He’d been wary from the beginning of going into battle with the Klethos, but once the decision had been made, he’d allowed himself to become excited at the prospect. And now he felt a little guilty about that. It was commonly known throughout the Corps that shit seemed to follow Ryck, but what that really meant that men tended to lose their lives when they were with him. He’d lost a lot of Marines, sailors, and Outback soldiers on the planet, and that was something to which he’d never gotten accustomed. It still ate at him.
And Hog McAult was on the butcher’s bill. Ryck had hoped that Hog could be zombied like Joab Ling had been on Freemantle, but the captain had been too far gone. There had never been even a chance at a resurrection.
Ryck picked up the half-eaten pastrami sandwich, gave it a sniff, then dropped it back on his plate. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes for a moment.
“I know, but I want to talk to Sandy first,” he told Jorge, eyes still closed.
“Are you sure you want to do that now? Maybe it’d be better if you do that after getting some sleep,” Jorge said.
Ryck had told Jorge about Sandy’s hesitation in battle and of his reaction when Ryck ordered Genghis to roll up the Klethos’ flank. Ryck knew he couldn’t ignore that, and while Jorge was probably right, Ryck wanted to get it over with. He’d never be able to get any decent rest if that was running through his mind.
“No, I need to get it done now. Look, why don’t you get him and send him here. Then you get some rest, too. We’ll go over all of this tomorrow with the staff. I want everyone to understand what is going on. If we’re detaching from Quail Hunt or not, if there is even going to be a Quail Hunt, we’ve got a lot to cover, and that starts the moment we land.”
“After you talk to him, you’ll get some sleep?” Jorge asked.
“Yes, I promise.”
As Jorge left, Ryck eyed the last half-piece of bacon. He reached over with his right arm—then switched to his left as a sharp twinge hit his shoulder—and with his left hand, he used the bacon to mop up the last of the raspberry sauce. Either the ship’s fabricator had some exceptionally good programming, or Ekema has somehow scrounged up some real raspberries. It was a little thing, given the events of the last day, but it was easier to focus on the flavor and texture in his mouth than on the battle, even if only for a moment.
Ryck was licking his fingers clean when his hatch chimed.
“Open,” Ryck ordered, sitting up in his chair.
Sandy had cleaned up and gotten into a fresh uniform. From his appearances, he might have never been in a fight just hours before.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked.
“Yes. Take a seat.”
Sandy sat down, back ramrod straight, his eyes almost glowering.
What? Is he pissed? At me? Ryck wondered.
Ryck ignored that and started in with, “Sandy, I want to talk about what happened today. When you hesitated.”
Sandy said nothing but simply stared at his commander.
“Look, I know, everyone knows, that you are a warrior, a fighter. You’ve proven yourself. But sometimes, as you get more men under your command, that can affect a Marine. It can make you second guess yourself,” Ryck said, waiting for a response.
Sandy said nothing.
“Today, when Golf and Fox were being beaten down, why didn’t you engage Golf?”
“I was going to, sir. But you jumped the chain of command. I had it under control,” Sandy said with more than a little vehemence slipping into his tone.
What the fuck? That’s what’s got him riled up? That I stepped on his grubbing toes?
Ryck took a deep breath to calm himself before saying, “No, you didn’t have it under control, Major. Your delay probably cost Marines’ lives.”
“I was taking into account—” Sandy started, his voice raised an octave.
“You hesitated, pure and simple. And I took action,” Ryck interrupted.
“But—”
“But nothing. Listen, Major, and make sure this registers. You may be the battalion commander, but I am the task force commander. I own the Fuzos, and if I see something that needs to be done to better fight the battalion or to protect my Marines, I will do so. Failing to do that would be failing in my duty.
“You made a mistake, one that was rectified. I’ve made mistakes in battle, and it has cost lives as well. But as commanders, we fix our mistakes and learn from them before saluting and marching on. What we don’t do is get our panties in a twist because our egos got bruised.”
