Esther's Story: Recon Marine (The United Federation Marine Corps' Lysander Twins Book 2)

by Jonathan Brazee

  “I guess I’ll just stay here with Randy, but if you’re going, you’ve got to go now!”

  Two rounds hit the fuselage over their heads, piercing the skin. The ship had some shielding for energy weapons, and she was built to take entry into a planetary atmosphere from space, but she couldn’t take too much of this. Already, Esther was pretty sure she wasn’t spaceworthy.

  Esther took a quick glance to Maple. Master Sergeant Kang was down, but Tim was in full berserker mode. Rounds were pinging off of him as he fired back. A grenade blast took him to one knee, but he kept his assault.

  I guess it’s you and me, Tim.

  “Doc, Chris, onboard, now! No arguing.”

  Doc fired off one last burst, temporarily clearing the space in front of them and then dove into the ship, hands pulling him up and in.

  “Chris, help me,” Esther said.

  “I’ve got you,” Petty Officer Krüger said, reaching her hands down, cupped for a boost.

  Chris bent over and took one of the petty officer’s arms while Esther took the other, and between the two of them, they picked her up and threw her into the ship. She landed hard, then turned around, her face screwed up in anger.

  Esther ignored her as Chris stood and then vaulted himself up. The edge of the ship’s bottom sank to hit the deck, and then slowly came back up five or six centimeters

  “Die well, ma’am,” Chris said, hand raised to his brow in a salute.

  “Get the ship out of there,” she passed over its net.

  “About time,” the senior chief said. “We’re taking too much damage. Hang on back there.”

  Esther didn’t bother to tell him that for her, “back there” was “out there.” For a moment, she was tempted to jump on board herself. She was bigger than the small petty officer, so if the weight was that tight, then she was the logical choice to stay behind. But if she jumped on, too, then that would probably be too much for the now-damaged Manta to get airborne.

  She turned away, refusing to watch as the ship lifted another few centimeters off the deck, relying on the ground effect to keep it moving.

  She didn’t turn when Tim’s avatar grayed out.

  Shouts of “Now, now!” and “Get up there!” reached her, and alone in the battle position, she turned to face the Hands. She ignored the pile of weapons discarded to keep the weight on the ship down, but faced them with her Ruger. For a moment, the sun, just beginning to dip below the horizon, shone a deep orange.

  That’s beautiful, she thought.

  As they started coming over in mass, she turned back from the sunset and fired. Maybe she hit some, maybe she didn’t, but their eyes were on the Manta as it turned and floated toward the cliff edge. They didn’t just watch—they were firing everything they had, and it sounded like a botchee beat band as the rounds pinged against the ship’s skin.

  “Fire the FPF, 30 seconds,” she instructed her AI.

  “And Bob, get off the mountain now.”

  To her left, several Hands were motioning to one of their fellow fighters. To her horror, that Hand knelt, a long tube on his shoulder which he pointed at the Manta. Esther didn’t need to know what model or make it was; she knew it was an anti-air missile.

  She fired her Ruger, hitting another Hand as just as the man fired. With a clap and a whoosh, the missile took off, covering the 40 or 50 meters and hitting the side of the Manta. Instead of detonating in a fireball, it punched right through it and exiting out the still open hatch—and taking two bodies with it.

  Lieutenant Spiros, or what looked like half of him, and Petty Officer Krüger came tumbling out of the ship as it continued to rotate. Esther took a few steps forward, hoping to help her up and somehow back on the ship, but the Petty Officer was badly mangled and obviously dead.

  Esther knew what had happened. Most missiles had a minimum arming distance, especially man-packed missiles. Soldiers had a habit of hitting the ground or trees right in front of them, and this kept those idiots alive. Forty meters was too close for the missile to arm, but it’s engine packed a powerful thrust, and the missile had simply punched through the Manta’s skin—and taking Spiros and Krüger with it. It had probably killed more or hurt more inside, as indicated by Chris’ avatar which had just switched to light blue, but only two bodies had been ejected.

