Major (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 5)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  An FCDC major was waiting by the first shuttle, and the Marine major who was in charge of the move marched up to him where the official exchange of prisoners took place. Each man gave a retinal scan into the other’s PA, then the FCDC major signed acceptance of the prisoners.

  The Marines in the first four busses debarked and loaded the shuttles. Within five minutes, the two shuttles took off, and Ryck, along with the rest of the remaining Marines waited in silence.

  Not for the first time, Ryck wondered if all of this was a farce, a show. Maybe they were really facing prison time—or worse. The Marines were the “best of the best,” proven men. What better way to calmly transport these dangerous men than to tell them they were on a secret mission? Ryck thought that was outlandish—but not really. He couldn’t put that beyond the Federation. He believed Bert, LtCol Gladsen, and Col Lipper-Mendoza, but what if they were being duped, too?

  He was relieved 50 minutes later when the shuttles returned. Scam or the truth, he’d find out soon enough. No more wondering.

  Their FCDC major came out of the lead shuttle again, and the same formalities were repeated as he took possession of the second group.

  “OK, you gorping traitors,” the lead fuckdick master sergeant said. “Out of the bus and into the shuttle, real quiet-like, you hear? And say goodbye to Tarawa for the last time while you’re at it.”

  Ryck got up and led the debark. The master sergeant gave him a hard shoulder in the chest as he walked by.

  “Oh, ‘scuse me, Major. Oh, I mean civilian, sir!” he said as another fuckdick laughed.

  Ryck ignored him, marched out, and led the line of Marines—and he refused to even think of any other term but Marines, despite the paperwork to the contrary—to the waiting shuttle. A civilian crew-chief motioned him forward and up into the hatch. He took a seat and waited for the rest to embark.

  The ride off of the planet’s surface was unremarkable. The guard’s comment about seeing Tarawa for the last time bothered him, though. Could this be the last time he’d see the planet? He had to trust his command, but what if they were being duped, too?

  The shuttle docked with the Pompui Lady 20 minutes later, and the Marines debarked. They entered the ship through an airlock as there was no hangar as in military ships. They were led into the main passage and told to sit so everyone could get aboard. When the lock was closed and the civilian shuttles were gone, Marines appeared and started to remove the handcuffs, much to the consternation of their fuckdick guards. The FCDC major called the guards forward as the Marines, who Ryck recognized as being from Alpha Company, went down the line freeing the Bravo and Charlie Company Marines. Major Trap Havlorsen, who had taken command of Alpha when Stan Lubjinski had been outed, removed Ryck and Cleo Davidson’s handcuffs himself.

  “You two OK?” he asked.

  “Fuck, I don’t want to go through that again,” Cleo said. “Even if I knew it was a charade, it felt so fucking real. I wanted to off myself.”

  That was perhaps a bit dramatic, but Ryck understood the Charlie Company commander’s sentiments. It had been a mortifying experience.

  Ryck watched the guards as the Marines were released. They seemed confused, but they also seemed to understand. The master sergeant had the decency to look ashamed as he turned away from his major to look at the Marines. Evidently, the major had just apprised them of the situation, that these were not traitors, but rather Marines on a special mission. Ryck felt a huge feeling of relief flow over him. If the major was telling his guards that, then this was probably a righteous mission. He felt guilty for doubting his own government, but only a little.

  Now, they had several days for the nitty-gritty preparation required for an operation, and doing it in a tramp freighter was far from ideal. But Marines often made do without, and it was time to earn their pay.

  ACQUISITION

  Chapter 30

  It was almost go time. The Pompui Lady, en route to Jones, was within a million klicks of Acquisition, their target world, in the twin planet Hydra system.

  Hydra’s “first” planet, Jones’ Haven, had been an Earthlike planet first colonized by the Federation almost 400 years ago. Ten years prior to Jones seceding from the Federation and joining the Liberty Alliance, the Sea of Kansas Corporation had started terraforming the third planet in the system. With Jones seceding and claiming SK-2, the Federation, acting for the Sea of Kansas, objected and sent a naval squadron to assert Federation claim over the second planet.

