“I didn’t see you coming,” Constantine said between breaths. “I would have run faster.”
“Would of, could of. All I can say is Marine captain, one, Hellenic lochagos, zero. Ba-boom!”
“Next time, I’ll crush you.”
“Only in your dreams.”
Both of them returned to the finish to cheer on the rest. By ones, twos, and threes, soldiers crossed the finish line, some collapsing in the dirt. One of the brigade’s SNCOs, a man named Mamout, had dragged up a bucket of water and was offering ladles to the finishers. Mamout was one of the oldest, if not the oldest soldier on the island, yet he’d finished the run, had fetched the water, and looked none the worse for wear.
“Here comes your two,” Constantine said.
Pounding down the straightaway, Doc was over-taking Lyle. Lyle was puffing like a steam engine, but he just couldn’t get his tree-trunk legs moving fast enough. Doc passed him as if he were standing still. To Esther’s surprise, though, Doc stopped just short of the finish and looked back to Lyle.
“Come on, Doc. No gimmies,” Bug said.
Lyle started to speed up, but then he slowed, coming to a stop in front of Doc, who swept an arm urging Lyle forward.
“Nah, you beat me. Go ahead.”
“Oh for St. Gladys’ dirty drawers, just cross the line,” Merl shouted out.
Doc nodded, and then walked over the finish. Lyle followed and immediately started his push-ups.
Lyle was a big boy—not tall and with short legs, but a big boy none-the-less. He started putting out push-ups like a machine. No one even counted. Lyle could do them in his sleep.
It took another twenty-minutes for the last person to cross, one of the junior officers on straggler duty pushing an exhausted soldier in front of him. The lieutenant gave Constantine a thumbs up.
Epilochias, or Master Sergeant Kang, started a head count while Esther helped herself to some of Mamout’s water.
“Any word on the ammo?” Constantine asked.
“Nothing yet. I’ll call again after chow.”
The first supply run had arrived six hours ago under the cover of darkness. The uniforms were there, the rifles were there, but the ammo was missing. The lone fisherman who’d delivered the shipment knew nothing about anything else and had been anxious to get off the beach.
“I’m kind of anxious to try them out.”
“That Koehler you have isn’t a bad piece of gear,” Esther said.
“So says the lady who has the latest model of it.”
“Still, it’s a good weapon for an officer. Bullpup design so its overall length is less. Great for self-defense, and it won’t tempt you to get involved in the firefight.”
“Captain Blue, we’ve got another problem,” Tim said, walking up with Master Sergeant Kang.
“How many this time,” Constantine asked, his voice heavy with defeat.
“Four, sir. We had the full head count when we started.”
“And Michaelides’ boat’s gone,” Kang added.
“Rebeth? She left? I’ve known her father my entire life. Hell, I’ve known Rebeth her entire life.”
“I know, sir. And I’m sorry about that. But maybe we’re better off with a solid core. We can build on that,” Kang said.
“You’re probably right. You’re probably right.
“Well, I’m not too proud to admit that I’m beat. Mount Zeus will haunt me in my dreams. Captain Blue, Gunnery Sergeant Orange, shall we off to dinner?”
Tim caught Esther’s eye, but neither said anything before turning to follow the brigade commander.
This was the third desertion in two days. After the first two had left, sailing to sea in broad daylight, Master Sergeant Kang had wanted to immobilize all the boats that had brought them to the island. Constantine had refused, saying that the brigade was volunteer, and no one would be kept on the island against his or her will.
Which was a noble sentiment, Esther thought. But also a foolish one. Their security relied on secrecy. Until they were combat ready, they were vulnerable, and they were far, far, from ready.
Chapter 33
Esther slowly walked up the ravine, carefully choosing her foot placement, her senses on full alert. She was sure there were eyes on them, probably coming from the small copse of trees just ahead. She held up a hand, fist clenched, and the small patrol froze. The tiniest movement caught her eye, and a smile creased the corner of her mouth.