  Two bodies! It can take more weight now!

  Suddenly, Esther didn’t want to die. She’d been resigned to it, but now, she felt a surge as her survival instinct kicked in, flooding her body with adrenaline. But the ship was just about to reach the cliff. She couldn’t call it back; she wouldn’t call it back.

  Without even thinking about it, she spun and bolted into a sprint. Shouts sounded behind her, and firing reached out to her as the Hands seemed to finally notice her. She barely felt the two rounds slam into her back as she ran up the rock pinnacle, launching herself into the air, knocking over the cairn, just as the ship’s nose began to fall over the edge of the cliff, its stern raising. RHG rounds sent flashed of sparks as they hit the underside, but Esther was focused on the stern, looking for anything to grab.

  Pure space-going ships were usually round spheres, but for dual space-atmosphere vessels, that was not a viable structure. The Manta was not a mass of struts and planes, but she had a few. Esther was not going to reach them, though, she realized as she fell, the ship just out of reach. She almost screamed out her anguish as she hit the deck, rolling. She got to her feet as the ship started to slide over, but it was too late.

  And with a screech of metal and ceramics, the bottom of the ship scraped the edge of the cliff, hanging it up for only a second, but just enough that when the senior chief goosed the engines to get it over, Esther was able to leap of the cliff and smash into the Manta’s underside.

  The collision almost knocked her senseless, and it took a moment to realize that she was clinging to what looked to be a strut of some kind.

  And she almost lost her grip as the Manta pulled out of her shallow dive, meters above the trees. She pulled up her legs and wrapped them around the strut, taking the strain off of her arms.

  The wind began to whip at her as the ship started to gain altitude. She lost her helmet in the jump, but she looked back at Mount Zeus just as 100 25mm anti-personnel rockets, each with a 15-meter ECR, impacted the crown and north, east, and south faces. The old Gentry MRL she’d had Chris target in had been the entire FPF. She’d called it on herself, but all things considered, she’d much rather be hanging under a Space Guard ship than actually being on Mount Zeus then the rockets hit.

  “Holy Hell!” she shouted, unsure if that was because she’d made the leap and survive or because of the rockets demolishing the Hands. Either or both, it didn’t matter.

  She craned her head back to watch the huge combined column of smoke and flames reach up to the sky, the last of the sun’s rays giving the smoke an orange tint, imitating the active volcano that it once was.

  The strut was round and a little hard to hold on. Esther forgot the mountain behind and settled for a long ride to somewhere, the wind buffeting her body.

  That’s going to suck if I fall off over the ocean and no one knows what happened.

  She shouted out a few times, but the ship kept going, 50 or 60 meters over the water. She started calculating how far they had to go, how fast the ship was flying, and how long that would take. For a moment, she worried that the ship would go into orbit, and she considered dropping off into the water before the Manta climbed too high, but then she remembered the damage. The senior chief was probably keeping the speed down as it was to keep the ship from being torn apart, and there was no way he was going to take it into orbit.

  After less than a minute, much earlier than expected, the ship started a low turn, the same that a Stork might make coming in for a landing. Esther craned her head back, and in the gathering darkness, she saw a white beach. The ship’s landing lights turned on, and individual lights appeared as the ship came in low and slow. Esther didn’t know if the
ship would land on the sand, and as she really didn’t want to get crushed, she dropped off, hitting the sand hard as the Manta settled down ten meters away. More lights from the sides of the ship came on, illuminating the beach. Soldiers rushed the ship and started to help others off.

  Esther walked through the sand to get around to the passenger hatch, and as she looked up, she could still see the smoke from Mount Zeus, and she knew what the senior chief had done. She’d assumed that he would have taken the first load back to the mainland. Instead, he’d flown them to the nearby Santorini, offloaded them on the beach, and returned for the rest.

  She rounded the ship’s bow and jumped up on the bow lip to pound on the cockpit’s windows to thank him. Inside, Senior Chief Carpenter was slumped over face-down on the controls. It was only then that Esther noticed the ragged gashes puncturing the ship’s skin right at his level.