  The Human League, which was still operating at the time, ruled in favor of Jones and the Alliance, and with Fordham and the Brotherhood backing up the league, the Federation withdrew under heavy protest.

  The Sea of Kansas went bankrupt over the loss, and Jones had neither the money nor wherewithal to continue the terraforming, and other than renaming the planet, did nothing to it. Eventually, over a hundred years later, Jones’ Haven re-started the process, and after another 60 years, the planet was finally habitable. Now, over two million Joneses lived on Acquisition—as did evidently some 500 to 600 SOG pirates and 2-3,000 family members. While the SOG probably numbered in the tens of thousands, this was their headquarters, if Intel could be believed.

  Maybe this time they finally got a right, Ryck thought. Even a blind squirrel can eventually find a nut, as the say.

  “You about ready, Evgeni?” Ryck asked Çağlar, using his name from the Livingston fiasco, something the corporal hated, he knew.

  “Yes, sir, all ready,” the big Marine mumbled.

  “That’s right, Evgeni, you keep the skipper safe, now, you hear? But don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” Sams added.

  Ryck rolled his eyes. It was almost a tradition that when Marines were “69’ing” in the Inert Atmospheric Insertion Capsule, or “duck egg,” that someone said that same stupid line. And, of course, it was Sams this time.

  The Pompui Lady was not a military vessel, so launching some 250 eggs, even with the two launchers jury-rigged in her cargo hold, took some time. The special AI added to the ship altered the velocity of the initial throw so that all of the eggs should arrive in Acquisition’s atmosphere at about the same time, but the process of launching was taking over an hour despite the crew’s breakneck pace. With almost half of the eggs already launched, it was almost time for Ryck and Çağlar to get inside their egg.

  Their mission was pretty straightforward and read like an infantry battalion’s mission, which had Ryck wondering why an infantry battalion was not used instead. Recon, even SpecOps recon, was not designed for conventional attacks. It was too lightly armed, for one thing. An infantry battalion had far more firepower at its disposal, to include PICS and attached arty, armor, and air. Sure, infantry weren’t trained in duck egg insertions, but what was that but just a way into the AOR?

  With slightly over 500 men in the battalion, which included and the extra platoon assigned to each company after the Fresh Beginnings mission, that made the attacking force smaller than the defending force, something that went against every military mind from Sun Tzu to Harrison Toppings. And the opposing forces could include the local police force. Jones didn’t have a standing army, but their police had some capabilities, and Ryck wasn’t sure they’d just stand by even after being assured, if it came to that, that the fight was only with the SOG.

  Ryck understood that the Marines in the battalion were probably the best warriors in the Federation, but the SOG had proven not to be slouches themselves. This would be no cakewalk, Ryck knew, and depending on how well they were dug in and defended, this would be a very tough mission to accomplish.

  The ops order stressed surprise, speed of attack, and ferocity, and Ryck knew all three of those were needed if the mission was to be accomplished.

  The chief civilian loadmaster, who had the air of a retired Navy petty officer, motioned Ryck and Çağlar forward. The uniform given to the Marines didn’t mesh well with the standard-issue bones that had been modified to work with the generic, Madras-made utilities, and
they both moved with a slight awkward gait up to the waiting egg. They’d been assured that mutual feedback would smooth out the two parts of the uniform, but Ryck wasn’t holding his breath.

  Ryck bent over, the apron bones digging into his groin as he slid into the wife position. He took the Rimsky offered by one of the crew and snapped it into place in the bottom holster. And least that work well with the Gentry-made weapon. Next came his pack, and as he settled in, he gave the chief a thumbs up and a loud “Ready!” Unlike on a Navy vessel, he had no comms with the crew, so it was his natural voice.

  Çağlar started to slide into the upper, or husband position. He stepped on Ryck’s leg, muttered an apology, and contorted his body to slide up and into position. Ryck was glad the bones inserted into his utilities trousers had stiffened enough to take most of the corporal’s weight. Çağlar had to put in a 110 kg, and that was a load. Ryck had second thoughts about assigning Çağlar to be his egg-buddy. Even with their metabolism drugged and slowed, that was a big body to share in an egg. Maybe he should have taken Sams or even Liplock. He smiled as he thought of Çağlar’s reaction if the corporal hadn’t been in with him. The guy was like a mother hen with his protectiveness over Ryck at times.