Got you!
She brought her hand down, and the patrol moved forward again, slowly making its way around dog-sized boulders that had rolled into the ravine over the years. Her eyes darted back and forth analyzing the terrain, working out her possible courses of action.
As she came abreast the leading edge of the trees, shouts of “Bang, bang!” filled the air.
“Buda-buda-buda!” Esther shouted, her M114 at waist level and sweeping the treeline
She spun on her heels and bolted in the opposite direction, climbing the small rise and over it to cover. Tim landed beside her, followed almost immediately by Constantine.
“I see what you mean, now. I was able to pick out the ambush before they sprang it,” Constantine said, his voice full of excitement.
“Cease fire, cease fire,” Bob shouted out from the ravine, where he’d remained while the rest of the patrol had rushed for cover.
Tim blew on the tip of his extended forefinger and made a show of holstering his hand.
“Don’t forget ‘Clear and lock your weapons,’” he added, which would normally be the next order made, but in this case, would be wasted breath.
Without rounds, even blanks, the soldiers had been relegated to shouting “bang, bang” over the last week, so there was nothing to “clear.” Esther knew that simply carrying their new weapons was a benefit, so the soldiers were using them for training. At some point, however, they really needed to fire them.
Esther, Tim, Constantine, and three of the other brigade officers climbed back over the rise.
“OK, where to start. Who picked this ambush site?” Bob asked
“I did, Staff Sergeant Gray,” Lieutenant Hansen said, stepping forward.
“Oh, sucks to be you,” Tim said quietly, but not quietly enough as Constantine had to choke off a laugh.
Mild-mannered Bob Burnham, Staff Sergeant “Gray,” could flay the skin off a student with wickedly aimed words. Esther walked closer to enjoy the show.
“And why did you choose this position?”
“Because, the ravine was a likely avenue of approach, and this was the only position that gave my squad cover.”
“And if this patrol,” he said, arm sweeping to encompass Esther and the others, “was only the lead element of a battalion?”
“He’s setting him up,” Tim whispered. “Watch the master at play.”
Esther tried to shush Tim by waving her hand. She wanted to listen, and she didn’t want to miss anything.
“Why, uh . . . I’d let them pass?”
“What’s the frontage of a battalion?”
“Uh—”
“Where’s your egress route. Are you a mountain goat? You can climb that sheer cliff behind you?”
“No. I mean, of course not. But—“
“But what? You think a battalion is going to meekly walk in file up the ravine and never be curious about these trees? You are trapped, that’s what you are. I think . . .”
“Sir, sir!” a runner came stumbling up the hill, eyes on Constantine.
Esther turned to see, forgetting Bob for a moment, who seemed to have things well in hand. She’d have Chris sit down with the lieutenant later and debrief him in a more academic setting.”
“What is it, Kristos?”
“We’ve got boats coming, lots of them.”
“Who are they?” Constantine asked. “I don’t know anything about that.”
Esther didn’t like the note of concern in his voice.
“We don’t know. Hassan flashed the interrogatory, bu
t they didn’t reply.”
Esther looked around the ravine. Fifty meters ahead, the bulge of a finger jutted up a hundred meters or so before the spine rose to the peak.
“Follow me,” she said as she broke into a run. Her thighs ached as she pushed her body up the steep slope, hands scrabbling to keep her upright. It took a long two minutes before she reached the top of the finger, and she scanned the deep blue waters in front of her. The sea was featureless. She turned towards the east, and her heart fell. At least 40 boats were between Santorini and Naxos, all heading right at them.
“They’re not yours, are they?” she asked Constantine.
He slowly shook his head and said, “It seems as if the Right Hand of God doesn’t want us combat capable.”
“It looks like someone who deserted worked for the enemy,” Tim said. “They knew we are here, and I’m betting they know how many of us there are and what we have to defend ourselves with.”