Sandy started to say something, but Ryck was not in the mood. He held up a hand, stopping his protégé, his friend.
“I don’t want to hear it. It’s done. Learn from it. Just remember that you’ve been given the gift of command, but you don’t own the battalion. You’ve been granted stewardship, and you are, in effect, its servant. Not its owner. Understand?”
Visibly deflated, Sandy just nodded. Ryck knew it was time to back off.
“OK, then. We’re beyond that now. Sandy, you know I think the world of you. I wanted you for command for this mission, not Lieutenant Colonel Lu Wan. I knew you were the man for the job, and I still think that. I know that. Let’s take this as a learning experience.
“God knows I understand the weight of command, how it feels. I know how decisions can get harder, not easier as the units get larger, as more men rely on you. You’d think that as you get further from the men, from the personal interaction, it would get easier, but it doesn’t. But you need to get beyond that. You need to think of your command as one organism and do what is best for it, nor for each component part.
“Do you know who Meister Eckhart is?” Ryck asked.
“No, sir.”
“He was a 13th Century German philosopher and theologian, someone whose ideas often got him into trouble. But he said, ‘The price of inaction is far greater than the cost of making a mistake.’ Pretty true words, in my opinion.”
Sandy seemed to contemplate this, before nodding ever so slightly. Ryck felt the slightest bit of relief.
“You did well today—the entire battalion did well. We lost some mighty good men, but we prevailed, and what we did will go a long ways in preparing us for meeting the Klethos threat, and I think they are a threat. Soon, they’ll be knocking on our doors, and we need to be able to react. The price we paid was high, but probably a necessary one.”
Ryck stood up and held out his hand.
“Well, I have to admit that I’m beat. I need to shower and get some rack-time. You get some sleep, too. We’ll have a staff meeting in the morning where Lieutenant Colonel Simone will lay out the initial schedule after debarking. After that, it’s up to the brass as to where we’ll end up. OK?”
“Yes, sir,” Sandy said, shaking Ryck’s hand.
Sandy turned and left, not happy, but looking not quite as pissed as when he’d arrived. For now, that was good enough for Ryck. Sandy was more than another Marine. He was Ryck’s friend, and coming down on him had been difficult.
Ryck eyed his shower cubicle. He knew he needed it big time, but for the moment, he was just too tired to get up and dial in a regimen. He reached over with a finger and swiped up the last trace of raspberry sauce instead, putting his finger in his mouth and letting the sweet taste fill his senses.
Anything was better than listening to the ghost voices of the 472 men and women who’d just paid the price for serving with him. Despite what he’d told Sandy, that was still something he’d never been able to shake.
TARAWA
Chapter 19
Ryck plopped down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table without removing his shoes. Then, quickly realizing Hannah wouldn’t approve, he bent over and took them off before stretching his feet back out.
“Daddy’s home!” Ben yelled excitedly out to the rest of the house as he ran into the living room.
His young son scrambled to join him, full of a story that seemed to revolve around Lister, whoever that was, and
a puppy. Ryck didn’t follow much, but he simply soaked in the company.
Ryck had been back for eight days, and this was the first time he’d made it home in time for dinner. Despite her own hectic schedule, Hannah had come home to prepare a different meal each evening, one that he’d heated up each night long after the kids had gone to bed. This evening was going to be different. He’d left a pile of work back in his office, but that was going to wait until tomorrow.
The eight days had been filled with reports, medical checks (for any possible other-worldly contamination from the Klethos), debriefs, and more briefs. There’d been talk about sending him back to Earth to brief the chairman and his ministers in person, but that had been changed to a virtual brief, thank goodness. Still, that had been over five hours without a break. Ryck’s bladder had been screaming for attention, but one didn’t just excuse himself from the great man’s presence, even virtual presence, to take something as mundane as a piss.