  They were “69’ing” rather than “spooning.” The duck egg could accept either position, but 69’ing offered slightly more room for weapons and equipment. Ryck tried to ignore Çağlar’s crotch staring him in the face.

  “You guys good to go?” the crewman asked.

  “Ready and waiting,” Ryck replied.

  Which was true. Ryck was upside down, and his head was beginning to pound. He needed to get into null space so gravity was not giving him a mega-headache.

  The crewman nodded and sealed shut the hatch. Ryck could feel the duck egg move around as it was married to the four-egg capsule in which they would travel most of the distance to their destination.

  Aside from his head, his gut was cramping, exasperated by his fetal position. He hated the evacuation drugs that emptied his bowels, but he acknowledged that taking a shit in the tiny egg with another Marine 69’ing him was not a particularly pleasant thought.

  There were several minutes of jerking back and forth, and Ryck’s position was shifted until he was slightly on his side instead of straight upside down. It was marginally better, but not really that much of an improvement. Finally, Ryck felt the pressure of the ejection from the ship and the shift to null grav that told him they’d been launched.

  Ryck had made a 30-hour insertion during the Trinocular War. This was only to be a 16-hour insertion. That was long enough, though, crammed into the small egg, so as the drugs flowed into Ryck, he welcomed them. They worked to slow down his metabolism and calm his mental process. Ryck drifted off, his thoughts mostly on Hannah and the kids, but sliding into boot camp and Marines he had known during his career.

  It seemed only as if 15 minutes had passed when the egg started vibrating. They were entering the planet’s atmosphere. The outer shell that kept the eggs together ablated away, sending each egg and other decoy detritus on its way. With each egg now separate from the other, the egg surface itself began to ablate away, slowing down each team of two Marines.

  The egg bounced back and forth as it plummeted through the atmosphere. It was nighttime outside, and the egg’s walls would have blocked most light anyway, so when Ryck began to see a rosy glow, he knew the egg’s outer layers were being burnt away. They would have between a five- and ten-second warning before they were ejected, but Ryck pulled his arms in and tightened up his legs. Ryck was still not sure if he was operating at 100%, so he kept his focus on keeping a tight body position. He didn’t need an arm being torn off when the inner layer of the egg split open, ejecting Çağlar and him into the thin air at 10,000 meters.

  As designed, Ryck’s side of the egg split first, followed a fraction of a second by Çağlar’s. This tiny difference kept them from slamming into each other as they were injected into the atmosphere. The shock was pretty heavy, but Ryck managed to keep his position, and within a few moments, he had stabilized. Slowly, he extended into the age-old freefall position and started the next phase of the long insertion.

  The deployment of the foil was done mechanically. There was an emergency ripcord, but that would pull him hopelessly off course. It was for self-preservation, only, and if used, the mission would be a scrub for him. He kept his hand away from the ripcord and trusted the foil to deploy as designed.

  The shock of the chute deployment pulled down a helmet overlay that mapped out his course down. All Ryck had to do was line up the horizon on the overlay with the real horizon, then keep the foil along the indicated glide path.

  With Çağlar off his shoulder and slightly above him, the two flew their pre-designated course to the planet surface. Çağlar fell slightly faster, which was not surprising given his greater bulk. Ryck idly wondered if that had been taken into consideration when their descent was programmed into the system.

  He lost sight of Çağlar as they finally neared the ground and Ryck searched for a landing spot. He popped his reticule down, and with its light-gathering capabilities, selected a cleared area. He lightly touched down, his foil falling around him.

  Ryck pulled together his chute, rolling it into a ball and stuffing in under a scruffy-looking bush. It would disintegrate within a couple of hours, but SOP[16] was SOP. Çağlar was already approaching him, shouldering his pack as he hurried up. Ryck turned to look above him, and a chute filled the sky as either Liplock or Sams came in to land some 30 meters away. They’d just traveled almost 800,000 kilometers in the eggs, and still the Marines in the next egg were going to land a stone’s throw away. He had to give cred to the engineers who’d slapped together the launchers in the tramp freighter’s cargo hold.