Esther’s mind was racing. Only a few of the soldiers and all of the team were armed. The rest of the soldiers were carrying empty weapons that were now little more than clumsy clubs. If those were RHG out there, and she had no reason to doubt Constantine, then clubs wouldn’t do them much good. But they still had the old weapons at the camp. They were on the wrong side of the mountain, but if they ran, they might be able to reach the camp before the RHG landed. After that, she’d have to play it by ear.
“Recall everyone back to camp now and arm up with whatever we have there. And I mean now!
“It looks like were as ready as we’re going to be. Ares is the Greek god of war, right? So let’s get ready to render him honor!”
Chapter 34
With a final swipe of her fingers, Esther sealed the armor pocket on her right shin. She stood and twisted her body in several directions, then jumped up and down. Her bones were in place, giving her a comforting feeling. The armor inserts, the “bones,” were light and flexible while still giving kinetic protection. Esther liked their weight on her—in her mind, wearing her bones felt like getting hugged by a guardian angel.
She looked up to catch Constantine’s eyes on her. She felt guilty having armor when he didn’t, but it wasn’t as if she could give him hers. Each section of bones was fitted to her as well as the armor sleeves in her utilities, her “skins.”
Reaching down, she connected her hadron handset to the optithread fiber, making the handset hands free. With a simple blink, she could switch from the team comms to the handset.
On the run to the camp, she’d called up Major Filipovic, her company commander, back on Omaha and gave him a report. She couldn’t slave him to her combat AI, but she could keep him on the line and up to date. Hopefully, he was trying to see if he could get any assets to them. Esther already knew that would be a dead end, though. There was nothing in the system, and nothing could get there until long after this battle was decided. If they were going to survive the coming day, it was up to them: her team of seven Marines and a corpsman and 81 barely-trained soldiers.
Constantine had reported to his command chain, but he didn’t think anything could be mobilized to help them. There were on their own.
“Dragonflies and Gnats are away, Blue,” Tim said. “Receiving now.”
Esther blinked up the feed of the first Dragonfly. The team had three of the larger surveillance drones, each one about 10 centimeters long, and ten of the tiny Gnats, each half a centimeter in diameter. The Dragonflies were quick and maneuverable, and the Gnats were almost impossible to detect.
“You rea . . . dy?” Esther asked Constantine, faltering mid-word in surprised that he was strapping his sword around his waist. “What are you going to do with that?”
“This is for them,” he said, patting his Koehler. “But I can’t I just can’t leave my xiphos for those bastards. This was my father’s, which he passed to me.”
A ceremonial sword was hardly something to carry into battle, but it wasn’t worth arguing about. If he felt better with it, then that was his choice.
Dragonfly #1 was just zooming up to the beach. Several of the fishing boats had already stopped just offshore, and men and women had debarked and were making their way to the beach. Any hope that these were simple picnickers was washed away. All were armed, and all wore the payot in front of their right ears, the mark of the RHG. Ever the pragmatists, they could cut the sidecurls if needed, but when they could, they preferred to fight with payots displayed as an affirmation of their devotion to their god.
Their pragmatism made them a much more dangerous enemy than the SevRevs. Their fanaticism was no less than the group that spawned them, but while the SevRevs welcomed their own deaths and the End of Days, the RHG wanted to rid the world of all the “Fallen,” or non-adherents to their beliefs. Once all the Fallen had been eliminated, the universe would transform into heaven.
As the RHG did not demand their members’ deaths, it was not surprising that many SevRevs shifted to what had initially only been an offshoot, but was now the largest sect among the religious determinists roaming human space.
Esther tried to count the enemy, both coming ashore and still in boats. Without Federation satellites and their high-powered surveillance suites, both she and her little combat AI had to use the Dragonfly feed. She estimated that there were 450 of them, and her AI had 431. Elysium Intel had the total RHG on the planet at 300 men, women, and children, so their figures were obviously off by more than just a bit.
“Blue, we’re ready. What’re your orders?” Tim asked.
