Colonel (The United Federation Marine Corps Book 7)

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  Back at NOTC, Ryck had watched an old 2D film, either 20th or 21st century, Old Reckoning, about the Zulu forces fighting the British Army at the Battle of Rourke’s Drift. The old-timey flick was shot from the perspective of the British soldiers, and their bravery and ingenuity was discussed by the class, but many of the midshipmen, Ryck included, were enthralled by the Zulu udibi, or warriors. Before the battle was commenced, various udibi conducted ceremonial dances, shaking their assengai and iklwa, or their longer throwing spears and short stabbing spears, at the waiting British soldiers. To Ryck, what the Klethos soldier had done had a degree of similarity with the Zulu udibi, something perhaps heightened as each Kletho soldier had a sword in one hand.

  This connection with the ancient Zulu udibi was probably why Ryck was describing the capy formation as a buffalo horn formation, which was invented by Shaka kaSenzangakhona, the great (if ultimately destructive) Zulu king. It was not lost on Ryck, though, that from the perspective of the flick as an analogy, the Klethos, outnumbered, would be the British, and the capys would be the advancing Zulu.

  Ryck shook his head clear. He knew that those who forgot history were doomed to repeat it, but this was not human history. This was a clash between two non-human races, and to ascribe too much humanity to either side would be a huge mistake.

  He sped up the recording to where the capy force closed in on the Klethos. He could see the capys firing their jai alai cesta-like personal weapons, the balls of energy shooting to envelope the Klethos. A few of the Klethos fired back, but most stood there, personal shields glowing as they rebuffed the capy guns. The data streaming on the recording verified the release of both energy and kinetic weapons, but the total energy release was lower than what would have been released in a similar human vs. human fight.

  A few capys faltered and fell, but not many as the “marching teddy bears” kept advancing. They closed to 700 meters, 600 meters, 500 meters, and still, they kept coming.

  It was all so surreal. This was the 4th Century, New Reckoning, where naval battles took place at almost 100,000 klicks and land battles could take place at 20 or more klicks apart. Yet the two sides were closing in like the Romans and Visigoths at Pollentia or the Swedes and Danes at the Battle of Brávellir.

  Both species have technology, so why not use it? he wondered.

  His fleeting analogy to Romans and Visigoths was being too generous, Ryck thought. This wasn’t a military operation. It was a street brawl without any discernible tactics, like in the final scene The Gang when the Vultures and the Bad Boyz rushed together for the flick’s climactic melee scene. That was Hollywood, though, while this was real life—alien life, but real, none-the-less. To Ryck, someone weaned on the teat of military tactics, this lack of order was more foreign than the fact that marching teddy bears were fighting giant toothed birds. How could any military force fight successfully without tactics?

  Ryck had to get to the bottom of that, and somewhere, deep inside of his warrior’s consciousness, he knew this was an important piece of information.

  Still, while the professional officer in him demeaned the lack of any type of tactical organization, the warrior in him felt a flicker if visceral admiration, even jealousy. The fighting did not seem to rely on technology, and there were no evident tactical brains maneuvering the armies for a victory. This was almost hand-to-hand, capy against Klethos. The capys had their type of lock-step coordination even if they didn’t have any other maneuvering that Ryck could observe, but the Klethos were individual fighters, each living or dying as a direct result of its own actions. There was almost a degree of purity to that, one in which the ancient gods of war could revel.

  At less than 100 meters, the Klethos broke their line and charged—literally charged, like WWI soldiers going over the top. Capys fell beneath the Klethos’ rifles, but to Ryck’s continual astonishment, the Klethos seemed to favor their swords.

  Fucking swords!

  Ryck had watched the recording at least 30 times, both with the rest of the command staff and alone in his stateroom, and it still astonished him each time he watched. From the perspective of looking down from above, Ryck watched the bigger Klethos move incredibly fast as they reached the capys, who in turn surrounded and closed in around each Klethos soldier. The Klethos left lower arms, the ones holding the swords, rose and fell in huge, distance-covering scythes, felling multiple capys with each sweep. The battlefield became a butcher’s shop as the capys’ blue-tinged blood stained the snow while body parts formed small heaps.