  She jumped off the bow lip and ran around to the side hatch where soldiers were reaching out to assist the debark. Two soldiers were lowering Chris out of the hatch, and another couple were there to catch him.

  Esther brushed by Chris to look into the ship, shouting, “Doc Buren, Doctor Willis!”

  “Ess?” Chris asked.

  “Where’s Doc?”

  “Up there, but how in the . . . I . . . how the hell are you even here?”

  “No time, Chris. Doc Burren!”

  “Yeah, who wants me?” Doc said, pushing forward. When he saw Esther, his mouth dropped open.

  “No time for that, Doc. Where’s Doctor Willis?”

  “Back on Naxos. He didn’t make it.”

  “Shit! The senior chief’s hurt bad. You need to get to him,” she said.

  Airman Pokstra looked up from where he was helping to get the soldiers unloaded.

  He looked and simply asked, “Senior Chief? I’ve got to go,” before rushing after Doc towards the cockpit.

  Constantine pushed his way to the hatch and said, “Ess! You made it!”

  “I still don’t fucking believe it,” Chris said. “How did you, uh, you know?”

  “I’ve got to get my head wrapped around it myself, and I’ll tell you, but not now. Let’s get everyone off and find out what’s next. Some of the Hands had to have survived, and they’ve still got their boats. We’re not that far from them, so we’ve got to figure out what happens next. I’ll tell you what happened when we get everyone together.”

  “My command knows what’s happened, and they’re scrambling to find some transport,” Constantine said.

  Shit, command! I don’t have my handset, and the major’s going to be shitting bricks!

  “Can you ask them to contact our command and let them know what happened?” she asked.

  “Make a hole, make a hole,” was shouted from inside the ship, then “Get out now! We need the room!”

  There was a tumble of the whole and walking wounded as bodies almost fell out of the ship to the sand, forcing Esther away from the hatch. It took a minute for her to be able to get back.

  Senior Chief was limp, his flight suit dark with blood. Doc and Pokstra were sliding him into a zip-lock. Doc sealed and activated it, watching as it deployed. Finally, the red indicator turned green, and Doc seemed to relax.

  “How is he? Is he going to make it?” Esther asked.

  “He’s dead. Died just after I got there. Can he be resurrected? I hope so, but that’s out of my hands.”

  “I’m going to sit here with him,” Pokstra said, his eyes glistening with tears.

  Doc turned to look at her, then said, “Ess, I saw you on the rock when we took off. How did you get here? How the hell are you alive?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” Chris said.

  Constantine looked at her, not saying anything, but obviously waiting for her answer.

  Esther was on the verge of collapse. Her arms and legs were rubbery and without power, and her mind was fuzzy. When she spoke, it sounded to her like she was trapped inside a huge ball of cotton that ate up her words. As she thought about what happened, about jumping off the cliff, about hanging on the bottom of the ship for dear life, the only thought she could conjure was Did that just really happen?

  She’d like nothing better than just to collapse onto the sand. But what she’d said about the Hands was true. If they were still in the fighting mood, angry about their fellow fighters, they could probably hit Santorini in an hour, maybe two. And most of their weapons had been left on Naxos to cut weight for the Manta.

  With a weary sigh, Esther said, “I’ll tell you later, I promise.” She took a deep breath, and as if full of energy that she just didn’t possess, she shouted out, “This isn’t over yet. Captain Stavropoulis! I need a working party to get our ziplocked WIA off the beach and into cover. Everyone else, I want into squads. Chris, get a weapons and ammo count. I want that back to me in five minutes. Let’s go! Let’s go!”

  No matter how tired she felt, she had a job to do, and she was going to do it.

  Chapter 38

  “Damn! You look, well, you look martial, I guess,” Esther said, trying not to laugh as Constantine entered the room.

  “I can’t expect a Marine to understand what a true warrior looks like,” he sniffed, resplendent in his full Greek Guard dress uniform.

