raucous shriek, surprisingly high-pitched for such a large creature. Heretofore unseen feathers around its neck flared out, forming a high, bright yellow, green, and red collar in the back of its head. Dull red feathers flared out along the backs of it upper arms as well.
It took a single exaggerated step forward, slamming its foot down in the snow, sending little mountains of flakes back up into the air. It leaned forward on that one extended leg and stared up the slope at the waiting men and women. It held that position for a few moments as if waiting for something. It then slowly pulled back up to the full upright.
“What the fuck?” Sams asked.
The Klethos screamed out once more, and then suddenly broke out into a series of jerky, almost spasmodic motions, part whirling dervish, part epileptic fit, and yes, part peacock trying to seduce a peahen.
Ryck tried to force that comparison out of his mind. The Klethos might look like a nightmare cross between a dinosaur and bird, but they were not from Earth stock, and it would be dangerous to assume they had any birdlike attributes. But hell, the dance sure reminded Ryck of a posturing bird.
Colonel (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 7) Page 11