  Every now and again—too few from the capys’ perspective—a Klethos fell, taken down by a writhing mound of the furry Trinoculars. But the fight was lopsided, the outcome obvious within the first few moments of battle. Within ten minutes, it was over. Each capy was down. Only 23 showed any signs of life, although the Petra’s sensors were either not sensitive enough or not enough was known about the capy physiology to determine how badly those 23 were hurt and if they would survive their wounds.

  Five Klethos had fallen, three of them torn apart by the capy soldiers. The broken Klethos bodies bled a bright red blood, more to the scarlet than human blood, but still more familiar to Ryck. Of the remaining 46 Klethos, at least six seemed to be in some distress, but once again, the Petra’s sensors could only show the visuals but not how badly any of the Klethos might be hurt.

  At least they can be hurt, Ryck thought, once again with a feeling of relief. They aren’t invincible.

  The surviving Klethos ignored the wounded capys, picked up their fallen comrades, and instead of retreating back, continued forward, toward more capy forces some 50 klicks away. It seemed that they intended to carry on the fight.

  None of the humans even knew what this fight was about, and Carl couldn’t illuminate them adequately. The capys colonized new worlds, seeking land and resources to raise their young. What the Klethos wanted remained a mystery. From what Carl told them, it seemed as if the Klethos did not colonize the worlds they took from the capys but left them once taken. But if the capys came back to re-colonize, so did the Klethos.

  To date, the Klethos had reportedly taken over 80% of Trinocular space, including their home world. Why, no one was sure. When asked, Carl had said that the Klethos came because “that is what they are.”

  More data was coming in on the Klethos from numerous space-borne sources. Ryck’s initial recordings hadn’t been much more than visuals. But with far more sophisticated instruments on board the human spacecraft, a more detailed picture was coalescing. The Klethos stood close to four meters tall and massed about 1400 kg, or a good 50% more than a Marine in a PICS. They were oxygen-breathers, had a high metabolism, and their bodies seem to run about three degrees higher than human norm. Analysis of their exhalations indicated that they might be vegetarians. They were also significantly quicker than humans despite their greater bulk.

  Their main weapon was still being analyzed, but it seemed to be somewhat similar to a meson-beam rifle. It was described as the “main” weapon in the briefs, but while watching the recordings, Ryck thought their main weapon, or at least their weapon of choice, might be their swords. The sword excited the mechanical engineers and physicists in the task force. It was unbelievably thin, from all available data, and it shimmered with a hereto unknown energy field of some sort. To Ryck, though, the important fact was how easily it sliced through capys. He wasn’t sure it would be as effective against a PICS, if it came to that, but he wasn’t sure a PICS could stand up to it, either, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

  Ryck rebooted the recording back to the beginning of the fight. He wanted to slow-mo the hand-to-hand to try and decipher a weakness in the big warriors. The capys were bad enough, as Ryck well knew. He was confident that humans were now better fighters than the capys, and the Trinocular’s initial gains in the war were simply because humans didn’t yet known how to fight them, but that didn’t make them pushovers. But the Klethos were destroying the capys, and that didn’t bode well for the task f
orce. If Ryck could glean any weakness at all in them, that might well mean the difference between victory and defeat.

  He looked at his watch and contemplated calling Jorge back. Two sets of eyes were better than one. But Jorge had only left him an hour before to get some needed sleep. He could summon Sandy, Story, or Hecs, he knew, but decided to let them rest, too. Ryck needed sleep as well, but maybe once more watching the fight, and then he could catch some z’s.

  He hit play and leaned forward as that first Klethos started his dance one more time.

  Chapter 15

  “Let’s go,” Ryck said, poking his head into the Bravo wardroom where his chief of staff, Sandy, the ship’s engineer, and the command master chief were playing Vizzim. “We’ve got a brief.”