  If Esther had thought their white leggings, the boudoiri, had been a little much, the captain was now decked out in the complete kit and caboodle, from a kind of sandal to the red farion on his head. In between, well, Esther didn’t know what to call it.

  “Warrior? I didn’t know warriors wore dresses,” Master Chief Carpenter said from his seat on the couch.

  “Dresses? Did you say dresses? This, my friend, is a foustanela, which has—”

  “Oh my gosh, Master Chief, did you have to get him started? Now we’re going to get a lecture on the 400 pleats and 400 years of Ottoman rule,” Esther said, interrupting the lecture. “You look cute, so come here and give me a hug.”

  She stepped up and into a strong embrace. She hadn’t seen much of her friend over the last six months. Both of them had been pretty much occupied.

  “You know, you can’t wear that on Tarawa,” Esther said.

  Constantine had been accepted to the Marine Corps Affiliated Officer Course. It wasn’t boot camp nor NTC but rather a six-month course designed for planetary and national military officers to bring them up to professional standards.

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? Because you need a sense of personal pride to attend AOC, of course.”

  The master chief broke out into laughter while Constantine struggled for a snappy comeback.

  “Senior . . . excuse me . . . Master Chief, how are you feeling?” Constantine asked, changing the subject.

  “’Bout as good as can be expected. I’ve still got another five or six months until I return to full duty.”

  “I appreciate, we all appreciate, you returning for this.”

  “It’s my pleasure, not that I had much choice. When the commandant tells you your presence would be appreciated, that’s pretty much an order.

  “And I have to say, it felt damned good seeing the Manta again. You boys did a good job with her. It . . . it touched this salty heart.”

  Esther understood the political importance of the master chief being present at today’s ceremony, but she’d still been surprised when he made the trip. He’d died on Santorini, too badly hurt to survive. His resurrection and initial regen had not been without problems, and he’d only recently started exo-tank regen. Frankly, he didn’t look good, which was why he was still sitting on the couch, marshalling his strength.

  “I met that actor who’s playing me, too. Not good enough looking, I’m saying,” the master chief said.

  Hollybolly hadn’t come knocking on doors, but a local production company was already recording the flick. Esther had met the actor playing her as well, and it had been a weird, yet rewarding sensation. Esther had been portrayed by Hollybolly before, but only as a minor character in the
four flicks about her father. This time, even if it was a fringe-system production, she was one of the major characters.

  Constantine, fully recovered from his wounds, was playing himself, though. Esther knew that the long-game was in play, with her friend being groomed for bigger and better things. And if he took a more central role in the flick’s version of the Battle of Naxos, then she was fine with it.

  “Besides your new rank, I heard about the Nova,” Constantine said.

  The master chief let out a puff of air, as if blowing away an annoying fly.

  Master Chief Carpenter and BM2 Krüger had been recommended—and approved for the Federation Nova, the first two Space Guardsmen ever to be so honored. The ceremony was scheduled to take place in four months during the Space Guard’s birthday.

  Esther was fully aware that politics were once again involved in the decision. She didn’t resent the honor for the master chief and Krüger. Both earned it, and without them, not only would all of her team been killed, but Elysium’s entire future would be different. What she didn’t like was that her putting up Tim Ziegler and Lyle Jones for the Nova had been short-stopped. The division commanding general had given her the word himself when he’d come to Elysium as part of the negotiating team. This was being presented as a Space Guard play for reasons she didn’t quite understand.

  Both of the Marines were going to receive the Navy Cross—as was Esther. This was her second award of the medal. If a tiny part of her wondered if this had been her last and best chance to earn the Nova, the same medal her father had been awarded twice, she was able to push that thought down deep within the recesses of her mind and gladly accept the Navy Cross. She would personally receive the award, after all. Tim’s wife and Lyle’s parents would be the people receiving their medals.

  “Did you hear that the new station is being named for Krüger?” Esther asked the master chief.

  “No, when did that word come out?”

  “Yesterday,” Constantine said.

  The master chief nodded, then said quietly, seemingly more to himself that to the other two, “Good for her. She was a great shipmate.”