The long and short of all the sound and fury was that Task Force Hannah was being re-designated as the First Marine Brigade and assigned to Fleet Marine Force Alpha, or FMF-Alpha, under Lieutenant General Bolivar, who was dual-hatted as both the Federation Marine and the Joint Ground Force Commander. Three Marine brigades made up the Federation contribution to the JGF along with a host of units from the other governments. Except for Carl—who had not been the downed capy in the battle on Tri-30—and his group of three, Ryck’s brigade would consist only of Federation forces, much to Ryck’s approval. All liaison personnel would be at the force level with the general’s staff. The New Budapest Rangers and the Outback company had performed as well as any Marine unit, but the lack of integration had proved to be a headache and could have resulted in disaster. Ryck might be fighting alongside Brotherhood, Confed, or other human forces, but they would not be integrated at the brigade level.
And Quail Hunt was still officially on, but not for any planned offensive operations, at least in the near term. With what was learned on Tri-30, new tactics and weapons were to be introduced, and these had to become second nature to the three Marine brigades. It was taken as a fact that the Klethos would invade human space—it was just a matter of when rather than if. The data-dinkers projected that they could reach a human planet in about two years, but possibly as soon as one. That didn’t give the human forces that much time to prepare.
All of human space was mustering for a protracted war. Conscription had been enacted by many governments. In the Federation, the FCDC was gearing up for home defense, as were individual planetary armies. The Marine Corps and Navy were put on an elevated alert status, but the first thrust against a Klethos incursion would be made by the three brigades in FMF-Alpha and the Navy’s Fourth Fleet. Along with the rest of the Joint Task Force, they would be the reaction force to meet any threat.
“I had my doubts about this evening,” Hannah said, poking her head around the door and interrupting his thoughts.
“I told you I’d be home,” Ryck said.
“And you said that last night, and the night before,” she said.
“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just with everything going on—”
“No need to be sorry. I understand. And after dinner, I be going back to the head shed for a conference myself,” she said.
“You have to leave?” Ryck asked, disappointed.
He’d wanted to spend some time with her, and it looked liked that wasn’t going to happen. Ryck might be in the spotlight, but Hannah’s position outranked his, and it wasn’t surprising that she’d be just as busy as he was—if not busier. R&D was a major thrust at the moment.
“The conference starts ats twenty-one-hundred. I just got home before you, and I need to get back to finish preparing. If not for Noah, we’d be eating fab food tonight.”
“Noah?”
“Yes, he cooked six of the other meals you be eating the other nights. He be taking a shine to the kitchen.”
“Noah cooks better than Mommy,” Ben said with a sly laugh.
The meals he’d eaten each night had been good, even re-heated. He’d assumed Hannah had made them, but in retrospect, they were better than what Hannah could cook, and she wouldn’t have had much time to do much cooking with her schedule. It just surprised him that he didn’t know Noah had taken an interest in cooking.
There’s a lot I don’t know about my own kids, he thought.
“Let me help him serve up,” Hannah said. “Let him know that you appreciate it.”
Noah had never seemed to have much interest in anything, so if he really was into cooking, Ryck was going to encourage it. And if the other meals he’d eaten were any indication, the kid might have a talent for it. Anyone can run a fabricator, but it took something special to be able to cook from scratch.
Maybe I can hook him up with Marten Ekema, if he’d like.
Ryck put his arm around Ben. Esther was his sports star. Ben was Ben and would probably be the Chairman of the Federation someday. But it was good to know that Noah finally had something of his own.
Ryck didn’t know how many evenings he’d have with his family over next few years, so he knew he had to grab each one and savor it.
Chapter 20
“It’s not as effective at the Klethos blade, but it will slice through their greaves,” Dr. Somebody-or-the-other said from the podium as a holo of a Klethos sword and the new “mameluke” sword floated side-by-side to his right. “We have tested it,” he added.
