Spartan Valor
Spartan Company Book 2
by
Toby Neighbors
Spartan Valor, Spartan Company Book 2
© 2018, Toby Neighbors
Published by Mythic Adventure Publishing, LLC
Idaho, USA
All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Table Of Contents
Table Of Contents
Dedication
Toby Neighbors Online
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Toby Neighbors Online
1
2
3
4
Books By Toby Neighbors
Avondale
Draggah
Balestone
Arcanius
Avondale V
Wizard Rising
Magic Awakening
Hidden Fire
Fierce Loyalty
Crying Havoc
Evil Tide
Wizard Falling
Chaos Descending
Into Chaos
Chaos Reigning
Chaos Raging
Controlling Chaos
Killing Chaos
Lorik
Lorik the Defender
Lorik the Protector
The Vault Of Mysteries
Lords Of Ascension
The Elusive Executioner
Regulators Revealed
Third Prince
Royal Destiny
The Other Side
The New World
Zompocalypse Omnibus
We Are The Wolf
Welcome To The Wolfpack
Embracing Oblivion
Joined In Battle
The Abyss Of Savagery
My Lady Sorceress
The Man With No Hands
ARC Angel
Battle ARC
Elder Wizard
Spartan Company
Charter
Jack & Roxie
Dedication
To Sunshine
You make me happy
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Prologue
“Ultra actual, this is Fleet Control. Report.”
“Fleet Control, this is Commander Boswell. We are returning with casualties. I repeat, returning with casualties.”
“Boswell, this is Admiral Yamaguchi. Do you have a report on the IX gas readings?”
“Affirmative, Admiral. We have word from the ground that strong concentrations of the gas are present on Apex Venandi.”
“Very good, Commander,” the admiral said with no attempt to hide his excitement. “What of the natives?”
“Sir, Spartan Company encountered heavy resistance upon entry. We request that reinforcements be sent in.”
“You didn’t get everyone off the planet?”
“No sir. Lieutenant Rigel was in command of the Recon platoon. He made the call.”
“Well, better to lose a few Marines and complete the mission. Good work Ultra. We will have medical personnel ready and waiting when you dock. Fleet Command out.”
Boswell slumped back in his seat and sighed. He knew the truth. Lieutenant Rigel had not completed the mission. If not for the Marines he left behind, the Ultra would be returning to the Solar System in disgrace. Even worse, Lieutenant Rigel was already taking credit for the mission. The Commander glanced down at his private-view screen that was built into his command chair on the bridge of the Ultra. He had the personnel files pulled up, much as he had since leaving the Tabit system. He could see the names of the Spartan Recon platoon. Three were marked as Killed-In-Action. Of the seven on board, three of those were wounded, and one was listed as critical. But what bothered Commander Boswell the most, were the last three names; Master Sergeant James “Money” Eubanks, Staff Sergeant Howard Barnes, and Private First Class Orion Porter. They were all listed as Missing-In-Action. Only Boswell knew they weren’t really missing. They had been left behind. He felt some responsibility for that, even though Lieutenant Rigel had insisted there were no survivors on the planet. Still, he had gotten the last message sent out by the trio of Marines. Boswell knew they had been abandoned, and yet had completed the mission. All he could do was make sure that the Brass at Fleet Command knew it too.
Chapter 1
Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I had loved summer. No school, warmer weather, and a sense of freedom defined the summers of my youth. I used to imagine living in a place where it never got cold and the sun shined most of the year. I was beginning to rethink that dream after carrying Staff Sergeant Barnes through through the jungle on Apex Venandi. It was so hot the air seemed thick and difficult to breathe at times.
It had been three days since we completed the mission on the summit of Mt. Zuko. The natives had given us a wide berth since I had pulled the IX crystal from the top of the volcano. Unfortunately, the glow of the strange artifact had begun to dim, and I had a sneaking suspicion that once the light was gone, my platoon mates and I would be fair game again.
“What the hell is that?” Money asked.
We stopped. The light was fading and I was tired, content to focus on holding the litter we had rigged to carry Staff Sergeant Barnes. When I looked up, I saw a short, grisly figure impaled on stick. The sight was gruesome, but made me smile none-the-less.
“Home,” I said happily. “It’s one of the Fae we killed when they attacked. Remember, I put them up all around the clearing in hopes of scaring the natives away.”
“Nearly scared me away,” the Master Sergeant said. “Good idea, though.”
He led us past the impaled alien, that at one time had looked like a monkey. Most of the creature’s hair had fallen off, and carrion birds had eaten away at the flesh on the creature’s head and neck. The rest of the body had bloated. The smell was so terrible I nearly gagged.