  “Our mission?” Jorge asked, dropping his player console and standing up.

  “I’m guessing, but yeah, I think so.”

  “What do you think it’ll be?” Sandy asked as he slipped his blouse back on from where he’d hung it over the back of his chair.

  “Don’t know. But we’ll find out soon enough,” Ryck said.

  He could guess, though. The stream of messages coming from most of the involved governments had a distinctly hawkish tone, and Ryck thought the powers-that-be wanted to test themselves against this potential threat. Ryck had taken a stand against any rash decisions. He didn’t like the idea of putting his men against an unknown enemy, but yet again, he did like the idea of putting his men against an unknown enemy, if that made sense. Wearing his commander’s hat, a little caution might be in order. Wearing his warrior’s headdress, though, he could feel the call to battle making stirrings in his soul.

  His hesitation had more to do with the ad hoc and hodgepodge nature of the task force more than anything else, though. He was the ground force commander, but his force was far from an integrated unit. It was a mishmash from all the governments who wanted to be involved for their own reasons.

  Back in the 20th Century, Old Reckoning, the most militarily and economically powerful country on Earth, the United States of America, had gotten slapped in the face when Iran took over their embassy and kept American citizens hostage. When the decision was made to go after the hostages, each of the services had to be part of the mission for pride’s sake, if nothing else. The various components had no experience working together, and some of the components could not even directly communicate with others. As a result, out there in the Iranian desert, there was a collision on the ground between a Marine helicopter and an Air Force transport plane. Americans died, and the mission was scrubbed. This case study was taught at NOTC and most advanced schools as well. A single well-trained unit might have succeeded in the mission, but with everyone wanting to be part of it, and without enough combined training, the mission was doomed. Politics, even if they were inter-service politics, trumped tactical doctrine.

  Ryck was confident of the abilities of his Marines. He knew that the other forces involved were professional, capable units. But what they hadn’t done, to any great degree, was to operate together. In the recent Trinocular War, combined operations had been almost unheard of. Each government had essentially been given sectors, their own AORs[11] and had then operated independently within them.

  Ryck feared that in this case, the sum was less than the parts. The warrior in him might want to test himself against the Klethos, but as a commander, he understood the task force’s major weakness.

  And now he was going to find out which way the bigwigs decided as they made their way to the meeting. Each of the other four men was cleared for the conference room, so they followed Ryck down the passage to where a chief gunners mate, flanked by two armed gunners mates, performed a retinal scan on each of them. Ryck held back as smile as he submitted to the scan.

  What? Do they think some unauthorized spy sneaked in through open space?

  The five of them parted as they entered the already half-filled room. Ryck, due to his position, had a prime seat at the head table. The others had to make due finding a seat at the other two tables. Those coming in much later would be standing. Still each of the 60 or so men was at least in the room. Most of the combined staffs would be attending via a cam link, the same link as would be going to each of the other ships in the task force.

  “So, do we get to play?” Major Titus Pohlmeyer asked Ryck as he slid by him to take his seat. Titus was the junior man at the head table—his position as the Confed liaison earned him that place.

  “I think you might know before anyone else,” Ryck said as Titus squeezed past him. “So you tell me.”

  The Confederation major rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. Ryck noticed that he didn’t deny Ryck’s statement, however.

  Titus took his seat, and Ryck sat quietly, waiting for the big man. They would all know soon enough. Ryck started fiddling with his stylus, rapping it on the table until he realized what he was doing and pocketed it before sitting on his hands to keep them silent. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, not that that made any difference to things. He knew starting a fight with his disparate force was probably a bad idea, and he was wary of the monsters he had seen. And if it came to a fight, there was no doubt in his mind that Marines (and soldiers, guardsmen, and the rest) would die. Still, part of him wanted to challenge the Klethos. He was pretty sure modern tactics, using combined arms, could carry the day. He understood the argument, too, that if the Klethos did invade human space, then humanity had to know how to fight the creatures.