Ryck, as one of the three brigade commanders, had a front row seat in the lecture hall. He turned his head slightly to catch Hannah’s eye from where she sat at the end of the row. He raised his eyebrows and received just the tiniest hint of a smile and a cocking of her head in return. Hannah was in charge of systems R & D for the Corps, but the entirety of the Federation government, academic, and business might had turned to focus on how to defeat the Klethos. This sword was just one more effort, one probably rushed through when the Confederation of Free States introduced its own battle sword.
We’re in a grubbing sword arms race, Ryck thought in resignation. What next? Battle axes?
The proposed Federation mameluke was patterned after the old US Marine Corps officers’ sword and the British 1831 Pattern General Officers’ sword. That was a very transparent attempt to appeal to the Marine Corps love of history and tradition, Ryck thought. Designed by the University of Tinto labs on Atacama, it was a fine piece of engineering and metallurgy, Ryck had to admit. But for use in combat? It might be able to slice through Klethos armor, but had anyone looked at the recordings? The Klethos were extremely fast and were undoubtedly skilled in the use of their swords. If a Marine decided to give up his other weapons and challenge a Klethos to a duel at dawn, he would get cut down in seconds.
As the worthy doctor finished his praise, he put up the specs. On the third to last line was the cost per unit. Ryck’s eyes widened. At over 10,000 credits apiece, the university stood to make a killing if their offer was accepted, and Ryck had heard this already was a done deal, approved by someone high in the Federation Council.
The mameluke presentation ended, and another eager promoter took his place, this one with an aerosol compression grenade. Ryck had no idea if such a weapon could be effective. The Klethos bodies and equipment the task force had retrieved had been parceled out to the various governments for detailed examinations. None of the Klethos had been resurrected—according to official statements. Rumors swirled, though, that some had been and were now under regen. But zombied or not, they had provided a plethora of information, information that two months later was now being used to try and arm the Marines to be able to defeat them when the inevitable clash came.
Ryck glanced at his watch. He’d be stuck in the conference for the rest of the day while Jorge was in the field with the brigade. Why he had to be here was beyond him. The procurement desk-jockeys would buy what they wanted regardless of what a mere colonel thought. His presence, along with the other two brigade commanders, the CG,
and the Deputy CG were mere window dressing to give the resemblance that this was driven by military requirements.
He looked to Hannah again, willing her to glance his way again. When she did, he carefully pantomimed raising his hand to his mouth to eat. She smiled and nodded, then used her face and expression to point back up to the compression grenade man, admonishing Ryck to pay attention. Ryck turned back to listen to the man wax poetic on his little weapon’s capabilities.
Ryck would rather be in the field training, but at least he’d fit in a lunch with his wife. With their schedules over the last two months, that was a win no matter how he looked at it.
Chapter 21
Four Klethos strode over the rise, heading directly into the awaiting platoon from Lima 3/14.
Immediately, First Lieutenant Dandridge gave the order, and the platoon moved to encircle the creatures, pikes at the ready. The Klethos faced the Marines surrounding them, then raised their swords and jumped into the attack. Under the onslaught, the Marines pressed forward, trying to pin the creatures with their ceramochromalloy pikes, pikes that had an electrical current running to the tip at a frequency the xenobiologists thought would disrupt the Klethos’ nervous systems.
As the first pikes hit home, the Klethos screamed out their rage, and instead of pressing home against the Marines, attacked the pikes. Somehow, the same swords that could slice through a PICS’ armor could not cut through the pikes. But they were having some effect on the Marines’ assault. On Ryck’s display, he could see the current failing in pike after pike. That left them as little more than metal poles that the Klethos started to push aside and attack the Marines holding them. Marine after Marine fell as the Klethos’ swords hit each one in a shower of sparks and light.
“Engage with rockets!” Lieutenant Dandridge ordered his beleaguered men.
Immediately, several salvos of shoulder rockets shot out. Two Marines fell by friendly fire as rockets flew past the Klethos and hit those on the other side. One Klethos staggered and went down, but it was too little too late. Within moments, the last of the Marines fell to the three surviving Klethos.
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