  They were under transmission silence, so Ryck had to trust the plan. He and Çağlar oriented themselves, and with one arm indicating the direction, the two moved off across the high grasses. Another 40 meters and slightly in front of them, Ryck could see Belly and Alice, from First Platoon, making their way forward.

  At least three of the teams are together, Ryck thought.

  He felt far more comfortable now that the company was probably generally intact and not scattered to the winds. He’d know more as they reached the rally point and got a head count. He wished he could see his men on his reticule, but on transmission silence, each Marine’s transponder was off as well.

  The ship’s AI had hopefully dropped the company in a general sphere around a shallow hill covered by trees, some 20 klicks away from the company target, a transportation hub 10 klicks from the main SOG base. The Marines were to meet up at the far side of the hill. Ryck and Çağlar sped up their pace and caught up with Belly and Alice, and without speaking, the four Marines moved into a V. Fifteen minutes later, they reached the rally point to find about half of the company there, to include Sandy, who had taken command of the new Fourth Platoon, and Captain Luke “Codfish” O’Leary, the Third Platoon commander. With Sams taking a head count, Ryck knelt with his platoon commanders as the other two arrived and went over the plan one last time.

  The company had morphed into a hybrid unit: not the standard recon teams, but not an infantry company, either. Once they moved past the FCL, while Ryck was still in command, he would also be a rifleman, a fighter. If he fell, the command would be assumed by the next senior man—probably, that is. It could also go to the senior Marine whose men were the most engaged, or the Marine who could best influence the battle. This was at odds with normal Marine Corps procedures where rank and command were more strictly codified. Ryck had served both in recon, where the team was king, and as an infantry company commander, and this new organization didn’t sit well with him. He was not quite sure how it would work out, and in a fast-moving combat environment, the possible confusion could have drastic consequences.

  Sams gave him the head count. All 102 Marines and corpsmen had arrived at the rally point, something Ryck considered a minor mir
acle in and of itself. He hoped that was a good omen of things to come.

  “OK, we’re on in . . . 29 minutes,” Ryck passed to his platoon commanders, after checking his reticule timer display.

  This was to be a coordinated attack with all four line companies and the headquarters company. Even Bert and his 55-man headquarters would form an assault element, taking out the guard post on the main road leading into the main base.

  Absolute surprise was vital to the mission, and in order to achieve it, all four objectives had to be hit at the same time. Bravo was taking out the motor pool, which had not only trucks and personal hovers, but at least three Patties, or PTY Armored Combat Vehicle, the very armored combat vehicle that Ryck had “fought” back as a midshipman in Annapolis on the RCET.[17] He hoped that simulation had been accurate, because his tactics were based on that training scenario.

  There had been no known ship transporting the Patties that had been reported as being pirated, so if SOG had the vehicles, they had to have bought them from somebody. Ryck had been ordered to disable the vehicles, but not destroy them so they could be traced to their manufacture on Gentry and subsequent sale.

  The CO and his headquarters element was targeting the main guard post of about a platoon-sized contingent, Alpha was targeting the armory, which probably had 30 pirates at the site, and Charlie and Delta were to take the fight to the main base, which was in a series of underground passages or chambers. They would attack the two known entrances, seal them off, and hold the position until the rest of the battalion could arrive on the scene.

  The platoon commanders returned to their gathered teams for their last-minute briefs. The men knew their mission, but commanders had to command, Ryck thought as he watched them, fully cognizant that he had just done the same thing himself. Sandy, as a new platoon commander, gathered his three team leaders: two gunnies and a lieutenant. He had them kneel beside him as he gave his brief, arms moving to emphasize whatever he was saying. For someone who Ryck had initially thought was a liability, the young captain who looked like he’d be more at home serving burgers and fries at Angus’s had proven himself to be an exemplary Marine, and Ryck was glad he’d brought him to the company. He might be the junior-most platoon commander in the company, but this was no normal company. In an infantry platoon, the commander would be a lieutenant and the squad leaders sergeants. Sandy’s junior-most Marine was a corporal. In the entire company, Çağlar, also a corporal, was the boot Marine. They may have an infantry company’s mission, but this was a very senior company with combat-proven vets.