“Smells like home,” Barnes said
“Don’t make laugh, Howie, I might drop you,” Money warned.
“Yes, Master Sergeant,” Barnes said.
His voice was weak from pain. We had run out of morphine on the second day, and although his legs were held steady with stout splits made of fallen tree limbs and the sleeves of my cammie jacket, his voice shook.
We stepped into the clearing, which as far as I could tell at first glance, was completely untouched
by the natives. Spartan Company had successfully cleared a space close to a hundred square meters. At one end of the clearing there were two rows of heavy duty cargo crates, field communication setup, and a parabolic dish capable of transmitting into space. Attached to one of the tallest trees was a standing antennae for picking up signals. We set Staff Sergeant Barnes gently on the ground near the crates and Master Sergeant Eubanks laid out a plan.
“Porter, crack open all these crates. We need ammunition and weapons, not just in hand, but at strategic positions around the camp. If we rearrange the supplies, they’ll give us a little cover. We also need medical supplies.”
“Yes, Master Sergeant,” I replied.
“Barnes, can you hold it together a little longer?” Money asked.
“Yes, Master Sergeant.”
“Good. I want you on the comm-link. I doubt there is anyone listening, but we should be transmitting just in case.”
“Roger that,” Barnes said.
“I’ll find us some food, then scout for some water,” Money said. “There should be a little water in our supplies, but we might be here a while gentlemen. So we’ll have to ration that until we can find water.”
I haven’t seen any water, Master Sergeant,” I said. “Not on any of the hikes I’ve been on.”
“There has to be water,” Money replied. “All this organic life has to be hydrated somehow.”
I opened the first crate. It was full of the Marine Assault Rifles, the CR 2280. I pulled two from the crate and checked the breach of both. They were functional. The next crate was filled with wood-cutting tools. The third had basic field equipment: shovels, machetes, solar cells for recharging our Command Helmets, and the batteries for various types of equipment such as the Sharps LRRG. There were water purification jugs, tents, and spare parts for the communication gear. The fourth crate had already been opened. It was the medical supplies we needed, and the contents had been rifled through by Lance Corporal Petra Von’Heim. I silently wished Petra had been able to stay on the planet with me. He would know how best to help Staff Sergeant Barnes.
I set the lid back on the crate and pulled it over to where Barnes was propped on one elbow, working the controls on the communication gear.
“I repeat, this is Spartan Company actual at the Base Camp on Apex Venandi,” the Staff Sergeant said. “Come in Ultra. Are you there?”
The only response was static. As I turned back around to complete my survey of the supplies, I heard Barnes continue.
“This Spartan Company on Apex Venandi, calling all Galactic Fleet personnel. Do you you read? Over.”
I hadn’t expected a response, but it still stung knowing that we had been left behind. Our platoon commander, First Lieutenant Edward Rigel had known that Money and Barnes were still alive. He had also known that I was going after them. The least he could have done was keep the Ultra in orbit until he heard from me. But he expected the three of us to be killed, and my guess was he ordered the ship back to Earth with all possible speed as soon as he stepped foot inside the hanger bay.
I opened another crate and found explosives. There were land mines, trip wires, motion sensors, blocks of moldable ordnance, and detonation rods.
“Master Sergeant,” I called out. “We have explosive ordnance.”
“Good. We can secure the perimeter,” Money said. “I’ve got a crate full of MREs and a dozen liters of water.”
“Good. I’m so dry, my tongue feels like a prickly pear,” Barnes said.
“Any sign of weapons?” Money asked.
“I’ve got assault rifles, but no ammunition.”
“Keep looking. I want to know every weapon we have on hand.”
“Yes, Master Sergeant.”
There were boxes filled with supplies for building temporary structures, tools, and even more rations. I found a box with a variety of weapons from side arms to rocket launchers. There was even a flamethrower in the bottom of the crate, but still no ammunition. The last crate was packed tight with several kinds of ammo. I breathed a sigh of relief, loaded two magazines with depleted uranium slugs, and took them to where Barnes was lying.
“I found the ammo, Staff Sergeant.”
“Took you long enough, Porter. What do you think this is, a resort vacation?”
“No, Staff Sergeant.”
“Oh, hell, it’s always the last place you think to look, kid. I’m just busting your chops. Get that ammunition inventoried and start loading the spare weapons. If we run into the locals again, we won’t have time to load magazines.”
“I’m on it. Should I give you a morphine shot, first?” I asked.
“Better not. We don’t have enough hands around this place as it is, and we won’t be able to do much after dark. You can help me see about these busted legs then.”