  The conference room filled. Anxious men tried to hide their emotions by chatting about anything, the more inane the better. Ryck just sat there, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

  Finally, Rear Admiral Baris, flanked by Vice Bishop Flannery and Lester Linney, entered the conference room. The assembled men came to attention and stood there until the admiral and the vice bishop took their seats.

  “Gentlemen,” the admiral began. “I am sure you are all ready to finally know what we are going to be doing here.”

  There was a quiet undercurrent mumbling of agreement from the rest.

  “I can’t tell you right at this moment, though. Chief, if you please?”

  One of the ship’s chiefs standing up alongside a control box, hit a switch, and the holo base powered up. The green indicator light came on, indicating that it was waiting for a transmission. It took another four minutes, but finally a shape appeared, coalescing into the face of Admiral Parks, the overall mission commander.

  The face turned to the side and asked someone out of range, “Am I with everyone?”

  “Yes, sir. Every ship,” a voice could be heard.

  “OK, then. Let’s get this going,” the admiral said, facing back to the front holocam.

  “Men and women of humanity, our governments have come to an agreement on a course of action. As you can imagine, this was not easy, and that is why we’ve been sitting here in far orbit in this system. Our Trinocular allies have waited patiently as well, even while their comrades have suffered grievously on the planet’s surface.”

  The admiral’s use of the word “allies,” was telling, Ryck thought.

  “Mankind is a varied race, and we have many different viewpoints. Not all of our governments have agreed as to the proper course of action. So we have come to a compromise. The task force will be splitting up.”

  A louder murmur filled the Brandenburg’s conference room.

  “The forces of the Federation, the Confederation of Free States, Greater France, Outback, New Budapest, Purgatory, and Wayward Station will land ground forces on the planet, which we have now designated Tri-30. These forces will put themselves in a position to block the Klethos from attacking the Trinoculars. They will not initiate offensive operations but may defend themselves if attacked. Rear Admiral Baris, on the FS Brandenburg, will assume command of Task Force Dauntless Shield-Bravo. All liaison personnel will remain with your current assigned positions for the nonce. The remainder of the task force will pull out of the system
and provide naval cover should the need arise. Upon the conclusion of TF Dauntless Shield-B’s mission, the complete task force will be prepared to act upon further orders of our respective governments.

  “With that, I leave Admiral Baris to further brief those affected while we conduct our own preparations. This is a pivotal moment in human history, in the history of the galaxy. Before we break, I charge all of you to remember the unfortunate results of hasty actions the last time humans met our galactic neighbors.”

  The admiral seemed to want to say something else, but he evidently changed his mind and simply said, “Go with God. Parks, out.”

  So, the Brotherhood didn’t want to play, Ryck thought.

  It wasn’t a surprise to Ryck. After joining with the Federation to interdict the initial homeworld of the SOG, the Brotherhood had vowed to never interdict another world again and had taken a decidedly dovish stance since then. The Trinocular War, in which they had participated, had served to push them further from active conflict.

  As for how the rest fell out, both those taking part in the landing and those joining the Brotherhood out of the system, the diplomats would have to figure out what that all indicated.

  “Gentlemen—and ladies—” Admiral Baris added quickly to include the women serving on other ships in the new task force, “we’ll be landing in 22 hours, so we have a lot to cover. This is going to be a long one, so grab the stimulant of your choice. Recon and Exploratores are launching as we speak, so there is no turning back now. With that, I’ll turn it over to Captain Yun for the initial brief now.”

  Ryck felt a thrill sweep through him. He’d been against any potential confrontation, he’d tried to think cautiously, but this was what he wanted in his heart of hearts. It wasn’t his choice to put humans on the surface in the path of danger, but now that the decision was made, he was glad that he would be the one leading the men—and women, in two of the units—on the mission. And it would be combat, he was sure. There was no way the Klethos would allow for anything else.