This was not going to be a MARSOC mission of subterfuge and stealth. The enemy was on the island, coming to kill them. This was going to be infantry battle, force against force. She had to think in those terms.
Esther knew it was too late to try and evacuate Naxos. It had been too late from the moment she’d see the oncoming flotilla. Still, she switched to Dragonfly #2, which she had climb to provide an overview of the entire island. To her surprise, there was already movement in the cove that sheltered the 13 remaining boats that had brought the brigade from the mainland. The RHG boats were another 800 meters farther along the beach.
She zoomed in, and the sour taste of bile filled her mouth as she recognized who they were.
“You’ve got six of your men boarding the go-fast,” she told Constantine.
“What? Are you sure?”
“Sure as I’m standing here.” She zoomed in closer, and said, “Lieutenant Lekas, and there’s the guy who has the egg shop . . . uh, and that looks like Sergeant Roarke . . .”
“They must have run directly to the boat basin,” Master Sergeant Kang said.
“That’s Giscard, the one pushing the prow out,” Tim said, slaving off her feed. “And Peony what’s-her-name.”
“Peony Truman,” a dejected-sounding Kang said. “That’s her boat.”
“And, oh, Master Sergeant Hallas.”
“Fuck Hallas. Fuck all of them,” Master Sergeant Kang said.
Esther zoomed back out. What was done was done, and she needed a course of action to face the RHG fighters. The six might be leaving, but getting the rest of them off the island wasn’t going to happen. They had to stop the Hands or make it so hot for them that they quit the attack.
She should have thought of this earlier and made contingency plans on what she’d do if they couldn’t flee and they didn’t have their ammo yet. With all of the brigade and all of their ammo, Esther’s plan if they were attacked had centered around stopping a landing before an enemy came ashore, and if that failed, to consolidate around Mount Zeus.
Stopping them from landing was no longer an option, but Mount Zeus would still give them their most defensible position. It would be nice to be able to canalize them, though, and attrite their forces before they started climbing.
“Captain, I take it I have operational command?” she asked.
“Please, Captain Blue. My soldiers will do as you order.”
“Very well. If the Hands follow form, they’ll advance in a
line, until they figure out our defenses and then maneuver to exploit what they perceive to be our weak points.”
Assuming what an enemy would do could be shortsighted, and there was little enough data to see how the RHG had acted in past battles. They’d never attacked a Federation force larger than a platoon, preferring to move against planetary militias or police forces—or better yet, unarmed civilians. But from what Esther had studied, they hadn’t yet shown much in the way of variation.
“Staff Sergeant Gray, take the two HMGs and a squad for security and set up on the overlook,” she told Bob. “The guns can range across the breadth of the island from there, but I want you to focus to their right flank. Do what you can to augment the guns, but wait until they fire before you start picking off targets.”
“So they commit to the north and the Vomit Gorge,” Tim said, nodding.
The Vomit Gorge initially looked like a path up the mountain, but it narrowed down to a steep, space-constrained climb. The Marines had led the brigade up the gorge on runs twice, and each time, more than a few of the soldiers had lost their lunch in the process.
“They can still circle and come up from the southwest, so once they split to the north, displace the guns to that abutment there,” she said, highlighting the position and sending it to Tim while pointing with her hand to where she meant for the soldiers. “If they pass the gorge to circle around, try and dissuade them.
“Pink and Green,” she told Merl and Lyle, “take whoever you need and our demo. I want the upper end of the gorge mined. You’ve got probably less than an hour. Save, uh, save half of what you’ve got. When Orange and the HMG teams pull back, I want the trail up the mountain mined. You’re running out of time, so go now.”
Merl ran to the cache of demo while Lyle went to grab some soldiers.
“And if they don’t go to the north?” Tim asked.
“You’ve got 5,000 rounds. Burn them to take out as many as you can and then displace back to the rest of us.”
“Aye-aye.”
Esther's Story: Recon Marine (The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins Book 2) Page 21