I nodded and went back to work. We had made it to the Base Camp. I was thankful for that, but also very aware that we weren’t out of danger. The sun was setting fast, and soon our only source of light would be the glowing orb of IX gas in its delicate, crystal form. I didn’t know much about the gas, other than it was the only substance stable enough to power a fusion engine during Faster-Than-Light speed travel. My fear was that we had made it back to base only to be massacred by one of the five intelligent, highly-militant species native to Apex Venandi. It wasn’t a pleasant thought as the sun set and the jungle was swallowed up in gloom.
Chapter 2
I worked hard, moving crates around the communication console until it became too dark to see. We ate MREs in the gloom of our night vision and talked in whispers.
“At first light, we put up one of the structures,” Money ordered.
“I’ve never done that,” I said. “Is it difficult?”
“It’s like putting together a puzzle,” Barnes said. “Just follow the instructions, and you’ll be fine.”
“What about you?” I asked Money.
“We need water. I don’t want to wait until we’re running low to start looking. There’s no telling how long we’ll be here.”
“Oh, great,” Barnes said.
“But the Fleet will come back, right?” I asked.
Money hesitated a moment. “I won’t lie to you kid. We have no way of knowing if your message was received.”
“But they know we’re here,” I insisted.
“They know we were left behind,” Money replied. “But let’s not kid ourselves. The platoon was nearly wiped out, and the lieutenant won’t advocate on our behalf. Even if they got the message about the IX gas, we have to realize that the Fleet would sacrifice ten thousand Marines if it ensured the continuation of their interstellar operations. Unless I’m greatly mistaken, rescuing us is going to be pretty low on their list of priorities.”
“I was taught from day one of Basic Training that Marines don’t leave people behind,” I said.
“And we don’t,” Money said. “But that’s a lesson some people forget — or choose to ignore. I wish I could say that wasn’t true, but you’ve already experienced that lesson. Some people care more for their own safety than for the people around them. Some people see enlisted Marines as expendable. And we have to realize that there is a larger mission at stake here. The Fleet can’t operate without the IX gas. Ensuring that they have a reliable source of fuel is more important than our lives.”
“Shit always rolls down hill,” Barnes said.
“Do you really believe that?” I asked.
“Don’t you?” Money countered. “Without the IX gas, there are billions of colonists who will be cut off from the rest of humanity. That gas is the only thing connecting us together. If that isn’t worth dying for, I don’t know what is.”
“I don’t think anything is worth dying for,” Barnes said. “But there’s a lot of things worth living for.”
“So, it’s possible we may never be rescued?” I said, letting the truth sink in.
“Take it one hour at a time, Private,” Money said. “We’ve got a long night to survive before we c
an even think about being rescued.”
Barnes finally accepted a morphine shot. It was hard to see exactly what we were doing in the dark, but Money ran a scan of the Staff Sergeant’s legs while he slept.
“It’s bad,” he said. “They could fix it in a level-one medical center, but the best we can do is get field casts on his legs so he doesn’t hurt them any worse.”
“Might as well do that while he’s out,” I said.
We had inflatable splints that would immobilize Barnes’ legs. Unfortunately we had to lift the legs to get the splits in place. Despite the morphine, the staff sergeant groaned as we carefully lifted his broken legs.
“I’ll take first watch,” Money said.
“You think they’ll come at us in the night?” I asked.
“I think it’s possible. These crates will give us a little shelter, but I’d like more.”
“We could move some of the logs tomorrow,” I suggested.
“No, focus your efforts on the shelter. It’s made to withstand attack. And we can set some traps around the clearing too. All we need is a little more time. Why don’t you get some sleep. I need you fresh when dawn breaks.”
“I’ll sleep, but only if you promise to wake me before dawn so you can rest a little,” I said.
“Fair enough,” Money replied. “You’re handling things well, Porter. This place is as rough as any I’ve seen. Keep your head, and we’ll make it through this.”
“Yes, Master Sergeant.”
I lay down with my assault rifle in my arms. Money’s words echoed in my mind. We couldn’t count on help coming, at least not any time soon. I needed to start thinking long-term about survival. I had assumed reaching Base Camp would solve all my problems, but I was wrong. It only shifted my needs to an entire set of new problems. But if we learned anything in Marine Basic Training, it was how to improvise, adapt, and overcome. That thought, and knowing I wasn’t alone on the strange, alien world, gave me a sliver of peace. I clung to it like a man lost at sea clings to a life preserver and let sleep whisk me away for a few hours.
Chapter 3
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